Chapter 22
“A government agency?” Eddie was saying, oblivious to my worsening distress. “Well, that’s easily dealt with.”
Which is when I learned how humans handle thorny problems. The large male strode back across the room to his control panel without further comment, picking up an old-fashioned corded telephone then punching in numbers from memory. Like iron filings drawn to a magnet, Sarah glided after him, her arm sliding around Eddie’s waist as the latter hit the button for speaker phone then launched into a string of blustering orders the moment the person on the other end of the line picked up.
“Mr. President, my tax dollars shouldn’t be sending armed gunmen to batter down the walls of a civilian residence,” Eddie growled. Or, perhaps this was instead Bruce Edward Worcester-Green
