Chapter Twenty-eight
Candy found herself on the floor again as she had been a few minutes ago, except this time, a heavy body covered hers. She opened her eyes to stare into hazel ones with a gold ring around the brown and green. So much concern filled the look and she knew it was for her. Someone cared if she lived or not.
“You okay?” Josh asked. A surge of emotion roared through her. From the terror of almost dying to the elation of . . . love? There was that damn “L” word again. Creeping up on her. A word she’d never used, and a feeling she’d never had. But that had all changed now, right? She’d had a taste of utmost happiness and it was highly addictive. She wanted more, but didn’t have a clue what to do to get it.
Josh scooted off her and helped her sit up. On the other side of the hall, the president was doing the same with his wife. The first lady leaned her forehead onto her husband’s and put her hand on his cheek.
Taking the cue, she leaned forward, but Josh wasn’t close enough, so she grabbed him around the neck and dragged him toward her. Being a bit anxious and adrenaline-filled, she pulled too hard and his head bonked into hers.
“Sorry—” she said, rubbing over her eye.
“No, my fault,” Josh threw in. “I wasn’t ready.”
She wouldn’t let him take blame for something that was her doing. “No, it was my fault since I tugged on you.”
Josh huffed. “Well, I should’ve been—”
“No, dammit,” she growled. “I—”
The president cleared his throat. “Tell me when you two are done figuring out who’s wrong so we can get the hell out of here.”
“Sorry, Mr. President,” they said in unison.
Everyone got to their feet. Farther down the hallway, a gaping hole extended past walls exposing bedrooms on both sides of the corridor. Through the hole, she saw the pink and white marble floor of the downstairs entrance. Firemen had hoses putting out small flames from the first bomb on the stairs. Shocked faces looked up at them from below the hole.
Candy hurried forward to see what had happened to Dresden. He had been in the middle of the explosion, may have accidentally triggered it. Josh leapt forward and grabbed her arm.
“Whoa, where you going?” Josh said.
She jerked from his hold. “I have to see if Dresden is hurt.”
“Candy,” he whispered. Tears instantly came to her eyes. She understood what he was saying without him voicing the words. Colonel Dresden had been a great friend for a long time. He went to battle for her when other men told her she couldn’t. He always said she could. And she proved him right, time after time. She let Josh pull her back toward the end of the hall.
“Now what?” Josh asked, looking at the group. Candy didn’t know this building like she knew the NIB. That was her building, this wasn’t.
The president frowned. “That bomb took out two escape routes. Besides the closet, there isn’t any other in the area.”
Several feet of flooring around the hole fell, making the gap reach past the doorway to the president’s bedroom. They scrambled back toward the window at the end of the west side hall.
Shit. This was not good. The only other room they could get to looked to be a small kitchen opposite the bedroom. Just inside the door was an elevator.
Behind her, Josh said, “I wouldn’t chance it. Don’t push any of the buttons.” He stepped inside the door and sniffed, walked in farther, nose in the air. “I don’t smell the vodka, so I don’t think anyone has been in here, but they could have planted something below.” He kept sniffing, passing the elevator, stopping at a case of shelves holding countertop appliances and dishes.
“What are you doing?” she asked him. “We need to find a way out of here before the rest of the floor gives way.”
“Just a minute,” he said, “I’m smelling musty air and . . . fresh air?” He got down on his knees and sniffed along the floor. “It’s coming from the floor.” He got to his feet and grabbed dishes off the shelves. “Help me move this bookcase.”
Taking a handful of items, Candy noticed it was a bookshelf, like someone had stuck it there from the library or something. Once the breakables were stacked on another counter, Josh and the president scooted the casing aside. Behind it was a door with a round glass window. Almost like a porthole.
“Everyone get back,” Josh said. “Even though I don’t smell anything, it doesn’t mean it’s safe. I’ll open it.”
Candy grabbed his elbow. “No, what if you get hurt? There’s nowhere to take you for help. I—I don’t . . .” She didn’t want to lose him. She never wanted to lose any of her men and women, but this felt different. This hurt her heart.
Josh leaned down and kissed her. “Don’t worry, babe. I got this.”
“Babe”? He’d called her “babe.” No one ever called her “babe.” She kinda liked it from him. “Fine,” she said. “You get hurt and I’m throwing your furry ass out the window, got it?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He grinned, knowing he got his way. He’d better not get used to it. Candy took the president and his wife to the far end of the kitchen by the south-facing window. He put his arm around his wife and pulled her against him, turning his back toward the room. If anything exploded, he would be hit before she was. Candy stepped between him and potential flying debris to prevent that.
Over his shoulder, the president glanced at Candy in her shadow fatigues and all. “Dressed for the occasion, I see.”
She blushed. Having the president’s attention was more than she’d ever asked for. “Yes, sir.”
He continued, “I gather you and the director are in a personal relationship.”
“Yes, sir,” she said. “We met this morning.”
“This morning?” he repeated.
She glanced at her watch. “Yes, sir. Almost twelve hours on the dot.” She shook her head. “Been a hell of a day.”
After a glance at her, Josh pulled the door open, then sprang toward the hall. All remained quiet. Josh came in and Candy hurried toward him. She pulled a flashlight from her backpack.
“What do you see?” she asked. Before he answered, she saw for herself. About the size of a broom closet, the space contained a spiral set of metal stairs, thick with cobwebs and dust. No one had been on these in a long, long time.
“Of course,” the first lady said. “This is the stairway that connects all the kitchens from the ground floor to the second floor. I remember someone mentioning it. They haven’t used the stairs anymore since the elevator was installed. It’s been here since early 1900s.”
“Well over a hundred years?” Candy blurted. “It can’t be sturdy, can it?”
“Guess we’ll find out,” Josh said, taking the first step. A loud creak and pop echoed down the tunnel.
“Wonderful,” Candy huffed. “Lead the way, wolf. I’ll bring up the rear.” She took the second flashlight from her pack and handed it to the first lady since she was second to descend.
Slowly they circled down and down, lower and lower. On the next floor—the first—was an identical door with a round look-through porthole. It was blocked by something too. They continued down.
“Mr. President,” Candy started, “do you have any idea, besides the obvious, why the Steganovich brothers would target you? We know why they chose Director Pommer for his supposed role in their father’s death long ago.”
A deep sigh came from the man in front of her. “I was afraid this would come back and bite my ass—”
“Dear,” the first lady scolded.
“Sorry, love. Bite my butt,” he continued. He stopped and turned back to Candy. He stood a step below her, yet he met her eyes. “You can never take the schoolteacher out of a woman.” He winked and stepped down.
Candy stood in shock. The president of the United States had winked at her. He was really a nice guy. Who woulda thunk? She was amazed how this man combined immense power and responsibility with being personable. Her one male role model had only shown his ability to bully and hurt.
She hurried down the stairs to catch up. “You were saying, Mr. President, about the brothers.”
“Oh, right. Those boys nearly started World War III.”