“Schools?” Sebastian questioned.
“Preschool through high school. Even though most of them can’t vote, they’ll tell their parents about your visit. The votes will come. Trust me.”
“He needs a lady on his arm,” Mrs. Stokes said, stepping out of the kitchen.
Sebastian turned away from his mother, and his eyes met mine. He smiled and walked right up to me. “Hi,” he said with a sweet grin.
“What are you doing?” his mother questioned. “Leave the agents alone when they’re on duty.” She grabbed his arm and pulled him away. Though she turned him so his back was to me, I could still hear them talking.
“Penelope Colon is coming tonight.”
“So?” Sebastian said.
“I think she would be a fine choice for you. She’s about to finish medical school at Yale, so the two of you already have something in common.”
“I’m a lawyer, not a doctor. And Harvard’s not Yale.”
“Well, they’re both Ivy League schools. That’s close enough.”
“Why are you so bent on setting me up, Mother?”
“If the voters see you have a serious girlfriend, you’ll have an advantage in this race. Regardless of what anyone says, values still win elections.”
“Honey,” Reverend Stokes said, “he’s not trying to win this thing.”
“Well now, even though he entered the race for lieutenant governor just to stir up interest for your campaign, I think he has a great chance of winning.”
“Penelope Colon is not his type,” Reverend Stokes stated. Then he turned and whispered in Sebastian’s ear, “Date whoever makes you happy, son.”
“Thanks, Dad,” Sebastian said with a smile.
“Now, don’t dismiss Penelope too quickly,” his mother urged. “I know you’re picky, but you never know. You may like her.” She turned to her husband. “Dear,” she said, taking her husband’s arm, “you need to start speaking with people about contributions to your campaign.” Without waiting for a response, she led him toward a large gathering of stuffy-looking guests.
Sebastian watched them leave, then turned to me. “It’s great to see you,” he said. He tried to take my hand, but I snatched it back.
“I’m on duty,” I whispered, maintaining my stance. “If anyone sees me socializing, they’ll think I’m not doing my job. Or worse—I could get in big trouble.”
“You’re right,” he said. “I’m sorry.” He turned away reluctantly and joined the party.
The owner of the catering service announced that dinner was about to be served, and the guests began gathering in the dining area. As servers entered with the first course, eager diners circled the tables, trying to locate their place cards.
It came as no surprise to me that Penelope’s card was right beside Sebastian’s.
Watching Sebastian laugh and interact with that girl made me realize how much I wanted to pursue a romantic relationship with him. However, with my job and his family, I knew that would be too big a mountain to climb.
As I stood in my corner, it dawned on me that I had no life. Oh, many people considered my career prestigious. And I was proud of my job. But I realized it required a great deal of sacrifice. Besides the fact that I could lose my life at any minute, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had a decent holiday. Even if I could make social plans, I knew no one in Atlanta except the family I was assigned to protect. And I couldn’t really hang out with them.
My stomach churned as I smelled the delicious aroma. An hour later, it twisted even more as I watched Mrs. Stokes escort Sebastian out the front door with Penelope. Sebastian glanced at me with apologetic eyes as his mother led him out. I kept my face like stone, knowing I didn’t dare let him know I was dying to be on his arm.
When my shift was finally over, I drove straight to the hotel the Agency had booked for the team. As soon as I entered my room, I picked up the phone and dialed room service.
After gorging myself on a cheeseburger, fries, and a strawberry milkshake, I put the tray outside my door, changed into my flannel pajamas, and crawled into bed.
Groaning from the stuffed feeling in my stomach, I opened the drawer in the nightstand where I’d tossed a stash of various medicines. After digging out an antacid and popping it in my mouth, I noticed the Gideon Bible in the back of the drawer. I hadn’t read the Bible in a long time and something about it was speaking to me. Slowly, I picked it up. I sat on the edge of the bed and turned to the middle.
Sebastian had talked to me about Jesus interceding on my behalf to His father. Through the open Bible on my lap, I sensed that this awesome Son, Jesus, was talking to me. I could almost hear Him telling me that all I had to do was worship Him, accept the fact that my sins are forgiven, and anything was possible.
“This is crazy,” I said as I slammed the Bible shut, tossed it back into the nightstand, and shoved the drawer closed.
I turned off the lamp and slithered under the covers. I’ve been too much of a backslider for God to be all right with me. Frustration sank in, and I uttered, “The Holy Person in the sky has not moved any of my mountains. If I’ve needed something done, I’ve had to do it myself.”
I’d had plenty of obstacles to overcome in my life. My daddy left us when I was little. Growing up in a single-parent household wasn’t easy. Sometimes, someone from a local church would invite us over for dinner. Once in a while the Salvation Army would call and tell us we could pick up other people’s cast-off clothes. Mama said that was God’s way of providing for us, but I always wondered how a loving God would let something like that happen to anyone as good as my mother.
When I was a teenager, Daddy suddenly decided he wanted to get to know his family again. But by that time, I had hardened my heart toward love and relationships. There was nothing he could say that mattered to me. Plus, my mom had already been through so much, working the drug scene, that she was done with him as well. When he came back around, my mom had a legitimate job and my dad also wanted to mooch off of that. When she told him to leave us be, I never saw him again.
