“Specifics about what?” she asked, confused.
“On whether we’re putting you in a safe house tonight or later on. Whether we’re going to allow you to come back to this house at all,” he answered, already walking back down to her car in front of the house.
“This is a fucking nightmare. I don’t want to be in a safe house,” Stella said to George. She shielded her eyes with her hand to block out the sun and saw a crowd gathering in the park. “Let’s get the fuck out of here, the media is going to be all over this shit.” She kicked an imaginary ball. “Fuck.”
“We’ll be all right.” George put his arm around her shoulders and they walked into the house to get their things and Cooper.
They’d driven the few miles to George’s mom’s house in silence, both of them contemplating their circumstances. They’d have to wait out the bomb detonation team before anything was decided. Stella hated waiting. She sighed as she sat in the den of George’s old house. The tension in the room was thick as Mrs. Finnegan made small talk with George and completely ignored Stella.
Stella gazed at pictures of George and the rest of his family from the time he was born. It was clear he was the favorite of the kids; the pictures of him plastered all over the wall were so numerous they would fill up seventeen scrapbooks. His looks changed significantly over the years, but his eyes were still the same gray with green flecks. They were the same eyes that made her weak in the knees when they looked at her in a certain way.
“El?” she heard George ask. She’d tuned out their conversations about Mrs. Finnegan’s friends and all the gossip surrounding them.
“Hmm?” She raised her eyebrows in question.
“What do you think? Can we make it?” George questioned.
“Make it?”
“Were you even listening?” Mrs. Finnegan didn’t even bother looking at Stella.
If she weren’t George’s mom, Stella would’ve told her exactly why she wasn’t listening to her soliloquy on all of her friends’ medical conditions. Stella smiled. George had the patience of a saint when dealing with his mother; maybe that’s why he was able to put up with Stella.
She applied her fake smile. “Of course we can make it,” she confirmed without any idea what they were talking about. She was sure it’d be fine. Her phone buzzed and she looked at a text from Christine at the office. “I’ve got to tend to this, it’s work,” she said, standing and moving away from George and his mom.
Senator in trouble need you here yesterday
Stella felt the heat of rage begin to incinerate her body, starting at her toes. She replied.
I was testifying at a federal trial for a terrorist attack
Her phone vibrated immediately.
Saw you had new death threat
Call me now
She shook her head, pissed initially, though it was actually refreshing to have someone not give a shit about the state of her undoing and just want her to do her job. She dialed Christine as she walked outside and sat down in a chair on the front porch.
“Need you here,” Christine answered the phone in her no-nonsense way, “now.”
“Can’t. FBI has me cornered while they’re clearing out the bomb in front of my house.” Stella was matter of fact.
“Press conference is necessary in this case.” Christine’s voice was clipped. “You’re up. We’ll set it up and I’ll get you the details.”
“Fine. I should be there early tomorrow afternoon. I have Special Agent Harris meeting me in the morning. There’s a small possibility that I’ll be moved to a safe house and I’m not really sure what that means. But let me know what you need and I can do it from home until I’m able to come in.” She disconnected. Staring at her phone, she opened her Kindle app and began reading a book about a paid assassin and the girl he unknowingly saved. George and his mom didn’t have to know she was done with work.
After she’d been outside for over an hour reading on her phone, George opened the door and looked outside. She looked up from her phone. “New case,” she said with a grin.
“I’m sure.” He walked out, his hands shoved in the pockets of his low slung jeans, his dark hair disheveled from running his hand through it in worry. He cocked his head to the side.
“She hates me,” Stella acknowledged softly.
“She’s not your biggest fan,” he agreed.
“You’ll convince her what a good person I am?” Stella joked.
“Probably not.” He smiled and she fought the urge to lick his dimples.
“I guess she has better taste than you.”
Her phone buzzed, breaking the moment. It was Millie.
You’re trending on twitter, asshole
Stella laughed as she texted back.
People hopeful I died?
Millie replied immediately.
How did you know?
#itshardhavinganassholeasabestfriend
Chapter Two
And it begins…
She’d just gotten out of the shower the next morning and was pulling a Foo Fighters t-shirt over her head when she heard the doorbell. Cooper started running down the stairs, barking like a madman. The chime sounded; George let someone in. Hurrying, she pulled up a pair of jeans and slipped her feet into flip flops.
George and Agent Harris were in a serious conversation when Stella made her way to the den and coughed to make her presence known. Agent Harris had that stereotypical cop swagger—all the confidence and half of the intelligence. He was probably in his late thirties and he always wore suits. Today he was wearing a blue pinstripe suit with a yellow shirt and red tie. Paired with his spiky brown hair and brown eyes, it was actually a dashing look; he was an attractive guy, but very uptight. He’d always been very no-nonsense with her and that alone had pissed her off at several points during the investigation on the Montana bombing. Part of her wished Monica Peterson, the Assistant U.S. Attorney who prepared her for trial, had been the FBI agent and the lawyer.
“Thanks for coming,” she said.
George stepped aside and turned to face Stella. Agent Harris already had his pen and pad out and was taking notes when she came to a halt right in front of George.
“Would you like something to drink?” she asked.
“No thanks. I’m in DC for a short time and I have to get up to headquarters to fill them in on this threat. We aren’t taking this lightly, Stella.”
“Okay. I thought someone was coming with you.”
“She got called to another emergency; I’ll be filling her in after I leave here.”
“Alright. Well, I appreciate you coming so quickly.” Stella inhaled deeply. This was going to be tricky. “So you may want to sit down for this or, even better, sit at the bar so that you can take a ton of notes.” She smiled weakly and walked to the kitchen to make herself coffee. She wasn’t wearing any makeup and her hair was still wet; she looked and felt vulnerable.
“So, when did you discover the threat?” Harris asked.
“Well, let me start and say that when I left for Montana, a box of clementines was delivered to Stella,” George interrupted. “I was running late, so I pulled them in and left them in the foyer right in front of the door.”