Authors: Kathryn Le Veque
She was
smiling at him by the time he was finished. Then, she lifted her head up and
kissed him sweetly on the lips. Colt closed his eyes tightly as she kissed
him, savoring it. It was the best kiss he’d ever had.
“You’re so
sweet,” she murmured. “I want to get to know you, too. I’m so excited at the
prospect.”
He grinned
and sat up, pulling her up with him. “Then let’s go eat,” he said. “We can get
the process started. But I think I kissed off all of your lipstick. You may
want to….”
He was
motioning to his mouth and she pulled out a mirror and reapplied her pale mauve
lipstick. He sat and watched her, acquainting himself with her on a more
intimate level and loving it. He found women and their make-up a very feminine
and somewhat erotic ritual. It had been a long time since he’d been around
it. When Casey was finished, she put her lipstick back in her purse and smiled
at him.
“Let’s
go,” she said.
Dinner was
a sweet experience. Over shrimp and steak, they ran a variety of subjects around
the table. Casey discovered that Colt had played football at Annapolis and had
a passion for the Denver Broncos and the New England Patriots. He could
converse intelligently on any subject she brought up, especially anything
related to world events or politics from any nation.
He was
extremely sharp, rather quiet, and extremely observant. He was a man who saw
detail, which didn’t seem to be limited to her. He noticed her earrings, her
hands and loved the shape of her mouth. Then someone would walk by the table,
distract him, and he would devour every detail about that person. It had been
an interesting experience for Casey, having dinner with a man who had an eye
for minute detail, but she realized that it was his job to see detail. Her
respect for him grew.
Colt, for
his part, discovered a serious young lady with a quirky sense of humor, which
he loved. She had a very level head on her shoulders and talked about her boys
for about half of the meal, which made him laugh more than once as she told stories
about Hunter duct-taping his brother to the basement wall or the Brody trying
to suffocate his brother because the kid stole something from him. Her boys
seemed full of spit and vinegar, which reminded Colt of him and his younger
brother. It was hilarious and touching to listen to her.
Most of
all, Colt was coming to see what a good, decent human being she was, as she
volunteered at her boys’ school and also volunteered with the local Meals On
Wheels program and did charity work with elderly. He admired that a great deal.
She seemed like a loving, genuine woman who got screwed over by a man who
didn’t feel the need to stay loyal to her. Coming to know her as he was, it
hurt him to know that had happened to her. It also made him more determined than
ever not to obey Mr. Meade’s directive to him;
use and abuse
. There was
no way in hell he was going to follow that order. Not this time.
The
evening had managed to accomplish what they had hoped it would. They were able
to come to understand each other a little better and from that, the seed of
attraction took deep roots. It was close to midnight by the time he took her
back to the parking structure across from the White House and took her directly
to her big black SUV, parked on the third level. They had made small talk,
almost awkwardly, like foreplay for the good-night kiss that was sure to come.
After a
minute or so of chit-chat, Colt had all he could take and kissed her so
amorously that his head swam. Flushed, grinning, Casey stumbled out of his car
and he followed, helping her into her car and following her out of the parking
structure until she drove off in one direction and he went in the other.
It had
been difficult to part from her but necessary, at least for the time being.
Colt knew things would change soon because he wanted them to. He intended them
to. He couldn’t even think of Meade and the deep core of his objective hanging
over his head; all he could seem to think of was Casey. He’d never expected
this to happen, not in a million years, but happen it had. He had fallen for
her.
He was a
man in love.
CHAPTER SIX
The pilot
of Air Force One had tried to avoid the storm, but it hadn’t been enough. They
were flying on the peripheral of a nasty storm front on their way to New Mexico
that was covering most of the Mid West, bumping the plane around fairly
roughly. Air Force One was the best built plane in the world, however, so Colt
wasn’t worried. He wasn’t even moderately concerned. He sat in his chair in
the Secret Service compartment of the plane, reading a book written by an
ex-White House aide. as the plane bumped and lurched over the clouds.
Peter came
staggering into the compartment on his way back from the galley. He had two
bottles of water in his hand, turning one over to Colt as he practically fell
into his chair when the plane bounced. He strapped himself in and sighed
heavily.
“Damn,” he
hissed. “Thank God we’ll be landing in a little while.”
Colt
glanced up from his book. “This is nothing,” he said. “When I was a Marine, we
went on some plane rides that would give you nightmares for the rest of your
life.”
Peter
snorted as he sipped his water. “I think most people on this plane would
disagree with you,” he pointed to the rear of the plane where the aides and
press, including Casey, were seated. “There are a lot of miserable people back
there.”
Colt grinned,
looking at his book. “Yeah?” he asked. “Anyone I know?”
Peter
shrugged and held on as the plane hit a bad bump. “Most of them,” he said. “The
President’s travel coordinator is still in the head. He’s been there since this
started. That guy’s an ass, anyway, so I don’t give a crap.”
Colt
snickered. “Me, either.”
Peter
grinned and took another drink. “Oh, and Casey,” he said. “One of the stewards
told me that she’s a bad flyer, anyway. She’s got a pillow over her face.”
Colt lost
his grin and looked up at him. “Where is she sitting?”
“Towards
the front,” Peter replied.
As
casually as he could, Colt set his book down and unfastened his seat belt. He
staggered his way over to the corridor that ran the length of plane, peering
down towards the press compartment to see if he could see Casey. He spied her
immediately, right up in the front row against the window, slouched against the
bulkhead with a pillow over her face. As he stood there, he felt a warm body
come up beside him.
“See her?”
Peter pointed.
Colt
nodded vaguely. “Yeah,” he muttered regretfully. “Poor kid. Did you see how she
was?”
