Seattle (the meeting)
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Audrey glanced at the clock on the hotel nightstand and switched on the TV. The muted glow of the screen filled the room. She adjusted the volume to just the right level—audible enough for anyone passing by or the Secret Service agent stationed next door to assume she was comfortably settled in for the afternoon. Earlier she had told the agents that she felt exhausted and just wanted to stay in her room. They hadn't questioned that.
Her heart thudded against her ribcage. This wasn't her idea—it was Jack's. They'd gone over the details that morning during their call, his calm voice leading her through the steps of their escape plan with meticulous precision. Even then, she couldn't help but marvel at how much he knew. It was unsettling, almost, how an outsider like him had managed to gather so much information about their Secret Service detail. He'd known there were two agents in the lobby, that one agent usually patrolled the level where their rooms were every twenty minutes, and that he usually did that every hour, twenty minutes thereafter and twenty minutes before the next hour.
It should have scared her. Instead, it exhilarated her.
Jack had made it sound so simple. "The lobby's off-limits," he'd said matter-of-factly. "We use the underground parking garage. You'll be visible on the security cameras, so wear something they wouldn't expect you to wear."
She slipped on her cardigan, her palms slightly clammy. His instructions played over in her mind like a carefully rehearsed script. Comfortable flat shoes, long pants, and a jacket, he'd insisted. Practical, not glamorous. It was unlike anything she'd ever done before, and the novelty made her feel alive. This wasn't just sneaking away—it felt like being a character in an action movie. And she loved it.
Her smile widened at the thought as she stepped into the hallway, closing the door with practiced care. The faint click of the latch wasn't audible, at least not for the Secret Service agent next door. She glanced left and right to ensure the hallway was clear. No one. Not even the faint shadow of a Secret Service agent. For a moment, she hesitated, thinking about what she'd tell them if they suddenly appeared round the corner. But then she remembered Jack's voice—steady, reassuring. "Stick to the plan. You'll be fine."
With a deep breath, she moved toward the fire stairs, her footsteps light and deliberate. Each step felt like an act of rebellion, and the adrenaline began to build. At the landing, she paused, her hand gripping the cold metal railing as she steadied her breathing. One floor down, he had said. Take the elevator there, make sure it goes down. She straightened and slipped into the elevator, pressing the button for the underground parking garage. Don't take it from your own floor, he'd warned. It might take too long.
The elevator descended with a soft hum and a faint vibration beneath her feet. Her pulse raced, and she fought the urge to glance over her shoulder. Keep your head down, she remembered his words. Wear your hair in some way they wouldn't expect. Or wear a headband. She'd settled for pinning up her hair in a way she'd never done before. Even in the mirror in her hotel room, she hadn't recognized herself any more.
The anticipation was almost unbearable now, a mix of excitement and trepidation swirling in her chest. She couldn't remember the last time she'd felt this way—free, alive, untethered. Ever since the Secret Service had entered her life, every step had felt scrutinized, every movement watched. But not today. Today, she was slipping through the cracks.
The elevator dinged softly as the doors slid open, revealing the dimly lit underground parking garage. Audrey stepped out cautiously. She scanned the rows of parked cars. No sign of Jack. No rumble of an engine. Just the low hum of fluorescent lights overhead.
Turn right, she remembered his words. Probably because he'd checked it out and there was a gap between the security cameras. Her steps slowed as she turned a corner, her eyes adjusting to the shadows. Then she saw it—a helmet, leather jacket, and gloves draped casually over the handrail near the elevator. Her lips parted in a smile as she approached them. Clearly, these were for her. He'd thought of everything.
She slipped on the jacket first. The gloves followed, snug against her fingers, and then the helmet, its buckle clicking securely beneath her chin. She was ready.
And suddenly, a low growl echoed through the garage, and Audrey's heart leapt. A headlight flared to life, slicing through the shadows, and the sleek shape of a motorcycle emerged from its hiding place. Of course, he'd been waiting. Watching. Ensuring she got this far without trouble.
She broke into a run, her laughter bubbling up before she could stop it. The sound surprised her, inside the helmet. She hadn't laughed like that in what felt like years.
She could barely make out his face beneath his helmet, but she knew his eyes were on her. That thought alone sent a thrill through her. She reached the bike in seconds, her hands steady as she swung herself onto the back seat, her legs finding the small footrests with ease. It felt so natural, so effortless, as if she'd been waiting her whole life for this moment.
Her arms slipped around his waist, and for the first time in weeks, she felt him—solid, warm, real. His jacket beneath her gloves was thick, but she told herself she could feel through it. How his muscles tensed, how his chest moved with every breath. She held on tightly as they shot forward, the garage blurring around them as Jack maneuvered toward the exit ramp. The rush of speed and the cool air against her skin made her feel weightless. As they passed by the gate, the open city unfolded before them. They merged seamlessly into the traffic. And all of a sudden, she wasn't the daughter of the Secretary of Defense anymore. She was just a girl on the back seat of a bike, riding through the streets, holding on to what felt like her date. She felt normal. Free.
