Her Secret Service (Jane Roe 1), Jason Letts [story reading .txt] 📗

the incline steepened and Jane felt herself gasping for breath and struggling to climb, the real discomfort she felt came from that Facebook threat, which they had never found the source of. It kept coming up in articles and interviews with the president, perhaps because a comment on social media was still a novel way to premeditate an assassination, but it struck Jane that someone had gone through a lot of trouble to cover his tracks for it to just fade away into nothing.

At the top of the hill, Jane’s mouth was wide open as she attempted to suck as much air as possible into her lungs. Her cheeks felt red with the chilly wind constantly brushing against her, and she was going to have to take a shower and change her clothes before she did anything else that day, but the gentle decline that followed brought some life into her. Soon she was roaring down the long slope feeling steady and strong.

The pace car had left them behind, and when they came around to the finish Jane was only a couple of bike lengths ahead of Dedan. She clicked her feet out of the clips and coasted to a stop, wondering how despite feeling so good about the ride she had only done marginally better than the other agents.

“I guess I wasn’t able to tear around the loop as fast as I thought,” Jane said, catching her breath and setting the bike down. Dedan tilted his head at her like she was crazy.

“Are you kidding me? You already look like you’re ready to do a few more laps, and once you get a little more practice on the bike, actual athletic clothes, and shoes that fit you’ll be miles ahead of us. You’re obviously in better shape than we are. You just need to get used to riding and using the right gear,” he said.

Jane blinked, trying to process if he was right. Maybe she’d done better than she thought, even though she hadn’t kept up with the car and only led the other riders who’d already done one lap by a short distance. She glanced through the car’s open windows at Diwecki, who was expressionless and wearing glasses.

He nodded and a sheepish grin crept onto Jane’s face.

“Alright, Dedan. I guess we’ll find out if either of us can keep up with Alex Morrin when the time comes,” she said.

Dedan slumped against the frame of the bike and glanced in the direction of the big hill.

“We’ve only got to be able to make it around five times at a much faster pace. Good thing we’ll have the entire perimeter secured in case we get left in the dust.”

Jane wanted to tell him to speak for himself, because she had no intention of being left behind.

“You might surprise yourself with a couple of weeks of training,” she said, but Dedan looked incredulous.

“Right. You saw how fast that car was going. I don’t know how anybody could keep that up on a bike. Are we sure the president isn’t on some kind of performance-enhancing drugs?”

Jane laughed. Dedan had a build more like a linebacker, and that was a lot of meat to haul on a bike. The other guys looked like they belonged in a couch to 5k program by comparison.

“Actually we do know he’s not,” she said, patting him on the shoulder. “And besides, it’s not a race. You just have to keep him safe. You can pretend you’re letting him win if it makes you feel any better.”

Jane knew that being in the Secret Service meant having the flexibility to take on whatever task the organization needed. Sometimes that required adapting to having a big chunk of her mornings taken up by training to be a cyclist, but more often for her she was asked to handle other women who might be hostile, difficult, or particularly sensitive.

That’s how she ended up heading to the East Wing at the behest of the First Lady’s protective detail’s manager. Jane always thought it curious that the FLOTUS’s office was as far away from the Oval Office as possible, crammed in the south corner of the East Wing not too far from questionably vital components of the executive branch like the Calligraphy Office.

But as Jane approached her destination she could immediately tell that something was going on, and she couldn’t make it to the office door before someone came out carrying a couple of large cardboard boxes stacked up to prevent her from seeing the person’s face.

Jane dodged out of the way and then peeked inside, where a handful of people were packing things into boxes. Looked like she hadn’t arrived a moment too soon. Now that she’d filed for divorce, the First Lady was clearing herself out.

With all of the bodies moving around, it took Jane a second to spot Bethany Morrin—codename Coriander—who was hiding behind the door on a chair as she pulled items off of a high bookshelf. She was in a cute floral dress with a pink cardigan top, her bushy brown hair bunched up around her shoulders.

Clearing her throat, Jane tried to alert the woman to her presence as she dropped a pair of books into a box on the floor. For a second Jane thought twice about how to address her, considering that so many of her titles were about to go out the window.

“Ms. Morrin,” Jane said, and a swift and cutting look told her she hadn’t gotten it quite right.

“For now,” the First Lady said with a sigh and an impatient look down at Jane.

“I’m hoping to talk to you about your future security needs after the transition. I’m with the Secret Service. My name’s Jane Roe,” she said with a friendly smile that didn’t seem to have much of an impact.

Bethany stepped down off the chair and turned to Jane, giving her a better look at the First Lady. She was beautiful with the kind of wholesome mid-Western appeal that could’ve just