Page 16 of The Illusion of Power (Passion and Politics #1)
BECK
F rom my post in the far right corner of the dining area, I catch Cal’s eye and discreetly hold two fingers to my chest, prompting him to move to a closed channel so we can have a conversation without any of the other agents working tonight overhearing.
He dips his chin in acknowledgment, and in seconds, his gravelly timbre is filling my ears.
“What’s up?”
“You’re distracted,” I say by way of greeting, opting out of a gentle approach because a situation as serious as this just doesn’t allow for it. Cal’s brows shoot up, but I know it’s not my delivery that’s caught him off guard. It’s my message.
“I’m sorry?”
He’s right to be confused, and maybe even a little offended, because tonight he’s as focused as he’s ever been.
The problem is, he’s too focused on her.
Even now, as he’s waiting for my response, his gaze lingers on the table towards the back of the room where Aubrey and Selene are being served their entrees and getting their glasses of wine refilled.
Of course, it’s our job to check in on them from time to time, but Cal isn’t checking in.
He’s staring.
Spending long seconds studying Selene’s profile, his jaw clenched with annoyance every time his gaze lands on Aubrey, who seems to be making up for his lack of attention at the beginning of the night by turning on the charm.
He’s been making Selene laugh, and while I can’t deny that it’s nice to see genuine joy written across her face, I can’t help but worry about Cal being so affected by it.
“You’re distracted. Every time I look at you, you’re looking at her.”
A ghost of a smirk plays on his lips. “Jealous, love?”
Heat creeps up my neck, and I barely resist the urge to flip him off for intentionally trying to fluster me.
“No. I’m not jealous, I’m concerned. All of your focus is on how their date is going when you should be paying attention to what’s happening in the rest of the room, where threats are more likely to come from. ”
My words have a harsh bite to them, anger and maybe a little bit of jealousy, coating each one.
I knew Cal liked Selene. It was clear to me in the way he toed the line of indifference on the day of the children’s hospital event.
But I didn’t know exactly what that meant until tonight.
When I saw him staring at her, his eyes shimmering with things he shouldn’t feel, his throat tight with things he could never say, I realized there was more than the friendly but distant interest you can’t help but garner when you spend your days around a person.
There was forbidden affection.
There was career-ruining attraction.
There was the soft pull of distraction, and in our line of work, distraction gets you killed.
“You don’t need to be concerned because I’m not distracted, Beck. I’m aware of everything happening in this room and your head,” he says, emphasizing the last part with a wiggle of his brows that tells me he doesn’t believe for a second I’m not jealous.
“What color dress is the woman in the booth to your left wearing?” I ask, glaring at him. I don’t need to tell him not to look because he already knows better than to cheat in a game meant to test his recall and focus.
“Green. She’s paired it with red heels.” His nose scrunches with disapproval. “A bit too Christmas-y for my taste, but to each their own. The man she’s with is a banker, and he doesn’t seem to share her passion for art.”
“How many people have come through the door since we moved to this channel?”
“Six. A group of four being seated in the booth closest to the door, and two women who opted for seats at the bar. One of them is approaching you now, probably on her way to the bathroom.”
As if on cue, a woman in a cream wrap dress walks up.
Her eyes lock on mine, a flare of panic in them when she realizes I’m blocking the hall leading to the restrooms. I step aside, giving her a tight smile and a wide berth to move past me.
Once she’s out of earshot, I resume my stance and reluctantly give Cal his props as I do a cursory scan of the room.
“Fine, maybe you’re not distracted, but it doesn’t change the fact that you’re too focused on Hummingbird. You need to reel it in before someone who’s not me notices.”
I expect his response to be immediate, but it’s not.
The line is quiet, and when I look at Cal, his face is warped with tension, all traces of humor gone.
At first, I think it’s in response to what I’ve just said, but I eliminate that possibility quickly.
Cal and I both value the pure honesty that years of friendship and love have afforded us.
We don’t get upset when we’re called out by the other, and even if we do, the reaction is never as visceral as the one Cal is having right now.
