Page 73 of Nothing to Fear

“Too late.”

She sighed, missing the slippery warmth of him. “I guess we’ll have to do it again.”

“We can do whatever you want, as many times as you want. While we’re on the boat.”

She pressed her fingers to his lips. “Vegas.”

No promises of anything more. At least she wasn’t a for-one-night-only girl, and she planned to make the most of the little time they’d have together.

He got back into the bed and held her. Wrapped in Gideon Stone’s arms, her body was languorous and replete. Satisfied. Closing her eyes, she drifted to sleep with a man for the very first time.

30

Gray Box Headquarters, Northern Virginia

Sunday, July 7, 12:31 p.m. EDT

The hall was quiet as Sanborn strode to his office, keen to ditch his suit. His body ached for exercise, craving the surge of endorphins.

The compounded stress of hunting for the mole while trying to protect Willow and Gideon was getting to him. Restless energy thrummed in his veins, and his joints were tight.

Rounding the corner, he stopped short and then ducked behind the wall.

Janet stood in the next corridor, embroiled in a heated argument with Sybil Parker’s right-hand man, Ricky Olsen. He was tall and leggy, equally as dogged and territorial as Janet.

What was he doing sniffing around outside Sanborn’s office?

She had her hands planted on her full hips, jaw clenched, head held high. The two snapped back and forth at each other, neither backing down. Ricky shook his head and stepped around her to walk away, but she caught his arm and spun him around, not letting him skulk off.

Janet wasn’t simply Sanborn’s gatekeeper. She was his freaking stormtrooper. No one set foot inside his office without her permission.

Pride spread across his face in a smile and fell just as quickly. Ricky pressed his palm to Janet’s cheek, her body instantly, visibly, softening in response.

A chill ran through Sanborn, like someone had walked over his grave.

Ricky leaned in as if to kiss her, but Sanborn strode around the corner into plain view. The two shot apart with deadpan expressions. Not a hint of surprise or guilt on either face.

Whatever was going on between those two, it had been happening for a while. They had grown accustomed to hiding, pretending, coming so close to being caught that their reactions were well-practiced.

Ricky hurried past Sanborn with his eyes lowered.

Janet handed him a stack of phone messages without batting a lash, sparking anger inside him. “The top two should be returned while you’re on the treadmill or out for a run.”

He glanced at the papers. The director of national intelligence and the aide to the president. POTUS must’ve gotten wind of this fiasco and wanted to ensure this mess wouldn’t blow back on him.

“Not in your office,” she added. “I found Olsen nosing around when I got back.”

Now the walls officially had eyes and ears. Sanborn had given Sybil too much credit, assuming she’d already bugged his office in the same manner he had hers. He’d used a set of her own threat monitor equipment that been cleared by the director of national intelligence to use in the facility.

“Where were you?”

“Doing what you asked.”

Stalling Ms. Sybil Parker away from her office by any means necessary. Only three computers in the Gray Box had active USB ports for uploading external data: his, Willow’s, and Sybil’s. Sanborn used the distraction to copy Sybil’s computer on the flash drive that was burning a hole in his pocket. But if Parker’s techie had been in Sanborn’s office at the same time, exactly who had been the one stalling whom?

Didn’t matter. With the cloned drive, he’d ascertain what Sybil was up to. It was a violation of ethics, not to mention the law, to spy on the insider threat monitor, but the only way Sanborn fought was dirty.

“Care to explain about you and Ricky Olsen?” he asked, his fury over their charade rising.