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  Peter put the director behind him and motioned for Savko and Lubert to step in and trail them. A third agent who was in a follow car stepped in and helped the press secretary gain control of the rowdy press. Peter kept his head high and his eyes constantly scanned the room as he led the director through the lobby.

  Why the hell did they let the press in to this thing? He could hear people asking questions about things they shouldn’t even know. It always amazed Peter that anyone would talk to the media, let alone divulge secrets they had no business divulging to a journalist. They were vultures who had little care for decorum and respect when they were after a story. All they cared about was printing a splashy headline that could get a lot of clicks. Peter’s relationship with the press had always been tenuous at best and downright hostile at its worst. The constitution gave them the freedom to do their jobs and the rational side of him saw the good in that but mostly he just thought the press were animals who needed to be put down. He didn’t bother keeping the scowl off his face. It made him look more intimidating which was a plus as a secret service agent.

  A blonde caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. Did she have glitter eye shadow on? What kind of journalist wore glitter eyeshadow? He shook his head.

  As they crossed the threshold into the inner corridor of the floor they were on, the blonde broke away from the rest of the crowd.

  “Director Upwood, is it true you were spotted at the Doll House Cabaret last night?”

  Peter had to fight to keep a straight face. The Doll House Cabaret was a high-end strip club. Did she work for a gossip magazine? That would explain the eye shadow. It didn’t explain why she had a press pass for an event at CIA Headquarters. You didn’t give a press pass to just anyone.

  “Step back behind the press rope ma’am,” Peter barked.

  “Director Upwood, if you would just answer our questions, we could report a clearer picture.”

  Peter motioned for Savko and Lubert to move the nosy reporter back behind the line as he shuffled the director further down the hallway away from the lobby. He turned to the third agent from the follow car. “I’m afraid I didn’t get your name. Take Director Upwood directly to the luncheon.”

  “Name’s Ellerman, Sir. Let’s go Director.”

  Peter hung back long enough for Savko and Lubert to get through the door.

  “Those people are fiends,” Savko grumbled.

  “Tell me about it. Keep them back until we get the director settled, then let them in. I’m sure they have a designated area for the press inside.”

  While the director spoke at his luncheon, Peter stood outside the door and made small talk with Upwood’s assistant.

  “Why so much press here today?” he asked.

  “It was supposed to be a bunch of good photo ops of all the agency heads eating together and agreeing to work closer together, so we gave press passes to basically every news agency in the country for maximum exposure. I don’t think so many people would have shown up if not for the bomb.”

  She was probably right. Journalists loved bombs, mass shootings, and a politician who couldn’t keep his foot out of his mouth or his dick in his pants.

  “And why does your boss think he doesn’t need a protection detail? Why does everyone in this town think they are bullet proof? I swear someone could be holding a gun to their head and half of the people in that dining room would insist they didn’t need me.”

  The pretty assistant shrugged. “Don’t look at me. I would love to have a protection detail. I get just as much hate mail as the director. Not to mention having a hot guy in a suit to stare at all day wouldn’t be so bad. You won’t see me complaining that you fellas are hanging around.” She winked at Peter who just shook his head.

  The suit had helped him get a phone number or two, he thought with a smirk.

  Just then, Agent Savko’s voice sounded in his earpiece.

  “Sir. We caught a rogue reporter wandering the halls. Seemed like she was snooping. Crazy woman is wearing glitter eye shadow. Who does that?”

  Peter’s eyebrow quirked upward as he pictured the blonde who had broken free from the rest of the reporters earlier.

  “Detain her. I’ll find you an empty room here in the building to hold her.”

  There was silence for a moment before Savko said, “You want me to detain a reporter?”

  “You heard me Agent Savko. Arrest her.

  3

  ♥♥♥

  “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. I wander onto the wrong floor and you’re arresting me? I’m a member of the press with a valid press pass.”

