The Wolf In The White House Page 3

  Before he could say anything, she revved the engine and took off, leaving the gated lot and merging into the traffic that lingered through the dinner hour. Her day was looking up, and hopefully by Monday, Logan would be in custody, and Maci could start the week off right.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Maci dragged herself into her house an hour later, putting the bags of fast food on the counter and taking one last look at the Porsche in her garage as the kitchen door closed. She set the alarm, scrolling through the logs of movement in the rooms and smiling with satisfaction when they all came up empty. Her home was a fortress, a normal reaction to her line of work. When she had become SSE and started to see that there really was true evil in the world, she had decided to take the sign-on bonus she was given and put it toward making her house impenetrable. It wasn’t quite bulletproof, but if anyone ever did get in, she would have plenty of time to get to her gun and take them out. And if that didn’t work, there was always plan B.

  Maci sat down at the table, trying her best to let go of the events of the day. It was hard; she was a perfectionist, and losing this prisoner was something that she couldn’t have anticipated. She was angry that she had dropped the ball when she let Chad check the man over, and she was angry that what seemed like half of DC had watched her let a werewolf loose in the city.

  It had been all over the news before she’d even gotten to the burger joint she’d stopped at on the way from the body shop to her house in Falls Church, Virginia. Just twenty minutes from DC, Falls Church was a quieter, slower-paced city that still had all the luxuries she was looking for, without the exorbitant cost of living in DC. Her two-story, four-bedroom, three-bathroom house would have been three times what she paid for it in DC. Her salary was good, but it wasn’t that good. She’d gotten her house for a steal, jumping on an auction after a development company had gone under, leaving a housing development a little more than half complete. Because of this, the area around Maci’s yard was still wooded and untouched, her nearest neighbor almost a block away. For now, it gave her the illusion of having more land than the scant, quarter acre her house was on, and it afforded her the privacy that she craved. It was hard to be on all day and to have your every move scrutinized. Maci enjoyed the quiet of her neighborhood and the fact that her nearest neighbor also appeared to value anonymity. Maci had lived in her home almost a year and had yet to have more than a passing conversation with the neighbors.

  It was a great life.

  Today, more than ever, she appreciated that privacy. Every radio station and television station in the DC area was talking about the werewolf that had interrupted rush hour traffic and the woman who had gone after him and failed. No one knew her name, or why she was transporting a werewolf in a human transport, but it didn’t matter. Maci knew that they were talking about her, and the chatter about how someone so obviously incompetent had come to be in charge of such an important prisoner was being debated with gusto. Not one radio DJ or news channel had put two and two together, realizing that the earlier attempt on the President’s life was related to the werewolf running across Sixteenth and disappearing into Rock Creek Park.

  That was probably for the best, since the only video of the werewolf getting loose showed a brief glimpse of the wolf and an even shorter glimpse of the back of Maci’s head as she raced after Logan, following him into the woods without fear for her own safety.

  “Not that anyone mentioned that,” she grumbled out loud.

  There was no surprise there. Maci was used to the one-sided reporting in the area. At least they didn’t know her name.

  Maci sat down to eat, dipping the sweet potato fries into the tangy barbeque sauce and taking a bite. She sighed, glad that it was Friday and she didn’t have to go into work the next day. Still, she couldn’t shake the anger and disappointment of the day. She’d saved the President and let the assassin get away. She wasn’t sure how she was going to come back from that.

  She picked up her phone, scrolling through the contacts until she landed on Chad’s name. She groaned. Texting Chad was like opening a can of worms, but she knew that he would have the information that she craved. He was so eager to help that he would probably fall all over himself to give her anything. Texting him before she could stop herself, she sent him a quick message.

  Did they catch him yet?

  Chad answered almost immediately.

  No. But we have a positive ID on him, and it’s only a matter of time before he returns home. We’ll catch him then.

  What’s his name? she asked.

  Logan Noble, Chad answered, inserting an emoji that Maci supposed was poking fun at Logan’s surname being “Noble” of all things, considering what he had almost done. Maci shook her head. She was thirty-three years old. She didn’t use smiley faces to communicate with other adults.

  Let me know when they catch him? she responded.

  Of course, he texted back, then the phone indicated that he was typing again with three little dots pulsing on the screen.

  “This isn’t a social call, Chad,” she said out loud, wishing she hadn’t asked him to begin with.

  She groaned when his message came through.

  Have you had dinner?

  Already on my way to bed. Rough day.

  The typing icon flashed on the screen for what seemed like an eternity, and Maci braced herself for a book-long text. When the text finally came through, she scoffed.

  I understand, it said, and nothing more.

  “Geez,” she said to her empty kitchen. “What in the world did you write and erase?”

  Maybe she didn’t want to know.

  Thank you for understanding, she texted back, then followed up with, good night, effectively ending the conversation.

  She turned her phone to silent then, deciding that the worst thing she could do would be to spend the entire night watching and waiting for updates. Logan Noble had fled into a national park; he wouldn’t be found tonight.