Peter
shook his head. “No.”
Colt left
Peter and made his way down the corridor, bumping into the bulkhead as the
plane rolled. The seat next to Casey was empty and he sat heavily, putting his
hand on the pillow to gently pull it away.
“Hey,” he
said softly. “Are you okay?”
The pillow
came down and the violet eyes looked at him. She had been crying steadily since
the turbulence started, at least a good hour before, and her lovely face was
red and wet. Colt was seized with sympathy.
“Oh,
angel, I’m so sorry,” he whispered. He unbuckled her seatbelt and pulled her
to her feet. “Come with me. Come sit with Peter and me.”
Casey was
sobbing softly, terrified. She clung to him as the plane bumped about and he
pulled her into the Secret Service compartment with him. More than anything, he
was trying not to look overly affectionate or comforting, but the poor woman
really was terrified and he felt very badly. He took her to the far end of
the compartment and sat her down by the window. He sat down next to her.
The plane
lurched and she gasped, throwing her arms around him and burying her face in
his chest. Colt looked at Peter, trying not to appear too shocked, but Peter
merely looked sympathetic as well. Throwing caution to the wind, Colt put up
the armrest between the seats, wrapped her up in his big arms, and settled back
in the chair.
“No
worries,” he told her softly. “We’re going to land in about forty minutes and
this will all be over. Hell, I had this flight once from Bethesda to Paris
across the Atlantic, and we caught the tail end of a hurricane. Talk about a
bumpy flight. I had bruises for weeks after that.”
She wept
quietly as Colt kept up a steady stream of stories from his Marine days where
he’d had more than his share of hairy helicopter rides. There were six Special
Agents in the compartment, including Colt, and none of the agents had ever seen
Sheridan utter more than a few words. Since his start as the Special Agent in
Charge, Colt Sheridan had been an efficient and sometimes intimidating Machine,
but at that moment, they all saw something human in the man as he comforted a
frightened woman. Perhaps the “Anti-Christ” wasn’t so bad, after all. It was
certainly something to watch.
Air Force
One made it through the storm and had a rather hard landing at Albuquerque
International Sunport. About thirty minutes before landing, Colt had tried to
let Casey go so she could put on her seat belt, but the descent was particularly
rough and she wouldn’t release him. Peter ended up belting her in as Colt held
on to her all the way to the ground. Once the wheels were down, however, he
needed to go into action so he forced her to let him go as the other agents
rose from their seats to go collect their weapons.
“I’ve got
to go,” he cupped her face and forced her to look him in the eye. “Okay? You’ll
be okay now. We’re down.”
Casey
wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “Oh, my God,” she breathed. “I’m so
embarrassed. I’m so sorry about this. I’ve just never been a very good flyer.”
He smiled
and stroked her cheeks with his thumbs before letting her go. “I really enjoyed
it,” he murmured. “Does that happen on every flight?”
She looked
miserable. “If they’re as bad as that one, it does.”
He
grinned. “Good,” he said softly. “I get to hold you the whole time and have an
excuse for it.”
She smiled
reluctantly and he turned around to see that he was alone in the compartment
with her. He could hear the other agents in the next compartment collecting
weapons. Sneaky, he stole a kiss before standing up.
“I’ll see
you later,” he said softly. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
She
nodded, looking rather disgusted with herself. “I’m fine. Embarrassed, but
fine.”
He winked
at her and left the compartment as the plane came to a slow crawl and began to
taxi towards the terminal. Casey remained in the seat, exhausted, watching
the world outside the window. When the plane finally came to a halt in
preparation for the disembarking ceremony, she rose unsteadily and made her way
back to her original seat to collect her things. She sat heavily as everyone
around her chatted and prepared to disembark, feeling ashamed of her behavior
but realizing that most everybody was scared through the bumpy flight. Taking
out her compact, she went about fixing her face and erasing the signs of her
meltdown.
She was
sitting by a window and she saw when they brought out the giant rolling stairs
and hooked them up against the fuselage of aircraft. There were dozens of
people below – cops, dignitaries and civilians waiting for Russ and Tracy to
make an appearance. Casey was fixing her eye makeup when she noticed Colt
making his way down the gangway and on to the tarmac.
He was
talking into a radio, putting his sleek RayBans on as he watched the
Presidential motorcade being brought around from the C 17 Globemaster III that
followed Air Force One both domestically and internationally. One thing that
Casey had learned about Presidential travel was that the planes had back-up
planes, the cars had back-up cars, and an entire world followed the President
of the United States around as he traveled, whether it was across town or
across the world.
There were
at least six black Chevrolet Suburbans and one giant Cadillac limousine for the
President. There were two dozen Secret Service agents spread out over the
tarmac, including Colt at the base of the gangway. Airport personnel had
brought out a big red carpet and about twenty feet of it was laid out at the
bottom of the stairs. Casey finished with her face and went into one of the
lavatories to fix her hair and take care of business. By the time she emerged,
the President was already on the tarmac, shaking hands with the dignitaries who
had shown up to greet him.
Casey went
back to her seat to watch the ceremonies below. Russ and his wife shook hands
and took pictures before heading into the limousine. The Secret Service
detachment, including Colt, jumped into the chase cars to escort the President
to his ranch near the Santo Domingo pueblo about forty miles north of
Albuquerque. The Apache Gap Ranch had been in Russ’ family for generations, a
working cattle ranch that his great-great-great grandfather had founded back in
the 1860’s. It was a beautiful spread in the mountains between Albuquerque and
Santa Fe. Casey had been there once in six months; this trip was purely a
family vacation even with the aides and press following. There was no real
agenda intended.