Chapter 8

“Are you a professional artist?” John Akins, the teacher, asked as he walked around the room on the first morning of art class, offered by the town as continuing education. They’d been told on the sign-up form to come with an idea of what to paint as their first project.

Macy looked up at him. “I was a graphic artist. But I never pursued a career in the field.”

The teacher stared at the beginnings of a lake scene on her easel. She’d gotten the idea from spending time at Isabelle and Nick’s house on the water. “I can almost hear that water. And you’ve done it in what? Two hours?”

“Your suggestions on adjustments helped. That’s why I took the class. I want to hone my techniques.”

“We’ll have to see how challenging I can keep this course for you.”

She smiled. He was an attractive man, tall and fit, though he didn’t have the overpowering magnetism of Gabe—of the Marino family in general. For the hundredth time, she wondered why she couldn’t fall for someone like an ordinary teacher.

Too late.

Well, in some ways it was. She was in love with Gabe. She knew that. But in other ways, maybe not. When he left for the PPD in December, she was still very unsure if she wanted to continue the relationship. Which was why she’d started to expand her activities, and her life.

As she examined the palette, she thought of how close she and Gabe had become in the three weeks since they’d first made love. They’d stolen time to be together and with her son. Since Simon had no school for Columbus Day weekend, he was with Gabe right now attending a playoff baseball game in Camden Yards.

God, she didn’t want to bring Gabe here with her. She needed more in her life, and when she thought about him instead of her work, her efforts were in vain. Shaking back her hair, she sat up straighter and concentrated on the painting.

She’d chosen the colors for atmosphere. The water was filled in enough to see the waves ripple, but the body needed more muted blues combined with the gray. And the wave peaks could use some white, tinged with the same blue. Soon, she lost herself in the art.

“Can I have everyone’s attention?” When the students stopped their work, John addressed them. “I’d say we’ve made a lot of progress today. Some of you”—he smiled at Macy—“have very professional pieces. As your homework for the week, I’d like you to flesh out all the subject matter you want in the painting. At least, what you know at this point. Remember, art is inspiration, too, and sometimes, the final product is different from its inception. Good work today.”

As she packed up, John approached her again. “Macy, I’m so glad you’re taking the class. But again, I hope it’s not too easy for you.”

“Not at all. I’m painting again, which is wonderful.”

He studied her through his frameless glasses. “Would you be interested in having coffee with me? I can entertain you with stories from the Met. I used to be a curator there.”

She opened her mouth to say no. Of course she’d say no. She’d committed to Gabe until he left, and he’d never understand her spending time with another man. She turned to the teacher to tell him so.

“I’d love to,” she said instead.

* * *

The sun shone down on the park, warming up the chill in the air this afternoon. Gabe listened to the group seated on each side, behind and in front of him.

“Who’s Cal Ripken Jr.?” At Simon’s question, Kilmer’s jaw dropped and Hogan punched Simon in the shoulder.

“You gotta be kidding me,” she said.

Simon’s face blanked. Gabe worried that he wouldn’t understand the teasing. He hoped he hadn’t made a mistake of inviting the boy today. He thought it would be good for Simon to be with the trainees at the team-building outing.

“Don’t mind them, kid.” This from Langston. “My parents brought me here when I was your age and I was clueless, too.”

Thank you, Clay.

Simon said, “Nobody I know likes baseball.”

“Agent Marino does.” This from Kilmer.” He had the playoffs on his radio one day.”

“I do. But Simon, you never seemed interested in the sport. So I never took you to a game.”

Langston snorted.

Hogan butted in again. “The history of Camden Yards is cool, Simon. It was built in downtown Baltimore. The sprawling campus housed a stadium, a warehouse, a city street full of memorabilia and shops.”

Simon seemed interested. Then Hogan told Simon why the city held Ripken as their hero.

“Yeah,” Kilmer put in with a disgusted expression on his face. “Years later, they also built that stupid hotel that blocks the view of the city. Who let them do that?”

“Big corporations have sway down here.” This from Gabe. He agreed with Kilmer about the hotel.

Langston picked up the program. “Hey, the Orioles played the Cleveland Indians on opening day of the stadium in 1992.” He gestured to the park. “And today, too.”

He read about how Pope John Paul celebrated Mass here. Gabe’s mother would have loved that. He needed to call her and took the time to put a reminder on his phone.

Play began. Cleveland came to bat. “Strike ’em out,” Hogan yelled.

“Calm down, MJ. You’re embarrassing us.”

“Sit somewhere else, Kilmer.” The banter was friendly, joking.

The batter took position, the pitch was hurled. “Strike one.”

Hogan leapt to her feet. “Yay!”

Gabe could tell Simon tried to be interested, but in the third inning, his foot starting bobbing and he squirmed in his seat.

