The man walked over to the porch, but instead of addressing Steve, he faced Olivia. “Miss Olivia Cooper, formerly of London in the United Kingdom?” He spoke in English, but with a thick German accent.

Steve looked at Olivia, who shrugged. She was as confused as he was. “Yes. May I help—”

A shot rang out. Olivia stiffened, and blood bloomed across the belly of her shirt.

It seemed as if time slowed to a crawl.

A second shot rang out. This one hit Olivia in the chest. Her eyes went wide with fear.

Steve saw the moment when the light behind them dimmed and vanished.

At the sound of the third gunshot, Steve felt as though he’d been hit in the chest with a sledgehammer. The world tilted, his legs buckled, and he slumped to the wooden slats of the porch. Blood pooled in his throat, and the warm day was suddenly much colder than before.

As his vision dimmed, he heard the man’s voice, as if from a great distance. “You can’t run away from your responsibilities… not even in Germany.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

*** Three months later ***

As the Secret Service waved Juan past the security gate, his phone rang. The dashboard displayed a familiar number, and he smiled as he tapped on the “pickup” icon.

Miguel’s voice came through the car’s speakers. “Hey bro, haven’t heard from you for a long time. First-year medical school is now in the bag, can you believe it? How are things? You been doing anything interesting?”

Juan smiled as he wondered how best to answer his brother’s question. Kathy reached over and took his hand, her engagement ring sparkling in the sun.

“Well, I should probably catch you up on some things, but I’m about to lose signal. What are you doing next winter break?”

Miguel laughed. “Sorry, I don’t plan that far ahead.”

“Well, you’ll need to make an exception. I’m getting married and I need a best man. It’ll be December sixteenth. Mark that on your calendar.”

The call was cut off as they pulled under the canopy for one of the private entries to the White House.

Juan chuckled. “Well, I did tell him.”

Kathy shook her head. “You’re terrible. The poor guy is probably going to be losing his mind for lack of details.”

Juan smiled at his bride-to-be. As always, he was mesmerized by her presence. She wore a modest green dress, and her lipstick perfectly matched her hair, which was luxuriously splayed across her back.

They were greeted by two Secret Service agents. “Welcome to the White House, Dr. Gutierrez and Miss O’Reilly. Please follow us.”

As they were led through a private entrance to the West Wing, Kathy reached out, took Juan’s hand, and squeezed. It was comforting, but not enough to squelch the nauseous churning in his stomach.