Protecting Justice (The Justice Series Book 4) (17 page)

Chapter Ten

Fallyn’s hand shook as she held the phone to her ear. Every cell in her body was cheering after Tony had worked his magic on her. Her blood pumped faster, her pulse dancing after the rush.

But all of that didn’t matter as her bliss was cut short.

“Fallyn?” President Abraham Nicols spoke in her ear. “I’m glad I caught you.”

Tony held her by the arm but Fallyn shooed him away. When speaking to a powerful man, you needed to exude self-confidence and competence. Lying on the couch enjoying a buzz from your latest earth-shattering orgasm wasn’t going to get the job done.

Stand up, chest out, breathe deep.
“Mr. President. So good to hear from you.”

Tony finally moved out of her way and Fallyn got to her feet. Her legs were shaky and her damn heels were too high, throwing her off balance. One ankle gave out and she toppled back onto Tony’s lap.

He chuckled while helping her upright once more, pinching her ass in the process. She slapped his hand away and marched a few steps out of his reach. In the mirror over the desk, she caught sight of her reflection.

Thank God, Nicols hadn’t FaceTimed her. Her hair was a hot mess, and her blouse was half unbuttoned, revealing her lacy bra. Her skirt was in a puddle on the floor and she’d lost her underwear between the wall and the couch. Her stockings and garter were still in place, but by the look on Tony’s face, they wouldn’t be for long. He’d slouched back into the couch, throwing his arms out across the back and watching her like a hungry man eyeing a juicy steak.

The shiver of anticipation ran down her spine. “What can I help you with, sir?” she asked, trying to concentrate.

Nicols gave a tight sigh. “I know this is a difficult time for you, Fallyn, but we need to talk.”

The tone of his voice reminded her of her father when he was disappointed with something she had done. She knew that tone well. Before she could check her response, she threw her shoulders back.
Exude confidence
. “Of course, sir. About what exactly?”

“I don’t wish to get into it over the phone.” Curt. Annoyed.

Hmm. “All right. I can swing by the White House first thing tomorrow morning.”

“Now would be better.”

Now? Fallyn bit her bottom lip. Telling the president
no
held appeal, but no one told the leader of the free world no. “I’m in a…a meeting. Just wrapping up, in fact.” Tony grinned at her as she glanced at her watch and hustled over to pick up her skirt. She flipped him off while assessing the damage. The silk/linen skirt was too wrinkled to salvage. She would have to find an entirely new outfit. Plus traffic would be a bitch. “I can be there in, say, an hour?”

That was cutting it short and she was definitely feeling cheated out of spending the rest of the afternoon in bed with Tony. The night still held possibility though.

“That won’t be necessary,” the president said. “I’m downstairs.”

Fallyn stopped mid-stride toward the bathroom. “I’m sorry. It sounded like you said you’re downstairs.”

That brought Tony to his feet. He made some gesture Fallyn didn’t understand and she turned away from him. “Downstairs, as in the hotel lobby?” she reiterated.

“I’m in my car. I’m sending a Secret Service agent up to your room to escort you.”

Fallyn nearly dropped the phone. She did drop the skirt. “Oh no. That won’t be necessary, sir. Really. I’ll be down in a…in a minute.”

“Very good.” The line went dead.

Fallyn whirled on Tony. “Holy shit. The president is downstairs and wants to talk.”

“I gathered that.” Tony hustled her toward the bathroom. “About what?”

“He wouldn’t say.” She closed the bathroom door and went to work cleaning herself up as best she could. She pulled on the skirt, regardless of the wrinkles, and ran a brush through her hair. “Do you think he’s gotten wind of our little investigation?” she called through the door.

“Only if that rat, Blake, told him. Who else knows?” Tony said.

Carl and Jordan knew she was looking into the drugs in Heather’s system, but they had no clue about what was going on with Senator Oren or Fallyn and Tony’s theory about Ryan Nicols’ possibly being involved.

Her cheeks were flushed, her lips slightly swollen from Tony’s kisses. At least, she didn’t need to fix her makeup. She buttoned her blouse and found clean underwear. Smoothed a few of the wrinkles out of her skirt. All in less than two minutes.

“How does he know you’re staying here?” Tony asked as she opened the door.

“No idea.” She marched past him, grabbed her trench coat, and tugged it on. The coat would cover her wrinkled clothes, thank God. She stuck her phone in the coat pocket and faced him. “How do I look?”

His face said,
like a woman I want to fuck
, but he kept that statement to himself. “Fine.”

Fine?
Really, that was the best he could do? Whatever. “I’ll be back shortly.”

He made his way to the door and opened it for her. “I’m going with you.”

She sighed as she went past him, knowing that any argument she threw out would be vetoed. “Are you going to climb into the presidential limo with me as well?”

“If necessary.” He closed the door behind them, then grabbed her hand and drew her close before she could walk away. “Make it quick, okay? I’ve got a woody that needs attention.”

Leave it to him and his smart-ass mouth to make her laugh and release the tension between her shoulder blades. With her free hand, she reached down between them and gave him a little squeeze. “Believe me, I’d love nothing better than to stay in the suite with you and give you all the attention you want. In fact, the President of the United States is probably the only man alive at this moment who could keep me from ravaging your body.”

Tony snickered. “Second fiddle to POTUS. Excellent.”

“You’re not playing second fiddle. I have no intention of fucking the president, so believe me when I say, your fiddle will be first and foremost in the spotlight when I’m done talking to him.”

She gave him another little squeeze, winked, and headed for the elevator.

He didn’t say anything, helping her inside, but once the doors shut, he backed her up against the wall and kissed her silly.

When she emerged from the elevator on the ground floor, she’d nearly forgotten the president and his order. That’s what Tony and his damn kisses did to her. He made her forget everything else.

