Page 45

I turned my head against the bedspread, so I could see him. “That was a remarkably kind thing to say about my mother, Slash. And me, too.”

He turned his head toward me, a smile tugging at his mouth. “I have my moments.”

“You havemanymoments.” I sat up and pulled the sweatshirt and T-shirt off over my head. “Well, we might as well get ready for bed. I don’t think I can process another thing tonight. Let’s take a shower and wash this night off us before I pass out.”

Slash lifted a dark eyebrow. “I hope there was a proposition somewhere in that sentence.” He sat up and pulled his shirt off with one hand, tossing it onto a nearby chair.

“Maybe there is.” I slipped out of the too-short gray sweatpants and my underwear and left them lying on the floor. “Last one in the shower makes the bed in the morning.”

“How is that fair? You’re naked and I haven’t even got my shoes, socks, or pants off yet.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll make it worth your while.” I laughed as I stepped into the shower and turned on the water, checking the temperature before releasing the spray.

I turned around and yelped. Slash already stood behind me, black hair framing his face, his chin and cheeks covered in dark stubble. He’d moved as quietly as a panther. His brown eyes stared into mine, intense and tender.

“Jeez. You scared me.” I smacked him on his bare chest. “Can’t you make noise like a normal person when you move around?”

“I’m not a normal person.” He slid his hands down to my wet hips and pressed his mouth to my neck. “And neither are you.”

I sighed as the hot water sprayed down on us. “No, I guess we’re not.”

“Cara?”He let the sentence trail off as he kissed a path up my neck to my chin.

“Hmmm?” I leaned my head back to give him better access and closed my eyes as the water pelted my face.

“You always make it worth my while.”

I smiled, and his mouth met mine. As I slid my arms around his neck, he lifted one arm and pulled the shower curtain shut.

TWENTY-FIVE

Lexi

Tuesday—four days before the wedding

The Secret Service met us around ten o’clock in the morning after we’d eaten a nice breakfast set up for us by the house staff. Apparently, we were the only guests, the two of us still dressed in our clothes from the night before. I’m sure the staff had questions, but thankfully, no one said anything. We ate mostly in silence.

I hoped our family and friends had been told why the Secret Service debrief was being moved to the White House. We wanted to have a moment with them before the first lady showed up. As we were escorted on foot to the White House, two agents flanked us, and one more walked behind us. Slash kept glancing up at the roof of the White House, where I’d spotted a couple of snipers. Just another day in my crazy life.

A huge crowd of reporters and media had gathered near the front of the White House, jockeying for the best angle to use as a background for their live reports. Clearly, news of the assassination attempt had leaked. At a distance we could see reporters jostling each other, maneuvering, shouting and waving microphones and scripts, while trying to make room for their cameras so they could report live. A large group of tourists gawked through the fence and filmed the scene with their phones. I suspected it would be a similar scene inside with the White House press corps. They would be much more likely to ask the tough questions that no one knew the answers to at this time.

Luckily, no one seemed to notice us. The agents guided us toward an entrance point at the side of the guard shack. I gave a worried glance with Slash, but he said nothing. The agent told us that White House tours were suspended until further notice.

Once we got through the extensive outside security at the White House, Slash and I were passed off to new agents and went through more security stops. Finally, an agent led us down an elegant hall with pictures of former presidents on the wall. He told us a team would be arriving shortly to take everyone’s statements about the events. He stopped in front of two double doors and pulled one open.

“Welcome to the Green Room,” he said, ushering us in.

We entered the room momentarily unnoticed, as Basia was holding court. “Okay, team, we missed one,” she said. “Who wants to volunteer to develop a disaster response plan in case we get another assassination attempt?”

Slash cleared his throat, and everyone turned around. In seconds we were mobbed by our families and friends just inside the doors. Everyone wanted to hug us or ask a million questions. It took several minutes before we could get everyone back in their seats and settled down.

As soon as the doors closed, Slash held up a hand. “Before anyone else asks, I’m going to tell you what I know.” He provided a brief and sanitized version of the night’s events, saying only that all the attackers had been killed and the investigation was ongoing.

“Was it an assassination attempt on the first lady?” Rock asked. The journalist in him was eager for as many details as possible but given the president’s request that we keep what he told us confidential, it would be a fine line to walk.

“We don’t know for sure,” Slash said. “But that looks like the most likely scenario.”

“What about the Secret Service agents?” Bonnie asked. “Are they okay? We saw the ambulances. Was anyone hurt?”