Her Secret Service Agent

She wants her Secret Service agent back...

She was the president’s only daughter. And like a bad movie cliché, Vivian Bennett fell in love with her Secret Service agent, Joe Hunt. Except the night she chose to confess her feelings, the night he rebuked her embarrassing advance, was the night her stalker kidnapped her.

That was ten years ago. Joe, of course, had rescued her. But that didn’t stop her father from firing him, and her juvenile mistake cost Viv her best friend. Well, she’s back in Washington and, even though her dad’s no longer in office, she’s started to get threatening letters. She needs—wants—the only man she’s ever trusted to protect her a second time.

“You want me, of all people, to protect you?”

Vivian took a deep breath. She’d known coming here wouldn’t be easy, but Joe was her best option and her first choice.

“I’m no longer entitled to Secret Service protection and I wouldn’t want that anyway. I could hire another investigator but that person wouldn’t know me and wouldn’t really understand the situation like you do.”

And the last time in her life she had felt truly safe was when Joe had been watching over her. She wanted that again. She was willing to sacrifice her pride to get it. Hers had been a foolish stunt by a twenty-year-old girl who thought she was madly in love...

You were madly in love.

Regardless, she thought, her feelings had cost him his job, his future and his relationship with his father. Not to mention what that did to the rest of his family. Vivian had considered what might happen when she saw him again—that he might yell or, worse, tell her to get lost in that scary soft tone he always used when he was super angry.

His laughter was unexpected.

Then suddenly he stopped. “You do recall what happened the last time you were under my protection?”

Dear Reader,

Her Secret Service Agent is kind of a crazy story. I actually wrote this book many, many years ago. And I always loved the idea of it. However, after taking it out of the drawer, I realized how much I had changed as a writer in the years since and knew that I was going to write the whole book over again.

It was great rediscovering my old self while at the same time realizing how far I had come in my twenty-plus years writing for Harlequin.

Joe was then and is now one of my most favorite heroes, and Vivian is the heroine I most respect for being afraid about a lot of things but always standing up to those fears. I really hope you enjoy their story! If you like Her Secret Service Agent, you can follow me on Amazon, find me at www.stephaniedoyle.net, on Facebook at Stephanie Doyle Books, or on Twitter, @stephdoylerw. Phew! That’s a lot of places.

Stephanie

Her Secret Service Agent

Stephanie Doyle

www.millsandboon.co.uk

STEPHANIE DOYLE, a dedicated romance reader, began to pen her own romantic adventures at age sixteen. She began submitting to Harlequin at age eighteen and by twenty-six her first book was published. Fifteen years later, she still loves what she does, as each book is a new adventure. She lives in South Jersey with her cat, Hermione, the designated princess of the house. When Stephanie’s not reading or writing, in the summer she is most likely watching a baseball game and eating a hot dog.

MILLS & BOON

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Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

Extract

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

Ten Years Ago

“VIV, WHERE ARE we going?”

“Just follow me,” Vivian said, taking Joe by the hand and leading him through the crowded house party a couple of blocks off the Georgetown campus. She needed privacy, something she’d thought would be easy to find at a college party. Everyone had stories about secret hookups at parties like this. The reality, however, was there were more people than space in the brownstone and the hooking-up seemed to happen openly.

Something she might have known if she actually did the college party scene more often. She didn’t usually come to these types of events. Not the most social person, she preferred spending her nights quietly with a small circle of friends. Friends she could trust.

For that matter so did Joe Hunt, who was her Secret Service point man.

Tonight had been his night off, but Vivian had convinced him to switch shifts with Cindy, who mostly handled nights and weekends. Joe had a hard time denying Vivian anything, so it wasn’t a surprise he’d agreed to the request. Now she had to work up the courage to go through with the rest of her plan.

Vivian thought that if she could have him to herself at a casual event, and they could really talk, then he might understand what she was feeling. He might also be more willing to admit what she was pretty sure he was feeling, too.

“Seriously, Viv, if this is about you thinking I’m going to let you drink, forget it. You’ve got six months to go before you’re twenty-one, and I’m not bending on a single hour. Your father would have my ass.”

Vivian didn’t bother to answer. As if drinking beer was even close to what she was getting ready to tell him. She’d been waiting for this night for weeks, and the last person she wanted to think about now was Daddy.

As president of the United States, leader of the free world, he was known to be an overbearing hard-liner. As a single father to his only daughter, he was even stricter. He would definitely not approve of what Vivian was about to do.

