Aced (Blocked #2) (9 page)

¡Dios!
Maddie had consumed my thoughts again. Two weeks since my visit to Highbanks, and I couldn’t get Lucia’s teammate out of my head. Not only did Maddie and I have our college athletic experiences in common, we had our futures in medicine. I knew she could reach her lofty goals. She was that kind of talented.

But what I thought of most was how beautiful she was when she cried. She’d seemed embarrassed by her tears, and I still felt like a total cad that I’d caused them. Still, I couldn’t deny her alluring softness as beads of glass spilled down her smooth, brown skin. The tenderness in her gaze when I’d brushed them away…

Brad’s wolf whistle brought me back to the vehicle. We were still stopped at the light, and I looked to my left to see Miss Long Boots sashay from the crosswalk onto the sidewalk. “
Day-um
,” Brad said as he watched her walk away. “You can pin me down with that boot any day, sugar. Rub that heel right into my chest.”

I rolled my eyes.

The light changed, and Brad pressed on the accelerator. Next to me in the backseat, China leaned forward. “Gettin’ horny as we approach La Casa, Bradley?”

He laughed.
“Sí, mamacita.”

I pursed my lips. I knew
La Casa
was the agents’ code name for the White House now that my family had moved in. But why would Brad feel horny?

We maneuvered around to the back of 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. I thought we’d enter through one of two heavily guarded gates, but we rolled past them. Marines were everywhere, and I assumed there were many more I couldn’t see. Their stony expressions made my stomach clench. I hadn’t heard from my buddy Jake in a few weeks; communication was a challenge in Afghanistan. If Jake hadn’t needed a Naval ROTC scholarship to afford college, he could’ve joined me at TCU. But he’d attended Texas A&M and was now a second lieutenant, risking his life overseas.

We rounded the corner of our country’s most notorious house, and I braced my hand against the armrest when it appeared Brad was driving us into a brick wall. But then the “wall” slid to the right, revealing the Secret Service entrance. I glanced at China, who smirked at me. I placed my hand back in my lap.

“Officers Jansen and Halloway,” Brad told the marine who stopped us.

The guard checked his computer. “Who’re you transporting, Jansen?”

“Fernando.”

“Proceed.” The marine gestured to his left.

But Brad didn’t move the vehicle. “I expect my fifty bucks before we leave, Richards.”

“Fucking Jets.” The marine scowled. “You got lucky this time, jackoff.” Then he glanced at me in the backseat, and straightened, resuming his stiff expression. “Sir.”

Brad cackled as he rolled up the window and drove us down the ramp to an underground garage. “Can’t believe he thought his lame-ass Cowboys would beat my Jets.”

Neither team had made the NFL playoffs this year, so Brad must have bet him back in December. “Richards cheers for Dallas?” I asked.

Brad nodded.

“Is he from Texas?”

“Yeah.” Brad turned to face me after parking the car. “Why?”

I shrugged. Sometimes I felt homesick for the Lone Star State, especially on a chilly February day in DC.

As we headed into the building, I asked, “Why am I called Fernando?”

“That’s on a need-to-know basis,” China said.

“Well, I need to know.”

“And we need you
not
to know.” Her gelled brown hair didn’t move an inch as she shook her head.

Oh, China
. She lived to antagonize. I understood why Dane had made a break for it last fall. Anything to get away from her for a few hours.

Brad punched in a code for the elevator, which we rode up to the ground floor from deep underground. “Mr. Ramirez.” China smiled at me during our ascent, which gave me pause. “We’re stopping first at our supervisor’s office. She wants to be sure we’re taking good care of you.”

That’s
why she was smiling. She didn’t want me to complain about her.

Brad was less subtle. “I’m sure you’ll put in a good word for us, Fernando.” He thumped my shoulder as we stepped out of the elevator and walked down a busy hallway. Several staffers tried to hide their stares when I passed, but they did a piss-poor job of it. The public scrutiny was already getting old, less than one month into my father’s presidency.

My agents came to attention on either side of me once we made it to their supervisor’s office. When the woman stood and rounded the desk, she was solidly built, though not as muscular as bodybuilder China. “I’m Senior Officer West.” She shook my hand. “Thank you for meeting with me, Mr. Ramirez.”

