Codename: Kryptonite

Chapter Seventeen

Agent Mission Log Entry:

I must say - watching that first interaction between POTUS and his friend was very enlightening. My version of POTUS is a hard-assed, take no prisoners, ruthless negotiator who would never have let anyone speak to him the way Sambora did, old friend or not. At least not in front of an audience. Even David, who came and went from the White House with enough regularity that the Secret Service gave him his own call sign, never spoke to him like that in front of me. Although, given the smirks and teasing barbs that passed between them at times, I'm sure he gave POTUS hell behind closed doors.

These two men are tight, to say the least.

"Kidd, I'm hurt. Really," Richie spoke into the sudden silence that fell over the room after Jon's words. "After all the things I've shared with you over the years, all the take to the grave secrets," he shook his head. "You didn't have to make up this elaborate story."

Jon tried to interrupt him. "Richie..."

But, Richie continued, holding up one hand to forestall Jon's explanation. "I'm still talking Jon." Then he went on, "Really -," he shook his head again and shrugged his shoulders, "I even told you the Lost Handcuff Key story," he grinned devilishly there. "Rosa, still looks at me funny."

Gabriella looked at Jon with one eyebrow raised in an obvious question.

"His housekeeper," Jon informed her softly, even as Richie went on with his tirade.

"And yet, you couldn't just say 'She's Dot's grounds for divorce' - NO! You had to come up with this complete fairy tale about time traveling secret agents, and you being the future President of the United States."

"Mook," Jon tried again.

"Still talking, Kidd," Richie replied.

"Wait," Gabriella exclaimed, as Richie's words finally sunk in, "you think that he and I...that we're..." her gaze went to Jon. He was still leaning against the front edge of his desk, still shirtless, still sexy as hell. She couldn't bring herself to finish her sentence, to actually say the words.

Richie leveled those gorgeous chocolate brown eyes on her. "Aren't you?"

"Absolutely not!" she gasped.

"Yet," Richie said. "I believe the word you're looking for is - yet. Because trust me, even if you aren't now," he jerked his chin in Jon's direction, "he's thinking about it."

Jon's eyes narrowed slightly. "Rich," he ground out in warning.

Richie's eyebrows rose and the corners of his lips curved in an innocent smile. "What?"

Professionalism straightened her spine, and as bad as she hated to share what should have been kept completely top secret and on a need-to-know basis, she backed Jon's play. "It was not an elaborate fairy tale, or a way to cover up some clandestine affair. I really am Secret Service, and I can show you my credentials to prove it."

Sobering slightly, Richie realized she must really be a government agent. Why else would she offer to show credentials, unless those credentials would prove what she was saying? "Ok, so you're Secret Service. That doesn't impress me." Too much, he added silently. "Why does he," he tipped his head in Jon's direction, "need protection? And don't you dare try to hand me the same shit about him being the President in the future."

Gabby's teeth began to nibble at her bottom lip and her eyes went from Richie to Jon and back. "What else would you like me to say?" Quickly, before Richie had a chance to say anything, she went on, "I mean if you don't want me to tell you the truth, why don't you just make up your own lie?"

A devilish grin flirted with Richie's full lips, before he opened his mouth to speak.

But, Gabby jumped in again, "Except for the 'fairy tale' that has him," she jerked her chin in Jon's direction, "and me in a bed together."

A snort from Jon made Richie chuckle and choke out, "Yet," again.

With Gabby's glare and exasperated heavy breathing, Richie knew he'd gone too far, and his ingrained desire to appease a woman showed itself with his next words. "Ok, for the sake of argument, let's just pretend for a second that you're really from the future and he's really the Pres," he paused there to meet each of their gaze and nod for emphasis. "I'm his best friend and I don't see that changing in the future." His eyes seemed to glow with merriment, as he thought he'd caught them in the one part of their story that they hadn't thought to cover with a plausible lie. "So, why haven't you met me at a White House dinner or something, and why aren't I on the do-not-shoot list?"

Even though Richie's words were said with barely concealed laughter held in check, a somber sort of seriousness seemed to fall over the room. Gabriella felt it fall like a curtain, and Richie could read it on Jon's face.

Jon's head swiveled quickly in Gabby's direction, and with a carefully blank look and an all too serious tone to his voice, he told her softly, "I need the room."