Despairing of finding an empty bedroom, she decided her second-best option was a room she knew would allow them privacy and had a lock on the door. She found an upstairs bathroom off the master bedroom. While there were people milling about in the bedroom, talking and drinking, the bathroom was fortunately unoccupied.

It would have to do.

She pulled Joe in behind her, shut the door and locked it for good measure. Phase One was complete.

Then she turned to face him, and all the words got stuck in her throat. He was dressed casually, albeit professionally, to help blend in at the event. As point man, his job was to stay with her at all times while Carl Mather, his backup, secured the entrance and exit points and patrolled the perimeter of the house.

With his hair, slightly longer than standard for a federal agent, and his slacks and button-down, along with a blazer she knew covered his shoulder holster, he might have passed for college age. A preppy Georgetown law school student, perhaps.

It was a point of contention for him because she knew his buddies in the service called him Baby Face Hunt. Any time someone said it to him he scowled, which usually made her smile. She took enough grief from him on a daily basis that she loved it when he got a taste of payback.

“And now we’re in the bathroom. Why?” he said as if still trying to understand why she had led him here.

“I wanted to talk. In private.”

“So talk.”

Vivian nodded. This was it. Phase Two. She wanted to tell him how much he’d meant to her these past two years. She wanted to tell him how desperately alone she’d been before he came along. Having lost her mother at twelve had been hard, as it would be for any girl that age. But going through that while her remaining single parent was running for the most visible office in the world hadn’t been a cakewalk.

Then Joe came into her life to take over her protection going into college and everything changed. Realistically, she understood she was just an assignment to him. His job. But she also knew when she talked, he listened. And he talked to her, too. They ate most of their meals together, knew about each other’s day. Each other’s lives and families. Each other’s goals and dreams.

In the two years they had been together, somehow he’d become her best friend. The person she most wanted to be with in the world.

The man she...loved.

Except saying all that was apparently not going to happen. She wanted to share everything with him, but now that the moment was here, she could barely breathe.

Shit! It was happening again. She couldn’t take enough air into her lungs, and then she started to pant.

“Viv,” Joe said, moving in and holding on to her shoulders. Forcing her to meet his gaze. “Look at me. Look at me. Easy now. Deep breath. In. Out. Again. In. Out.”

After a few moments she was breathing normally. Joe always had that effect on her minor panic attacks. Like he could will them away.

Only now his expression got harder, darker. “Okay, for real. Talk to me. What’s got you upset? Did someone say something to you? Do something?”

Vivian shook her head. This was supposed to be a fun night. A casual party. They were supposed to be talking about their relationship, only now she could see she was worrying him.

“No, nothing like that. It’s just...we’ve known each other for two years...and I...thought...that... Oh, forget Phase Two.”

That was when she did it. It was actually pretty easy. Joe still had his hands on her shoulders. All she had to do was press her body against his. She found his mouth with hers and then wrapped her arms around his waist as if she could hold on for dear life.

This was Phase Three. Everything depended on Phase Three.

She could feel his surprise, feel his hands tighten on her shoulders. She broke away from the kiss and he opened his mouth to say something, but it was too late. She was kissing him again, and this time her tongue was in his mouth and she was tasting him.

Vivian Abigail Eleanor Bennett was kissing Joe Hunt, and it was heaven.

Then her back was pressed hard against the locked door of the bathroom and she felt his tongue thrusting against hers. She thought she might have whimpered. Suddenly he was gone and she was empty.

“What the effing hell was that?” he shouted at her.

Still reeling from desire and excitement, it took her a second to process his words. All she could think about was how her mouth felt. It was the only thing on her body she could feel. Hot, swollen, wet.

He tasted...amazing, and all she knew was that she wanted more. Except he was yelling at her.

Wait. Why was he yelling?

“What are you thinking? I’m seven years older than you and a freaking federal agent!”

“But...”

“But nothing!”

Vaguely, Vivian wondered if the people out in the bedroom could hear them. Mortification started to descend on her. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. She knew how he felt about her. She’d just confirmed it with that kiss.

“You idiot! Is this why you brought me here? To make some half-assed, immature pass? What? Did Daddy’s little princess think she was entitled to some screwing? I’m not your damn slave, Viv. You’re my freaking work assignment.”

“I didn’t... I mean... I love you.”

He slammed his hand hard against the door next to her ear, and she jumped. In the two years they had been together she’d never seen him like this. Joe was her rock, her stability. Joe was the person who made the fear dissipate. Joe took panic attacks away and made her feel like she could do anything she set her mind to.

