by Camden Mays
“Hello?”
“I believe your troubles may just be beginning, Congressman.”
“Who is this?”
“Just consider me an ally with similar goals and a taste for the finer things. Take a look at the photos I just sent you.” Shepherd looked at the inbox and opened the file to see racy photos of Emma and a video of their numerous bedroom adventures at the Hilton Capital.
“If this is some kind of blackmail or extortion . . .”
“I assure you it is so much more than that. Obviously you didn’t open the second file. I suggest you review that before saying anything you may regret.” Shepherd clicked the second link that revealed images of his escort lying dead on the bench. “I believe you know her as Emma. Such a pity. I told you we had similar tastes, but how will it look when the police find out about your involvement with her? First the reporter, then your friend, now your favorite call girl, who the intelligence community knows as a Russian SVR agent.”
Shepherd’s world was crashing in. He thought he had troubles before, but now an avalanche of dread overtook him. “What do you want from me?”
“I have the resources and capabilities to deal with a wide array of challenges. You’re in a position of influence and soon to be a Senator if the election goes your way next term. We can help make that happen for you. You’ll just be required to share information with us on occasion.”
“And if I don’t agree?”
“You are a bright man, Mr. Shepherd. Surely you can figure out the consequences here.”
Shepherd paced the floor.
“You hold all the cards. It doesn’t feel like a good partnership. Perhaps you can extend a gesture of goodwill to help me evaluate the capabilities you seem so confident about.”
“What do you have in mind?”
“Make the Regis investigation go away and eliminate a CIA officer and his FBI girlfriend.”
“That is a very bold request. Consider the Regis mattered resolved. As for Special Agent Hannah Jacobs and the American spy Cole Cameron, well, the timing is not ideal.”
“So you know about them. And just so you know, I’m not looking for subtlety. Just results.”
“Of course, I know you despise Cameron.” There was a deep sigh over the speaker of the phone. “It will have to be with the right circumstances, so I’m not sure when the task will be completed, but I will see to it.”
“Very well then. When will I hear from you again?”
“We will find you, Mr. Shepherd. I suggest you remove the SIM card and battery from this phone and dispose of it.”
✽✽✽
Morgan County, Tennessee
The bed in Hannah’s room squeaked, and the mattress bounced, jarring Hannah from her sleep. She rolled over to see Cole mumbling and trembling and shaking as if he was wrestling demons. Sweat had soaked his side of the sheets and his pillow. She wanted badly to ease his emotional suffering but was unsure if she should wake him. Just as she reached over, he raised up in the bed and shouted something indiscernible. She scooted over to him and wrapped her arms around him, hugging him from behind.
“It’s OK, babe. I’m here. You’re with me. You’re OK.” She felt his fast-beating heart slow back down and his normal breathing return as he gained control.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry . . .”
“No, babe, you’ve been through a lot. I’m here for you.”
“It was so real. I felt like I was being shocked all over again.” Hannah softly kissed his back as he told her about his dream. “Then that freakin’ Lion, you know, like a real lion, was prowling around the baby’s crib, and began pawing and scratching and was ready to leap into the crib. That’s when I woke up.”
“Oh sweetie.” Hannah kissed his back and squeezed him tight.
“Ow, ow, ow,” Cole said as his bruised rib cage felt the pressure.
“Shit, sorry. I forgot. You know, you really faked it well in front of Jess and my parents.” Hannah had observed how Cole fought back his agony when around others.
“Honey, this bed is soaked. I must have lost a gallon of fluids. I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll get us some clean sheets, but before I do that, why don’t you let me put some cream on the wounds again. Go to the bathroom, rinse the sweat off first, and I’ll get you some water from the kitchen,” Hannah said.
Cole’s body was sprinkled with nearly three dozen welts and burns from the electrical prodding. Some were worse than others. After rinsing, he lay facedown, and Hannah applied the healing ointment to the spots on his back, butt, and legs. He turned over, and she softly touched and dabbed each spot. Cole smiled as Hannah nursed him.