Certain the source of his agitation isn’t me, I turn my attention outward, scanning the room for any signs of a threat.
That’s when I see him. The man in the opposite corner of the room.
He’s short, probably no taller than five feet, seven inches.
White, with black hair and brown eyes. He’s wearing a brown tweed jacket with patches on the elbows and a white button-up underneath.
The jeans he’s wearing are a bit casual for the setting, but I don’t really care about his fashion faux pas.
I’m more concerned about the phone in his hand pointed at Selene and Aubrey.
From that angle, he has a perfect, unobstructed shot of them, so I’m certain he has his camera on, taking photos, or maybe even worse, videos of what’s supposed to be a private moment.
Thankfully, he’s being discreet, so no one, least of all the people currently having their privacy invaded, has noticed.
Unfortunately for the voyeur, Cal has noticed, though, and he’s already moving toward him.
It’s a slow approach, and it would look casual if it weren’t for the tense set of his shoulders and the unwavering death glare he’s sending the man.
I match the pace of my approach to Cal’s to avoid drawing the attention of the rest of the diners, and the poor fuck is so focused on what he’s doing, he doesn’t realize we’ve closed in on him until Cal is casting a shadow over his uneaten meal and I have my hand on his shoulder, forcing him to stay seated.
“Hey!” he whisper-shouts, his head snapping up, wide brown eyes looking between us.
I study his face, trying to see if he could possibly be the man who was in the car.
I can’t say for certain whether he is or isn’t, and that bothers me.
I thought I’d gotten a good look at the guy, but apparently it wasn’t that good.
It doesn’t matter, though, because this man is here, and he’s guilty of something.
Whether it’s the small crime of bringing his phone into a space where it’s strictly prohibited or a larger offense like stalking has yet to be determined.
Normally, I wouldn’t be so quick to conflate separate events, but two incidents happening just days apart hardly seems like a coincidence, and I refuse to treat it as such.
Especially when I know what I know about the online vitriol that only seems to be aimed in Selene’s direction.
Things calmed down for a bit after the children’s hospital appearance led to an increase in Aubrey’s poll numbers, but for every positive comment about the couple, there were five more negative ones, all focused on her.
They came for everything—her clothes, her hair, her business, her smile—nothing was off limits, not even her son.
Posts about him are the worst, followed closely by those hoping Selene will die so Aubrey and the speechwriter can finally be together.
Those posts are usually accompanied by disgustingly detailed and badly written torture porn that makes my stomach turn and dredges up memories of a time I’d rather not revisit.
It was those memories that had made me push Hicks this morning.
Those posts, and that old fear of an innocent woman being caught in the cross hairs of some maniac, that sent anger rolling through my gut and landed me here, which is exactly where I need to be in order to keep Selene safe from those who would do her harm.
Without proof, I’ve decided the man squirming under my hand fits the bill, and everything about Cal—from his demeanor to the snarl curling his lips—says he agrees.
“Put the phone down,” I issue the order in a low growl the man has no choice but to obey. He drops the device, and I see his screen is open, the camera still rolling even though it’s no longer focused in Selene and Aubrey’s direction. It’s all the confirmation I need. “ Get up. ”
He’s not moving quickly enough, so I decide to help him out, gripping him under the arm and lifting him from his seat. Cal grabs his phone and begins swiping almost instantly, which makes the man protest loudly.
“That’s private property!” he shouts, drawing the attention of everyone in the room.
Most of them look concerned at first, but when they see the official-looking suits and the American flag pins on our lapels, they look away.
“You can’t just go through my phone without my permission!
” The man is screaming now, all his venom for Cal, even though I’m the one dragging him out of the dining area toward the kitchen.
“I know my rights,” he insists. “I’m a member of the press! ”
On any other day, his announcement would have meant something to me. Not much, but something. It might have been enough to get me to loosen my grip on him or allow him the dignity of standing on his own two feet to leave the room, but unfortunately for him, today is not one of those days.