Valor on the Move (4 page)

At the southwest gate of the White House, the sun peeked over the East Wing. One of the Uniformed Division officers stepped out of the guard house. This was the gate for those who already had clearance, but of course their vehicle still had to be searched. He rolled down his window, handed over their IDs, and waited while a sniffer dog eagerly went about its business.

“You’re the new suit guards on Valor’s detail, huh?” the officer asked. He looked about sixteen with blotchy skin, but had to be at least twenty-one to be in the Secret Service. The uniformed officers only needed high school diplomas and tended to be younger.

Shane kept his tone even, despite the insult. “Yep.” The quickest way to get under a Secret Service agent’s skin was to call him or her a “guard.” He’d heard there was sometimes friction with the Uniformed Division, but he couldn’t blame them if they were jealous. They were the low men on the totem pole.

“Little mouse won’t give you any trouble. They say he’s even better behaved than Chelsea Clinton was.” The officer yawned and glanced to his cohort in the gatehouse running their credentials as the guard dog went to work.

Shane watched the dog in his side mirror. It was similar to a German shepherd, but was called a… His mind spun.
Holy shit, what was it called?
He wracked his brain, which was alarmingly blank. He knew this. He
knew
this. As it finally came to him, he resisted to urge to say,
a-ha!
It was a Belgian Malinois, which the service had determined to be the best sniffers and attackers. Sheesh, the flutters in his belly were ridiculous. He hadn’t been this nervous since training. Alan seemed calm beside him. He’d been on what they called the “little show” before—the VP’s detail—so this was apparently old hat to him.

The dog finished his inspection, and the guard pulled a ball from his pocket. “Now he gets to play for a few minutes.” He passed back their ID and patted the Suburban’s hood. “Have fun in there.”

The gate whirred shut behind them, and Shane parked in the numbered spot they’d been assigned. He and Alan walked around the West Wing before going inside the residence through the Palm Room. They entered the center hall of the ground floor, which used to be considered the basement since the residence was built on higher ground. Their leather shoes were silent on the thick orange carpet as they passed under the vaulted ceiling, where simple chandeliers hung down every several feet. Marble busts stood sentinel.

Shane thrummed with eager electricity. He was working a regular detail in the
White House
. Granted, Rafael Castillo would be back at school in Virginia in September, but for the summer, Shane would get the chance to really be on the inside of the president’s home.

They passed the entry to the kitchen on their left, and Shane’s pulse spiked as they reached the door of the Secret Service command post.

“Come on, let’s go meet our new boss.” Alan led the way.

Inside the office, a small Asian woman with her hair pulled into a bun stood and extended her hand. “Kendrick—good to meet you. I’m Sandra Nguyen, SAIC. The box creatures give you any trouble? They can get uppity with new agents.”

“Nah,” Shane answered. “No trouble at all.” As special agent in charge, Shane hoped Nguyen lived up to her reputation as fair and fierce. It had taken years for the good ol’ boy network of power in the service to finally give way to more diversity. She introduced him to a few other agents manning the console and wall of TVs with security camera feeds. After she went over the protocols, she gave Shane and Alan their earpieces, mics, and radio transmitters to attach to their belts. A clear coiled cord connected the earpiece to the transmitter beneath their suit jackets.

When they were set, an older agent came in and introduced himself as Brent Harris. “I’m staying on as Valor’s new detail leader, so if you have any questions, ask away. Good to see you back on the job, Pearce.”

“Thanks,” Alan said. “Anything we need to watch out for? Does Valor have any tricks up his sleeve these days?”

One of the agents at the console chuckled, and Harris answered, “No way. The kid’s a mouse. Virtue and Velocity are the ones to watch out for. But they only come to DC a few times a year now, so it’s not our problem.”

Shane went through the list in his head. Virtue was Adriana Castillo—twenty-five years old. After college she traveled and had “internships” at international PR firms. She was now an associate at an LA firm that worked with movie stars. Big party girl. Velocity was Matthew Castillo—twenty-three, star swimmer at UC Berkeley. Came close to making the last Olympic team in the freestyle and butterfly. Stayed in California to train after graduation. Member of the national swimming team.