Trying to stop thinking about my painful past, I thought about Sebastian. But that line of thinking brought pain, too. I wondered what he was doing. The clock beside the bed said it was two o’clock. I wondered if Sebastian was still out with Penelope Cancer, Colon, or whatever her name was.
The loud ringing of the phone startled me. “Hello?”
“Were you asleep?” Sebastian’s smooth voice asked.
“No,” I replied, unable to keep the enthusiasm out of my voice.
“I’m sorry for calling you so late. But I remembered that today is your special day, and I wanted to wish you a happy birthday before anyone else had a chance to.”
My heart melted at the sweet gesture. No one had ever called me at two A.M. to wish me a happy birthday.
“I thought maybe we could celebrate together…if you didn’t already have plans.”
“No, I don’t,” I said, suddenly grateful for my empty social calendar.
“Great. I’ll have my driver pick you up around five. Does that sound good?”
“Sure.”
“Well, pretty lady, you’d better get some sleep. You’ve got a big day ahead of you.”
“This place is beautiful,” I said to Sebastian as I stepped into the dimly lit penthouse apartment. It had an African theme, complete with tiger and leopard rugs on the hardwood floors. Tall palm trees stood like sentinels in the corners of the main room. I felt like I had instantly traveled from Atlanta to Africa.
Vanilla-scented candles and bouquets of red roses filled the living area with their fragrant aromas. “Are there always so many flowers and candles here?”
He smiled. “Actually, I brought in twenty-six of each, one for every year of your life. And I want you to make twenty-six wishes before you leave tonight.”
A tear fell from my eye. He was so sweet, and he knew just what I needed. As I started to hug him, his front door opened.
His fat
her entered with Agent Moss. Neither one seemed happy to see me.
Sebastian stood. “What are you doing here, Dad?”
“What is she doing here?” he bellowed, his hands balled into fists.
“It’s her birthday,” Sebastian retorted. “I’m celebrating with her.”
“You could have given her a present.”
“Dad, I’m not a little boy. This is my apartment. I can make my own decisions.”
“Your mother and I want you home for dinner. It’s Christmas.”
“I was with you guys all day yesterday.”
“We have several very important people coming over tonight. It would be nice if you would join us.”
Sebastian was in a predicament. I knew he wanted to make the night special for me, but he did have political and family obligations.
I scooped up my coat from the back of a chair. “I’ll be all right, Sebastian. You should go have Christmas with your family.”
“No,” he replied sternly. “I’m a grown man. I can do whatever I want. And what I want is to be with you.”
I melted at his words, but forced myself to do what seemed best for everyone. As I turned toward the door, Agent Moss gave me a stern look.
Sebastian started to follow me, but his dad grabbed his arm. Right outside the door, Agent Moss called to me. My heart dropped. It was never said that what I was doing was against the rules, but I knew it was implied.
“You’ve been great to have on this detail so far. But you’re crossing the line and you know it!”
“Sorry, sir,” I told him, knowing there was nothing I could say to fix this.
“I don’t know how you do things in the FBI, but here, we don’t get too close. What you’re doing is playing with fire. I’d hate to see you get burned and cause harm to yourself, this campaign, or the Secret Service. I didn’t see you tonight.”
“Yes, sir,” I said, before he turned to head back into Sebastian’s place.
“And don’t let it happen again. The next time, you’re off the detail.”
As I walked through the lobby to hail a taxi, I realized that I would never be good enough for Sebastian’s family and this relationship could ruin my career. Whatever had begun to spark between us was simply never going to work.
New Year’s Eve found us in Cleveland, Ohio, at the Cleveland Skyscraper for a big dinner in honor of Reverend Stokes. The dinner was held in a large conference room, which was on the thirtieth floor of a forty-floor building. It was decorated with red tablecloths and white napkins on round, ten-seated tables.
Sebastian had phoned me countless times over the past week, but I only returned one of his calls. He tried to convince me that we could work things out, but I cut him off and told him not to call me again. He called several times after that, but when I saw his number on my caller ID display, I just let it ring.
“Some say it can’t be done,” Mr. Stokes said into the microphone as he stood, straight and tall, on the platform after the dinner. “They don’t think I can become president of the United States.”
The audience cheered.
“But I know we will make it happen with your support.”
The cheers grew louder. My fellow agents and I went on extra alert. Anytime the noise level at a function went up, the potential for an attacker to try to do something without being noticed increased.
“This time next year,” Stokes proclaimed, “with your support, I will be in the White House. Together we will prove to the world that the presidency of the United States is not about the color of a man’s skin, but about who is the best man for the job.”
The powerful words stirred wild applause. Then I remembered Sebastian telling me that his father didn’t write his speeches—Sebastian did.
Mr. Stokes sauntered down from the pulpit and I escorted him to his table. Mrs. Stokes’s seat was empty. A quick call through my earpiece to Agent Pitts informed me that she was in the powder room.
Stokes shook several hands before taking his seat. When his supporters were all busy chowing down, he leaned back in his seat and spoke to me without looking my way. “You do know that my son is not really interested in you, don’t you?” he said.
