Surrender To Me

The sound of gunfire followed her out of the target range.

* * *

When Avery pushed through the heavy steel door and entered the long corridor that led to a row of offices, she ran into her friend Kerry Holt.

She and Kerry had trained together when they first joined the service six years earlier and they became fast friends. Kerry was the one person in whom she could confide without it coming back to haunt her.

They exchanged a quick hug.

“I thought you were off today,” Kerry said.

“I am. Just getting some practice in.” She tipped her head toward the range.

“How was that party the other night?”

“I thought it would be the typical stuffed-shirt event, but if I wasn’t on duty I would have had a ball.”

“Really?”

“Mmm-hmm.” She lowered her voice. “I met Senator Lawson’s son, Rafe.”

Kerry’s green eyes widened. “I’ve only seen pictures. Is he as gorgeous in person?”

“That would be an understatement.” She pushed out a breath. “There’s something about him.” Her gaze drifted off.

“Did you give him your number?”

“No! Don’t be silly. I was on duty.”

“So.”

“So? I’m not going to lose my job for a turn-on.”

“You need a turn-on. When’s the last time you got some?”

Avery made a face. “Is that all you can think about?”

“Yes.”

They laughed.

“You’re a mess.”

“Maybe but you still should have given him your number.”

“For what? I live in DC and he’s in Louisiana.”

“Hmm. True. Anyway, what are you doing later?”

“Heading to the gym, then home. Stop by and I’ll fix us some mimosas.”

“Don’t have to ask me twice. I’ll bring Chinese from that place we like.”

“Sevenish?”

“See you then.” Kerry’s pager went off. She pulled it from the clip on her hip and checked the number. “Duty calls.”

“Always. And don’t forget the extra hot mustard.”

“Got it.”

They parted and headed in opposite directions.

Maybe she should have given Rafe her number, but now that she thought about it he hadn’t asked. Just as well. Relationships were difficult in the best of circumstances. Long distance was worse. Beyond that, her career didn’t make for the best in partnerships. At any given time she could be called on to travel halfway across the globe. She’d lost count of how many dinners, getaways and “sleepovers” she’d had to either cancel or end abruptly. Compound that with being the daughter of Horace Richards, the ranking senior senator, and she was never quite sure if a man was with her because of genuine interest or to get close to her father.

Kerry was right, though. It had been a long time since she’d been with a man—in every sense of the word. She did miss being touched, waking up with someone beside her, having doors opened, being told that she was beautiful, having someone to look out for and protect her for a change. Wishful thinking.

She got behind the wheel of her Navigator and headed away from headquarters. The imposing images of democracy stood firm against the horizon; the Capitol, the White House and in the distance the Lincoln Memorial. A surge of pride filled her. This was the life she chose—to protect and defend. It was the life she’d been groomed for since college.

* * *

Avery spent a full two hours in the gym, part of her weekly regime. She not only worked out to stay fit but for health reasons, as well. Her mother had died of a massive heart attack when Avery was only fifteen. The doctors had warned Linda Richards that if she kept up the fried foods, didn’t quit smoking and lose the weight, her outlook was not good. Linda remained stubborn and determined to hold on to her southern-style soul-food cooking, brushing all well-meaning advice aside.

Avery remembered Sunday dinners being more of an extravaganza than a meal. Two kinds of meats—one of which was always fried—collards and string beans seasoned in fatback, six-cheese baked macaroni, sweet tea and pies that would set off diabetic alarms.

Eat up were her mother’s two favorite words.

Growing up Avery believed that everyone ate the way her family did, even as she put on the pounds herself. By the time she turned fifteen, shortly before her mother’s death, she was 190 pounds at five foot five.

Instead of tears Avery mourned with food, pushing beyond two hundred and ten pounds by her seventeenth birthday. It was her own brush with a health scare that finally turned her around.

It was three months before her high school graduation. For about a week she’d experienced shortness of breath and mild dizzy spells. She wouldn’t tell her father. It was bad enough that he looked at her with a mixture of disgust and sadness. The decision was taken out of her hands when she collapsed in the school stairwell.

