Susan Phillips - The Great Escape

Cooking wasn’t the only homemaking task she’d observed during her White House years, and fifteen minutes later she was equipped with a squeegee she’d seen in the upstairs bathroom, a bucket of clean water with a few drops of dishwashing soap, and a stepladder from the pantry. Before long, she’d finished one section of the sunroom windows. She reached for a spot she’d missed, and when she was satisfied, climbed down only to trip on the bottom rung.

Panda stood just inside the door, a can of Coke in his hand, combat in his eyes. “I’ll bet you were real popular with the Secret Service.”

SHE SHOULD NEVER HAVE COME back to the house, and she certainly shouldn’t have let him catch her washing his filthy windows. She grabbed the ladder for support and tested Viper’s sneer again. “Did I hurt your pride?”

“Destroyed it,” he said dryly.

“Excellent. It’s not every day I get to outwit a trained professional.”

“I wouldn’t say ‘outwit.’”

“I would.” His clothes had dried, but he kicked his shoes off, and she could have sworn his dark stubble had grown since she’d given him the slip. “The ferry’s not due in until six.” She patted her tutu skirt back in place. “Obviously you had better luck chartering a boat than I did.”

“The gun helped.”

She had no idea whether he was serious or not. She knew nothing about him. He ran his thumb around the curve of the Coke can and propped a shoulder against the doorjamb. “Now I see why your father was so insistent about me not identifying myself. You’ve had practice pulling your disappearing act.”

“I’ve only slipped away a few times.”

He jabbed his Coke in the general direction of her face. “If I’d really been on duty, you wouldn’t have slipped away at all.”

True. He wouldn’t have let her out of his sight. Which meant her family really hadn’t rehired him. “Who tipped you off that I’ve been staying here?”

“Let’s just say I’ve kept tabs on you.”

Her parents. “I’m touched.”

He gestured toward the section of windows she’d been working on. “You want to tell me why you’re doing that?”

“Because they’re filthy.” She laid one more grievance at his feet. “The whole place is a mess. If you’re lucky enough to own a house like this, you should take care of it.”

“I do. A woman comes in every two weeks.”

“And you can see for yourself what a top-notch job she’s been doing.”

He glanced around as if he was looking at the place for the first time. “I guess it’s getting a little mangy.”

“You think?”

“I’ll hire somebody else.”

She wondered if his gun was back in its ankle holster. Firearms didn’t bother her. She’d spent years being guarded by armed agents, although they tended to wear business suits instead of jeans and obscene T-shirts. So it wasn’t the gun. It was the fact that she hadn’t known about the gun or the two-week contract or any of the measly details she should have known about before she decided to drop that towel and jump into bed with him.

She tossed down the squeegee. “Why did my parents hire you? As opposed to someone reputable?”

That annoyed him. “I am reputable.”

“I’m sure they thought so at the time.” Viper smirked. “How did they find you anyway? Never mind. You’re on one of those work-release programs the prisons offer.”

He cocked his head, his expression puzzled. “What’s happened to you?”

Her rudeness was giving her a rush. “Or maybe an aide spotted your name on a sex offenders registry and decided to play a little prank?” She wanted to go on like this forever, let her tongue run free, fling out one nasty after another, say whatever insult popped into her head without a care about how it reflected on the office of the president of the United States.

“You wanted to know about me. I’ll tell you.” The Coke can landed with a thud on the wobbly wooden table by the door.

“No need.” She practiced her new Viper’s smirk. “I don’t care.”

“I’m thirty-six. I was born and raised in Detroit. In and out of trouble until the army straightened me out. Pulled sweet duty in Germany, went to Wayne State for a degree in criminal justice—”

“You have a college degree? You can barely talk.”

That made him angrier. “Just because I don’t brag about my exclusive upbringing doesn’t mean I can’t talk.”

“I never bragged—”

“I joined the Detroit police force. Resigned a couple of years ago to take over a private firm in Chicago that specializes in security for corporate executives, celebrities, athletes, and Wall Street crooks getting death threats they damn well deserve. Your parents hired me to guard you because I’m good at what I do. I’ve never been married and don’t intend to be. I like dogs, but I’m gone too much to have one. I also like hip-hop and opera. Make of that whatever you want. When I’m not on duty I sleep in the raw. Anything else you’d like to know that’s none of your business?”