Gabe was about to ask him to go get a hotdog, when Langston stood. “Bored, kid?”

“I guess.”

“Can I take him to Eutaw Street, Agent Marino?” The gated area between the stadium and the warehouse.

“What’s that?” Simon asked.

“It’s got shops and food places and lots of interesting stuff. I’m antsy and feel like walking around.”

“Can we go, Gabe?”

“Sure.” He reached for his wallet.

“Nope. Mom gave me money. She said not to let you pay for anything.”

That was Macy. Self-sufficient to the core.

Which is good, for when you leave.

He didn’t want to think about that. After the boys left, he turned his attention back to the field. A few minutes later he was distracted when someone slid into Simon’s seat. “Hello, Agent Marino.”

“Hello.”

A tall blonde had joined him. The rays of the sun highlighted her hair and the tan she sported.

“Do we know each other?”

“I’m Susan Silver.”

Ah. “I didn’t know Clay brought his mother.”

The woman arched a brow. “He didn’t ask us to join him. We knew about the outing, so we came on our own. Clayton isn’t…amenable about spending time with us.” The displeasure in her voice was obvious.

Again, he thought of his own mother. How hurt she’d be if he or any of them didn’t want to be in her company.

“How is Clayton doing?”

“Doing?”

“With the training. I’m afraid he has some concentration issues. And motivation.”

“He seems motivated to me. And so far he concentrates just fine.”

“What is he best at?”

Gabe hesitated. Something didn’t feel right here. On the field, a bat cracked and shouts rang out which gave him time to figure out why.

“Agent, I asked how he’s doing.”

“I’m afraid it’s inappropriate for me to discuss anything further with you, Ms. Silver. Clay’s a grown man and deserves his privacy.”

“I suppose. We worry he isn’t going to find his niche.”

And Gabe bet Clay knew exactly how they felt. He hoped the proverbial self-fulfilling prophecy didn’t kick in. If you tell a kid he’s poorly behaved and a loser, he’ll be poorly behaved and a loser.

Gabe ignored the woman’s comment. Thankfully, when she realized she wasn’t going to get any more out of him, she left.

Feeling his stomach growl, he stood. “I’m taking a break,” he said to Hogan. “Keep an eye on the troops.”

“Done, sir.”

When he got outside the stadium proper to where the scents of popcorn and hotdogs from the refreshment stands filled the air, he checked his watch. Macy’s class would be over now. He crossed to the railing, took out his phone, and punched in her cell. She didn’t answer until the fifth ring.

“Gabe?” She sounded breathless. “Is Simon okay?”

“Yeah, he is. I didn’t mean to worry you. I’m taking a food break and wanted to know how your art class went.”

A hesitation. “Great. I started a new painting.”

Muffled sounds in the background. Someone talking.

“What’s that?”

“Um, nothing.”

“Where are you, Mace?”

“Having coffee. I, um, can’t talk right now. I’ll see you when you bring Simon home.” Before he could respond, she added, “Have a good time,” and disconnected.

What the hell?

He leaned against the railing and folded his arms over his chest. Why wouldn’t she talk to him? Where was she?

And who was she with?

When it hit him that she could be with another man, he was stunned. Other guys found her attractive. Like Camp. She wouldn’t be lonely if she stopped seeing him when he went on the PPD.

Suddenly, he wasn’t hungry anymore.

* * *

Since the day had cooled off to around seventy, Macy decided to clean up in preparation for winter and took the rake and hand-cutters out of the small shed in the yard. Fall foliage of greens and yellows on the trees provided a lovely backdrop, as did the rich smell of the dirt.

The flower beds around the perimeter needed pruning. She donned her gloves and began cutting back some bushes. She’d finished one bush when she heard, “Mo-om!” and turned to find Simon running toward her. She captured him in a big hug and held on. Gabe joined them. Lines around his mouth and eyes told her he was tired. He looked good, though, in jeans, sneakers and an Orioles T-shirt.

“Did you have fun at the game?” Macy asked.

“Yeah. I learned about baseball and Camden Yards.” He drew back. “This really cool guy, Clay, took me to Eutaw Street.”

“Did you like all the shops there?”

“You been to Eutaw Street?”

“A time or two.” She smiled at Simon. “Your dad liked baseball.”

A scowl. “He did? I don’t remember.”

“We didn’t go as much after you were born.”

Fidgety with excitement, he said, “I’m gonna call Joey and tell him what I did today.” After the tree accident, the two boys seemed to be closer. Macy gave a silent prayer of thanks for his friend.

The door banged shut before Gabe leaned over and stole a kiss. Macy stepped back. “We don’t want Simon to see that.”

His brows rose. “Sorry. I forgot myself.”

