Chapter Ten

Her head jerked up as if pulled by an invisible string. Sparks flashed in her green eyes as they met his. “What?”

One blond eyebrow rose in a perfect arc. His jaw tightened to the breaking point. “I know you don’t need a definition of the words, and I know I didn’t stutter. Get the fuck out of my house.” Somehow, he managed to sound menacing, commanding, and dangerous - all without even raising his voice.

She could do menacing too. “And if I refuse?”

“Gun, or not, I’ll have you thrown out.” His lips stretched into a smile that didn’t quite reach his baby blues. “After all, you’re a crazy lunatic that claims to come from the future.” The sarcasm wasn’t lost on her.

Even through a clenched jaw, her voice sounded almost friendly, in a way too overdone Southern syrupy kind of way. “Let’s be clear then - Are you refusing protection, Sir?”

He froze for the briefest of seconds while his mind spun in a faster than light speed whirl. If she was willing to admit it to herself, she’d be fascinated watching that brilliant mind working behind beautiful blue eyes and a face that could make an angel cry. The thoughts circling round and round in Jon’s mind weren’t purely self-motivated. What if this supposed assassin made an attempt on his life and got someone else instead? What if that attempt led to Jon being barred from the political socializing he’d been doing lately?

But, she would’ve let Richie die.

“Yeah, I am.”

“Ok,” she nodded, and for the length of a heartbeat, Jon had thought she was giving up way too easy. “But, you should realize that with my credentials I can and will keep you from attending any functions that might endanger any other political powerhouse. Mr. Gore, for instance.”

“Are you threatening me?” The ‘Jovi Stink Eye’ should’ve sent her running in real fear of her life as if in flight from a bad horror film killer, but being the gun-toting, specially trained agent that she was, she stood her ground.

Gabriella smiled slightly at the emphasis on the word ‘me’. As if she could threaten anyone else on the planet. Except HIM. Oh, the affront. “I’m glad you were paying attention.” And then as if in afterthought, she added, “Sir.”

He had to admit she had some big ass balls! “Threats won’t get you any where with me.”

“Let’s call it what it is, shall we? Blackmail. Sir.”

She didn’t seem the least bit contrite to him, and it was beginning to really piss him off. “Let me make sure I’ve got this right,” he began, once again glaring at her. “For the next - What? - twenty years you’re gonna be like a fucking thorn in my side? I mean - fuck. How the hell do I get rid of you?”

“You don’t.” She was patience personified. “But, I can assure you, Sir. It won’t take twenty years. I have no intention of putting up with your arrogant bullshit that damn long.” He sucked in a huge breath at that, but before he could say whatever he’d been going to say, she went on. “I’ll find the assassin long before then.”

“Really?” he didn’t sound too convinced. “The question of your competency remains to be answered.”

She froze. The only movement being the heavy rise and fall of her lovely breasts as she huffed and puffed in anger. Her eyes were narrowed, lips pursed in a tight little bow, jaw clenched. Green sparks flashed in her eyes. For the briefest of seconds, he wondered if she was going to shoot him.

Good God, she was beautiful.

The room itself seemed to hold it’s breath waiting for one of them to move. Tension hung thick and heavy in the room, making the hair on his arms stand up as if in the stillness right before the first crack of lightening in a summer storm.

Then all hell broke loose.

Forcefully, she pushed him back against the counter. “You ungrateful fuck! Dish out all the arrogant bullshit you want, but don’t you dare imply that I can’t do my job! I worked too fucking hard to get where I am. To get to protect a sitting president is a great honor. I was just the unlucky bitch that got YOU. I’m beginning to think I got the raw end of this deal.” She punctuated every one of her sentences with a finger poke to the chest as she glared up into his startled face.

He opened his mouth. Perhaps he’d been about to apologize, but she didn’t give him the chance. “If you ever - and I do mean EVER - question my competency again, I’ll save the assassin a bullet. I’ll shoot ya myself.”

Cockily, he asked, “And would ya be able to hit me?”

She began to pull her dress up again, reaching for her gun. He put his hands up in front of him in surrender. “I was only joking. Fuck. You’re gonna have to grow a sense of humor, Kryptonite.”

Chapter Nine

Quickly, she took a step back. Out of his reach. With a nonchalant shrug and a smirk lifting the left corner of her mouth, she told him, “I’m not much on sharing, Sir.”

The almost smile and the teasing tone in her voice would’ve left anyone else with the impression that she was just joking, but Jon was really good at reading people. The information he sought was in her eyes. They were cold with clouds hiding the soul behind them. He decided a little joking and some teasing might get him a few crumbs of information.

