“Yes, Ms. Bond, your son and mother are under surveillance. No harm will come to them,” he answered patiently.
In truth, it didn’t make me feel any better. My house still felt like a dangerous cage. I felt like my son and I were being used for bait to catch these criminals. No one ever said that, but I knew. I knew my life, Jack’s life, wasn’t as important as the commander in chief’s. I didn’t think it was fair, but it was the way it was.
The door opened and I looked up. My entire body cried out with relief when I saw Spencer. He didn’t glance at me. He kept his expression sober and focused on Robert Walsh. He was dressed like always, a black suit with a white shirt.
“The results are back from the vial she brought in from her house,” Spencer told him.
“Good. I’ll go look at them now.” Robert got up and left the room without another word.
As soon as he was gone, I slumped back into the seat, utterly defeated. Spencer quietly shut the door, closing us in the room together. Finally, he looked at me, taking in my entire body, and then crouched down in front of my chair, resting his hand on my knee.
“Long day?” he asked.
“You have no idea.” I groaned. I looked at him. “They think I’m somehow in on this. They think I’m guilty.”
His gaze grew dark. “No, they’re just doing their jobs. No one thinks you want to kill the president.”
“I’m so tired,” I whispered, tears filling my eyes.
“I know, darlin’,” he crooned and swept me out of the chair and sat down, fitting me into his lap.
Normally, I might have protested, but I didn’t have it in me. Instead, I breathed in that deep scent of his and pressed my face against his neck. I tried to stop the tears from coming, but they leaked out anyway. I knew he could feel them. My face was right against his skin, but he didn’t say anything.
All I could think about was Jack and my mom. If they were safe, if someone was watching them. The questions were relentless. The look of doubt behind Walsh’s eyes. And I hated lying. I had to lie to everyone. My mom, my co-workers… no one could know about this.
Slowly, he rubbed slow circles over my back and brushed his fingertips through my wavy hair. I didn’t have much energy when I got ready this morning, so I just released the braids and let my hair down in the loose beachy waves the braids left behind.
“It will be over soon,” Spencer murmured. I didn’t know what I would do without him here. I would surely have fallen apart by now. Just his mere presence, knowing he was on my side, made a world of difference.
“They won’t even let me in the kitchen to cook. I can’t even distract myself with work.” I complained.
“It’s a damn shame,” he drawled as his stomach rumbled loudly.
A muffled giggle forced its way out of my throat, and I tipped back my head, still lying on his shoulder, to look up at him. “Are you hungry?”
“All the cookies in the kitchen are gone,” he said, sheepish.
I smiled. “I’m sure someone else has been making them in my place.”
“They have. They don’t taste good.” He made a face.
Some of the storm clouds in my heart seemed to blow away. Even when he was complaining, he was utterly charming.
“I doubt that. Everyone in that kitchen cooks very well.”
“Well, they aren’t your cookies and those are the only ones I like.”
“Are you using flattery to make me feel better?” I teased.
He grunted. “It’s not flattery if it’s the truth.”
“Thank you,” I whispered, rolling my head back into his neck. His body was so strong-feeling. Solid. I was resting all my weight on him, not bothering to try and hold myself up. He didn’t even shift. It was like my weight was nothing for him to bear. All morning it felt like I was standing on shaky ground.
But not now.
Right now I felt incredibly secure.
“For what?” he asked softly, bringing his arms around to loop around my waist.
“For being here.”
“How’s Jack?” he asked, his tone casual.
My body stiffened slightly because he was asking about my son. I sat up, my eyes widening and my heart beginning to pound. “Did something happen?” I started to scramble off his lap, but his arms were like iron vises and wouldn’t let me move.
“Calm down, darlin’,” Spencer drawled. “Everything’s fine. I was just asking about your boy.”
“Oh.” I studied his face a moment. His eyes were sincere. “Sorry, I’m not used to people asking about him.”
“Well, he’s part of you and that means I’m going to ask about him.”
Something in my heart caved in a little. Like the soft spot that I managed to fill in with loosely packed dirt caved in unexpectedly.
“He’s good,” I replied. “With my mom.”
Spencer’s palm found the back of my head and he guided it back down to his shoulder. “He’s a cute kid.”
“I just want this to be over,” I whispered.
The door pulled open, the footsteps coming into the room faltered, and my body stiffened. Spencer probably wasn’t supposed to be in here with me. He definitely wasn’t supposed to be holding me in his lap. The last thing I wanted to do was get him into trouble.
I started to leap up, but Spencer did that vise thing again with his arms, refusing to let me go.
“What did you find?” he asked, totally casual, like he wasn’t holding me. He didn’t seem the least bit embarrassed he was caught.
Mr. Walsh cleared his throat and stared at us for long seconds before answering. I knew he could see the way my cheeks were flaming with embarrassment.
“It’s what she says. Untraceable poison. Highly toxic. Will kill immediately. Her prints are all over the bottle.”
This time Spencer did stiffen, and when I jumped up, he didn’t stop me. “That’s because I touched it, when I hid it in my cabinet.” I defended.
Mr. Walsh sighed and held up his hand. “I realize that, Ms. Bond.”
“It probably didn’t have any other prints because those men were wearing gloves,” I said, even though I’d told them that at least five hundred times.
“You going to try and pin this on her, Walsh?” Spencer said, his tone completely no-nonsense and cold. He rose up out of the chair, unfolding his impressive height and width.
“Don’t get your panties in a bunch, Waller. We found another print as well, only a partial and so small we’ll never be able to run it.”