“What about Vacation?” Shane asked. Christian Castillo—twenty-seven, a lawyer in New York, married to a leggy blonde model/actress. One of
People
’s Sexiest Men Alive the year before, and Shane couldn’t argue with the declaration. “He’s not around much either?”

“Nope. He never really has been, and he wasn’t a problem,” Nguyen answered. “He’s Vagabond and Venus’s golden child.”

Vagabond was the president, and Venus the first lady. “What about Valor? What’s their relationship with him?” Shane asked.

Nguyen and Harris shared a glance. Harris said, “He’s a really nice kid. Shy. Wound pretty freakin’ tight. Never puts a foot wrong, and doesn’t say much. Vagabond doesn’t seem to pay him much attention, and Venus has always been caught up with the other kids. But it seems now that Virtue’s settled down a bit from her party days and less likely to get arrested on a coke bust, Venus is taking a closer look at her youngest.”

“She sounds like a treat. Are the stories true?” Alan asked.

The agents in the room all made affirmative noises, including Nguyen, who sighed. “Frankly, she can be a demanding bitch. She’ll treat you like the help, and won’t thank you for jack shit. But she’s fair—I’ll give her that. She may not thank you, but she won’t bust your balls for no reason. And if her agents tell her she can’t go somewhere, she listens. She’s a very smart woman, and she won’t give anyone a hard time for the sake of it. But warm and fuzzy isn’t in her wheelhouse.”

“She’s one of those people who’s always
on
,” Harris added. “You know what I mean? Never has her guard down. Maybe up in the family quarters, but from what her aides say, not even then.”

“Got it.” Shane nodded.

“The most Valor will do is sneak down to the kitchen late at night,” Harris said. “But he won’t dick you around. When his parents are away, he cooks up a storm in the kitchen on the third floor, but he has to poach the ingredients from the main kitchen. The staff have orders to tell Venus if he does, but they cover for him.”

Shane frowned. “Why isn’t he allowed to cook?”

Nguyen rolled her eyes. “Who knows? Too menial? Not macho enough? He’s always had an interest, but his mother’s tried to crush it since he was a little boy, apparently.”

“What’s she afraid of? He’s not gay, is he?” Alan asked. He glanced at Shane, and Shane half expected him to add,
Not that there’s anything wrong with that.
While Shane wasn’t flying rainbow flags, it had never been a problem with the agents who knew, like Alan.

“Not that we know of,” Harris answered. “He’s a sensitive kid, and I could certainly believe it. Obviously anyone could be gay. But if he is, let me tell you he’s hidden it extremely well. Never a whiff of it. No clandestine movements to meet secret lovers, and we’d know if he was sneaking off for quickies in the bathroom. He and his girlfriend are two peas in a pod.”

Alan asked, “What’s the deal with her? Will she give us problems?”

“Nope. As you know, she’s in Paris for the summer. She’ll be back for September when you guys head down with Valor to Charlottesville. She’s friendly. Respectful. Sleeps over in his dorm room from time to time. No issues. They hang around with a few other students sometimes, but Valor isn’t very social. Always polite, but he keeps people at arm’s length. Easier that way, I imagine. He was the same in high school—he’d have kids over, and went to parties and such, but it didn’t seem like any of his friends were close to him.”

“We’re reducing his detail so some of the agents can go on Livingston’s watch,” Nguyen said. “Two of you will do just fine. He’s not going to be happy that his other agents are gone already, but that was the way Venus wanted it. Thinks it’s easier to rip off a Band-Aid.” She checked her watch. “He should be up soon. Let’s take a tour of the ground floor and make sure you’ve got your protocols down cold. Then you can meet Valor.”
 

