“Antifa doesn’t always tip its hand. FBI intel suggests quite a few of the groups aligned with the movement have encouraged members from our region to attend. It’s being touted on their websites and message boards. What will happen after they all convene is anyone’s guess.” The twin furrows on his brow deepened. “Have you ever had any direct contact through your show or on your blog with anyone who’s identified themselves as a member?”

“No—but many of my critics could fall into that camp. I stand for everything they abhor. Left to their own devices, they’d abolish the government and Constitution, which they believe are inherently racist. They’d do away with capitalism because they think it enslaves people. And they’re convinced our political system is fundamentally corrupt.”

“They’re also not afraid to engage in violence or property destruction to achieve their goals—and some have no compunction about killing people who defend the system. They think of it as self-defense for the world. That’s why the FBI classifies their activities as domestic terrorism.”

“I understand all that.”

“Yet you didn’t think it was important to mention to me that you were speaking at an event where they may have a strong presence?”

“The president of the group has me covered—and I’m not going to hijack your weekend. You’ve already gone above and beyond with my case.”

His eyes narrowed. “What time is the speech?”

“One o’clock.”

“When are they picking you up?”

“Ten. There’s a private meet and greet at eleven, followed by lunch, then the speech. I should be home by two-thirty.”

“I’ll join the motorcade. I’d say cancel the car, but let’s leave it in case I get called in.”

Her heart warmed—but her independent streak reared its head. “Brent, I don’t want you to—”

“Eve.” He killed the engine and turned to her. “Humor me. Other than an early run with Adam, my Saturday is open. If I’m not with you, I’ll be at home worrying.”

After a beat, she sighed. How could she refuse after that admission? “Fine. I accept—if you’ll let me treat you to Starbucks afterward.”

“Not necessary.”

“I’ll be in the mood for a Frappuccino, and I hate to drink alone.”

He cocked his head. “Is it a deal breaker on me riding shotgun if I turn down your invitation?”

“Yes.”

One side of his mouth twitched. “You drive a hard bargain.”

“Seems like a fair arrangement to me—I get a bodyguard, we both get a treat. Are you in?”