“What?” Hannah said, catching his gaze.
“Remember the blanket on the plane that Jason put on me and I thought it was you?” Cole said.
“Yeah,” Hannah said, laughing at the memory. “You were embarrassed and turned red.”
“I know, but I remember you saying that you weren’t the caregiving type. And yet here you are—nursing me and doing a pretty damn good job of it, too.”
“Well, I need my baby’s father and soon-to-be husband in tip-top shape.” She leaned over and kissed him and stared into his eyes.
“Maybe the next time you could wear a nurse outfit.” Cole gave a mischievous grin.
Hannah shook her head, sat back up to finish off the rest of the wounds, and glanced down at his nude body, seeing his arousal. “Seriously? That’s all it took?”
“Sorry, it’s just a natural reflex.” Cole laughed, which made the bed squeak, which made him laugh even harder.
“Shh! Shut up! We’ve got a wedding this afternoon. Let’s get clean sheets on this bed.”
“OK, OK, but seriously, we should do that nurse outfit at some point.”
Chapter 35
Morgan County, Tennessee
The clouds that carried the morning rain drifted away, opening clear blue skies on the chilly November day. Inside, Darryl Capps stood next to his friend Cole Cameron at the altar of the country church as the pastor, with a bible in hand, motioned for the small group in attendance to stand as Hannah Jacobs was escorted down the aisle by her father. Because of the ad hoc nature of the wedding, she was not in a typical formal wedding dress. Instead, she wore a simple white dress that stopped just above her knees, one that she had kept at her parents’ house for Sunday visits.
“She looks perfect, Cole,” Capps whispered. “I still don’t know how you got so damn lucky.”
“I know, Darryl. Me neither.”
The pastor cleared his throat, signaling for the boys to stop talking.
Cole glanced at his daughter standing with Brittany in the second pew. She gave her dad an acknowledging smile and wink of approval. Amy Wiggins and a couple of Hannah’s friends from the Bureau were the only other DC guests there. The rest were family and a few close neighbors. Mrs. Jacobs was dabbing her eyes with tissues while Mr. Jacobs fought to keep himself from tearing up as well.
“Take care of my girl,” the old man said as he handed his daughter to Cole.
“I will, sir. Thank you.” Cole took her hand and led her to stand next to him at the altar. The rest of the ceremony was a blur for Cole. There were a few laughs, especially when Hannah nervously misspoke the vows.
The pastor had led Hannah through the lines, having her repeat each phrase. Then he turned to Cole and said, “I, Cole,” which was Cole’s part to repeat. Hannah repeated the line instead, causing the pastor to say, “No, sweetie, he has to say them for himself.”
Soon they were presented as husband and wife, and everyone took their turn offering congratulations as they made their way out of the church building. Cole and Hannah stood on the steps of the church posing for another picture. Cole saw a dark car down on the side of the road away from the church parking lot. It looked like the same car he had seen earlier that week when they visited the pastor and went to the county clerk. He caught Capps’s attention and nodded toward the car.
The best man disappeared around the corner of the church.
“We’re about done. You ready to go to the house?” Hannah asked as she stood with her parents for one more photo.
“Hold on just a minute,” Cole said, seeing that Capps was in position. Then he began walking toward the dark car, removing the Glock that was holstered in back of his pants. He kept the gun behind him, out of sight of the driver.
“Dad, what’s going on?” Jess asked, seeing her dad’s movement.
“Stay with Hannah, honey.”
The car engine started. Cole swung the gun around and pulled back the slide to put a round in the chamber as he ran toward the vehicle.
“Cole!” Hannah yelled from the steps, seeing what was going on. Her mother and Janice screamed when they saw the gun drawn.
Just as the driver was ready to put the car in gear, Capps busted the passenger side window and aimed his gun at the driver. “Don’t move!” he ordered. “Show me your hands!”