Two days in the hospital, dependent on an oxygen mask and lectured by doctors, nurses and nutritionists, Avery came home determined to live.

* * *

Wrapped in a towel Avery stepped out of a long, hot shower and walked through her two-bedroom condo. It was almost six. Knowing Kerry she would arrive any minute. She had a penchant for turning up early for any and everything. Avery decided on a T-shirt and a pair of shorts.

After getting dressed she put a bottle of wine in the fridge to chill then curled up on the couch to catch up on the news until Kerry arrived.

There was the usual litany of disasters, fires, floods, home invasions and yet another unarmed black man shot by police.

Avery’s stomach turned with anguish and disappointment. Anguish for the family and friends and community and disappointment in the profession that she was part of.

As the names of the fallen continued to climb she’d begun to question how the country that she loved had devolved into one of fear of the very people sworn to protect you, and she’d begun to question if in fact she should stay in her line of work.

The newscaster skillfully switched gears to talk entertainment politics. Her heart lurched. There on the screen in bold, living color was Rafe Lawson on the night of his grandfather’s birthday party. He was on the small stage in the center of the massive ballroom, playing the sax. Avery leaned in.

“Rafe Lawson, one of Louisiana’s most eligible bachelors, and the eldest son and heir to the Lawson legacy is seen here playing a tribute to his grandfather Clive Lawson. The celebration of the 85th birthday of the patriarch was a star-studded affair that included a surprise visit by Vice President Reynolds, a long-time friend to the senior Lawson. His son Senator Branford Lawson is actively campaigning for the seat of Chairman of the Homeland Security Committee.”

Avery couldn’t tear her eyes off Rafe and wished that she could hit replay when the station segued to the weather. As if deflated she flopped back against the pillows of the couch. Her pulse continued to race and that funny feeling in the pit of her stomach remained. Crazy that he could have the same effect on her through a television screen as he did up close and personal.

For a moment she closed her eyes and inhaled. His scent awakened in her memory. The sound of his voice, slow, easy and deep, whispered in her ear. A shudder rippled through her and her eyes flew open. She jumped up and went for the wine that was chilling in the fridge. She couldn’t wait for Kerry.

She poured a full glass and took a deep swallow. If Kerry hadn’t rung the bell when she did, Avery was certain she would have put on her sneakers and ran Rafe Lawson out of her system.

“Hey, girl.” Avery stepped aside to let Kerry in. “Hmm, smells good,” she said, eyeing the bags in Kerry’s hand.

“I am starved.” Kerry breezed in and went straight to the kitchen to put down the bags. She moved around Avery’s kitchen like it was her own, taking out plates and flatware. “Drinking without me?” she said, noticing Avery’s glass of wine. “Thought we were doing mimosas.”

“We are. I just needed something to take the edge off.”

Kerry stopped emptying the bag of its food cartons. “Why? Something happen?”

“Not exactly.” She twisted her lips to the side. “Sort of.”

“Okay. I’ll bite. What?”

Avery told her about seeing Rafe on television and the crazy way it made her feel.

“Wow. Sounds serious.”

“No, it sounds crazy.” She opened a carton and loaded her plate with stir-fried vegetables and generously drizzled them with hot mustard.

“So what are you going to do about it?” Kerry crunched on a spring roll.

“Sum it up to a pleasant memory and move on.”

Kerry threw her a skeptical glance. “Right.”

“I will. You’ll see.”

Kerry chuckled. “Whatever.”

* * *

For the most part Avery was as good as her word. In the ensuing weeks she’d all but put images and thoughts of Rafe Lawson in her rearview. Every now and again she had a flash but quickly pushed it back where it belonged. Her tough schedule was a big factor.

Since the night of the party VP Reynolds had been so impressed with her that he’d requested Avery as part of his second-shift detail, which was great for her as it left a good chunk of her day free and occupied some of her evenings. Evenings that would more than likely have been spent alone anyway.

She was at her desk reviewing status reports when she got a call from the lobby security advising her to come down.

“Be right there.” She reached into her desk drawer, removed her Glock and slipped it into her underarm holster, then shrugged into her navy blue suit jacket.