“Patrick Shade? Is that name another of your many lies?”

“No. And there weren’t that many lies.”

“How about Huntsville prison?”

“Give me a break. You knew that was bogus.”

She hadn’t exactly. “Construction worker?”

“I worked construction for a while.”

“A man of honor. My mistake.”

He wouldn’t back down. “Your parents hired me. I took my orders from them, and judging from what happened today, they made a good call when they told me not to identify myself.”

“They’re overprotective.”

“You’ve gotten threatening letters. You’ve been knocked over a couple of times. And you were part of a high-profile wedding. There is such a thing as exercising reasonable caution.”

“The only person who caused me any harm was you!”

He flinched, which should have made her feel better than it did. “You’re right,” he said. “I should have kept my hands to myself no matter how crazy you made me.”

Knowing she’d made him crazy encouraged her to continue her attack. “Whose idea was Caddo Lake?”

“It was a good place to keep you out of sight. The rental house was isolated, and your parents wanted to give you time to sort things out and realize you’d made a mistake.”

“All of you thought that sticking me on the back of a death machine was the best way to get me to Caddo?”

“I didn’t plan on that.”

“And here I thought you planned everything.”

“Yeah, well, next time I guard a bride, you can be damned sure I’ll anticipate that she might take off.”

She couldn’t listen to any more of this, and she headed for the door. Before she reached it, he spoke again. “I got the bike from a guy in Austin. It was good cover. I rode into Wynette a few days before you arrived so I could hang out in the local bars without anybody getting suspicious. It gave me a chance to see if I overheard anything that made me uneasy.”

“And did you?”

“Mainly I heard a lot of people saying that no woman was good enough for Ted. He’s some kind of local god.”

She frowned. “I knew they didn’t like me.”

“I don’t think it was personal. At least I didn’t think so at the time. I might have changed my mind about that.”

She’d heard enough, but as she headed for the back door, Mr. Talky was right behind her. “When your great escape started,” he said, “I figured it’d only last a couple of hours. How was I supposed to know you were having some kind of existential breakdown?”

His use of the word unnerved her. She wanted burps, not verbal erudition. “It wasn’t a breakdown.” She stalked across the kitchen floor and out onto the porch. But now that she didn’t want to talk, he stayed with her, and he wouldn’t shut up.

“I could have traded in the bike for an SUV the next day, but I’d have blown my cover, and you’d have tried to pull another disappearing act. Frankly, I didn’t want to work that hard. And don’t try to pretend you didn’t love being on that bike.”

She had loved it, but she wasn’t admitting anything. She pushed open the screen door and stepped into the yard. “Unfortunately, the ferry doesn’t leave for a few hours, so I’d appreciate it if you’d leave me alone. I’m sure you have things to do.”

He moved in front of her, blocking her way. “Lucy, that night …”

She stared at his collarbone. He jammed his hands in his pockets, studied her nose ring. “I’ve never let anything like that happen with a client.”

She didn’t want to hear about his remorse, and she shot around him.

“You have a right to be pissed,” he said from behind her. “I screwed up.”

She spun back. “You didn’t screw up. You screwed me. And don’t think it’s the sex that bothered me. I’m a grown woman. I can have all the sex I want.” Big talker. “What bothers me is that I didn’t know who I was having sex with.”

“Loud and clear.”

“Great. Now leave me alone.”

“Fine.”

But he stayed where he was. She couldn’t bear hearing more apologies, and she thrust her finger in the general direction of the sunroom. “Try taking care of your house for a change instead of bothering me.”

“You want me to wash windows?”

She hadn’t meant that at all. She didn’t care about the windows. “I suppose you could shoot them out,” she sneered, “but that seems a little excessive. Still, it’s your house. Whatever works for you.” With that, she reached the staircase. But with every step she took, her resentment burrowed in deeper. She didn’t want to leave this house. She wanted to stay, to eat breakfast on the screen porch, and take the kayak out, and hide from the world. He didn’t deserve this house. If it were hers, she’d give it the love it deserved. But it wasn’t hers.

She stomped back to the top of the stairs. “You don’t deserve this house!”

“What do you care?”

“I don’t. I—” It came to her in a flash. An impossible idea … She closed her mouth. Opened it. “When are you leaving?”