  Disgusted with her day and wishing that she could redo it and get it right, she finished the last of her meal and tossed the bags. She trudged up the stairs, leaving her phone on the counter to charge.

  The dark, polished wood of her ornate banister didn’t bring her the joy it usually did; the gorgeous house was no match for her melancholy.

  Quit being dramatic, she thought, but she still couldn’t shake the feeling. She had screwed up, big time. It wasn’t the end of the world, but it sure felt like it was.

  She undid her light brown hair from the tight French braid as she walked, running her fingers through the silky tendrils and letting her curls loose. Her hair hung down her back, the tightness relieved and the pulsing headache that threatened lessening. She took a deep breath, going into the master bathroom and stripping as she made her way to the shower.

  The water warmed quickly, one of the perks of having a new home. She scrubbed away the day, lingering until she felt refreshed and the tension had washed down the drain.

  She decided to skip clothes, drying off and walking straight into her bedroom nude. She had nowhere to be in the morning, and she wasn’t going to set her alarm. Sleeping until she woke up naturally and enjoying the feel of clean sheets against her skin as she let sleep overtake her were two surefire ways to straighten out her mood.

  Climbing into bed, she pulled the covers around her chin and wiggled down the mattress. She sighed, closing her eyes and breathing out all the frustration of the day. She focused on the moment when she had realized that Archer was in trouble, and she’d acted. Those moments were career makers, and even though she was angry at Logan’s escape, the bottom line was that she had saved the President from someone posing as one of their own. She had done everything asked of her and more, and she knew that, at the very least, Archer was pleased.

  She was drifting off to sleep when the air in the room changed. The change was subtle, but it had her eyes flying open in the darkness all the same, her body frozen as she listened to the room around her.

/>   Keeping her breathing steady and even, she listened carefully, waiting for whatever had pulled her from the edge of sleep, but she heard nothing. Still, she felt something.

  She decided that she would check the security system, using the control panel in her walk-in closet, which also featured a panic room. From the panic room, she could safely check her entire house, one camera at a time, waiting out any intruder that had somehow gotten into the house.

  Had she set the alarm? She groaned inwardly, unsure of the answer. She had been so distracted by her anger at the way the day had ended that she had no idea if she had set the alarm or not.

  She sat up in the darkness, reaching out to turn on the small bedside lamp. The room filled with soft light that only illuminated the bed and the surrounding area. When she looked at the end of her bed, she gasped, strangling the scream that threatened in her throat as her eyes met the man sitting quietly in the chair in front of her closet.

  She reached out, pulling open her nightstand drawer.

  “It’s not in there,” Logan Noble said softly, holding up her revolver, pointed down at the floor. “You are a much heavier sleeper than I thought you would be.”

  “How did you get in here?” she asked, clutching the bedsheets to her chest.

  He held up a little box the size and shape of a deck of cards.

  “It came in pretty handy,” he said.

  She knew what it was. One of the many gadgets they had at their disposal at the SSE, the disruptor scrambled alarm systems, sending them back in time five minutes and shutting them down in the process. By backtracking the system by five minutes, the video was skipped back in time and replayed while the intruder gained access and had exactly five minutes to get in and out, or to get in and lay low.

  “How did you get that?” she asked.

  “I told you, I’m Secret Service. SSE, to be exact. I would explain to you what SSE is, but I think that you already know.”

  “Why are you here?”

  She was trying to buy time, trying to figure a way out of this with her gun in his hand and her phone in the kitchen downstairs. Oh, and she was still naked, too. Her hands clenched tighter on the sheets, trying her best not to panic.

  “Well, Maci, my house is surrounded by Feds that think I tried to assassinate the President.”

  “You did try to assassinate the President,” she said.

  “I explained that to you; weren’t you listening?”

  “I was listening, and now I’m more sure than I was before that you’re unstable. So tell me. What do I need to do to make this stop so that we both walk out of here alive?”

  He looked confused, then shook his head, chuckling.

  “I’m not the enemy,” he said. “I’m not here to kill you; I’m here to show you that I’m telling you the truth.”

  “You’re going to prove to me that my lifelong friend, and the President of the United States, is an imposter?”

  “I am.”

  “Your confidence is astounding.”

  “And you’re naked,” he said, a lopsided smile tugging at his lips. “I put some clothes on the bed beside you.”

  She looked to her left, stunned that there were neatly stacked clothes on the bed beside her.

  “How did you do that?”

  “You were sleeping hard. I’m thinking that chasing me into the woods wore you out. I don’t blame you; you gave a good chase into the forest. I was impressed.”

  “How do you know how far I chased you?”

  “I wasn’t far from where you lost my trail. I saw the moment you knew that you couldn’t keep up. I waited for you to leave before I made my way further down the trail and headed toward home.”

  “I thought you couldn’t go home because your house was surrounded.”

  “I couldn’t.”

  “Then where did you get those clothes?”

  “You’re not the only heavy sleeper in the neighborhood.”

