The oldest of the crew, apparently the only one not shocked speechless, stepped forward. “Mom?”
“Thank you for a most enjoyable afternoon, Senator Landis.”
“Thank you, Chancellor. I look forward to the rest of the visit as well.” Ginger gathered her composure as she nodded to the German Chancellor as well as Franz Kohl, the Minister of Arts, and Igor Mashchenko, the Vice-Chancellor from neighboring Kasov. The meeting had been called seconds after she and Hank had tossed out her sons and tossed on some clothes. Which left no time for her or Hank to speak to her sons after the enormously embarrassing encounter.
In the grand hallway outside the dining room, she finished her farewells to the heads of state after their lengthy luncheon. Her eyes lingered on the two special guests as she took a final moment to gather her impressions of them. She thought of Hank’s concerns regarding the crèche being the focus of the threats.
Could the Minister of Arts want the crèche for monetary reasons? She studied the ambitious young man, a traditional-looking academic in his layered sweater and jacket with slightly rumpled pants. She could have sworn she caught a hint of paint on his brown leather shoes. His thinning hair, however, had been neatly groomed for the important occasion.
She shifted her attention to their guest from neighboring Kasov, Igor Mashchenko. A grandfatherly figure with a full head of steel-gray hair, he had a regal bearing that inspired confidence. He’d risen to the heights through shrewd investments that had helped finance his rise to power. He definitely didn’t need money.
Mashchenko bowed over her hand with an old-world elegance that elicited a low growl from Hank only Ginger would have heard. She lightly elbowed her general in the side before smiling at the visiting dignitary and wishing him farewell until the sunset ceremony.
Now that this final meeting was past, she and Hank had no excuse to avoid what waited in the sitting room back in her quarters.
Walking down the castle corridor with Hank distinctly quiet by her side, she winced to think of the conversation still waiting to happen between her and her boys. She wanted to say it didn’t matter what they thought. They were the children and she was the parent.
Except they were adults, and actually their opinions did matter to her. She didn’t want dissension in her family. Something special had happened between Hank and her, and she wanted to start things off on the right foot with her boys.
Plus, it was damn embarrassing to be caught in flagrante delicto, no matter what her age.
Rounding a corner, she followed the path of sconce lights, updated with bulbs made to resemble candles, as she found her way back to her and Hank’s quarters. Strange how, in the past, meetings with the heads of state of other countries had given her less anxiety than the upcoming one with her boys.
Outside the door, Hank gripped her by the arm, stopping her. She blinked, her eyes wide at his public display in touching her in front of the security personnel stationed at the end of the hall.
Given the widening of Hank’s pupils, the touch to her arm was only the start of his intent. He leaned closer, his mouth a whisker away from hers. “What happened earlier was amazing and don’t you doubt for a minute that, given the chance, I would dive right in for a repeat. Don’t let anything that’s said in there steal a second of what we had. Got it?”
“Roger that, General.”
He nodded, backing away without the kiss. She should have known he wouldn’t actually risk her reputation with any outright display. Gracious, his words had bolstered her when she needed it. More of that friendship-knowledge of each other coming into play, she imagined.
Shoulders braced, Ginger swung open the door to find her four sons waiting. Matthew paced. Kyle sprawled. Sebastian tended the fire while Jonah sent text messages on his cell phone.
Her boys. Grown up, but still her babies, each with a wicked little one-sided dimple. She opened her arms. “I can’t believe you’re all here.”
She fell into the familiarity of their boisterous hugs.
Matthew pulled back first, her oldest taking charge as usual, so far keeping his eyes solidly off Hank. “Once we learned of the attempt on your life, nothing would keep us away. Then we got here and found out you were missing…holy hell, Mom.”
She should have realized it wouldn’t matter whether or not her boys knew she was missing. The shooting incident alone would bring them to her.
Ginger moved deeper into the room with them, toward the sofa. “I thought for sure they would keep this silent for at least a couple of days.”
“Mother,” Matthew shook his head with an unshakable self-confidence he’d inherited from his father. “I won my seat in the House of Representatives, in case you’ve forgotten. I have access to information.”
And a forceful, no-backing-down determination she suspected he’d made full use of.
“Thank you for worrying, son, but as you can see, my security detail is working overtime.” She sank onto the sofa, her boys sitting around her. “I’m in capable hands.”
Kyle quirked a brow. “I can certainly see you’re in someone’s hands.”
Leave it to her outspoken Kyle to address the issue first. She could already feel Hank advancing farther into the room with powerful strides. Ginger held up her palm to stall him. She and Hank might not have had time to determine where things were headed between them yet, but without question, they had something special.
She wanted this settled without contention between these important males in her life.
“Excuse me, young man?” Ginger tipped her chin and stared him down. “I’m still your mother.”
Sebastian, her middle-child peacemaker, interjected, with both hands raised between them, “You know he’s not being disrespectful to you, Ma, or to the General. Kyle simply wants to make sure you’re all right in every sense of the word.”
