Her Secret Service Agent. Stephanie Doyle
smirked. “Phantom? So you don’t think he’s real? Well, then I guess I’m as safe as I can be.”
“I didn’t say that. The letters are real.”
“They are, but who is to say who sent them? Maybe I sent them to myself. We both know I’m not exactly stable,” she said, a note of hysteria in her rising tone. “Heck, I used to see a shrink, right? Of course, after I seduced him, our sessions were more physical than mental. Not really much time for talking or working out your emotional issues when you’re committing adultery!”
“Calm down, Vivian.”
A typical Joe Hunt command delivered with simplicity and authority. There was never an order he barked that she didn’t obey. Sometimes she used to put up a good fight, but in the end she always capitulated. That was then.
“No, I won’t calm down!”
He moved toward her, and she knew what he would do. Grab her shoulders, make her look him in the eyes, breathe with her. And she didn’t want that again. She didn’t want to remember he could soothe her so easily.
Why had she done this? Why had she opened herself up to all of this again? She never should have gone looking for him.
“No,” she said, backing away from him. “I don’t have to do what you say anymore. Leave. Your services are no longer required.”
For a moment he said nothing, but he didn’t move. She thought he might try to convince her she needed him. He didn’t.
“Whatever you say. You’re the boss. See you around, Viv.”
He went out the front door and closed it slowly behind him.
He’d really left.
Immediately, the atmosphere in her apartment changed from one of comfort and safety to one of emptiness. She was alone again, and she didn’t know if she could bear it.
You were alone before. You’ve been handling this on your own for weeks.
Yes, but it had been horrible. Sleep, which was such a valuable commodity to her anyway, had completely eluded her. She was jumpy and agitated and...
She made bad decisions.
Decisions like finding Joe. Thinking there could be some resolution to their past.
Thinking that...
Go get him. Tell him you need him.
Another bad idea. Only it was getting harder and harder to tell which ideas were good and which were bad.
If she went after him, she would be humiliated.
But she would have him and he would protect her. This she knew for certain.
Except part of the reason she wanted to see him again was to prove to him she had grown up. She was supposed to be an independent, self-confident and mature woman. The fact that on most days she still felt like a scared little girl didn’t matter.
Only the illusion counted. If she went running after him and begged him to come back, he would know she hadn’t changed much in the last ten years. He would see her now as everyone had seen her back then. Needy. Clinging.
If that happened, he would never fall in love with her.
Suddenly Vivian wanted to scream. She wanted to smash everything in her apartment just to hear the sound of it splintering apart. She wanted to see physical evidence of what she felt inside.
Why him?
After the scandal with Nicholas had erupted, Vivian had left DC in shame and humiliation. She found a job and a life in Seattle. Then she found a new therapist, Susan, who had actually helped her work through her issues.
She’d begun to understand her dependence on Joe. Vivian had lost her mother at twelve. The woman who had been the center of her universe. Her father had been governor of Virginia at the time. A busy man with a busy schedule, he’d given Vivian every minute he could, but it hadn’t been close to what she’d had with her mother. Not enough of what she’d needed.
Her father would be heartsick to know what it had done to her every time he left her for work. Every trip he’d needed to take. Every event he’d needed to attend, leaving her alone at night.
The horrible, overwhelming fear that when he left, he might never come back. Like her mother.
Vivian used to think that aside from her panic attacks, she’d conquered her fear fairly well.
It wasn’t until she’d met Joe that she understood she’d only been controlling it. Because it wasn’t until she had met him, the fear finally went away.
Her appointed bodyguard. Her very own security net. It had seemed crazy to her. Until the first time she’d tried to ditch him and couldn’t. They were at some pizza place not far from the White House. She wasn’t sure what had made her do it, but she’d tried to leave through the back door. Maybe to test him. Maybe to tease him. She hadn’t gotten ten feet before he was behind her on the sidewalk.
He didn’t scold her. He didn’t lecture her on the importance of her security. He simply took her back to the restaurant.
That was when she knew. He was never going to let her get into trouble. He would never leave her side.
All reasons why a girl who had lived in fear until that moment would find herself falling in love.
Adolescent crush. Hero worship. Fantasy-based infatuation.
Nicholas had made it seem that what she’d felt for Joe wasn’t real. Then, of course, he’d begun to explain to her what was real.
Vivian dropped her face into her hands, the shame and humiliation of how easily she’d been manipulated washing over her like a wave that never stopped coming. She could move past it, she could not let it affect her life, but she could never forget how gullible she’d been.
Susan had helped her deal with that, as well. She’d called out Nicholas for being an abusive monster, preying on a victim when she was at her weakest. That was true, but Vivian had to be honest with herself. She’d let Nicholas seduce her, she’d let him screw her. She’d done it to hurt Joe.
Because Joe had left her.
Eventually, she forgave herself. For everything. Susan had helped her to understand emotions more clearly. If you loved, you loved. If you hated, you hated. If you were afraid, you were afraid, and if you were sad, you were sad. Pretending to feel something else when the other feelings were in charge was a quick way to an ulcer.
So Vivian let herself be sad. She let herself cry because Joe was gone, even though she had told him to leave. Finally she picked herself up, dried her tears and thought about what came next.
She would start looking for another investigator in the morning. Perhaps a woman would be a better option. At least it was a plan.
Changing into some flannel pajamas, Vivian set her cell on the nightstand so it was close at hand. Then she reclined on the chaise lounge as the strain of the day caught up with her.
She hadn’t slept at all last night, and she was exhausted. Concentrating on taking deep, slow, even breaths, Vivian felt herself drift off. The sound of her home phone ringing from the other room penetrated, but she had no intention of risking what might be actual sleep to answer it.
Whoever it was could leave a message.
“HAIL TO THE CHIEF.”
The song broke through her sleep. Vivian lifted her head and reached for her cell phone on the nightstand. It was just after one in the morning. Only her father would think to call her at this time of night, and the ringtone proved it.
“Hi, Daddy.”
“Oh,