Protecting Justice (The Justice Series Book 4) by Misty Evans, Adrienne Giordano Page B
Authors: Misty Evans, Adrienne Giordano
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move up the timeline of the funeral. Hence, Fallyn had needed to shift gears the moment they left the old army base and throw herself full-throttle into funeral arrangements.
The priest turned the pulpit over to one of Heather’s contemporaries, a fellow senator who’d sat on the Ethics Committee with her before Heather had moved to Foreign Relations. Fallyn fidgeted, listening to the glowing praise the man rained down on her dead sister. Behind him, solemn, graceful angels stared down at those gathered, their white plaster bodies in direct contrast to the dark clothes of the mourners. Sunlight filtered through the stained glass windows as the words echoed off the high ceilings.
As the congressman spoke about Heather’s commitment to justice and her snarky sense of humor, Eric Pasche raised his head, and soft rays from a nearby window caught the grey in his hair. His lips trembled with a slight smile. He reached over and grasped Fallyn’s hand.
She gripped the big, rough hand, tears threatening to spill out the corners of her eyes. She never flinched from his touch…in fact, she craved it, but her father’s touch was a rarity. He was proud of Heather; happy at the turnout of so many powerful people to pay homage to his favorite daughter.
Fallyn didn’t blame him. Heather had been a good person, always fighting the good fight. She deserved this. Their father deserved this.
She hoped President Nicols kept his word and showed up. That would really make her father’s day.
But what if…
Fallyn’s head throbbed without mercy. Thoughts scratched and clawed at her brain. Heather had a tablet in her safe with coded—probably classified—information on it. She’d had a heart problem and ended up with some funky drug in her system. Someone was after that tablet.
On the other side of her, Carl patted her arm. Jordan’s father had a knowing smile on his lips that matched her father’s. The two men had grown up together on the south side of DC. Fallyn knew her father had turned to Carl at least once for financial help with his restaurants during the last recession. Carl was the reason Heather had gone into politics. The reason Jordan had worked for her.
His pat was brief, just a quick touch and a wink when she glanced at him. He knew how awful this was for her—for all of them—but he’d always encouraged Fallyn as much as he had Heather. Fallyn had confided in him on occasion through the years and was grateful for his help today, getting her father ready for the visitation and funeral, being her support when she had none.
It was good to have him and Jordan surrounding her. A make-shift family, but one that worked right here, right now.
The forlorn notes of Amazing Grace brought her out of her reverie. She’d completely missed the end of the senator’s speech. As the congregation rose to sing, two men approached the pulpit in dark suits. The organist stalled and everyone turned toward the back door.
Fallyn, in her heels, turned too, and looked over the heads of the people near her. More men in suits and sunglasses came down the aisle, followed by the President of the United States. Fallyn felt eyes on her. She glanced around and saw Tony near the rear of the church watching her instead of the leader of the free world.
Her pulse quickened. From Tony’s look or the president’s arrival? She wasn’t sure. Quickly, she diverted her attention back to the president and his cavalcade. Even though she’d personally spent time with President Nicols, the power that radiated from the man still sent chills over her skin.
Her bodyguard did a fine job of that too.
President Nicols approached the front of the church, surrounded by Secret Service, and took a moment to veer over to her and her father. He shook her father’s hand, said a few soft words, and Eric Pasche came alive for the first time in days. He smiled a real smile, his eyes lit up, and he returned the president’s handshake with gusto.
Nicols then
The priest turned the pulpit over to one of Heather’s contemporaries, a fellow senator who’d sat on the Ethics Committee with her before Heather had moved to Foreign Relations. Fallyn fidgeted, listening to the glowing praise the man rained down on her dead sister. Behind him, solemn, graceful angels stared down at those gathered, their white plaster bodies in direct contrast to the dark clothes of the mourners. Sunlight filtered through the stained glass windows as the words echoed off the high ceilings.
As the congressman spoke about Heather’s commitment to justice and her snarky sense of humor, Eric Pasche raised his head, and soft rays from a nearby window caught the grey in his hair. His lips trembled with a slight smile. He reached over and grasped Fallyn’s hand.
She gripped the big, rough hand, tears threatening to spill out the corners of her eyes. She never flinched from his touch…in fact, she craved it, but her father’s touch was a rarity. He was proud of Heather; happy at the turnout of so many powerful people to pay homage to his favorite daughter.
Fallyn didn’t blame him. Heather had been a good person, always fighting the good fight. She deserved this. Their father deserved this.
She hoped President Nicols kept his word and showed up. That would really make her father’s day.
But what if…
Fallyn’s head throbbed without mercy. Thoughts scratched and clawed at her brain. Heather had a tablet in her safe with coded—probably classified—information on it. She’d had a heart problem and ended up with some funky drug in her system. Someone was after that tablet.
On the other side of her, Carl patted her arm. Jordan’s father had a knowing smile on his lips that matched her father’s. The two men had grown up together on the south side of DC. Fallyn knew her father had turned to Carl at least once for financial help with his restaurants during the last recession. Carl was the reason Heather had gone into politics. The reason Jordan had worked for her.
His pat was brief, just a quick touch and a wink when she glanced at him. He knew how awful this was for her—for all of them—but he’d always encouraged Fallyn as much as he had Heather. Fallyn had confided in him on occasion through the years and was grateful for his help today, getting her father ready for the visitation and funeral, being her support when she had none.
It was good to have him and Jordan surrounding her. A make-shift family, but one that worked right here, right now.
The forlorn notes of Amazing Grace brought her out of her reverie. She’d completely missed the end of the senator’s speech. As the congregation rose to sing, two men approached the pulpit in dark suits. The organist stalled and everyone turned toward the back door.
Fallyn, in her heels, turned too, and looked over the heads of the people near her. More men in suits and sunglasses came down the aisle, followed by the President of the United States. Fallyn felt eyes on her. She glanced around and saw Tony near the rear of the church watching her instead of the leader of the free world.
Her pulse quickened. From Tony’s look or the president’s arrival? She wasn’t sure. Quickly, she diverted her attention back to the president and his cavalcade. Even though she’d personally spent time with President Nicols, the power that radiated from the man still sent chills over her skin.
Her bodyguard did a fine job of that too.
President Nicols approached the front of the church, surrounded by Secret Service, and took a moment to veer over to her and her father. He shook her father’s hand, said a few soft words, and Eric Pasche came alive for the first time in days. He smiled a real smile, his eyes lit up, and he returned the president’s handshake with gusto.
Nicols then
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