I remained in position, saying nothing, acting as if I hadn’t heard a word he’d said. I knew Sebastian cared. I also knew Reverend Stokes didn’t want me dating his son.
“You could get in serious trouble for being involved with Sebastian,” Stokes continued, still focusing on his food. “As much as I enjoy having a pretty young thing like you tagging along on the campaign, I won’t have you messing with my son that way.”
Before I could respond, I got a call on my earplug. “Agent Ware,” my supervisor, Agent Moss, hollered, “get Cool Falcon out of there. Get him to the roof. We’ve got a helicopter on its way to pick him up. Move!”
Like a plane going into autopilot, I instantly went into crisis mode. Setting aside my anger at him, I said firmly but discreetly, “We have got to leave immediately, sir. There’s an emergency.”
Ignoring me, he started chatting nonchalantly with the constituent next to him. I grabbed his arm and yanked him out of his seat.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he cried as I shoved him toward the nearest staircase.
Agent Moss met us at the stairwell.
“Where’s my wife?” Stokes demanded.
“We’ve already escorted her out of the building, sir,” Moss informed our reluctant protectee.
“What’s going on?” Stokes asked, his voice beginning to show concern.
“We’ve got to clear out the building,” Moss said, leading Stokes up the stairs. “We’ve received a bomb threat.”
“Good heavens!” Stokes cried. “But why are we going upstairs?”
“There’s a helicopter waiting for us on the roof,” Moss explained. “Now, get a move on!”
Stokes finally picked up some speed. He even mumbled some prayers as he scrambled up the steps.
I heard the frantic voices of other agents shouting into my earpiece.
“All the guests are out of the building,” Agent Pitts announced.
“We can’t find the bomb,” Agent Sawyer wailed.
When we reached the top of the stairs and approached the roof access door, the question was answered. A device with four explosives, a time clock, and three different-colored wires was planted on the door. My heart dropped.
“What do we do now?” I asked, barely breathing.
Agent Moss had experience disarming bombs, but he just stood there, scratching his head. The timer showed five minutes and twenty-five seconds.
As I looked around for another way out, I spotted a vent on the ceiling. It looked large enough for me to climb through if I could get it open.
“Moss,” I shouted, “give me a boost.”
He followed my gaze and quickly guessed my plan. He intertwined the fingers of both hands and I stepped into the stirrup. Pulling hard, I finally yanked off the metal facing. It clattered to the ground.
Moss boosted me higher and I climbed inside the tiny, dusty enclosure. When I saw light a few feet away, I hollered down, “Come on. This leads to the roof.”
Agent Moss radioed to the other agents, then lifted Stokes into the vent behind me. We crawled on our bellies toward the light.
When we got to the end, I stumbled out of the vent, then helped Reverend Stokes out. I had never seen him so disheveled or so frightened.
“Run, sir,” I screamed, pointing at the helicopter that sat in the center of the roof, its blades twirling.
Just as Stokes started climbing into the chopper, the building started to rumble. I tried to climb in behind him but the helicopter suddenly swayed and I lost my balance. I landed on the roof, and as the helicopter took off, the pilot looked back at me with wild, apologetic eyes.
I knew that only seconds remained before the explosion reached me, so I grabbed the parachute my team had stored on the roof and ran to the edge of the building. I was thrown into the air
by the powerful explosion.
Chapter 7
Ski Lift
After taking a few deep breaths to settle my nerves, I released the parachute and sailed down the front side of the building. I felt myself floating gently and effortlessly through puffy white clouds in a beautiful cobalt-blue sky. The ball of fire was no longer chasing me. I was certain I would never see earth again, and I felt okay with that. A calm, peaceful feeling flooded my heart. Death isn’t so bad, I thought. I guess God didn’t give up on me after all.
“Lord in heaven, take me home,” I whispered. “Forgive me for straying away from You. I wish I had really known You sooner, but I guess I’ll have forever to sing Your praises.”
Suddenly my body crashed onto the ground. People flocked all around me, crying, “She’s alive. She’s okay!”
I wasn’t dead after all. I had floated to the ground with the parachute.
As I tried to remember what had happened, a searing pain shot through my leg. I looked down and saw that my right thigh was covered in blood.
A paramedic was cutting my scorched pant leg. I nearly passed out when I saw the bulging dark patches on my shin where fire had curled some of my skin and melted other parts away.
Agent Moss got out of the helicopter parked a few feet away, pushed his way through the crowd, and knelt beside me. This stoic man hovered over me, his normally placid eyes filled with concern. “You did a great job. That leg will heal in no time. You’re a fighter. Reverend Stokes can’t wait to thank you in person.”
“He’s okay?” I hazily recalled watching Stokes climb into the helicopter before it took off from the roof.
“Yes,” Moss assured me. “The helicopter landed safely at the airport.”
The paramedics placed me on a gurney and put me in the ambulance for transport to the hospital. My heart slowed as I calmed down. I was safe. I was thankful. For the first time in a long while, I felt God’s presence.
After two days in the hospital, I was losing my mind. Agent Hold had brought me a stack of crossword puzzle books, and I had already completed at least ten of them.