Taz’s phone rang the moment before she handed it over to the Situation Room security team. No cell phones were allowed past the outer security door.
She glanced behind her, but the West Wing lobby was a crush of people hurrying from task to task.
There wasn’t much of a corner to step to in the small security foyer, but she did so. Jeremy and Rose also stepped aside with her, offering some buffer before she answered—more carefully this time.
“Hello?”
“Hi, it’s me, not a recording of me.”
“Hi yourself, Miranda. Are you okay?”
“I seem to be.”
“I’m so glad. Did Holly ‘kill the b***h’ like she promised?” There was a long silence that Taz had learned meant puzzlement. “There was some Navy puke of an officer that Holly was going to kill for me.”
“Oh.”
“Not literally.” They’d left the tea