Her baby, Jonah, reclined in the wingback, laughing. “Like we have anything to worry about. The General would kick his own ass if he hurt Ma.”
A cleared throat reminded them all of Hank hovering behind her. “Damn straight.”
Heat crawled up her face.
Good Lord, she wasn’t in high school, caught talking about a boy in the lunchroom. Still, these feelings she had felt were just as fresh and new as anything she’d experienced then, combined with the maturity to know how very rare and valuable such emotions were.
Hank put his hands on her shoulders. “However, boys, if you know the first thing about your mother, you understand she can kick my butt all on her own if the need arises. And if you know me at all, you realize the last thing I would ever do is let anybody harm one hair on this lady’s head. Are we on the same page here?”
They all nodded, although she noticed that Matthew was a hint slower than the rest to accede.
Hank nodded in return. “Fair enough. Now, as much as I would like to catch up on old times with you four, your mother has some official business to attend to outside.” He extended his elbow. “Ginger.”
She thought of the gun he always carried. A skitter of unease iced up her spine. They’d caught the confessed perpetrators. Still, security would always be an issue in her job and she hated that she put Hank in harm’s way.
She could almost hear him gruffing that he had his own job to perform as a member of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, so get off her haughty high horse.
A smile trembled at her lips as she wondered why she couldn’t simply grab hold of this happiness. Oh, how she wished she could spend more time with them since she’d only just darted into the room a minute ago, but she truly did have obligations waiting and she needed to change for her final appearance.
“Mom?” Sebastian’s hand came to rest on her shoulder. “Are you all right?”
Ginger gave her grown-up child a quick hug and blinked away the sting of tears. “Of course. I’m just sentimental at the holidays.”
But as she and Hank both left to get ready for her final appearance on this Christmas tour, she couldn’t stop the fear that happiness would be snatched from her once again.
Hank didn’t care that they had an entire flipping courtyard littered with security, even a sniper perched on two parapets. He still had what his youngest daughter would have called the heebie-jeebies.
He tried not to fidget while he sat next to Ginger in the front row of chairs set up in the chapel ruins, but there were just too many people at this sunset dedication ceremony. Dignitaries, locals, media, the military aircrewmen who’d flown him and Ginger around from the start. Not to mention an orchestra, all bundled in jackets under tents erected around the chapel remains.
An earpiece in place, he listened to the security chatter, but it did little to reassure him or stop him from scanning the area. The Christmas decorations of lit trees in every corner, live boughs, bows and floral arrangements were magnificent; still, he couldn’t help but think of the personnel who’d tromped through setting up each and every piece.
Most of all, he couldn’t help but think of how vulnerable Ginger was, sitting next to him wearing her creamy off-white suit and a matching overcoat. She stood out like a beautiful beacon amid all the formal black and festive red.
A Christmas angel to his Scrooge.
They could tra-la-la all they wanted, but he was in more of a bah-humbug mood. Something felt off.
Ginger sat perched on the edge of her chair alongside the remains of the stone altar, empty velvet bag in her lap as Franz Kohl made comments about the rarity of the crèche now nestled on the stark stone altar. As if having Ginger here in the open wasn’t enough, to up the stakes, his own kids had arrived for the event as well, showing up a mere twenty minutes before showtime.
They all sat in the audience with Ginger’s boys, their friends since childhood. Hank eyed them lined along the front row of observers—vulnerable, even if his children were all trained Air Force warriors as well.
His oldest, Alicia, and her husband Josh, who both flew fighter planes, passed their wide-awake baby girl back and forth to quiet her while the Minister of Arts continued his lengthy speech.
Shifting his gaze to his own baby girl, Hank could hardly believe Darcy would be a mother soon. Part of him wanted to launch down there and protect her, but she had her special agent husband sitting next to her on one side and her navigator brother—Hank Junior—on the other. Hank couldn’t suppress the twinge of surprise at his son’s appearance, since his namesake usually checked out of family stuff, especially if “the old man” was around.
As much as he appreciated their support in showing up, he really wished they were somewhere else tonight. He’d asked them to consider observing from the safety of the castle—but none of them would even consider it.
“Hank,” Ginger whispered out of the corner of her mouth, “do you have your BlackBerry with you?”
“Does a rose have thorns?” he answered softly without moving his lips. They’d gotten pretty good at near-silent ventriloquism over the years of sitting in the limelight for hours on end.
She rested a hand on the crook of his arm. “Could you look something up for me without appearing conspicuous?”
“No one will think it’s odd if I’m using the thing. What do you need?” He surreptitiously slid his BlackBerry from beneath his jacket and cradled it in his palm, his hand large enough most should never even notice he held it.
“You mentioned not liking the look of Mashchenko.”
“That’s because he was checking you out.” The lech.
“Oh really?”
Hank growled lowly.
“Your instincts are usually right on. Why not run a search on him?”
Hank’s eyes shot over to Mashchenko where the older man waited for his turn to speak after Kohl. “Now?”
“Why not now?”
Of course nothing about this weekend had been on anything but a breakneck timetable.
