Chapter Two
“Drink up, Valentine. The coffee may be shit, but at least it’s strong.”
Donovan lifted the newly-filled mug to his lips and took a drink. It was as advertised.
Carrying the steaming cup back to his desk, he looked at the smirk on his friend and colleague’s face. “What are you so smug about, Miller?”
His friend shrugged. “Just imagining how your head must be pounding after last night. Damn, you can put ’em away.”
Donovan chuckled. “Nah. Maybe back in high school, but I’m a grown man now, Miller. Still, I can see how, if you were using yourself as a yardstick, you might get confused.”
“Fuck you, Valentine.” Miller laughed.
Donovan enjoyed the camaraderie he shared with his brothers in the Secret Service. After all, they shared an experience that very few people in history could relate to, or even understand. They were responsible for the survival and safety of the President, for God’s sake. They were elite, and that bonded them.
There were other parts of the job that weren’t a perfect fit, and as time went on, they grated on him more and more, but the one thing he enjoyed unreservedly was the bond of brotherhood with his fellow agents.
“So, I guess your security clearance is up for renewal again,” Miller said, settling into the chair on the other side of his desk.
“Yeah, it is.”
“I got the phone call to set up a meeting and talk about you. What’ll you give me to talk you up?”
“Funny. How about this: fuck it up for me, and I’ll stop ignoring all your mom’s texts.”
Miller flipped him off good-naturedly and said, “Seriously, though, man. You could stand to settle down. Start seeing somebody.”
“Great,” Donovan deadpanned. “I’ll be sure to tell your mom you feel that way.”
“Joke all you want. You’re not getting any younger. That’s all I’m saying.”
With that cheerful thought, Miller stood and walked out of Donovan’s small office, heading down the hall to his own.
Donovan looked down at his desk, trying to muster up the will to focus. Damn. He hated paperwork days. He liked being out in the field, adrenaline pumping even when nothing out of the ordinary was happening. Staying sharp, right on the razor’s edge as he constantly scanned the surroundings.
He didn’t understand how that and the seemingly endless forms that needed to be filled out were part of the same job.
Yeah. The damn paperwork was definitely in the top five on the list of things that were starting to wear on him more and more.
His phone rang, and he snatched it up, thrilled with the chance to put off the damn paperwork for a few more minutes. He barked one clipped word into the receiver. “Valentine.”
“Agent Valentine? This is Special Agent Flowers. I’ve been assigned to head up the team that’s reviewing your security clearance renewal, and I’ve come across a discrepancy that I need to discuss with you.”
“Discrepancy?”
“Yes. It’s about your wife,” Flowers continued.
For a moment, Donovan didn’t even register the words through the shocked fog in his brain and ringing in his ears. When he did, the only response he could muster was, “My…my what?”
“Your wife,” Flowers repeated stonily. “I know you are aware, agent Valentine, that when you form a new legal family connection, such as getting married or adopting a child, you are required to file the proper disclosures. I’ll be honest, it doesn’t look good that you’ve hidden this.”
“Hidden…I haven’t hidden anything.”
“Don’t insult me, Valentine.”
“Flowers, I swear to God I’m not married. There’s been some kind of paperwork mix up or clerical error. Or maybe a computer system got its wires crossed. But I definitely don’t have a wife.”
“No mix up, Agent. Except the one where you didn’t declare the marriage. You definitely do have a wife, and again, let me be honest, this conversation isn’t reflecting well on your level of forthrightness.”
“God. Well…who is this supposed wife of mine?”
“Ella Fletcher, Valentine Bay, Oregon.”
Understanding dawned with the force of a hurricane. He almost laughed out loud, but he didn’t think Flowers would get the joke. He didn’t seem like a real “jokey” kind of guy.
He opened his mouth to explain, but found that he didn’t know what to say. After all, I married her in a drunken stupor in Vegas when we were both eighteen, but I never declared it on my security paperwork because I thought we’d used the fake IDs that we’d brought with us to drink illegally didn’t exactly scream, “Clear me to guard the President!”
He sighed. “Flowers, this is a mix up. I do know Ella. She’s a friend from my hometown. I haven’t seen her in five years. She’s not my wife, that I promise you. I’m going to get this whole thing straightened out.”
There was silence on the other end of the phone. Finally, Flowers replied. “See that you do. And Valentine?”
“Yeah?”
“The sooner the better.”