He called up the little boy grin that made the fans putty in his hands. “Are we close in the future? Friends, I mean?” He took off his suit jacket and casually tossed it over the back of a nearby chair and immediately began to loosen his tie.

She smiled at him then. A real smile. It lit up her whole face and twin dimples appeared in her cheeks. “Yeah. Closer than we should be.”

The answer surprised him. Surely she didn’t mean...

“How close?”

That almost sounded like jealousy in his voice as his tie joined his jacket. Shaking her head, she gave him the slightest disapproving grin. Boys would be boys. “Not as close as you’re thinking.”

He didn’t even try to look contrite. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.” Negligently, he shrugged one shoulder then turned to head back toward the bar. He really needed that drink now.

Something about his silence made her want to explain. “But you began our working relationship by teasing me about something and it’s just been that way ever since. We’re friends. You even caused a big fuss and security nightmare just to attend my dog’s ‘funeral’ last month.” She paused, dropping her head and shaking it slightly. “Well, it was last month to me.”

“You had a funeral for your dog?” There was genuine surprise in his voice as he came back around the bar with two full glasses of wine.

“Don’t be so shocked. You told me you had one for Copper,” she defended.

Jon didn’t even blink at the use of his dog’s name. Any fan knew Copper’s name. It was the laughter in her voice as she pointed a finger at him in accusation while she defended herself that told him volumes. She hadn’t lied about their relationship in the future. She was comfortable enough with him to tease and trade barbs. However, it was bothering him that she talked about things that were important to him in the past tense.

He had crossed the room, stopping when he reached her. Silently, he offered her one of the wine glasses. “I wish you’d quit referring to people and things that are important to me in the past tense.”

She shook her head at the offer of wine. “I’m on duty. Past tense, present tense, it’s all a blur to me right now, Sir. Sorry. Could you be more specific?”

Casually, he walked over to a counter that ran between the big open air kitchen and the family/game room they were in, sitting her wine glass down. “Copper,” he started counting off her offenses on the fingers of one hand while he braced the other elbow on the counter, “Arnold. But, most importantly, Richie. He’s still alive.” He paused until her light green eyes met his. “And, I guess now is as good a time as any to say ‘thank you’ for that.”

She frowned at him, really hoping he didn’t mean what she thought he meant. Her voice was cold and flat when she said, “Excuse me?”

He noticed the deferential ‘sir’ was missing from that question. “The email you sent today, I’m sure it saved his life. That plane he was supposed to be on crashed; he could’ve been killed.”

Her whole body stiffened and a muscle began to tick in her cheek as her jaw clenched. The green in her eyes lightened to a pale, icy gray just before she grabbed him by the shirt and shook him. Hard. “You lyin’ son-of-a-bitch!” She shook him again to emphasize her point. “You sat there, looked me in the eye, hell, you even smiled at me while you fuckin’ lied through your teeth!”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he ordered softly, sitting his own wine glass down beside hers on the counter. His shirt was still clutched tightly in her small but strong hands. Gently, he wrapped his hands around the seemingly delicate bones of her wrists. She was stronger than she looked, and she was not quite ready to relinquish her hold on his shirt, but he forced the issue. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

He sounded quite indignant. Maybe it was that righteous indignation that made her realize what she was doing. She shook her head and looked up at the ceiling. “You lied to me. It was explained to you that saving your friend could change history, alter the time line. You agreed, then turned around and gave me information under the guise of helping me gain your trust here. Information that just altered my future. The future I came here to protect!”

Jon pointed one long slightly crooked finger at her. His own glare was so icy it chilled her to the marrow. “First, let me remind you that I haven’t lied to you...Yet. And secondly, I would never have agreed to just let Richie die. He’s my brother, not by blood - by choice! I can assure you that I would gladly trade my life for his if it was demanded of me, and I know that he’d do the same.”

There was a defiant tilt to that chin. She’d seen that before. Her mind flashed back to the discussion she’d had with the older Jon. This younger version was right. The president had never ‘agreed’ not to save his friend. He’d merely nodded at her refusal to help him save his friend, then set out to do it on his own.

While Gabriella’s mind was whirling, Jon’s was doing a little dancing of its own. So. The saving of Richie had been unintentional on her part. In fact, his older self had tricked her into doing it.

This shined a whole new light on things. He realized that a lot of his initial trust in this woman had been based on the fact that he’d thought she’d saved his friend’s life. Now, he wasn’t so sure if he even wanted her standing in his home.

If her voice had been cold and flat earlier, his was glacial and hard as diamonds. “Get out.”