“You seem tired. There’s coffee made.”

“Yeah, I probably need that. I could help with yard work first.”

“Nah. Now that you’re here, it’ll wait for another day.” She shrugged. “I should have started earlier anyway.”

His expression was odd.

When they were seated at the outdoor table with mugs in front of them, she cocked her head. “Didn’t you enjoy your time with the trainees and the game?”

“I did. Why do you ask?”

“You sounded grumpy when I made the comment about the kiss.”

“I’m sorry. The secrecy must be getting to me.”

“We have to keep this quiet, Gabe. I don’t want Simon to get his hopes up.”

“I said I’ll still see him. And you!” Again, the curt tone.

She sighed. She was tired of the same battle. “But he’ll get the wrong impression if he thinks we’re a couple.” She ran a hand through her hair. “Tell me about the game.”

“You’re right. I don’t want to ruin my time with you.”

When he finished his description of the trainees and how they’d treated Simon, how the afternoon seemed to reinforce the group’s camaraderie, he asked about her class.

She’d decided not to tell him about coffee with John. “I enjoyed being back in art mode.”

“How many students?”

“Ten. Of varying abilities.”

He lazed back and crossed an ankle over his knee. “You were the best, I’ll bet.”

“Nah.”

“What did you paint?”

“A lake scene. From memory of Isabelle and Nick’s house.”

His brows rose. “Can I see it?”

“I never show my work before I’m done.”

“Not even to me?” His voice was pitched low, sounded hoarse. Sexy.

“Nope. Not until I’m finished. If I like it, I’m going to give it to them.”

“That’s sweet.”

“Thanks.”

The conversation was stilted. Mundane. She didn’t like feeling this distance. Did she feel guilty about John? Was Gabe upset about something?

Once again, she was frustrated by the circumstances of their relationship. And there seemed to be no remedy to change the situation.

* * *

“I can’t believe you want to be humiliated again.” Her cousin Gabe said the words to Whitney as he walked into the racquetball court where she waited for him. He dropped his stuff by the wall and took off his long-sleeved T-shirt. “You’re a glutton for punishment.”

Whitney snorted. “Like hell. You never humiliated me—on the court, at least.”

He laughed, probably remembering his constant grilling of every boyfriend she had when he was at home to visit. Then, she’d been mortified.

Coming in close, he kissed her nose, studied her face. “Let’s sit a minute.” They both dropped to the floor and leaned up against the wall. “You all right?”

“Yeah. Max is away again. Some kind of counterfeit case.”

“Doesn’t he have to stay with Isabelle?”

“Since Nick is off work now, we don’t need to be with her as much. Besides, I hear they’ve pretty much squelched the Blue Shadow.”

Gabe had been instrumental in identifying and tracking down who was after Isabelle when she was threatened last summer. “God, I’ve been so busy, I forgot about all that going on.” He sighed. “But back to you, Whit. You need a social life.”

“Max is my social life.”

A long pause. “What do you mean by that?”

She cursed her tongue. She hadn’t told her cousins about her friends-with-benefits relationship with her partner. He’d said her big brothers would pound the shit out of him if they knew he was banging her. She’d launched at him for the use of the seedy term, which he’d known she would, toppled to the ground with him and they’d had one hell of a bang.

“Whitney? What did you mean that Max is your social life? Are you two dating?”

“No!” God, she sounded like a pouty five-year-old.

He folded his arms over his chest. “I’m not playing until you tell me what’s going on.”

“All right. I’ll tell you about Max if you tell me where your head is at these days. I feel like I don’t know much about your life anymore.”

“It’s a deal.” He drew up his knees and linked his hands between them.

“Max and I have been sleeping together for three years.”

“What?”

“It didn’t happen for a while. I worked for him during my Secret Service probation year, and after I did my two years of training, I went to the Threat Assessment Center.”

“I know all that, honey.”

“We got close doing assignments and fell into a relationship. An intimate one.”

“With no commitments.”

“Right.”

“Whose idea was that?” His voice was tight.

She thought back to those times. To when they’d first become lovers. They’d come off an undercover assignment that had turned out to be much more dangerous than they’d thought it would be. They went back to his condo to debrief and he made coffee…

Standing at the counter, as he put beans in the grinder, he looked so big and safe and handsome, that she gave into the little imp that had been telling her for a year he’d be terrific in bed.

So she crossed to him and slid her arms around his waist from behind. He froze. His voice was gruff, “What are you doing, hotshot?” He always called her that.

“Something that has no strings attached, I promise.”

“And that something is?”

Her hands flirted with his belt. He grabbed them and pivoted quickly. Then grasped her arms. “I want this, Whitney. I want you and have for a long time. But are you sure? I’m older…our jobs…”

“Are you saying you can’t get it up anymore?”

