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“Yeah you were, Mess. Just with your heart instead of your head. And that's okay. It's one of the things I love about you.”

Inhaling a deep calming breath, I blow it out slowly before leaning back and meeting his smirk.

“You gotta remember,” he says. “Men are better at using their heads because we have two.”

A loud, obnoxious snort tickles my chest and nose. A tentative smile tugs at my lips, matching his growing one.

“And I can honestly say, Trouble, I'm not quite sure which of your two heads I like the most.” Thin smile lines appear at the corners of his eyes as his cheeks bunch. “Thanks, Trey. What would I do without you?”

I hook a finger through a belt loop and tug him closer. His fingers delve deep into my hair. Closing the distance between us, he brushes an almost kiss over my lips.

“You'll never have to wonder, Mess. I'm not going anywhere.”

The desk phone screams with a shrilling ring, breaking the intimate moment. Two red lights blink along the front, indicating multiple calls coming through. Without a warning knock, the side door swings open, causing both our heads to snap to attention. My secretary steps into the Oval Office, her eyes purposefully downcast.

Trey's fingers loosen their hold before sliding free.

“Your noon meeting is here, Madam President. Also the press secretary is waiting for approval on the documents I emailed you. And Vice President Pierce has called multiple times requesting a meeting this afternoon.”

“Who's on line one?” I ask with a resigned sigh.Damn. Playtime is over.

“The French president.”

“And line two?”

“Your ex, ma'am.” Her eyes snap up at Trey's predatory growl. “Sorry, Mr. Ben Hopkins. He says it's urgent.”

Groaning, I bang my forehead on the desk before stealing my spine and rolling both shoulders.

Back to work.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Trey

Arms folded across my chest, I monitor every blink, every breath Smith takes as Randi asks about Cairo. Every word, the explanation and details, are the same as in his report. I glance at Tank, and he breaks his focus on Smith. A whole conversation passes between us without a single word spoken.

We're both in agreement.

Something doesn't add up.

Which seems to be a common occurrence when Smith is involved. That time in Saudi Arabia when we couldn't find him wasn't the only one. A few times, Tank or I've looked for him off shift and been unable to reach him. Sure, I used to do the same thing, vanish when my shift was over for some local fun, but I was a mischievous dumbass, not… suspicious.

Everything about him is suspicious: his redacted file, the coldness in his demeanor. Add in his constant disappearing act and how could we not think he’s the one leaking the information on Randi’s whereabouts?

“And you're telling me the truth?” Randi asks. She flicks a quick questioning look my way before focusing back on Smith.

Fuck, she's beautiful. How I got so damn lucky, I'll never know. Now to convince her to marry me. I was serious that night in my small-as-fuck bedroom. She wasn't ready then, but I'll never stop waiting for her to be.

“Madam—” Her hard glare cuts him short with a throat-clearing cough. “I know what I saw. I did what needed to be done.”

“What do you do for fun?” she asks.

For the first time since I've known the guy, sheer surprise registers across his face before he slams the impassive mask back in place.

“When will the official review be complete, ma'am?” he asks instead of responding to her question.

“Did I mention I've been eating more protein?”