Which wasn’t good. She needed to be on top of her game at the moment. Not sidetracked by a man who probably went through women like toothbrushes.

A Secret Service agent met them at the hotel lobby door. He was of medium height, medium coloring, and wore dark glasses to hide his eyes. “Gerard,” the agent said, extending his hand. “Haven’t seen you in ages. How you doin’, man?”

“Emmett.” Tony accepted the handshake. “Good to see you. You made it into the inner circle, huh?”

“Finally. Six years I’ve been at this Secret Service gig. The wife was threatening to leave me if I didn’t get POTUS’ private group.”

They shared a chuckle and Emmett nodded at her. “Ms. Pasche,” he said, motioning her across the sidewalk to where the motorcade was pulling up. How many times had they driven around the block waiting for her? “This way.”

Tony followed behind them and Emmett didn’t stop him. At least not until the agent hustled Fallyn into the back seat of The Beast quicker than she could say, “all hail to the Chief.” Right before the door closed, she saw Tony’s jaw tightened as Emmett backed him off and sealed her inside with the president.

“Fallyn.” Abraham Nicols smiled from the seat opposite her, sincerity not quite reaching his eyes. “So lovely to see you. Again, I must extend my condolences once more on the loss of Heather. She was a great person and a savvy senator.”

The spacious interior of the car was black leather and burled wood. The president sat alone, his brushed cashmere coat unbuttoned, legs crossed and fingers interlaced. The picture of relaxation, yet there was something in his eyes that told Fallyn he was anything but.

The president’s expensive, if completely overpowering, cologne made her eyes water. Considering she probably still smelled like sex, it was probably a good thing he was so fragrant.

She covertly sniffed the air as he continued to speak about Heather, and yep, she caught a whiff of Tony’s aftershave—that combo of musk and citrus—mixed with her own perfume and post-sex scent.

Great. Nothing like meeting with the president in close quarters while smelling like a porn star fresh from filming.

Nicols finished praising Heather and went on to say what a nice funeral it had been. Then he looked at Fallyn as though waiting for her to comment.

She worked with men on a daily basis who needed their egos stroked. Some powerful women as well. They often gave her the same look, as if because they strung a few words together, the heavens should part and adoration should rain down on them.

Work the case.
Give him what he wants so you can get back to the fiddle and get what
you
want.

Working the case, in this instance, required she handle the president with kid gloves. “It meant the world to Dad and I that you took time from your busy schedule to honor Heather yesterday. So, please, tell me what I can do for you.”

Nicols gave her that smile. The smile that said “good girl.” He uncrossed his legs and leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees. “The capitol police have brought it to my attention that there is an investigation going on into Heather’s death. I’m told there may have been drugs involved?”

Oh boy. He was making it sound like Heather was into something illegal. Probably worried about a scandal that could harm his next presidential campaign. “The autopsy showed there was an elevated level of a prescription drug in Heather’s system. A drug that could have caused her to have a heart attack and was not prescribed by any of her doctors. Detective Hollister from Metro is looking into it, along with the FBI. I received a call from Special Agent Bronco just a little while ago.”

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, the vibration making her jump. It was probably Tony, wanting to know what was going on, and since pulling your phone out and checking it in front of the president was beyond rude, Fallyn ignored it.

Nicols frowned. “I see. I can’t believe Heather would be so reckless as to take a drug that would knowingly cause a heart attack.”

There it was again, that insinuation that Heather’s death was something she’d done to herself. “Heather was never reckless, sir.” Hadn’t he just been singing her sister’s praises? “You know that.”

She wanted to add more, so much more, but she’d learned silence was often more effective at getting her point across. So she sat.

Waited. Saw the expression on the president’s face that told her he didn’t like the tone she’d just used on him.

Get used to it, buddy.

Her phone quit buzzing in her pocket. The president stared at her, waiting for her elaborate. She didn’t.

Abraham Nicols was good at tactical maneuvers too.

Finally, he broke the standoff. Sitting back, he fluffed his coat and crossed his legs again. “Along with the investigation into Heather and the drugs, I’m told you’ve been poking around the Foreign Relations committee about their conclusion in the CanAir disappearance. May I ask, why would you care about that?”

Bingo. That was what this little visit was all about.

Play your cards carefully, Fallyn.
Her phone started going off again. Rudeness be damned, she needed to stall, so she pulled it out and saw it was the number from earlier, the FBI agent calling again. Apparently Special Agent Bronco had left a message, persistent little prick, but was bombing her with calls anyway.

Shutting the phone off, she jammed it back into her pocket. An idea came to her that wasn’t far from the truth. “Heather was quite interested in that plane and what happened to it. You know how she hated flying over the ocean. That plane’s disappearance unnerved her since she had that big Asia tour coming up.”

“Her paranoia about flying over open water made you start poking around the committee?”

More than anything, Fallyn wanted to come out and ask why he ordered Senator Oren to drop any inquiries, if in fact, he had done that. Right now, all of it was speculation. Carefully crafted speculation. She’d prefer to be straightforward, get right to the heart of the matter.

In Washington, you never went right to the heart of anything without consequences, and being as how she was at the mercy of the president and his driver at that moment—with no real proof of anything—she decided not to tip her hand. “Heather left notes and questions she had about the whole thing in a…diary. I wondered if she had gotten answers to those questions, so I started asking around. That’s all.”

Nicols set forward again, pinning her with his stare. “This is highly classified stuff, Fallyn, not some tabloid rumor mill. That plane’s disappearance is a tragedy but it was a terrorist act. Don’t go digging around in it or you could be charged with a felony for impeding a federal investigation.”

“I thought the investigation was over.”

She nearly slapped a hand over her mouth.
Insubordination at its finest, folks
.