He’d been annoyed with her at times, sure, but he never got angry. Never like this.

“You’re nothing but a stupid kid. What the hell do you know about love?” he asked softly.

She heard each word. Deep, as if they had penetrated her skin instead of her ears. Somehow her world had just exploded in front of her, and everything she knew to be real was fake.

She turned, fumbled with the lock and ran out of the bathroom.

“Vivian!”

She heard him shout her name, but she didn’t stop. She ran down the steps, pushing everyone out of her way, oblivious to the stares and whispers that followed her. They were always there, like a soundtrack to her life.

What was the matter with the president’s daughter?

Did someone upset the princess?

Then she was out on the sidewalk. Her breaths were shallow and she couldn’t get control over them. She needed to calm down. To focus. But the one person who could help her do that was the last person she wanted to see.

Then she heard someone coming up behind her, felt a hand reach around and put something over her mouth. She tried to pull away when it all went dark.

* * *

JOE WAS GOING to kill her.

Hopefully, right after he saved her life.

It was the one thought that kept surfacing once Vivian had regained consciousness in the freezing-cold cabin, blindfolded, naked and tied to a chair.

No, it would be okay. Joe would come for her. Yes, he was angry with her. Yes, she knew this was her fault for running away from him, but it wouldn’t stop him. Nothing would stop him until he found her.

She tried to bring his face into focus through the fear. Except the only face she saw was the angry version of him. The one who called her a child and an idiot.

She needed the other Joe. The one who made her less afraid. She’d suffer anything to have him here right now, kneeling in front of her and telling her to count her breaths.

Breathe. Just breathe.

That was what she’d been doing, Vivian remembered now. She ran away from Joe, something she would no doubt receive a severe lecture about. She was never supposed to leave his line of sight at an unsecured event. His definition of a party.

Only she had to get away from him. She remembered getting to the sidewalk, struggling for some air and then...

The hand. A hand coming around her face, pressing against her mouth and nose. She hoped she hadn’t simply fainted with fear. That her kidnapper had used some kind of drug. Otherwise, that would result in yet another lecture from Joe.

He’d been diligent about teaching her self-defense, an hour almost every day. He would be disheartened to know she hadn’t even attempted to fight off her attacker. Hadn’t even reached for her panic button.

Nothing.

Yes, The Hand had to have been holding something. Or maybe he knocked her out with a blunt blow to the head. Vivian tried to concentrate on whether she hurt anywhere, but the truth was she couldn’t feel a thing.

Except the cold and the brush of the ropes across her shins, stomach and breasts, irritating her bare skin.

She didn’t think she’d been raped while she was unconscious. She was a virgin, so she had to believe if The Hand had raped her, she would be sore between her legs. She wasn’t. However, as it had gotten colder, numbness took over and she couldn’t be certain of anything.

At least he hadn’t touched her that way since she woke up. How long had it been?

At least one day. Despite the blindfold, she could tell there was a subtle change in the light in the room. There had to be windows here, letting in the sun. How long she’d been unconscious before that, she had no idea.

Vivian didn’t know what was worse—when she was alone like she was now, or when he came to her. Shouting passages from the Bible. Calling her wicked names. Beating her, then crying that he was sorry as he told her how much he loved her.

At least during those moments she was focused. The pain helped to keep the numbness at bay. She also listened for clues in his words, his manner of speech, hoping he might reveal his identity or where he was hiding her.

She’d seen movies like this. Eventually, he was going to have to call her father. She knew Daddy and the Secret Service would be waiting to take the call. When that happened, her father would demand to speak to her to prove she was still alive. She wanted to be able to give him and Joe, who she was sure would be right next to her father, an indication of where she was.

So far she’d only been able to determine they were someplace drafty with no central heat. Her kidnapper had a Southern accent and he knew his Bible really well. The Hand had given nothing else away.

“Vivian! Oh, Vivian! Where are you, slut?”

Her body shuddered at the sound of his voice. He was back. Somewhere in the house. The panic returned, and she forced herself to take full breaths.

She could hear the creak of the door opening. Felt that she was no longer alone in the room.

“There you are. Right where I left you. That’s a good girl. A very good girl.”

Her heart started beating against her rib cage like it was trying to get out of her body. Although she found herself almost grateful for the adrenaline rush that warmed her a little.

She attempted again to talk to him. To reason with him.

“My father,” she said through chattering teeth, “will pay you whatever you ask.”

The Hand laughed, the sound more grating than his Bible verses.

