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“Are you kidding?” Marin grinned at both agents. “I won my first cooking competition when I was five with none other than chocolate chip cookies. They’re my go-to comfort food to bake. And after this weekend, I could use a whole bunch of them.”
Adam high-fived Agent Groesch. “I have a feeling this assignment is going to be delicious.” He laughed at his own pun. “I’m just going to call in and let Griffin-the-Great know the eagle has landed.”
Agent Groesch chuckled as Adam left the room. “It’s fortunate that those three boys are merelybrothers from another motherbecause I don’t think one woman could survive raising them together. Heck, there were some days when I thought the Secret Service couldn’t survive having them all as rookie agents.”
Marin opened the cabinet doors in search of a mixing bowl. She remembered what Griffin had said about Adam and Ben. “I doubt there isn’t anything one wouldn’t do for the others.”
Finally finding what she was looking for, Marin turned to catch the agent smiling knowingly at her.
“I can see why Griff is so protective of you,” Agent Groesch said. “Most women are resentful of a man’s buddies. Especially when they are as close as those three. I’m glad he’s found someone who is supportive. Believe me, being in the Secret Service takes a toll on nearly every relationship an agent has. Those three swore to remain confirmed bachelors for life. Something tells me that might not be the case anymore.”
“Uh-um, I think you’ve misunderstood the situation,” Marin stammered. She was lucky she could even get the words out; she was so dumbfounded by the agent’s assumption. “The only reason Agent Keller is protective of me is because it’s his job.” She hated the lump that formed in her throat.
Christine’s smile didn’t waver. “We’ll see,” was all she said.
Marin opened her mouth to argue more, but the sound of a dog’s nails scratching on the linoleum made her turn to the door instead.
“Otto,” she cried, crouching down to wrap her arms around the dog’s thick neck.
“The third member of our team has arrived,” Adam announced.
“Otto is staying with me?”
Adam’s face softened. “Griffin thought you might feel better having him here.”
“I rest my case,” Agent Groesch declared from behind Marin.
The lump in Marin’s throat became more painful. She didn’t want Griffin to be kind to her. It made it difficult to hold on to her loathing of him.
* * *
Twenty-four hours later, Griffin staggered into the Secret Service headquarters, a nondescript building on H Street. He was exhausted and frustrated at not being able to locate either Diego Ruiz or the elusive art thief who was targeting Marin.
“Detective Gerkens was right,” he said as he dropped into a chair in Ben’s office/lab. “This guy is slippery. It’s like he evaporated among the crowd on the South Lawn yesterday.”
“Lucky for you, I’ve got a really cool program that can put a name to a face. And it came up with a hit twenty minutes ago.” Ben strolled over to one of the several computers in the room and punched a few buttons on the keyboard. The suspect’s picture from the Dupont’s video surveillance camera popped up on the big screen. “His name is Yerik Salenko. He’s a former member of the Ukraine Spetsnaz.”
“He’s special forces?” Griffin asked. He, Ben, and Adam had served in a similar capacity for the United States Army. The distinction meant that Salenko was as highly trained as Griffin and his friends. That explained a lot. It also made Griffin more anxious about Marin.
Ben clicked to a photo of Salenko in his military uniform. “He was for several years. After the fall of the Ukrainian government, though, most members of the Spetsnaz have become mercenaries, hiring themselves out as henchmen to the highest bidder. Your gang of counterfeiters likely needed someone skilled in warfare. And sharpshooters,” Ben added. “Salenko is on the list of snipers Adam gave you the other day.”
“Damn it.”
“Well, on the positive side, there’s always the possibility this guy’s a one-man show. He’s likely your shooter from New Jersey. Once he saw that you found the paintings, he came back to the White House to make sure no one else talked.”
“Your theory doesn’t answer the question of why a counterfeiting ring’s thug for hire is stealing paintings from the White House.” Griffin began rummaging through Ben’s desk drawers. He sighed with relief when he pulled out a package of peanut butter crackers. Griffin couldn’t remember when he’d eaten last. “It’s times like these that I’m glad you live the Boy Scout motto and you’re always prepared.”
“We had homemade beignets at the safe house this morning.” Ben handed Griffin a bottle of water. “They were outstanding.”
Griffin’s stomach growled. His chest seized, too, but he was ignoring that particular sensation.
“How is she?” he asked.
Ben leaned a hip on the corner of his desk. “She’s tougher than she looks. Most women would be a helpless, quivering mess after going through what she’s been through. Not Marin. She keeps carrying on. I like her.”
“Your job isn’t to ‘like her,’” Griffin growled. “It’s to protect her.”
“Oh, don’t worry. Adam has taken protecting Marin to a whole new level.”