Did I have a choice in the matter?
I nodded.

“How have officers Halloway and Jansen been treating you, sir?”

China seemed to stiffen next to me, but Brad appeared calm. “It’s an adjustment to have protection around the clock, but they’ve been fine. Thank you for protecting my family. I’d like to see them now, if I could?”

“Of course. I’ll leave you to it.” She smiled. “Officer Halloway will escort you upstairs. Officer Jansen, please stay.” Her eyelids lowered a fraction and something shifted in her smile. “I want to review your performance.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Brad’s voice held a hint of excitement.

I tilted my head on our way out. Brad and his boss weren’t about to get it on, were they? I glanced at China, who moved with efficiency as she scanned the hallway. If I asked her about it, I’d likely get another lecture on what I didn’t need to know.

We climbed the stairs to the first level and entered an ornate sitting room with mint green walls, fuchsia chairs, and a gleaming chandelier. China dipped her shoulder and opened her palm with a flourish. “May I present the Green Room, sir.”

The stiff introduction by a modern bodybuilder in the antiquated setting jarred me. “Knock it off, China. Where’s my mom?”

“I
heard
you were here!” My mother entered with her arms extended, and I walked into her hug. I noticed a male agent coming in behind her.

“
Mamá
.” As I patted her back, I felt my shoulders relax for the first time since we’d left my condo in Baltimore. The White House felt strange and formal, but Sylvia Ramirez could turn any house into a home.

She let go and studied me. “Have you been eating enough?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t want to have to worry about you like I do with Lucia.”

“You don’t have to. And Lucy’s doing fine.”
Except for falling into moral turpitude.
I glanced at China. She stood near the wall next to the male agent, but she looked straight ahead.

“Have you been praying? Have you gone to confession?”

I groaned. Mom was always on me about church. “I thought this little interrogation you’re conducting would suffice for confession.”

Even though I veered to the side, she still managed to cuff my ear, and the smack echoed in my eardrum. I noticed a tiny smirk cracking through China’s blank façade. I turned back to my mother and asked, “How’s the new house?”

“Overwhelming.” She shook her head as she gestured around her. “Stuffy. This entire floor’s decorated like the eighteenth century.” As she walked over to one of the wingback chairs, I noticed her coiffed black hair and stately red dress. But instead of pumps, she wore fuzzy house shoes over her stockings. I suppressed a smile. How would my family fit into this high-pressure, high-class scene? Instead of the Beverly Hillbillies, would we become the White House Texicans—burping and smoking in the State Dining Room?

“Are you smoking?” I asked.

One eyebrow arched. “No, Dr. Ramirez. I don’t want to be remembered as the only first lady to smoke in this historical landmark.” She patted the pink chair. “
Ven acá
. Have a seat.”

“No, thanks. That chair looks as comfortable as a cactus patch.”

She laughed. “Oh, Alejandro. I’ve missed you. Why haven’t you visited us before? You’re only an hour away, no?”

“Depends on traffic.” I shrugged. “I’m kind of busy with school, you know.”

“How are your studies?”

My stomach tensed. I had an exam coming up that I was nowhere near prepared for. But I didn’t want to worry my mother. “Great.”

“You sure?” Her gaze zeroed in on me.

She read me so well. I nodded with the hope she’d drop it.

“Well, I know you’re busy. Thanks for coming down to talk to Mateo.”

“Where is he?”

“In his room.” She nodded at the agents. “They’ll take you there. And your father said he could get away for a few minutes later.”

I hadn’t seen my dad since his inauguration. I thought his first presidential speech had been heroic, but the press had torn apart his plans to increase border security and national defense spending.

“I need to go pick the menu for a women’s luncheon.” My mother bounced on her feet. Hosting events was her favorite thing in the world. “We’ll catch up later, after you talk to your brother.”

I nodded, expecting her to leave. Instead she approached me, and her hand reached up to cradle my cheek. “There’s a sadness about you,
hijo
. You’re always so serious. You sure you’re okay?”