The taupe and cream checks of the floor of the White House entrance hall shone brightly, buffed to perfection. Marble columns soared almost twenty feet above, and the enormous chandeliers were turned off, the sun streaming in through tall windows topped with thick red and gold curtains. The Red, Blue, and Green Rooms opened off an east-west hallway where former presidents in oil paint watched from gilt frames as Shane and Alan followed Nguyen to what was officially known as the Family Dining Room on the west side. There was a private dining room upstairs on the second floor of the residence, but apparently Mrs. Castillo preferred the first floor for reasons unknown.

At a shining wooden table that at the moment was set for eight—the smallest size, Shane guessed—Rafael Castillo looked up from a tablet and bowl of soggy-looking Cheerios he was half-heartedly pushing around with his spoon. Across the table, on the other side of a low bouquet of pink tulips, sat his mother and a young female aide reading off the first lady’s morning schedule. Impressionist portraits hung on warm yellow walls, and yellow velvet curtains framed the windows. The chandelier over the table was an explosion of cut crystal. Shane could only imagine how ornate the State Dining Room was next door.

A furrow appeared between Rafael’s brows, but he put down his tablet and smiled politely. “Hi.”

Nguyen smiled. “Good morning.” To the first lady, she added, “I hope we’re not too early.”

“No,” Camila Castillo answered. “Rafa was just finishing up. Darling, time to meet your new agents.” With that, she turned back to her agenda, the aide murmuring something as she flipped the pages.

Rafael pushed back his chair and came around the table, leading them into the hallway. “Are Joanna and Stuart on the next shift? I wanted to say goodbye before they got reassigned. ”

Nguyen shook her head. “I’m sorry—they’re already on their way to Livingston’s headquarters in North Carolina. Brent will still be on your detail, along with a couple other new agents for the other shifts. This is Shane Kendrick and Alan Pearce. They’ll take good care of you.”

“Oh. Right. Um, hi.” Rafael extended his hand.

Shane shook it firmly. As Alan did next, Shane quickly took stock of Rafael, automatically cataloguing his features. The kid usually stayed out of the press, so it had been a while since Shane had seen him.

His voice was surprisingly deep, and he was tall—had to be almost six foot, and only a couple inches shorter than Shane’s six-one. Darnell had called him a “beanpole,” but beneath Rafael’s pressed khakis and sky-blue button-down with navy tie, it looked like he’d filled out a bit, although he was still slim. His leather loafers just needed pennies in them to complete the perfect preppy look. Rafael’s short hair was neatly parted and slicked back, and his brown eyes had long lashes. He almost looked like he was wearing eyeliner, they were so lush. Freckles dusted his nose and the tops of his tan cheeks.

Not a bad looking kid by any means, but Shane supposed he was nothing to write home about compared to his older brothers, who got all the attention.

“Can you tell Joanna and Stuart thanks for me?” Rafael asked Nguyen. “The other agents who left too.” He glanced at Shane and Alan and hastily added, “Not that you guys won’t be great.”

“We totally understand,” Alan said. “And I know I speak for your former detail when I say we appreciate your consideration.”

Rafael checked his watch. “I guess we should get going.” He grimaced. “I have to give a speech. Do you guys mind driving me so I can look over my notes? Mom kind of sprung it on me.”

Nguyen smiled. “Not a problem. As you know, it’s always your choice to take your own vehicle or have a driver. I’ll leave you all to it. Have a great day.”

Shane nodded, breathing deeply. The butterflies had quieted, and confidence surged through him as they strode the White House halls.

This detail was going to be a piece of cake.

“Valor on the move.”

As the new agent—Shane, the walking wet dream—murmured into his wrist radio, Rafa resisted the urge to snort. He climbed into the back of the Suburban as the name echoed through his mind.

Valor.

If ever there was a codename that didn’t fit, it was his. Courage and bravery were not exactly the first, or second (or third or fourth or fifth) attributes anyone would give him. Each family being protected by the service had codenames starting with the same letter, and he wondered what other names they’d considered for him. Vegan. Vomit. Vagina.