Taste (Take It Off #9)(32)
Author: Cambria Hebert

Spencer stiffened. “I wasn’t looking at him. I was looking for Elle when I fired.”

“So he got away?”

“Yes,” Spencer growled. Then he came to my side. “I’m sorry. If I’d have shot him, this would be over.”

“I don’t think so,” I said.

“He dragged you in the closet,” Walsh said. “Did he speak to you?”

I nodded, my hand going up to my throat where the flesh felt swollen and sore. The fear of being pinned against the wall, of the life being choked out of me as I tried to suck in air only to get mouthfuls of chloroform instead, washed over me.

“You need to back off,” Spencer growled, straightening to face Walsh.

Walsh’s face grew dark, and I hurried to speak before the two men began to argue.

“It’s fine. I need to tell you so we can figure out what to do next. The clock is ticking.”

That got their attention.

“Did he threaten you?” Spencer asked murderously.

“No. We had tea,” I snapped.

Then I sighed, guilt pummeling me. “I’m sorry.” I sighed. “I’m just…”

“I know, baby,” Spencer said softly, sitting down beside me again. “It’s okay.”

Walsh groaned.

“He dragged me in the closet.” I began, fingering my bruised neck again. “And pinned me to the wall. My mouth was covered with that stuff so I couldn’t call out, and it was so…. sickly sweet that it made me drowsy almost instantly.”

“Go on,” Walsh instructed.

“He told me if the president wasn’t dead by the night of the dignitary’s dinner, then he was going to kill me because I was of no use to him.”

“Fuck,” Spencer spat and jumped off the bed.

I really was going to have to speak to him about his foul mouth if he was going to be spending time with Jack.

That’s when I knew.

I knew I wasn’t going to be able to resist him. I wasn’t going to be able to hold him at arm’s length forever. As much as I didn’t want a relationship with a man… I wanted Spencer more.

Even my subconscious was filled with thoughts of him and my son together.

“Elle?” Walsh said, drawing me out of my thoughts. “What else did he say?”

I glanced at Spencer, my cheeks heating. “Nothing important,” I muttered.

“Everything is important,” Walsh snapped.

Spencer stiffened.

“It’s okay,” I said. “After Spencer’s gun went off, he said, ‘That new man of yours is a real pussy hater. Better be careful.’”

“He’s a fucking comedian,” Spencer growled.

“What else?” Walsh pressed.

I shook my head. “That’s all. We were only in there a moment. I think he was afraid Spencer would catch him.”

“He should be,” Spence muttered.

“He just threatened me, gave me a deadline, and then left.”

Walsh and Spencer exchanged a long look. It was filled with meaning.

“It’s an inside job,” Spencer said.

Walsh nodded. “Yep.”

“What!” I gasped, springing forward. Pain in my lower back made me wince and kept me from getting up. “How could you possibly know that?”

“He knows the White House is having a dignitary’s dinner. That stuff doesn’t make the news. The White House has too many events to be reported on. It has to be someone who has access to the calendar of events, someone on the inside.”

“And now he knows you aren’t here alone, Elle,” Walsh said. “If he works at the White House, then I have no doubt he knows it’s Spencer you are with.”

“How could he know that?” I asked.

Walsh gave me a knowing look. “Everyone knows about you and Waller. We saw it coming months ago.”

So everyone knew but me?

I thought of something else. “So if he knows about me and Spencer, then… he probably knows that I told him?”

“Maybe not,” Spencer said. “He told you to be wary of me. Maybe he was trying to drive a wedge between us, keep you separated and alone.”

“Like I would listen to a man who was trying to strangle me,” I muttered.

My comment caused Spencer to stiffen and his jaw muscles to lock down. Probably not the best choice of words.

Good going, Elle.

“I think we should assume he thinks she told,” Walsh said.

Panic assaulted me. I jumped up from the bed, swaying a little on my feet. “But what about Jack!” I demanded. “If he thinks I told, then he’s going to go after my son!”

“He won’t be able to find him,” Spencer said, taking me by the shoulders and staring into my eyes. “Jack is safe.”

I latched onto Spencer’s face, trying to calm the brutal freak-out ripping through my insides. “Then he’s going to kill me.”

Spencer’s fingers dug into my skin. “No. He won’t.”

“He already said he would. He said to kill the president by the night of the dinner or he would kill me.”

Spencer jerked away from me, pacing the room again. Then he stopped mid-stride, his announcement shocking.

“Then I guess we’re going to kill the president.”

18

You could have heard a pin drop.

The silence filled the room, pressing in on all of us as we sat there and stared at Spencer.

Did he just suggest we kill the president of the United States?

Maybe he was overly tired.

Maybe he was too stressed out.

“You’ve lost your ever-lovin’ mind!” Walsh roared, making me jump and disrupting the quiet.

Well, there was that.

But I wasn’t about to jump on the bandwagon that Spencer had gone cuckoo. It wasn’t possible. I needed him around too much.

“It’s the perfect plan,” Spencer said. His tone of voice suggested he could be talking about something as mundane as the weather.

I blinked.

“Once he’s dead, the people behind this will get sloppy. We’ll be able to catch them.”

“And he won’t come after me or Jack,” I said.

Spencer’s eyes cut to me and then away. I noted the hard set of his jaw before he forcefully relaxed it.

What did I say?

“There’s just one problem with your plan, Waller,” Walsh said. “I’ll see you in jail before I let you off the commander in chief.”

Spencer grunted. “Seriously? Give me some credit.”