Free Distinguished Service & Every Move You Make (Uniformly Hot!) by Tori Carrington Page B

the limo, careful of traffic coming in the opposite direction.
    He heard a woman’s scream from his left, then a shot rang out.
    Damn!
    He watched as a bullet hit the limo’s shockproof passenger’s window and ricocheted off.
    “Move, move, move!” he ordered through his earpiece.
    The lead car took off and the limo followed, as did Falcone, protocol dictating the target be protected first, leaving him behind.
    He ran in the direction the gunshot had been fired from…
    * * *
    G ENEVA LOOKED at the wall clock that hung above the jukebox for the fifth time in as many minutes. Seven o’clock had come and gone, and other than the brief text that morning she’d received from Mace saying he’d see her later, she hadn’t heard from him.
    “What’s the matter? He stand you up?”
    The words came from Tiffany, who appeared a little too smug for her liking, and were loud enough for everyone—including Mel in the back—to hear.
    She caught Trudy’s gaze through the window from where she worked in the kitchen and tried not to make a face.
    She wasn’t so much afraid of being stood up as she was worried about Mace’s safety.
    Word of the attempt on General Norman’s life was all everyone was talking about. It dominated the news that played on the television in the upper corner of the diner that was usually set to a national news channel and muted so you had to read the scroll but it had been changed to a local station to keep up on developing reports on the event.
    The goings-on had brought out more people than usual for a Wednesday night. Reactions ranged from “They shouldn’t have missed,” to “There are a lot of crazies out there.”
    All Geneva could think about was Mace’s safety.
    In the middle of refilling the coffee cups on Table 3, her cell phone vibrated in her pocket. She nearly spilled the hot liquid as she hurried to get it out.
    “Sorry,” she said, hurrying away.
    Mace!
    “Hey,” he said simply when she answered.
    “Hey, yourself. You okay?”
    “Okay?”
    “Yeah. What happened today is all over the news.”
    “Don’t worry, I’m fine,” he said, but she wasn’t convinced. “Sorry, I’m late.”
    A thrill ran up her arms at the thought he was still coming. “It’s okay. The diner’s packed.”
    But she had reserved a booth in the corner after the last occupants had vacated it at six-thirty.
    “Will you be long?” she asked.
    “I’m here.”
    His words sounded both in her phone…and her free ear.
    She turned to see him behind her.
    She was sure people around her thought her insane as she ran toward him and hugged him hard…
    * * *
    M ACE HAD SEEN such welcomes over the years. At airports, on bases. He’d watched wives and girlfriends embrace their loved ones like they might never let them go.
    But he had never been on the receiving end of one.
    He couldn’t help chuckling, breathing in the sweet scent of Geneva’s hair. “If that’s your reaction to my being late, I’ll have to arrange to do it more often.”
    She drew back and smiled up at him. “I’d advise against it. Trust me.”
    Was it possible he missed her? Yes, it was. He’d missed her smile, her wit, her presence. It should have struck him as odd, but somehow it didn’t.
    “Sorry I’m late. Something came up at work.”
    She squinted. “I already figured that out.” She indicated the television. He looked to see the scene from today being played out via someone’s cell phone camera.
    He frowned, watching the cars race off even as he ran after the gunman. But just as had happened earlier, he hadn’t found him. Or her, as the case may be.
    But he’d bet a year’s salary the hooded man from earlier in the day was the one behind the shooting.
    “Are you okay?” Geneva asked.
    “What? Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.” At least he was now. Earlier, he’d been so worked up, he’d barely been able to speak without shouting. He couldn’t help thinking they should have been able to prevent the incident.
    He