  Carrie glared up at the agent who had just placed handcuffs on her and was leading her down a hallway to an elevator.

  “Yes, ma’am I understand but we take Director Upwood’s safety very seriously and you were trespassing. We’re detaining you until we have determined you’re not a threat.”

  Carrie jerked away from the agent, but his grip on her arm tightened. This was absurd. Sure, wandering onto the wrong floor wasn’t technically an accident, but she didn’t expect them to arrest her if she got caught. At most, she expected to get her press pass revoked which she could live with. But getting arrested was the exact opposite of not making waves. Tom was going to kill her.

  When they reached the third floor, the secret service agent tugged her out of the elevator toward another agent.

  “Boss wants us to keep her in here until they figure out what she was doing on the director’s private floor.”

  It pissed her off that they were standing there talking about her like she wasn’t even there.

  “Am I under arrest?”

  “Not yet ma’am. You’re just being detained.”

  “Good, then you won’t mind if I make a few phone calls,” Carrie said, wriggling her wrists to indicate that they should uncuff her.

  She wasn’t a threat. They would let her go, just not before they completely ruined her day. Her last Red Bull was wearing off and she could feel the lack of sleep taking its toll.

  “You may want to call an attorney ma’am,” the second unnamed agent said as he unlocked her handcuffs. Both men exited and left her alone with her phone and purse which they’d searched thoroughly when they first caught her snooping. The fact that they had let her keep them told her they didn’t actually think she was a threat. They were just posturing. It wasn’t uncommon for powerful people to dislike the media.

  Carrie sat in one of the two chairs in the small office. Aside from a plain wooden desk, there was nothing else in the room. She felt herself nodding off, so she rummaged through her purse in search of a caffeine pill. There were none to be found, so she pulled out a compact mirror to put a little blush on her cheeks.

  A gasp of horror escaped her as she flipped the mirror up.

  “Oh shit. I forgot to wash my face,” she blurted into the empty room. The sound of her own voice echoed in the sparsely furnished space, adding to her embarrassment. There on her eyelids, was bright purple glitter eye shadow. Her face heated, and the blush was no longer necessary.

  Burying her hands in her face she willed herself not to cry. This day was not going as planned at all. With a huff, she drummed her forehead on the table before digging through her purse once more. This time she was more successful and came up with a handful of crumpled tissues which she spit on and tried to wipe the purple glitter off her face. It was rather pointless though. Eyeshadow needed special makeup remover to come off easily.

  Her phone rang as she tossed the tissue back in her purse and, she winced. It was Tom. She had hoped to be able to get out of here before her boss heard about what happened.

  Accepting the call, she answered as brightly as she could manage.

  “Hi Tom. Funny you should call right now.”

  “Cut the shit, Carrie. I distinctly remember telling you not to make waves. Care to tell me why the Secret Service is calling to inform me that they’ve detained one of my journalists—for trespassing of all thing
s?

  Carrie blew out a breath. “Sorry Tom. I didn’t think they would fucking arrest me.”

  “Jesus Carrie, what were you thinking?”

  “I was thinking I wanted to get a feel for his work environment. Maybe talk to people who work closest with him.”

  Tom growled in frustration and the line was quiet for a minute. “And your brilliant idea was to sneak out of a press event and into a restricted area of CIA Headquarters? You’re smarter than this Carrie. You need to fucking sleep.”

  It was Carrie’s turn to be frustrated. She was sick of people being on her case about her sleep and her caffeine. These had been her habits for years. Though to be fair, it was pretty stupid to try and get into a restricted access area of a building full of super spies.

  “I’m sorry Tom. I wasn’t thinking.”

  “Clearly. I’m working it out. They should be releasing you soon. But you damn well better stay in the lines, Carrie, or I’m pulling you off this.”

  “You got it boss. I’m just gonna go home and take a nap and then I’ll clean this up.” Her voice wavered as she began to realize just how much she had fucked up.

