Page 29

I give him a sidelong glance and quicken my pace. “Okay.”

He clears his throat. “Usually this is the part where the other person introduces themselves.”

“You already know who I am.”

“Touché.” He smiles, and I know for a fact that smile has dropped plenty of panties. Mine stay firmly in place.

“I don’t want to get off on the wrong foot, that’s all. If you need anything, just let me know. I’ll be stationed out here for the foreseeable future—day duty—and I want to be helpful any way I can.”

I give a pointed glance to the rifle slung over his shoulder. “I don’t think I’m going to need your sort of help.”

He shrugs. “You never know. Maybe lead can kill the virus.” He throws a look over his shoulder.

I do too and see the Secret Service agent following. “Ugh.” I stop and turn around.

The agent stops, too.

“No, come here.” I wave him toward me.

Gage looks between us, curiosity in his eyes. He’s handsome. I’ll give him that. But I’m not sure why he’s hellbent on talking to me.

The agent is still waffling, his expression unsure.

“Come on. You can do it,” I coax him closer.

“Ma’am.” The agent stops a few paces away. He’s older, maybe in his fifties, with salt and pepper hair and a wary expression.

“I’m Georgia. This is Gage. And you are?”

“Agent Wassen.” His voice gets caught on a cold breeze that rips by. It cuts through my SoundGarden t-shirt and chills my skin. I reach for the zipper on my coat and work to pull it up. “Okay, Agent Wassen. You don’t have to sneak around behind me whenever I go somewhere. If you’re going to be following me, you can just walk with me like a regular human. How’s that sound?”

He adjusts his reflective sunglasses. “Ma’am, protocol is that I keep a fair distance away so I can see threats.”

“What threats?” I wave a hand at the empty street. The barricade around the White House extends another block, and beyond that only a few people are moving, all of them in military fatigues.

“I’ll know them when I see them. Ma’am.” He tips his head forward at me, then retreats back to his lurking position.

“It was a good try,” Gage says. “May I?” He points at my coat zipper I’m still fumbling with.

“I can do it.” I yank the slider up, but it doesn’t catch. For some reason, my vision goes blurry, tears swimming in my vision as I try again. Jesus, I’m falling apart.

“Hey.” Gage’s voice is softer. “Just let me try it. Okay?”

“I’m fine,” I say, but I drop my hands.

He reaches out slowly as I take a deep breath. A bitchy zipper and a Secret Service agent who doesn’t want to walk with me aren’t things worthy of a crying jag. I know that, but I also know those aren’t the reasons I’m having trouble keeping my composure.

Ziiiiip. “There you go.” Gage steps back. “All set.”

“Thank you.” My throat is thick with unshed tears, and I turn and continue walking toward the White House.

He doesn’t follow this time. “See you when you get back.”

I raise a hand in acknowledgement, not trusting myself with more words.

I don’t know how long it’s going to take, but I’m not leaving the White House until Juno talks to me.

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