“I don’t want your daddy’s money, Sugarplum. I want you. I love you. I want you to be with me. Forever. But I need to purify you first. I need you to come to me like a baby comes to her momma. When I know you’re clean then we can go away together.”

Moving her would mean a chance at escape. “I...think I’m clean now.”

She wasn’t at all. She’d peed herself twice since being here.

Since she couldn’t see beyond the blindfold, she was unprepared for the heavy backhand across her face, followed by a second and a third. Then a solid fist against her left temple made her head spin.

Although she should have expected it by now. He apparently didn’t like sass.

You’re losing it, Vivian. Get a grip now!

It was Joe’s voice in her head. Typical of him to be so harsh with her at a time like this. She would never understand why she had chosen to fall in love with a man as unforgiving as Joe Hunt. Then she actually giggled. Foolish girl. She was a child. What did she know about love?

“You’re not clean. You’re dirty! Dirty. Evil and dirty. I know because I see it in your eyes and in all those pictures they take of you. I see the dirt, and I want to cry because I know you want to be clean. Don’t you, Sugarplum? Don’t you want to be clean?”

“I...want...to...be...clean,” she stuttered. “Maybe I could have a blanket and wipe myself off.”

The Hand connected with her right cheek this time.

Okay, the hitting was starting to piss her off. Although maybe that was a good thing. The anger mixed with her fear might keep her warm a little longer. Which was important because if she died of hypothermia before Joe rescued her, she was sure she’d never hear the end of it.

Wait, she thought hazily, that didn’t make sense. She tried to shake off the low buzzing in her head. She needed to stay clear. She needed to listen for clues.

“Sugarplum, Sugarplum, I don’t want to hurt you. I have to hurt you because you don’t understand. You can’t get clean from the outside. You need to get clean from the inside. Do you understand now?”

She let her head fall forward a few times.

“Goooood,” The Hand crooned. Then he began to stroke her hair. “You’ll see, Sugarplum. This will work. You’ll get clean and I will have been the one to save you. Then we can be together. Forever.”

She didn’t want to ask, but she had to know. “What if... I...don’t...get clean?”

A thin point of pressure against the base of her throat penetrated the numbness. It wasn’t a gun. It was too thin. Sharp. A knife.

“Then I’m going to have to make you clean. I’m going to have to open you up so I can get the dirt out. Then I will baptize you in your own blood. You’ll like that. You will at least be clean for God.”

“Oh...kay...” she muttered, losing all sense of what he was saying. She was fading. She felt it. Her body was starting to shut down, and for the first time Vivian considered what might happen if Joe didn’t get to her in time.

“I don’t want to do it, Sugarplum. I surely don’t. God has told me that you are my one and only beloved, and you must sparkle if you are going to be with me. But if I can’t get you to sparkle...if I can’t make you shine...then I have to kill you, don’t you see? I can’t let you be with anyone else. Not when you’re so dirty. Clean with me or dirty and dead.”

“Joe... Joe,” she muttered like a mantra over and over again.

“Very slowly, put the knife down and back away from the woman.”

Vivian lifted her head at the new voice in the room. She hadn’t heard the door over The Hand’s talking.

“Joe,” she cried out.

“Shut up, Vivian.”

Yep, that sounded just like him.

“No!” The Hand cried out in return. “You can’t have her! She’s a dirty slut, but she’s mine. She’s mine. She’s all mine!”

“This is your last warning. Put the knife down and step away from the chair.”

“Never! I love her. I love Sugarplum this much!”

Three successive shots rang out. Vivian felt a heavy weight fall against her body, and then she felt something wet and warm run down her stomach and legs.

The smell of it hit her like a punch in the gut.

Blood.

Then she didn’t feel anything anymore.

* * *

JOE SAT IN the waiting area of the hospital, his head in his hands.

What did I do? What did I do?

The single question kept rolling over in his head, and he couldn’t turn it off. He probably should have been more focused on the events of the last three days. Working with the FBI, identifying Harold McGraw through footage at various public events, tracking down an obscure piece of property in northern Virginia he owned. Only forty miles outside DC.

It had been good work by everyone on the team, and they found her. Alive.

It had been the first time he’d discharged his weapon as an agent, and it had been lethal. Joe didn’t care, so why did he keep asking the question?

What did I do? What did I do?

He knew the answer.

I let her go. I let her go. I let her go.

He heard a door open, and then several people were walking down the hospital corridor toward him. Secret Service in front of and behind the president. Joe got up and walked to intercept them. He had to know how she was.