  Tom’s tone became kinder. “Let me clean this up and you go take much more than a nap. I don’t want to see you back in the office until noon tomorrow.”

  It didn’t sit well with her that he didn’t trust her to handle this on her own.

  “OK. So, what do you want me to do now?”

  “Just sit there and think about what you’ve done.” He was mocking her now. That meant he wasn’t too mad.

  “If it makes you feel any better, I embarrassed myself by forgetting to take off the glitter eyeshadow before I got here.”

  Tom groaned. “Why would that make me feel better?”

  “I don’t know. Just trying to help.”

  “I’m hanging up before I fire my best investigator.”

  “Bye Tom.”

  Carrie grinned. He still thought she was his best. And she was. That wasn’t up for debate. But sometimes she went a little off the rails when she got sleep deprived and out of her mind about a story.

  Being arrested by the secret service certainly topped the list of stupid things she had done though.

  Just then, the door opened and Agent Savko walked in.

  “Miss Davenport, you’ll be happy to know we’ve determined that you’re not a threat and you’re free to go.”

  Carrie leaned back in her chair and observed the agent, contemplating her next move.

  “I’d like to know who authorized my arrest.”

  “That would be the agent in charge of this protection detail ma’am.”

  Carrie stood now and leaned on the table. “And why did he make that call?”

  “Because he had reason to suspect you might be a threat to Director Upwood. We caught you snooping on his private floor after all.” Savko spoke with little emotion and it irritated Carrie. She wanted to get under his skin.

  “I wasn’t snooping,” she lied. “And I want to see this agent in charge.”

  “I’m afraid that’s not possible.”

  Carrie sat and folded her arms.

  “I’m not leaving until I see him. Or at least not until I get his name.”

  For just a brief moment, Carrie saw a hint of frustration flash in Savko’s eyes.

  “Ma’am, it’s in your best interests to get up and walk out of this room right now while you still can.”

  “Are you serious right now? I was just arrested for no real reason and you’re threatening me? I want to know who authorized my arrest,” she repeated.

  “Special Agent Peter Mercer, ma’am.”

  Carrie pulled a pen and pad from her purse and made a big show of writing his name. After crossing her t’s with a little too much flourish, she tossed the pen on the table.

  “Now, where is this Peter Mercer?”

  “He’s not here right now.”

  Carrie waved her hand toward the door. “Well go get him. Right now. I want to see him and ask some questions about how he thinks journalists should be treated in this country.”

  Savko adjusted his tie and looked up at the ceiling. “Ma’am, please leave.”

  His exasperation with her was going to work in her favor or land her in a dark hole somewhere. Carrie was willing to bet they wouldn’t actually lock up a journalist and kept pushing.

  “Fine. But don’t get mad when I run a front-page story in the Washington Post about the way the Secret Service handles journalists’ questions. How do spell Savko? I’ll make sure to call you out by name.”

  Carrie watched his eyes roll as he turned and stalked out of the room. If she had to guess, he was on his way to get Peter Mercer.

  About five minutes later, Agent Savko returned alone. Carrie prayed that he wasn’t about to dump her in that dark hole.

  “If you’ll come with me Miss Davenport, Agent Mercer has agreed to see you.”

  Carrie didn’t bother keeping the smug look off of her face. Savko led her to another conference room and told her to wait there. Why Peter Mercer couldn’t have just come to the room she was in, she didn’t know. Moving her might have been just to annoy her or draw out the process.

  Plush office chairs surrounded the table, so she sat in one and pulled out her phone. There was a missed call. Shit it’s Friday, she thought as she hit the callback button.

  “Carrie honey I was just calling to see if you could come early and help with set up,” Edith said when she answered.

  “Sorry Edith, I actually can’t make it at all. I’m so sorry. I know I was supposed to help teach a class tonight, but work has me hung up and I’m in desperate need of sleep.”