Her low-heeled shoes clicked rhythmically against the granite floors. She stopped at the bank of elevators and pressed the down button. Mike walked up and joined her for the wait. Inwardly she groaned and hoped that he wasn’t riding all the way down.

“Morning. Heading out?”

“Good morning. No, just to the lobby.”

“Listen, Avery...”

The doors swished open.

Avery stepped on and faced forward.

“I’d really like to take you to lunch sometime.”

She was so taken aback by the clear tone of sincerity and almost boyish look in his eyes that she couldn’t respond. Her lips parted as the doors closed.

Avery shook her head in disbelief and leaned against the back wall of the elevator. That was new and different. Mike had never formally asked her out. He’d always insinuated what a good catch he was, taunted her about her work ethic and goaded her whenever an opportunity presented itself. This was the Mike she’d never met before, but she still didn’t trust him.

The doors opened on the main floor. She buttoned her jacket, made certain her ID was visible and walked to the security console.

“Agent Richards. I got a call.”

“Yes, Agent Richards. Senator Lawson’s son is here to see you.”

Her heart felt as if it jumped from her chest to her throat and a hot wave rolled through her from toe to head.

She swallowed. “Thank you.” When she turned toward the waiting area, she heard her own gasp when she spotted him. His back was turned to her, but his long, lean form was unmistakable framed within the towering bulletproof windows that looked out onto the nation’s capital. The white collar of his shirt peeked above the black jacket that matched his slacks, but when he turned there was not the expected tie, but rather an open collar revealing the tease of hot chocolate. The aura that wafted around him was palpable, even from where she stood.

“Oh, lord,” she murmured. She couldn’t tell what he saw or what he was thinking behind the dark shades that shielded his eyes, only that his lush lips moved into a slow smile while she approached.

“Mr. Lawson.” She stopped in front of him and hoped that he didn’t sense her sudden anxiety.

Rafe removed his shades and slid them into the breast pocket of his jacket. Bad move. Now she couldn’t think beyond the glow in his eyes and the intoxicating scent of his cologne.

“I hope you don’t mind that I looked you up since I was in town.”

She had a momentary brain freeze. “Well, I’m not sure if I mind or not. I would guess it depends on why you’re here.”

That grin again.

“We didn’t get a real chance to talk the night of the party.” He stepped closer, cutting off the space between them, slid his hands into his pockets and angled his head just a bit to the right. “I thought if I took you to dinner we could pick up where we left off.”

Avery blinked rapidly and shifted her weight. “Dinner? I... I really don’t think...that would be a good idea.”

Rafe gave the barest of shrugs. “Not a problem, only an invitation.”

His smile was just enough to stir the imagination.

Avery licked her bottom lip. “So what brings you to DC?”

“Meeting a friend. He’s playing a set tonight. Maybe if you’re not too busy—not eating dinner—” his eyes cinched with mischief “—you could stop by. You might like it. Good food, adult crowd, great music.” He extended his hand.

Avery glanced down and mindlessly placed her hand in his. The shock raced up her arm and raised the hair on the back of her neck. Her fingertips tingled.

Rafe dipped his head toward her. “I’ll let you get back to secretly servicing,” he said in a wickedly low voice that set her imagination on a chase down the lane of possibility.

“You have a way with words, Mr. Lawson.”

Rafe chuckled. “So I’ve heard.” His gaze ran lazily over her then settled on her eyes. “Good to see you again, Agent Richards.”

“You...too.”

“If you change your mind I’ll be at Blues Alley. Set starts at eight, last set at ten.”

“I can’t promise.”

“No promises needed. Enjoy your day.”

He turned and strode away and Avery felt he’d taken all the energy with him. She watched him push through the revolving door before merging in with the flow of bodies.

She spun away and right into Mike.

“Friend?”

“What?”

He lifted his chin toward the exit. “Friend of yours? I saw you two talking pretty close. Didn’t think you were seeing anyone with you so wrapped up in this job. You really need to think about letting me take you out. Lunch. Dinner.”

