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She glances at the newspaper. “I see.”
“That punch got me fired. Harry Bosworth took me off the case protecting Lindsay. We were just getting closer again,” I say, my voice filled with regret.
“Intimately close?” Her voice is so neutral she might as well be screaming. The dichotomy makes no sense, but nothing makes sense right now.
“Yes.”
“And how was that?”
I shoot her a speculative look. “I’m not a kiss-and-tell kind of guy.”
She laughs, the sound genuine. I’ve surprised her. “I’m not looking for lurid details, Drew. I’m asking about your psychological health.”
“What does sex have to do with that?”
Her turn to give me an incredulous look.
My laugh surprises me. It’s deep and rough, and sounds like it’s coming from outside my body. “Sex was good. Great, actually. Especially when she doesn’t steal my gun afterwards.”
Peering intently, Salma asks, “Is that a euphemism for something sexual?”
“I wish.”
Her eyebrows go up.
“It’s a long story.”
“You booked two hours.” Her comment comes with a small smile.
I give her one back and cross my arms over my chest. I’m playing games. I shouldn’t. The mess with Lindsay is a tornado filled with flaming pieces of my soul, my career, my life. All of it spirals, pushed by forces beyond my control. I hate it.
I hate not being in charge.
But I’m here because it’s the right place for me to be. Paulson nudged me, and being fired was all I needed to call and get in with Salma.
I’m here.
I should be productive with my time.
“I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t important,” I start.
“Of course. Reconnecting with Lindsay is important.”
“And destabilizing,” I add.
“You’ve used that word twice now,” Salma notes.
I shrug. “You introduced me to it. It’s a good word. Fits how I feel.”
She nods and stays silent.
“Four years ago,” I start, my mouth going dry. I cough, clearing it. “Those bastards drugged me. Made me watch. And then...”
I close my eyes.
It’s like the last four years didn’t happen. I’m back in that room, at that party in a rented beach house. We were all buddies from high school. Blaine, John and Stellan had been on the lacrosse team with me. I’d known them since middle school. Wasn’t a fan of Blaine and John, but they were okay. Good for partying and having fun. Lindsay was with Tara, Mandy, and Jenna, and Jane was there, shy, against one wall in her own little category. Alcohol flowed.
I was graduating from West Point in a few weeks, home for some family event. The Saturday night party was a fluke. Lindsay’s dad was running for re-election to the U.S. senate, and earlier that day he’d talked to me about my future. Said he could help me get in with the Secret Service.
