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“Right,” he says with a chuckle. My lips purse in annoyance, and Trey shakes his head. “Mess.” He sighs, running a hand through his already disheveled dark hair. “Never once on this job have I considered the person I'm protecting's life more valuable than my own.”

“And now?”

“And now.” Turning on his heel, he retreats to the door. Hand on the handle, he says over his shoulder, “With you, I'd rather die than see you harmed. My life for yours, Randi. Because at this point, I wouldn’t live if you didn't.”

Minutes later, I'm still staring at the closed bathroom door, completely floored by his admission. Water drips from the corners of my eyes from being kept open so long. Blinking, I clear the dryness and take a deep sip. The whiskey slides past my lips, burning my throat on its way down.

“Don’t you dare die for me, Trouble,” I whisper to the empty bathroom. “Because I think I feel the same.”

But I have no fucking clue where we go from here.

* * *

Shoulder against the window,I stare out at the craziest DC spring day. Snow swirls along the wraparound porch, the budding trees bending and whipping in the bitter forceful wind. The late snowstorm came unexpectedly, turning from the predicted couple inches of rain to snow and ice. How the weathermen missed it as badly as they did, I’ll never know. Through the city and along the highways it’s pandemonium. It might take days for the traffic to unwind itself. Thank goodness I chose to work from the One Observatory library today or I’d be out there in it too. But staring out into the bitter cold all I want to do is curl up in front of the old Victorian fireplace with a soft snuggly blanket, a glass of wine, and Trey at my side, forgoing any work. Why can't these people understand snow days should be appreciated not treated like a normal day?

Wait, maybe I should make adult snow days a thing. Or a holiday. That’s not misusing power at all.

“It's not good,” Jessica says with a resigned sigh behind me.

“Yeah, but it would be fun.”

“What?”

I shift my eyes away from the window to where she sits, eyes closed and features tight. “What?”

“I'm talking about the votes we need to win the House.”

“Oh.” Focusing outside the cold glass once more, I monitor two bundled agents patrolling the property line. “They have to be freezing.”

“It's their job. Don't worry about them. What you need to be worrying about is the fact that even with me working my tail off while you've been traveling, we're still several votes short.”

Thumbnail between my teeth, I shuffle away from the window and flop into an armchair. “What do we do? What can we do?”

Jessica tosses a notepad onto the side table, its cardboard back slapping against the wood surface. The skin around her eyes tightens as she massages her temples. “Honestly, I don't know. I feel like I’ve tried all my contacts, used up most of the favors owed me, and still we’re short.”

“When's it going to the House?”

“Next month, if they stay on schedule. But they could move it up. You never know with them.”

“Shit,” I groan. “I can't let this happen. It goes against everything I promised through the campaign.”

“I know,” Jessica says, sympathy dipping her voice to a soft whisper. “But you're trying to stop it. Other than continuing to badger people, I don't know what else to do.” Adjusting her watch, she swears. “I have a meeting with Congressman Trick in two hours across town. I better get going if I plan to make it on time in this weather.”

She gathers her coat and scarf, draping both over her arm. At the door, she turns, dragging my attention from the unfocused stare I'd slipped into.

“We'll keep trying, Randi. I'm not giving up.”

I give her a tight nod with a goodbye wave as she slides out the door.

The padding beneath my palms molds between my fingers as I push out of the armchair. My Uggs barely make a sound as I pace the length of the office, chewing on a fingernail while I debate my options.

What am I going to do? My first real test here in DC and I'm failing—miserably. A painful ache builds behind my breastbone as the discomfort grows in my chest.

This is it. I'm done. Done in this town. How could I not be? I really thought I’d last longer than this.

Chewing on the pinkie nail, racking my brain on additionallegaloptions we might be overlooking, I fail to notice Trey stepping into the room. Spinning on the balls of my feet, I turn only to have my nose smack a solid chest.

“Ouch,” I say more like a curse as I rub my throbbing nose. “You broke my nose.”