In the Likely Event(27)

Jeremy’s name and contact photo filled the screen.

Shit. It was his third call today.

“Let me help,” Ben said, reaching for the phone a half second too late. It fell from the stack of folders, crashing into the shiny floor, bouncing on impact.

Naturally, where Ben was too slow, Nate had the reflexes of a freaking cat, and he caught the device before it could impact again.

I was acutely aware of the rise of Nate’s body next to mine, and if I hadn’t been staring at his face, watching for any possible reaction, I would have missed the way his brow furrowed for a second when he saw the screen. “Just hit decline,” I said softly, my heart pounding at the thought that he’d answer it.

I wasn’t ready for the conversation Jeremy wanted, or the very different one I needed, and I sure as hell wasn’t ready for Nate to talk to him. Nope. No way was that happening.

Nate might not have known Jeremy, but Jeremy sure as hell knew who Nate was. Couldn’t blame Jeremy for hating him, though. I wasn’t keen on fighting a ghost for my fiancé’s attention either.

Except Nate wasn’t a ghost anymore. He was flesh and blood next to me, smelling like that spearmint gum he was obsessed with.

Which meant I knew exactly how he tasted right now.

“You sure?” Nate’s ice-blue eyes rose to meet mine, his finger hovering over the decline button.

“Absolutely.” I nodded, never as certain about anything in my life.

“Man, you’re fast,” Ben noted, leaning around my stack of folders to look at the phone. “Jeremy, huh?”

Nate looked at the phone for a second longer, and I knew he was memorizing every detail about Jeremy in that way he had, filing the information away for later. Then he tapped the decline button, and instead of putting my phone back on the stack in my arms, he slid it into the side pocket of my black slacks.

He didn’t touch me with his hands, but damn, did it feel like he had.

“How’s that going, anyway?” Ben asked like Nate wasn’t even there.

“It’s . . .” I swallowed, hard, and couldn’t help glancing over at Nate, but he’d already stepped back, taking his interminable position at the door. The files grew heavier every second we stood here. “It is what it is.”

“You know, I heard rumors.” Ben rubbed the back of his neck, giving me that pitying look I’d become accustomed to over the last six weeks. “But you hadn’t said anything, so I didn’t want to push—”

“Which I appreciate,” I said, cutting him off. “I’d just rather focus on the work we have here and leave Washington in Washington.” What I had to decide wasn’t for public knowledge, especially not in the gossiping fishbowl that was DC politics.

“Understandable.” His voice softened. “But just in case you need someone to talk to”—he reached for my shoulder—“I’m here.” With a sympathetic nod, he walked past me and into the conference room.

“Give me those.” Nate moved over and took the files from my arms without waiting for me to respond, and I nearly sighed with physical relief. “Whatever he’s asking you to share, don’t.”

“Really?” I asked, pivoting to face him.

“He’s . . .” Nate’s forehead crinkled, which meant he was searching for the right words. “He’s too eager for the information. Just a gut feeling.”

“Yeah.” I fought my smile, because he was right on the money. “He asked me out our first week on the Hill, and I’m not sure he’s ever really accepted that no.”

Nate’s brow furrowed as he glanced through the glass into the conference room. “Guys who wait for a woman to hit her lowest so they can make their move are pieces of shit.”

“Noted.” I pressed my lips between my teeth to keep from grinning.

“What?”

“You’ve always had the ability to judge someone’s character within minutes of meeting them, and I’ve never seen you proved wrong.” I shrugged, looking away quickly. “You know we don’t need a guard at the door, right? We’re in the embassy.”

“And I told you that for the next two weeks, I won’t be any more than a room away from you. Not until you’re safe and snug on a plane pointed stateside.” His gaze took a quick sweep of the files.

“But you’ll stay here, won’t you?” I whispered, my stomach sinking. Putting me on a plane would only guarantee my safety, not his. Never his.

“These names aren’t on our itinerary.” He arched a brow.

“They’re all SIV applications,” I said. “For Special Immigrant Visas.”

“For people employed by us,” he said. “I know what SIVs are. What are you doing with a stack of them?”

“I got the rundown on how to process them earlier and figured we could help out between meetings.” Looking over my shoulder, I noted how crowded the lobby was. “I walked into the waiting room, and every chair is full. They’re overwhelmed.”

“They are,” he agreed. “Good to see some things haven’t changed,” he said, turning to walk into the conference room. “You’re still trying to save everyone but yourself.”





Ice-cold water soaked my feet and panic seized my muscles, making my numb fingers useless as I fought with the seat belt. We were going under, and there was nothing I could do about it but sit there and drown. The screams around me filled my ears as I yanked harder and harder on the belt. The water rose to my knees, and I tried to cry out for help, but my throat wouldn’t work.