“As long as we stop and grab a bottle of wine.” They moved into the plane’s aisle and trudged into National airport. The crazy flight was the topping of a crazy week. Jenny couldn’t comprehend that Sugar was married now. Her sister was the wildest, toughest girl she knew, and Sugar had basically eloped in Vegas, adopted a kid, then celebrated her wedding reception at Disney World. Sugar always knew what she wanted and got it. Me? Not so much. Part-time gun-range assistant, full-time wannabe acting star. At least it kept the bills paid and offered a super lax schedule.

“Wine. Good deal.” Molly nodded.

They rounded the corner from the long hallway into the airport waiting area. Six men in black suits waited, watching each passenger. Their stances and their looks screamed that they were packing heat.

Jenny knew those types all too well. Hard to ignore them when Molly worked with the high society of the political world, and when Ash was the Asher McIntyre, Mr. Rising Star Politician, the congressman who was soon to be the senator to New York State. Hell, probably soon to be president, give him enough time. And even if he didn’t carry that title, he had any number of Most Eligible, Most Handsome, Most Beautiful crowns that had been printed for the whole world to see the smile that about made Jenny pass out from hormonal over-exposure.

Congressman today. Senator in a little more than a month. President…whenever he wanted. His career was just another reason why nothing would materialize into a relationship. Ash was world famous; everyone hung on his every word. And she was clinging to an acting career where no one seemed interested in watching her say anything on stage. Stop that! Big audition in a couple days. They’ll love me.

The leader of the suits brigade stepped in front of Molly. “Ms. McIntyre, Ms. Chase, come with us.”

Molly turned to her, rolling her eyes and cracking a smile. “Guess I shouldn’t have stolen the bathrobe, huh?”

“Should’ve checked your text messages and voice mail,” Jenny whispered back.

No matter how many times law enforcement escorted Molly somewhere for work or inspected their apartment after the McIntyre family had another threat, men with badges made her nervous.

Other passengers streamed around as the obvious men encircled them. “Congressman McIntyre has asked that you come with us.”

“Of course he has.” Molly was used to the protective detail routine. She never looked concerned. “And you are?”

“Special Agent Murphy—”

“FBI?”

The man nodded.

“Give me a second to talk to Ash.” Her best friend fished her phone out of her purse, hit a button, and had a fast conversation that ended with her mouthing, “Fine. We’ll go with you.”

Jenny picked up her carry-on bag and let the men whisk them to baggage claim. “Least we don’t have to take the metro.”