Still, neither of them spoke. The loud traffic all around them, the airflow, the engine's noise - they couldn't have said anything anyway. They would have needed to shout. But words felt unnecessary anyway. The moment was perfect as it was—Audrey holding onto Jack, the city rushing past. He had promised her freedom – and he'd kept that promise, that much was already clear. She didn't know where they were going, and she didn't care. She didn't just feel free from her Secret Service detail that had been following her throughout the past weeks. She felt even freer – free from her whole life, the polished world of DC, the politicians, the marble halls, free in a way she hadn't ever since she'd gotten married. For the first time in years, she felt untethered, unbound.
Audrey couldn't even see Jack clearly from her spot behind him. The curve of his helmet was all she could glimpse, the glossy black surface catching occasional flickers of sunlight. His arms rested steady on the handlebars, clad in a black leather jacket that fit him perfectly, accentuating his shoulders and the lean, athletic build she had come to admire. Beneath him, the bike roared quietly, a sleek and powerful extension of him, effortlessly navigating through the streets.
Blue jeans, faded and rugged, hung loosely over the shafts of his black boots, the hems shifting slightly in the breeze as the bike sped forward. His hands gripped the handlebars firmly, encased in black leather gloves that flexed slightly as he speeded up the bike. He looked strong, composed, entirely in control. Her gaze shifted to herself for a moment—her own gloves, her jacket, the helmet that felt snug and secure. She couldn't help but wonder where he'd gotten her gear. It all fit so well. The helmet, perfect. The jacket, just a little oversized but comfortable, enveloping her in its warmth. A small smile tugged at her lips. He had really thought of everything.
Her grip around his waist tightened instinctively, a silent gesture of thanks. He couldn't see her smile, but maybe he'd feel it in the way her hands pressed against him, the way she leaned into him as the bike moved effortlessly through the city. She snuggled closer, resting her head against his shoulder, and let herself be carried by the rhythm of the ride. The streets blurred around them, and she realized she had no idea where they were going. But strangely, it didn't bother her. Not knowing felt liberating, and with Jack, she felt safe in a way she hadn't in years.
Her chin came to rest lightly on his shoulder, and for a moment, she closed her eyes. The cold air rushed past them, crisp and sharp, but the layers she wore made it almost comfortable. She let herself sink into the moment, letting the hum of the engine and the rush of the wind embrace her. When she opened her eyes just a little, they were still downtown, weaving through quiet back streets – maybe his way of making sure they weren't being followed.
Her gaze fell to his left arm. Somewhere beneath the leather and fabric was the tattoo she remembered—the mark the Salazars had left on him, a reminder of his time undercover. She imagined it for a moment, the inked skin concealed beneath the layers of clothing. Higher up, she thought, was the spot where he used to shoot up. Her heart ached faintly at the memory. It had been weeks since they'd last talked about it, and she was relieved. He really seemed to be past the worst of it. She allowed herself to hope he was truly over the drugs.
Her mind wandered further, picturing his other tattoos. The one encircling his bicep. The one on his shoulder. Marks that told stories she'd only begun to unravel in their late-night conversations. She found herself smiling faintly, as she realized her thoughts had turned unexpectedly intimate.
Audrey closed her eyes again and focused on her hands, resting somewhere against his chest. Her gloves, his jacket, the protective layers between them were all that separated her from him, and yet they only made her imagine what lay beyond. His skin. She imagined it warm under her touch. She pictured his chest, the chest hair she remembered.
A flush crept up her neck as her thoughts spiraled further, unbidden, and right now she was glad to hide it all beneath the helmet she was wearing. She snuggled closer, resting her head against his, hoping he couldn't sense the way her mind was running wild. She imagined him beneath the leather, beneath the fabric, naked and raw. The thought startled her, but she couldn't shake it. She felt her heartbeat quicken, warmth pooling in her chest as the images ran wild in her mind.
Audrey bit her lip, burying her face against his back as if to hide from her own thoughts. She prayed silently that he couldn't somehow read her mind, that he didn't know how deeply her imagination already wandered. But she couldn't stop it—the closeness of the ride, the quiet intimacy of the moment, made it impossible to resist. Jack was here, so close, and she let herself savor the feeling, even as her thoughts ran ahead of her.
The bike leaned slightly as Jack guided them through a turn, and she opened her eyes again, forcing herself to focus on the streets instead of the man in front of her. But it was no use. Her grip on him tightened once more, and she let herself wonder—just for a moment—if he felt it too.
