Chapter Nine

Gage watched Wyatt—the new AIC—open the car door for Chantal, and as she climbed out, he glanced over at his team, who were eager to head to the embassy to stow away equipment and weapons. The sun had already set, and they’d locked up late due to a last-minute patient with ulcerations from his prosthetic.

“Wait here.” Gage knew it was wrong, but even though they were in the safe confines of the Jefferson House, he chose to walk Chantal back to her cottage. He headed to her side, and she shot him an odd look. 

“Are you going home?” he asked.

“Yeah. Clean-up time.”

“I’ll walk you. Let me take your bag. It looks heavy.”

She laughed nervously. “You don’t have to. I’m perfectly capable.”

“Still, I want to.”

She handed it over, and he mock-groaned. “What’s in this thing, bricks?”

Chantal laughed. “My planner is the culprit.”

“Is your planner a person? Like a little old lady living at the bottom of this massive satchel? Your not-so-virtual assistant.” 

“Stop.” A giggle escaped. Dimple jackpot… Gage internally fist-pumped.

“I’m serious. It’s that heavy. I’m picturing the confined biddy, ready with a pen and paper in hand in case you need to rattle off orders.”

“Is that what you think I do—rattle off orders?”

“For sure.” 

“Pot calling the kettle black.” She nudged his arm. 

“I don’t rattle.” He stroked a hand across her bag. “I roll out requests with a powerful and smooth voice.”

They both laughed as they slowly wandered across the sweeping lawn.

“Powerful and smooth? Huh? Are you sure you’re still talking about your voice?”

Surprised at her insinuation, Gage felt his cheeks warm, and Chantal’s grin widened. 

“You didn’t expect that comeback, did ya?”

He changed the subject, reversing out of dangerous waters. “Is it like that every day? The center—that chaotic?”

“Most days. We’re also trying to prep for that symposium.”

“How long have you volunteered?”

“For the Sri Lankan charity? About a year and a half. Before that, the State Department assigned mom to Mali—a riskier deployment. I ran a side massage business for embassy staff.”

“Do you ever give yourself a break? Act like a tourist?”

“Sometimes—usually when I first arrive in a country. And then I challenge myself to learn languages and their culture and to make a difference.”

“What about dating?” Gage wondered if she had a boyfriend back home—or in Sri Lanka.

“I’m too busy, but I’m actually—”

“You’ve never dated at all while traveling?” He should talk. Gage stayed away from complications while deployed. And after moving to Virginia, he rarely went out except with his teammates. A few casual flings back in the States was all he had time for, so why was he so interested in his principal’s love life? 

“I had a boyfriend in high school.”

“Not in college?”

Chantal’s forehead creased. “I focused on my studies. When my mom became ambassador, I traveled with her to Algeria.” Her frown deepened. “The first year was tough. Then I met someone.”

“Sounds serious.”

 “It was more of an infatuation in the beginning. I loved his long hair and thick beard with that hippie vibe—a real cool cat. He was from Paris, so it made it easier. We spoke French, and I felt at ease—my grandparents live in Paris, and I grew up speaking French with my father. So…”

“Did he wear ‘Jesus sandals’?” 

Chantal punched him in the arm and giggled. “Be nice.”

“Did he?”

“Okay, yes. And maybe a sarong—but not all the time.”

Gage laughed. “Why didn’t it work out? The sandals?”

Her smile dropped, and Chantal shook her head. “We had different paths to travel. And I removed my rose-colored glasses. Infatuation turned to frustration. He had no concept of time. He’d always be late for our dates. Once or twice, we’d be at dinner, and he’d wander off with his friends or explore the city. I’d be stuck finding my way back to the embassy.”

“Wait…he’d leave you alone on the streets of Algiers? At night? What the hell?”

“Yip. I never told my mother. She would’ve skewered him alive.”

“Her and me both! I would’ve hung him up by his sandals and whipped his ass.”

“I handled it and dumped the bum. Haven’t dated since.”

“Good… you may have questionable taste in men.”

“You’re probably right.” Chantal laughed. “That’s why I stay away from charming, diplomatic dudes.”

“Ouch.”

“I have a lunch date tomorrow.”

Irritation stirred, and Gage clenched his jaw. “We’re hearing about this now? Do you have a name?”

“Fredrik Blomberg. Martin has already vetted the man. Fredrik works for the Swedish Consulate.”

“I thought you said you stayed away from foreign service?”

“Anyone who works for my mother.”

“And you know ‘Fredrik’ how?” Gage stiffly took the lead, picking up his pace as they neared the cottage. 

“I don’t know him. I met him at the Marine Ball last month. He swung by the center a few times. Fredrik is persistent.”

“What does he do?”

“I think he’s an administrative assistant.” 

“I’m sure you’ll have a lovely time.” Gage pulled up short when he spotted a shadowy figure sitting on Chantal’s porch. 

“I’m not having a lovely time.” The recognizable voice had Gage relaxing—to a point. 

“Madam Ambassador.”

“Mum. What are you doing here?”

“Waiting patiently for my daughter.” The ambassador spat the words as she rose. “Where have you been?”

“We closed up later than usual. I’m sorry.”

Gage frowned at Chantal’s meek reply and how she almost withered in her mother’s presence. 

“I don’t ask for the world—daylight hours are yours. But, when I retire for the evening, I need my daughter to earn her keep.”

What the hell? 

“I know, and I apologize. I didn’t watch the time and—” 

Ambassador Durant stepped off the dark porch. Her mouth looked pinched, and she cradled her arm. “I’ll be waiting. I still have reports to write.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Chantal nodded as her mother slid past. 

The ambassador paused and turned to Gage. “Why are you not with your team?”

“Madam Ambassador, I was seeing your daughter safely home.”

“She’s home, have a good evening, Mr. Hendrix.”

“Remember, we have an earlier start tomorrow,” Gage confirmed with Chantal. Her security teams would be going over security procedures and scenarios with their principal, ensuring they were all on the same page.  

All forgotten except her mother’s “orders,” Chantal rushed for the door. Gage could feel her panic as she fumbled for her keys and pushed her way inside. He doubted Chantal would rest. Instead, she’d race to the ambassador’s side. Did she ever relax in her mother’s presence, or take time for herself? Curling his hands into fists, Gage retreated into the night. They’d have another busy day tomorrow, including her damn lunch date.