She was so annoyed that Mike snapped the spell of Rafe that she barely refrained from lathering him with the cuss words that she only held on to by sheer will.

“Excuse me,” she said and brushed by him.

Her hand trembled ever so slightly when she pressed the elevator button. She replayed when she’d first met Rafe. They’d barely shared more than a couple of sentences. From what she recalled she’d only given him her first name and certainly no reason for him to believe that he could simply show up at her office.

The doors opened. Even more alarming was how he even figured out what her last name was in order to find where she was stationed. She was the damned Secret Service! But clearly he must have used his father’s connections. She didn’t know if she should be flattered or pissed off.

Avery walked down the corridor and back to her small office, and plopped down in the chair behind her desk. Her body still vibrated and her usual methodically organized thoughts were in complete disarray.

She reached for her cell phone and called Kerry. The call went to voice mail, but while she was leaving a message, Kerry called her back.

“Hey, Avery, what’s up?”

“You will never guess who just left here.”

“Don’t make me guess.”

“Rafe Lawson,” she said in a pressed whisper.

“Say what?”

“Yes! He was here.”

“What did he want?”

Avery ran down the conversation.

“So let me get this straight. This fine-ass bachelor flies across the country, takes the time to track you down, asks you out for dinner and you say—no? Are you out of your damned mind?”

“No. I’m...cautious.”

“No. Crazy. What do you think can happen over dinner?”

“That’s not the point.”

“Then what is the point?”

“I don’t know,” she woefully confessed. She sighed heavily into the phone. “He... There’s something about him that...unsettles me.”

“What does that even mean?”

“I feel as if I lose control when he’s in my space.”

“Girl, girl...” Kerry laughed. “I only wish there was someone to make me feel that way.”

“I don’t. I can’t be all foggy-headed and tongue-tied.”

“Sis, you have got to give yourself some space to live and be a woman. This job can take a toll on the people in our lives and us. No one knows better than me. But every now and then we have to be our own number one priority.”

Avery was quiet. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to be in a relationship. She just knew at this stage in her life it was almost impossible if she wanted to be successful. She was good at what she did, and after years of trying she’d finally gained, if not the love, at least the admiration of her father. She didn’t want to lose that over something that probably would never last.

“I’ll make a deal with you,” Kerry said, breaking into Avery’s thoughts.

“What deal?”

“I’ll go with you to Blues Alley and after the evening is over if you still feel the same way...I’ll shut my mouth on the subject.”

It would give her a chance to see Rafe again without being out there on her own. “Okay.”

“Great. So you want to go to the first set or the last?”

“First. I’m on duty tomorrow morning.”

“Too bad. I’m off.”

“Don’t rub it in. Meet you out front at 7:30?”

“Perfect.”

“So I’ll see you later.”

“Later.”

Avery disconnected the call and leaned back in her chair. A giddy sensation fluttered in her center. She looked at the time on her phone. Seven hours. This was going to be a very long day.

Chapter 3

It had been several months since he’d been to the DMV area. Driving through the streets of DC brought back a mixture of memories.

He’d partied hard in the nation’s capital, frequenting the many clubs and after-hours spots, either as a musician or one of the revelers. He’d been enamored with the city since his youth, enough that he left Tulane’s grad school and enrolled in Howard University, much to his father’s disappointment, which suited Rafe just fine. The only saving grace was that Branford believed he would be able to keep an eye on his son if he was in the city where he wielded power and also claimed as a second home. Neither reality fazed Rafe in the least. If anything it fueled his bad boy ways: speeding tickets to tabloid news to barroom brawls. Yet somehow he managed to graduate with his master’s degree in music history and composition and built a reputation on campus as one of the most talented sax players of his generation. He’d even been offered a teaching position after graduation, but he turned it down. As much as he loved everything about music he wasn’t ready to be tied down to one place.

The rows of town houses, in a range of browns and dusty red hues, stood in perfectly proportioned squares of grace, adorned with flower-bearing urns all shaded by century-old trees. The neighborhood was reminiscent of times gone by when the roads were cobblestone and horse-drawn carriages were the preferred mode of transportation.