“At forty-two? Are you kidding?” He bumped her with his crotch.

“Hmm.”

“The job?”

“No strings. We already care about each other. We’re old enough not to let our relationship go any further than physical.”

“If you’re sure…”

That had been the best night of her life.

“Whitney, where’d you go?”

“Thinking back on how Max and I happened. Both were my idea—to sleep together and with no strings attached.”

“Huh!” He let out a breath. “I’m not going to treat you like a child about this, agra.”

“I knew you wouldn’t.”

“But I wish you hadn’t felt you had to keep it from the family.”

“Can you imagine? Me with four older cousins who knew what was going on? Max wouldn’t have stood a chance.”

“I’d have supported you.”

Like he had supported Nick about Isabelle when she objected.

She took his hand. Held it. “I love you for that, Gabe.”

“So, did something go wrong? Why are you out of sorts today?”

“I don’t know.”

“Physically? Have you seen a doctor?”

Now, this he would overreact about.

“No, not physically. I’ve been more tired since he left. More listless.”

“Are you upset about Mama’s stroke?”

“No, I don’t think so. I’ve talked to her several times, and I would have gone home if she’d let me. But she said no.”

“Sounds to me like it might be love.”

“Nah. I don’t love him. I like him to pieces and he’s great in the sack, but—”

“Oh, God, every time I see him, I’ll have those images in my head.”

She laughed, as he meant her to.

“Now it’s your turn. Then we’ll play with the court time we have left.”

“Fine.” He turned so he could see her better. “I am in love, Whitney. And it’s causing me a whole lotta angst.”

“You can’t be in love now, Gabe. You’re going on the PPD.”

“I know. And that’s the problem.”

* * *

“I’m glad you’re off the PPD, Nick, given that my sister is pregnant.” Jim Manwaring smiled broadly. “And I have an idea for what you’ll do in the service now.”

Which was why Nick had been called to the Oval Office today.

“I’m open to listening. I can’t seem to come up with something that interests me.”

“I met with Director Paulson last week after the latest police shootings and the aftermath of the murder of all those cops.” Violence against the police force had been an epidemic for a while. “We want to start a task force within the Secret Service to work with law enforcement across the country. Its purpose would be two-fold. To support our women and men in blue by training them in situations that could occur—spotting perpetrators, dealing with dangerous gun wielders, their behavior with protestors. And more.”

“This sounds more like a job for the FBI.”

Jim leaned back in his chair and cocked his chin. “I don’t see it that way, Nick. I think the Secret Service is better equipped to take this on. Our people work advance teams. Are highly skilled at ferreting out potential incidents and preventing them. You did it more than once with me.”

He remembered several occasions where he’d stopped perpetrators. Once, he’d seen a man in a crowd and had a hunch. Turned out the guy was carrying a gun. Another time, Nick had gotten out of the Beast, spotted a group of protestors and got back in, driven to another entrance. Not long after, violence broke out among them. “Yeah, I have good instincts for things like that.”

“There’s more. The head of the task force would deal with training police on how to act once an incident occurs. They need to know how to protect the area but also how to protect themselves.”

“They get that at FLETC.”

“Those are the basics. They need advanced training.”

“Again, I’m trained to protect others, not myself.”

“I see that as working both ways. And our training center at Rowley is top-notch. In fact, my preference is that all law enforcement go through the kinds of programs we teach there.” He sighed. “And giving them this kind of support might stop some of them from turning to sources like the Blue Shadow.”

“Huh.”

“Which brings us to Gabe.”

“My brother? He’s leaving Rowley.”

“To be on my detail.” The president leaned forward and clasped his hands on the big oak desk. “I’m going to talk to you as your brother-in-law and a man, Nick. I know about Gabe’s involvement with Spike Stevens’ wife.”

Nick remained stone-faced, but it was hard. How did the president know? Had Isabelle told him?

“I’m not asking for confirmation. But just as you want to leave the detail, maybe he’ll rethink his decision to come on.”

He couldn’t help the smile that came to his lips. “You playin’ matchmaker, Mr. President?”

Jim Manwaring laughed aloud. “Maybe. Don’t you see? He could work for you. Run the police training at Rowley. Teach other centers across the country what he knows.”

“Yeah, and he was a cop, too. So he’d have credibility with the force.”

“I know, and that fact saved my sister’s life from dirty cops. By my book, he can pick and choose what he wants to do.”

“Well, he really wants the PPD, but now that things have changed in his personal life, he might consider that.”

“Of course, it’s his choice. I’m just offering an out.”

“This is a lot to take in. If I do take the job, which sounds very attractive, and Gabe decides to sign on, I’d have one condition.”

“What is it?”

“That we both head the task force. Equally.”