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office for a minute.”
    Charlie nodded, acutely aware of the surprise on the faces of several fellow agents—surprise that rippled through him along with a combination of curiosity and concern. During all of the weeks he had been in the Phoenix office, Elias had never asked to see one of the junior agents. Of course, this was also the first time since his transfer to Phoenix that anyone had been involved in a shootout with a suspect. Afraid to speculate as to the reason he had been the only agent singled out from last night’s incident, Charlie stood and followed Elias out into the hall.
    * * *
    Elias settled behind his heavy oak desk and watched Charlie fold his six-foot-three frame into the chair across from him. He plucked Charlie’s personnel file from a stack of folders on the left side of his desk and slapped it open in front of him. Elias didn’t need to read the information in front of him. He had already memorized it.
    Charlie Whitmore: twenty-nine years old, a Georgetown University Law School graduate, a recent transfer from the Washington DC office, and the son of Senator James Whitmore. A few casual inquiries had also revealed that, like his father, Charlie Whitmore was a practicing Mormon, and the incident report from the night before proved that he knew how to handle himself on the job.
    He also appeared to be without any personal entanglements at the moment that might complicate his upcoming assignment. From what Elias had gathered from his file and the rumor mill, Charlie hadn’t dated anyone seriously since breaking up with his former fiancée shortly before entering the FBI Academy.
    Elias tapped his fingers on the arm of his chair. “I have an assignment I’m considering you for, but I have a few questions first.”
    Only a hint of curiosity sparked in Charlie’s eyes as he leaned back slightly, as though getting more comfortable before the interrogation that was about to begin.
    “I understand you’re Mormon.”
    Charlie nodded, one corner of his mouth lifting slightly. “That’s right.”
    “Have you ever met Kendra Blake?”
    “The singer?” Charlie asked, his eyebrows drawing together. “I’ve heard of her, but I’ve never met her.”
    “Good.” Elias leaned back more comfortably in his own chair. “Her grandfather retired from this office a few years ago, but he’s asked for a favor, and I think you may be the person who can help.”
    “What kind of favor?”
    “She needs protection,” Elias said simply. “There was an incident at her concert in Los Angeles last night. A bomb went off backstage, injuring several people. Her bodyguard was knocked unconscious during the show, and we’re moving forward with the assumption that Kendra may have been the target.”
    Charlie’s voice was professional when he asked, “How many people will be on the protection detail?”
    “Just you.”
    “Just me?” Charlie straightened, and confusion flickered over his face. “I don’t understand.”
    “You’re not a woman, which is a minor downfall, but you’re one of only four agents in this office who hasn’t met her,” Elias admitted.
    “Why would that matter?” Charlie asked. Then his eyebrows lifted, and understanding dawned. “Wait a minute. You want me to protect her without her knowing about it?”
    “Exactly.”
    “I’m confused. How does everyone else in the office know her? And why don’t you want one of the other new transfers to work this with me? And what does it matter that I’m not a woman?”
    Elias chuckled at the last question. “It matters that you’re not a woman because Kendra has a protective grandfather, but I’m going to trust that you won’t give him reason to worry. And Kendra has been into this office dozens of times over the past few years with her grandfather. She even performed a benefit concert for us to help raise money when Ray Underwood’s little girl was fighting cancer. She hasn’t just seen the other agents. She’s talked to them and