  “Aww I’m so sorry. We’ll miss you,” Edith said. “Well hey, if you can’t make it to my house, come to Gary’s with me next week. I’ve been dying to get you over there.”

  Carrie smiled as she thought of Gary the Texas cowboy. “I’ll think about it, I promise. Your parties are just the best though. I can’t imagine Gary’s living up to yours.”

  The woman on the other end laughed. “You’re just flattering me. I really think you’ll like it. There are some tops I want to introduce you to that I think would be right up your alley.”

  “Sorry Edith, I’m not in a place to talk openly about that but yes, I’ll think about it if I’m free. I promise.”

  Peter Mercer still hadn’t appeared, so she decided to make small talk with Edith for a minute. As she did, she rotated in her swivel chair looking around the room. That’s when she spotted the coffee pot in the corner. One more cup wouldn’t hurt right? Might be just the jolt she needed to kick a Secret Service agents’ ass.

  • • •

  “How long are you going to make her wait?”

  Peter grinned at Savko as they stood outside the conference room watching Carrie Davenport.

  “Not much longer. Did you see how fast she chugged that coffee? Between that and the glitter eyeshadow I think our girl might be nursing a hangover.”

  Savko chuckled.

  “Is she pouring another one?” he whispered a moment later. “I only just left her twenty minutes ago.”

  “Yep, that’s her third one by my count. Go ahead and get back to your post.”

  The agent nodded and jogged off to stand watch again.

  Peter leaned against the wall and watched the blonde journalist. He would admit to finding her attractive despite the fact that she was a reporter. And she wasn’t a gossip columnist at all. She was a legitimate investigative journalist. The kind he loathed.

  She was on the phone and it didn’t appear to be a business call because she was laughing and making silly faces as she spoke. Her free hand flew in a wild motion as if the person on the other end of the call could see her. The sound of her giggles drifted through the walls. If it weren’t for the whole reporter thing, he would ask for her number. But after Gigi, he was on a strict no reporters diet.

  Not to mention the fact that he had just had her arrested. He pro
bably wasn’t her favorite person right now.

  Could be fun to see if he could get her number anyway. Not that he’d actually call her. Three cups of coffee in twenty minutes? She was definitely high strung. But damn, she was cute. And when she’d pulled her hair up off her neck, he’d caught a glimpse of hidden strands of blue which told him she had a touch of a wild streak. Might be fun to tame her. He shook his head, disgusted with himself for the direction his thoughts were going. Thankfully his cellphone rang and saved him from going further down that path. He answered without looking at the screen.

  “Mercer.”

  “What’s this about you detaining a reporter?”

  Peter straightened as if his boss could see him.

  “Director Higgins. I was planning to include all the information in my shift report. We caught a reporter from the post trying to access Upwood’s private floor. We’re investigating how she got as far as she did, but it appears she’s not a threat so we’re releasing her. She asked to speak with me before she left. I was just about to go in.”

  “Let’s not make a habit of arresting journalists please. We’re not Saudi Arabia.”

  “Understood, Sir.”

  When the call ended, he spent another sixty seconds watching the short blond reporter before flinging open the door hoping to startle her.

  “Miss Davenport. I’m Special Agent Mercer. It would seem you’re threatening my men. I don’t mind detaining you a while longer since you don’t seem to want to go home.”

  She turned to face him as she ended her own phone call.

  “Agent Mercer. I appreciate you agreeing to see me.”

  Her personable tone pissed him off, and he stalked toward her.

  “Let’s get one thing clear. I’m not here as a favor to you. Let me tell you in no uncertain terms that if I ever catch you snooping around where you don’t belong again, I’ll make sure you’re blacklisted for getting a press pass anywhere in this town. I can put you on a dozen lists and you’ll never get another source or interview. Do I make myself clear?”

  She raised up to her full height—which couldn’t have been over five-two—and said, “Crystal. And I’m here to tell you that I have no intention of giving up my investigation into Director Upwood.”