An Eye For An Eye Read Online Free

she was gone. He shook his head. School started a few days ago and she already has a date? The president frowned at his wife.
    “Who’s this boy? Someone from school? Have you met him?”
    Maria laughed. “You sound just like my father when I was her age.” She patted his arm. “Relax, Dave. It’s just a date. Besides, do you know how intimidating you can be? The poor boy is probably nervous enough knowing there will be half a dozen Secret Service agents in the theater with them.”
    The president shook his head. “If some boy is going to ask my daughter out, I should at least get a chance to meet him.”
    Maria smiled, and the president realized that he had missed something.
    “She asked him out, didn’t she?” he said after a moment.
    Maria was still smiling. “Yes, she did. And she didn’t want to scare him off by telling him that he had to come here first.”
    The president held up his hands in surrender. “Okay. Okay.” He smiled weakly. “It looks like the two of you had this all worked out beforehand anyway.”
    “She’s almost seventeen,” Maria said, holding up her glass. “She’s growing up, Dave.”
    Frowning, the president clinked his glass against hers. “Yeah. Too damn fast.”
    Maria shook her head again. “You know the girls won’t always have you or the Secret Service to protect them.”
    And that was the problem, Kendall thought. Over the last two and a half years he had learned just how dangerous a place the world could be.
___
    As Matthew Richter climbed out of his car, he realized he was nervous. It wasn’t the butterflies in his stomach that he always felt before a call-out; the adrenaline-fueled minutes of anxiety before they got the green light, before he and his team burst through the door, guns thrust in front of them, not exactly sure what was waiting on the other side. No, there was no mission tonight, but still, he felt a moment of doubt, a slight uneasiness that told him it had been a while.
    He was a few minutes early, he noticed, as he climbed the steps. Inside, he nodded at the grey-haired man in a tux, standing behind a desk.
    “Hi. Reservations for two. The last name is Richter.”
    “Ah, Mr. Richter,” the maître d' said with a smile. “Right this way, sir. Your guest is already here.”
    Surprised, he checked his watch again. He was early. He followed the maître d' through the dimly lit dining room past a dozen tables, most occupied. He heard the faint sounds of a piano and, as a waiter passed by with a tray in his hand, he caught the smells of rich French sauces and fresh-baked bread. A sommelier was opening a bottle of wine for a smiling couple, their faces illuminated by the soft light of a candle.
    Damn! He thought as he eyed the couple. Was this what she was expecting?
    He followed the maître d' into another room—smaller, only half a dozen tables—and there was Patty, sitting in front of the fireplace. He smiled, trying to hide his discomfort.
    “Hi,” he said as he took a seat.
    Patty smiled back. “Hi.” She waited until the maître d' left then, with a twinkle in her eye, shook her head. “I didn’t realize this place was so…fancy.”
    “The food smells wonderful,” he replied, unsure what else to say.
    She laughed. “You know, for a brief moment, I thought about meeting you outside and suggesting we go find a pizza parlor or something.”
    He grinned, relaxing a bit. “I must admit, I was beginning to question your…choice of restaurants.”
    “You were going to say ‘motives,’ weren’t you?” Her eyes sparkled in the candlelight.
    He held up his hands in mock surrender. “I was trying to be diplomatic.” She was charming, he thought, as he felt himself beginning to relax. “So, how did you find this place?”
    “One of my colleagues mentioned it.” She laughed again. “He told me he and his wife come here occasionally and that the food was excellent.” She shook her head. “He didn’t say a thing about the ambiance!”