  She glared at him, but he only smiled. His smile was gorgeous, his eyes the deepest shade of brown and his hair nearly the same color. His smiled melted her, even though the memory of his escape fueled her rage.

  “Can you turn around?” she asked, indicating the clothes.

  “Do I look stupid?”

  “A little,” she joked, trying to disarm him.

  He looked down at the clothes he was wearing and chuckled.

  “I thought I picked out a pretty good ensemble.”

  “I’m not going to let you show me anything unless I’m dressed,” she said firmly.

  “That is a shame.”

  He arched an eyebrow, challenging her.

  “Fine,” she said, pulling the shirt over her head, then wiggling into the panties and pants beneath the covers. “There, I’m done.”

  “Are you going to let me show you?”

  “Where are you taking me?”

  “To your office downstairs.”

  He handed her a pair of socks and shoes.

  “I’m good.”

  “You should put them on. I have a feeling that we are going to need to leave in a hurry once we start looking at the proof.”

  “You’re so paranoid,” she said, taking the shoes anyway.

  “You have to be when you know what I know. How else do you think they found my house so quickly?”

  “I thought you were SSE.”

  “I am, but I didn’t sign up with the address I live at. I used a post office box, and I rented that box using a fake address. And they still found me.”

  “I haven’t done anything wrong, and I hope they come. Then they can take you in.”

  “You do hold a grudge,” he said, holding the gun on her and following her down the hall so close that she couldn’t try anything she had in mind to get away.

  “You made a fool of me today. It will be a while before I let that go.”

  “But you stopped me. You saved the President.”

  “And then I let the attempted assassin go.”

  “You didn’t let me go; I escaped.”

  “Same thing. I’m better than that.”

  “You didn’t know.”

  “I should have patted you down.”

  “I would have enjoyed that.”

  His words gave her pause, causing her stomach to clench despite her anger. Why was he flirting with her?

  “I would have seen the decal on your ID, marking you as a wolf, and I would have sedated you.”

  “I didn’t register,” he said simply.

  “You didn’t?”

  “I have a moral objection to being forced to register because I’m a werewolf. I’m a law-abiding citizen, and I contribute to society.”

  “You tried to murder the President.”

  “I tried to assassinate the imposter and hopefully learn from him the whereabouts of the real President. I’m saving the world.”

  “You’re delusional.”

  “And you’re cute when you’re self-righteous.”

  “Stop that. I’m not here to make friends.”

  “We don’t need to be friends. I just need you to listen to me. If I show you the proof, I think that you’ll believe me.”

  “Doubtful.”

  “Give me two minutes? Two honest minutes where I don’t have to hold a gun on you, and I can just show you what I have?”

  “And if I still don’t believe you?”

  “I’ll let you take me in and clear your name.”

  She was floored.

  “That is quite a wager,” she said.

  “I believe in my cause.”

  “And my nephew still believes in Santa Claus. It doesn’t make either thing real.”

  “Just promise me, Maci. Give me a chance to show you proof, and I will. Archer Johnson was replaced by a clone sometime since August, and he needs our help.”

  Maci sighed.

  “I don’t know if I’m doing you any favors.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Feeding into your psychosis. You’re
obviously disturbed.”

  “Or right.”

  “We’ll see,” she said, turning on her office light and firing up the computer. “Could you put the gun down? I’m giving you two minutes to show me something to prove it, then I’m taking you in.”

  “How did that work for you last time?”

  “Not as well as it will this time. I plan on coldcocking you with the butt of the gun.”

  “Savage,” he said, laughing. “You’re a hoot.”

  “I’m not trying to be funny.”

  “That is what I like about you.”

  “We aren’t friends.”

  “We will be. Maybe even more.”

  “Now I know you’re delusional.”

  He ignored her.

  “Pull up the pictures from this summer.”

  “From where?”

  “The web browser.”

  “We are searching the internet for the answers?”

  “Sort of. I need a picture of Archer and his family at the water park.”

  She shook her head, but she did as he asked.

  “There, that one,” he said, pointing. He leaned on the desk, one hip on the desk, so close to her that his scent enveloped her. “See the scar that comes up from the waistband of his trunks?”

  His arm brushed hers as he traced the line in the air over the picture with his finger. She shuddered involuntarily.

  “It’s an appendectomy scar,” she said. “I remember when he had to have his appendix removed. I brought his homework to him.”

  “I didn’t realize you two went that far back,” he said. “Why didn’t you end up marrying him?”

  She wrinkled her nose.

  “There’s no attraction there.”

  “That is a shame. You would have made a powerful first lady.”

  “And you wouldn’t be here.”

  “No, you’re right. You would have noticed that your husband was missing something as big as a childhood scar.”

  “How do you know it’s missing?”

  “Pull up the Christmas vacation to Hawaii. I know there are a few pictures that will work.”

  Maci did as he said, scrolling through the pictures until she found one with the same style trunks on, slung low around his hips with the weight of the water.