A pang of disquiet reverberated in my chest, but I ignored it. “Just the typical ennui of any med student, I guess.” I forced a smile. “Living the dream, you know.”

“You’re following your dreams?” Her eyes bored into me.

“Of course,
Mamá
.” I had to get away from her prying gaze. I leaned in to kiss her cheek, then looked at China. “Will you take me to Mateo’s room?”

“Yes, sir.”

I followed her out of the room and up a wide staircase to the second floor. As we neared my brother’s bedroom, I heard the strum of a guitar. It was a jaunty tune that built in intensity until it sounded like my brother’s fingers pounded on the strings. Just before we reached the closed door, Mateo’s voice joined the cacophony. When had it gotten so deep? China nodded at the agent outside his door and lifted her fist to knock, but I waved for her to stop. I wanted to hear this song.

Can’t go anywhere
Can’t do anything
You steal me

They leave me behind
But they don’t mind
You steal me

I’m steeling against you
Red reeling and pumping
Your sweetness is murder
Th-Thumping and thumping

You break me
I’m broken
You take me
I’m token
You steal me
You feel me?
You steal me
Fucking steal me

“
Cuidado
,” I said as I opened the door and strode into his room. “Let’s spare Mom the F-bombs in the White House, shall we?”

Mateo sat with legs crossed on his bed. He swooped the page of printed lyrics behind him and set his guitar on the duvet next to our cat,
Escuincle
. Both of them eyed me with disdain. Mateo’s dark hair spiked up on one side of his head and swept over his opposite eyebrow.

“Got a hug for your bro?” I asked.

“Don’t you
knock?”
His glare cut into me. “How long have you been listening?”

“Long enough to know what you’re singing about.”

He cocked his head to one side, looking just like our father as he stroked Squinky’s black fur. “Yeah? Tell me what my lyrics mean, then.”

“It’s about this.” I gestured around the foreign bedroom, with only a single poster of my brother’s favorite band to indicate he lived there. “You’ve been through a big change.” I pointed to China and the other agent standing outside the door. “Secret Service everywhere, no privacy…”

“What’re you talking about?”

“Your song. It’s to Dad, right? He’s stolen you away from your life in Texas.”

He scoffed. “You don’t understand
anything
.”

Though I hadn’t been invited, I sat on one corner of his bed. “Then help me understand. What’s your song about?”

“You’re too obtuse to even try to explain.”

I grinned at his burgeoning vocabulary.

“Don’t make fun of me.”

“I’m not making fun of you.” I exhaled. “Why’re you so mad at me?”

“Why are you here, Alex?” He leaned back against the pillows.

“Can’t I come visit my only brother?” I smiled, but those wary eyes stayed trained on me. His eyes were lighter than Lucia’s and mine, with flecks of green and gold mixed in with brown. I shrugged. Neither of my siblings was ever glad to see me. “I also wanted to tell you about a new insulin pump that’d be perfect for you.”

“I
knew
it!” He shot upright. “Mom sent you here, didn’t she?”

“Only because she loves you, and she’s worried.” But despite that valid explanation, he continued to glare.
Now who’s being obtuse?
“The pump would allow you to have more freedom, not have to worry about carrying around insulin and syringes—”

“Exactly how would a fucking robo-box attached to my fucking hip give me freedom?”

“Whoa, Matty. Calm down.” I glanced to the hallway, wondering what Secret Service thought of this conversation.

“
You
calm down.”

I stood and crossed over to the door. I looked at China. “Okay if I close this?”

“No need.” Mateo was right behind me. “This conversation’s over.” He darted around me, and I noticed his faded, frayed jeans hanging off his thin body. He wore only socks, no shoes, which seemed strange in this uptight setting. “I’m sick of you and Mom ganging up on me. I’m gonna go find Dad.”

“Even if he’s available, which he’s probably not, how can he help? He wants you to get the pump, too.”

Mateo spun around. “Yeah, but he said it’s my choice. He respects my autonomy, unlike some people I know.” As he huffed out of the room, I heard a soft thump from behind, and turned to see
Escuincle
stalk toward me. I leaned down to pat his head. He bristled and hissed.

I stepped back. “Still a brat, I see.”

“I heard that!” Mateo hollered.