Birch lay in bed watching a movie as he waited for Tate to arrive. He looked at his watch. She should be getting there soon. He had gone into the family kitchen and made an old family treat for Tate, an after-midnight snack for when they were curled up in bed together.

His phone rang, and he smiled as he saw her name. “Hey, sweetheart. Are you almost home?”

“Killed him.”

Birch shot up in bed. “Are you safe? Are you hurt? What happened?”

As Tate told him, he felt his whole body come alive with energy. He had to get to her. “I’m on my way,” Birch said, already stepping into running shoes.

“No. Dalton is on his way.”

Birch knew it was better this way, but that didn’t mean he liked it. Again he felt completely useless. “No. I’m coming to get you. That way Dalton can take care of things there and I can take care of you. I’ll be there soon. Hang on, Tate.”

“I l-l-love you,” Tate stammered.

“I love you, too, sweetheart. I’m coming. You’ll be in my arms before you know it.”

Birch reluctantly hung up the phone, then called Crew.

“Yeah?” Crew answered sleepily.

“I need a helicopter pickup now.”

“Turski is on duty tonight, sir.”

“Well, your commander-in-fucking-chief is telling you to get your ass to the White House immediately. Tate’s been attacked.”

Birch didn’t wait for Crew’s answer. He knew pilots had strict rules on when they could fly. They had to be alcohol-free and fully rested when it was their time on call. But right now he’d didn’t care. It was the fastest way to get to Tate.

The White House phone rang, and Birch snatched it up as he bent to tie his shoes. “Mr. President, this is HMX-1 Commander Johnson. Marine pilot Crew Dixon has informed me that you have requested immediate use—”

“Yes, and I want Dixon. Now.”

“With all due respect, Mr. President. Dixon is not the pilot on call tonight. We have procedures—”

“And as I told Dixon, I’m your Commander-in-Chief and I am ordering Crew Dixon to the White House immediately. It’s a matter of national security for which you have not been cleared, but Dixon has. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” the commander said reluctantly.

Ten minutes later, Birch was standing outside waiting for Crew. Abrams stood nervously by on the night shift. He didn’t like that Birch hadn’t told him what the emergency was. All Birch would say was that it was a matter of national security.

After Birch had put on his shoes, he’d called Dalton. It was Lizzy who answered and explained what they knew. Tate had had to kill Fitz. Lizzy was handling logistics as Dalton drove. His heart hurt for Tate, and all he wanted to do was get to her so he could see for himself that she was safe.

Birch looked up and saw the lights of Marine One. He turned to Abrams. “Crap. I forgot my briefcase in my room. Can you go get it? It’s in my closet. It has papers I need for this emergency meeting.”

“Yes sir.” Abrams took off at a jog as the helicopter landed. Birch walked on board without a second thought of ditching his agent.

“Let’s go. And kill the GPS,” Birch said, sliding into the copilot’s seat instead of the back.

“You got it.” Crew flipped some switches, and they were airborne before Abrams made it back. “Now, can you tell me what’s going on?”

“Tate shot her ex-boyfriend and manager, Fitz Houlihan. She’s along the side of the interstate, hidden from the road. She sounds as if she’s in shock.”

“My commander said this was a national security issue,” Crew hedged.

“I’d bet my election that it is. Lizzy said they’d had a breakthrough tonight with Mollia Domini.”

“Yeah, I was there. But what would Fitz have to do with . . . shit. I got it. He’s the intermediary,” Crew said, turning to Birch.

“I think you better explain. Remember I wasn’t there, but I know Flint Scott was onto something.”

“Flint and Tate. They figured so much out.”

Birch listened, but the short time it took to get to the interstate was only enough time for the summary. It was enough, though, to get Birch’s blood pumping even more than it was.

“Can you see them?” Crew asked.

Birch grabbed a pair of night-vision binoculars and began to scan the side of the road as they flew. There, huddled in the trees, was a figure. “Right here!”

“Let’s hope traffic stops for us,” Crew said, eyeing the few cars driving so late at night. Slowly, Crew began to lower the helicopter as Birch strained to see Tate in the shadows of the trees some distance off the road.

“Stay inside, sir,” Crew told him as they touched down. “I’ll tell any civilians that it’s a training exercise.”

Birch watched as Crew climbed out of the helicopter. So far no one came their way. The blades were still turning as Crew ran toward the treeline. Birch turned when he saw headlights. The van pulled to a stop and Birch looked nervously to the trees. He looked back as the doors to the van opened and let out a sigh of relief when he saw Dalton and Lizzy get out.

Birch opened the window as Dalton jogged forward while Lizzy sprinted for the trees. “We put up flares and a Road Closed sign about a mile back. Didn’t have time to stop the other side, though. I’ll take Fitz’s body and dispose of it while Lizzy gets rid of the car.”

“Crew said George Stanworth, that blowhard, is part of Mollia Domini.”

“That’s what Lizzy says. Here they are.”