Rafe parked his rented Mercedes out front and took his carry-on from the trunk. He opened the black gate and walked down the short path to the door. Even though he did not stay in town often, he had Alice come twice per month to clean and air out the rooms. He’d called in advance of this visit to make sure the fridge and the bar were stocked. Alice always did an outstanding job, and as usual today was no exception.

When he walked in he was greeted with a vase of fresh flowers in the foyer and the smell of something delicious coming from the kitchen. He dropped his bag in the hall and followed the scent.

Alice was busy at the sink washing vegetables for a salad. Rafe eased up behind her and slipped his arms around her thick waist.

Alice gave a slight squeal of surprise and giggled like a schoolgirl rather than a grandmother of three when Rafe placed a kiss behind each ear. She playfully smacked his hands.

“Still being a rascal, I see. Half scared me to death.”

Rafe kissed her again. “Aw, come on, cher.” He turned her around and looked her over. “Still the prettiest girl at the party.”

Alice’s cheeks flushed. “Oh go on.” She shooed him away.

Rafe lifted the cover of the simmering pot and inhaled pure bliss. “Will you marry me, Ms. Alice?” he teased when he saw the jambalaya.

“I have no intention of standing at the end of the line waiting my turn.”

“Aww, Ms. Alice, if you promise to fix your famous jambalaya at least once a week, I swear I’ll put you right up front.”

Alice’s round face crinkled with laughter. She wagged a finger at him. “One of these days you’re going to run into just the right woman to make an honest man out of you.”

“You really think so?” he asked, growing serious.

She looked him in the eye. “If you slow down and stop running so fast you’ll see her.” She lightly shoved him aside. “Now go on and let me finish up. I’m meeting some friends in town.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Rafe retrieved his bag from the hall and went upstairs. His room, like the rest of the house, was as he’d last seen it. But he knew it had been dusted and polished and the linens changed. He went over to the walk-in closet and was pleased to find that his clothes had arrived ahead of him and were neatly hung. He smiled and closed the door. What would he do without Alice?

Rafe slid out of his jacket, tossed it on the club chair by the window then unbuttoned his shirt and let it join his jacket.

A quick shower, a change of clothes and then he needed to get with Quinten about tonight. He was pretty certain that Q would be more than cool with him joining the set tonight, but he didn’t want to take anything, especially their friendship, for granted. He wanted to be sure just in case Avery did show up.

He didn’t understand why it mattered that she cared or whether she showed up. The very idea that he’d gone through his kid brother to find out who she was, rearranged his life to fly to DC to see her and was feeling like a horny teen just thinking about her gave him pause.

This was not his MO. Totally out of character. Although he’d been known to be impulsive at times he was always deliberate when it came to the women in and out of his life and the relationships he chose to pursue. In those instances he’d never been driven by emotion but rather need, desire or simply the wish of a woman that he wanted to see satisfied.

Avery. He was uncertain and he didn’t particularly like it, but he felt challenged to venture down this new avenue.

* * *

Rafe found a parking space a little more than a block from Blues Alley, then took a slow stroll back to the club. As he’d figured when he called Quinten to let him know he was in town, Q was more than happy to have his best friend join him onstage, and Rafe was really looking forward to playing in front of an audience.

He adjusted his sax case over his shoulder and pushed through the doors of the club. He was momentarily delayed by an overzealous security guard who advised Rafe that the club didn’t open until four, but quickly offered his apologies when Quinten walked over, embraced Rafe in a one-arm hug and introduced him.

“This is my man, Rafe Lawson. He’s with the band. Rafe, Phil... He keeps an eye out.”

Rafe extended his hand. “Phil.”

“My apologies.”

“None needed for doing your job.”

They shook hands and then Rafe followed Quinten to one of the back rooms.

“How you doing, bruh?” Quinten asked while he pulled open the door to the mini-fridge and took out a bottle of water. He handed it to Rafe and grabbed one for himself. “Glad you called, man.”

“Yeah, yeah. Everything’s good. Can’t complain.” He sat on the side of the desk and twisted the top off the water bottle. “It’ll be like old times tonight.”

“Truth.”