As they sped through the quiet streets, Audrey's thoughts drifted, carried by the hum of the engine and the steady rhythm of the ride. It had been years since she'd been on the back of a motorcycle—decades, really. The last time was in her early twenties, during her first year at Yale. She had dated a guy then, the one before Paul, and he had had a motorcycle too. She smiled at the memory, her arms tightening slightly around Jack as the images from her youth came flooding back.
David's bike had been smaller, and his skills as a rider far less polished than Jack's, but the thrill of it had been the same. She remembered the way she used to laugh, carefree and wild. Back then, life had seemed so open, so full of possibilities. There had been no Secret Service, no marble halls, no weight of expectation pressing down on her shoulders. Just the wind in her hair and the promise of adventure.
She laughed softly to herself, the sound muffled by the helmet, as she remembered a conversation she'd had with Jack a few weeks ago. They'd been talking late into the night, as they often did, about what it would be like to be young again. When she'd told him she would just like to be 16 again. Jack had laughed, his voice warm and unguarded, and back then she'd found herself wishing she could hear that laugh in person. Now, here she was, holding onto him as if she'd been waiting for this ride her whole life.
After about twenty minutes of weaving through quiet streets and backroads, the bike began to slow, but not for a red light. Audrey's heart skipped slightly as Jack pulled over to the side of a road with little traffic, the hum of the engine softening until it stopped entirely. The sudden silence felt almost jarring after the steady rhythm of the ride.
Jack killed the engine and removed his helmet. He ran a hand through his hair, turned around, glanced at her, and for a moment, he hesitated, as if unsure what to say. She followed his lead, unclipping her helmet and pulling it off. The cool air hit her face, and she shook her hair loose from where it had been pinned beneath the helmet.
For a long moment, they simply stared at each other. Audrey's fingers tightened slightly on the helmet she held in her lap, her lips parting, but no words came. "Hi," she finally managed, her voice soft and almost tentative.
"Hi," Jack echoed, his own voice rougher, like he was fighting to find the right words. His blue eyes locked onto hers, and for a moment, she was so spellbound by the situation that she almost forgot to breathe.
Jack had to fight the urge to just pull her into his arms and kiss her right there. She was so close, closer than he had ever dared to imagine she might be again. The way her hair fell softly around her face, the faint blush on her cheeks from the ride—it was almost too much. He clenched his fists briefly, steadying himself. He couldn't. He wouldn't.
Audrey felt her heart pounding as she looked at him. It was harder to meet him in person than she'd expected. For weeks, their connection had grown over the phone, their conversations effortless and intimate. She had admitted to herself in the quiet of these nights that she'd fallen in love with him during those calls. But now, seeing him face-to-face, she didn't know what to do with those feelings. She thought of what Jack had said on Valentine's Day—that he'd thought about visiting her in D.C. but had been afraid to. Now, she understood. She felt the same fear now.
"You okay?" he asked finally, his voice breaking the silence.
Audrey nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Yeah. I'm more than just okay. You?"
A genuine smile appeared on his face. "Yeah, I'm good." He really was. He'd waited for this moment so long, had pictured it in his mind and now here it was.
The words felt inadequate, and they both knew it. The easy rhythm of their phone calls seemed to evaporate in the space between them. They exchanged a few more halting words—small pleasantries that felt strange after everything they'd shared which went so much deeper, which had been so much more personal. Each pause felt heavier than the last, and Audrey found herself glancing away, unsure how to bridge the gap.
Finally, she took a breath and met his gaze. "Can we just keep riding?" she asked softly. "I… I love the feel of it."
Jack blinked, caught off guard, but then he nodded. "Yeah. Of course."
He had already wanted to ask her how much time she had, where she'd like to go, but her words had already given him the answer. She didn't care about the destination, only the ride. That, he could do. He reached for his helmet, and as Audrey did the same, he mentally selected one of the destinations he'd scouted earlier. Something quiet, away from the bustle of the city, where they could disappear for a while.
Her arms wrapped around him again, and as he started the engine and pulled back onto the road, she felt the tension in her chest ease. The steady hum of the bike, the cool air rushing past—it was exactly what she needed.
After a while, Jack guided them onto the highway, heading south. The open road stretched out before them, and Audrey let herself sink into the ride. Her thoughts circled back to those first moments after they'd stopped. She felt foolish for being so tongue-tied, so at a loss for what to say. She had spent weeks imagining what it would be like to see him again, and now that the moment had come, all her words had failed her.
Her eyes drifted over his form, her hands resting lightly against his chest. Jack looked good—better than she'd expected. His hair was a little longer than she remembered, and he'd put on a few pounds since the last time she'd seen him, a healthy weight that only added to his appeal. He looked stronger, solid, like the man she'd always known he could be. Almost like the one he was, nine months ago, when she'd first met him in DC.
Audrey was glad they'd chosen to keep riding. She wouldn't have known what to say if they'd stayed there any longer, staring at each other. She would have just stammered.
Or she would have done something very stupid.
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