Birch turned and saw Lizzy holding a blanket around Tate as Crew kept his arm around her waist for support. Birch couldn’t wait anymore. He jumped from the helicopter and ran for Tate.

“Sweetheart, you’re safe. You’re safe.” Crew relinquished his hold as Birch wrapped his arms around Tate. Until that moment, she’d seemed as if she were in a complete daze. But then the dam broke and huge sobs wracked her body.

“I killed him. He was in Mollia Domini, and he said if I didn’t join them, he’d have Mollia Domini kill Crew, Lizzy, Snip, and Flint. I couldn’t let him tell anyone about us.”

Birch rested his head on hers as she clung to him.

“He . . . he . . .” Tate pulled back and looked at the group as she sucked in big gulps of air. “He climbed the ranks and got his orders from George Stanworth. Fitz’s job was to control Claudia, Kerra, and the rest of Hollywood. His body . . . I shot him.”

“We’ll take care of it. You did the right thing. I know it’s hard. You know I’ve been there, and I’m so sorry that you had to do this. You were very brave.” Lizzy hugged Tate, but Birch refused to let go of her all the way. “I got the car. I’ll meet you at our spot,” Lizzy said to Dalton.

“Wait,” Birch said. “They came after the woman I love. Did Fitz tell anyone about us?” Birch asked.

Tate shook her head. “He said he would. He was trying to recruit me first.”

“Mollia Domini has no idea we’re onto them. We played with them a little when you got rid of Phylicia’s body. Now I want to make a statement.” Birch told them his plans. Tate’s eyes widened, Dalton smiled, and Lizzy nodded her agreement.

“By Monday night, we’ll have delivered the first wave of our attack, and they’ll never see it coming,” Tate said, keeping her side pressed against his. “But now I really want a bath.”

Birch sat in the back of the helicopter on the sofa with Tate in his arms all the way to the White House. Abrams was standing with his hands on his hips looking pissed. Birch stepped out with Tate’s hand in his. She was a fright, but Birch tried to conceal her as best as possible with blankets wrapped around her body and over her head like a cloak.

“National security meeting?” Abrams said with anger in his voice.

Birch pressed on Tate’s back to indicate she should go inside without him. “Don’t forget who I am. And don’t forget you have no power to stop me from doing my job. If you have a problem with that, then you can be reassigned. And not that I owe any explanation to you, but that had everything to do with national security.”

Birch left Abrams trailing after him as he caught up to Tate. “Come on, sweetheart.”

Birch helped her upstairs and into the privacy of the residence. He turned the shower on until the glass panels were steamed with heat. Then he turned to help Tate undress. As he unhooked her bra, he fought the automatic reaction his body had to seeing her naked.

“Take your shower, and I’ll make you some hot chocolate.”

Tate shook her head. “Don’t leave me.”

“Okay. I’ll be right in.” Birch watched as she stepped into the shower and took a deep breath. He looked down at the growing tent in his pants. “One, two, three.” He had to get control of himself before he entered the shower.

“Are you coming?” Tate called out.

Birch almost groaned aloud as he tore off his shorts, tossed his shirt to the ground, and stepped into the shower.

Tate was on him the second the door closed. She wrapped her arms around his waist, her breasts pushed into his chest, and she laid her head against his heart. “Thank you for coming to get me. I followed orders and called Dalton, but I couldn’t stand not having you there with me. I would have fallen apart completely if I had to help clean the scene.”

Birch just held her close for a full minute. “Let’s get you cleaned up. Turn around and I’ll wash your hair.”

Tate turned, pressing her ass against his erection as he shampooed the horrors of the night away. Next he washed every inch of her. His hands slid over her breasts, down the slope of her hips, and he knelt to run the soap along her long legs. Tate’s head fell back as she moved just enough to give Birch access to her center.

“Tate?” Birch asked, unsure what she was offering.

“Kiss me, please. Wash away all the memories,” Tate whispered.

Birch looked up from where he knelt. Tate looked back at him, her eyes pleading and her nipples hard. Birch reached around her, running his hand softly over her ass before pulling her to him. He buried his head between her thighs and kissed her deeply. Tate moaned loudly, and he felt her grab onto his shoulder. She arched into him, and he gave her everything she asked for. When she cried out his name, Birch stood up and turned off the water.

“We’ve only begun,” he whispered, kissing her as he picked her up. He stepped out of the shower and placed her, soaking wet, on one side of the bed. Grabbing a condom as fast as he could, Birch listened to every sound Tate made as he thrust inside her, making sure to give her exactly what she needed.

By the time Birch and Tate snuggled into bed, her eyes were heavy, and she fell asleep on his chest without a single line of worry on her face. Birch held her to him, feeling her heartbeat against his side as he looked down at her lowered lashes. There was a shift inside him. He knew with certainty he wanted Tate beside him for the rest of his life. He didn’t care if it cost him the presidency. He would do whatever it took to show her how much she meant to him.

The sense of urgency he’d felt upon finding out Tate was in danger slowly faded. Instead, as Birch finally fell asleep, he planned his courtship with military precision. And it would start with a dinner date.