Cole threw open the driver’s door to see a middle-aged man with his hands in the air. “I’m a reporter! I’m just a reporter!”
“Show me some ID,” Cole demanded as he leaned toward the window. The reporter offered his credentials.
“What the hell? You could have been killed.”
“I’m sorry! I’ve been doing a series for the Post. You know, following your story and that of Special Agent Hannah Jacobs,” the reporter said, nodding in her direction as she approached the car.
Cole stood up and apologetically turned to Hannah. “He’s a reporter.”
“What?” she said in disbelief, getting to the car and peering in for herself. “I can’t believe you guys carried your guns to the wedding.” She gave Cole a dirty look and then spoke to the reporter. “Don’t you have something better to do than follow us around?”
“Well, Ms. Jacobs—or is it Mrs. Cameron?” There was a pause and as neither Hannah nor Cole replied. “Well, Special Agent Whatever, your man here is a big story, and I think I’m the kind of writer you want on your side.”
Hannah realized Capps still had his gun trained on the man. “Darryl, good Lord, put your gun down,” Hannah said, moving between the driver and Cole. “And what do you mean the kind of writer we want on our side?”
“Surely you understand it can be a fickle game with the press. Especially in DC,” the reporter said.
“Is that supposed to be some kind of threat?” Cole asked, looking around Hannah as Capps raised his gun again.
“Darryl!” Hannah yelled. He lowered it again.
“No, not at all. I just know that you have made some powerful enemies, Mr. Cameron. Those who don’t have scruples or share your patriotic views.”
“You don’t know anything about my patriotic views.”
“That is why I’m here. To learn more about you. And you need me if you want to have a chance against the political headwind coming your way. And Mrs. Jacobs-Cameron . . .” He was guessing.
“Hannah. If you let the broken window and the gun-slinging go, you can call me Hannah.”
“Hannah, the last story that Darcy Regis was writing was about your husband there. Darcy was a rising star at the Washington Post with a bright future. She had grit.” He paused a moment, and Cole thought about the evening he had met Darcy. “She came by that naturally I suppose. She was my daughter, and I want your help to find her killer. In return, I’ll help you out with the sleazy politicians. My name is Peter Regis,” he extended his hand for Hannah and Cole.
“I’m sorry for your loss, Mr. Regis,” Hannah said.
“Call me Peter, please.”
“Well, Mr. Regis, you’re kind of ruining my wedding day,” Hannah said.
“Our wedding day,” Cole deadpanned with a tilt of his head.
Hannah shook her head, thinking of the work her man required to be reshaped.
“Sure, honey. Our wedding day.” She shook her head and muttered something that got a laugh from Regis and Capps. “Since you’re here, you might as well join us at the house for the reception.”
“Really?” Peter and Cole asked simultaneously.
“Yes, and you two are going to put up some plastic or something for his window. It’s going to rain tonight. Mr. Regis, we have a couple of conditions. First, our private lives stay private. You are welcome to our home and the reception, but not a word about the wedding or my parents or anything else private. Second, you promise to never report anything about us without our permission. And finally, we won’t assume responsibility for your safety. As you can see, we’re too busy trying to take care of ourselves. Do we have a deal?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Capps was laughing in the passenger seat. “Cole, you just walked out of the church, and she’s already got you whupped!” He snorted.
Hannah leaned in the driver’s window and shot Capps a dirty look as Peter Regis leaned back, making sure the intended target caught it.
“Maybe that’s why you’re still single, Darryl.”
“Huh?”
Later, as the guests arrived at the Jacobs home for the small reception, Mr. Jacobs patted Patches’s head. The dog was bouncing from guest to guest, soaking up the affection.
“Sir, is there some thick plastic out in the garage or somewhere that we can use to cover the reporter’s window we broke?” Cole asked.
“Yep. Out in the shed I got a roll of clear plastic. Should be a box cutter and some duct tape out there as well. Take what you need.”
Hannah watched from the garage door as Cole and Capps made quick work of a temporary plastic cover on the reporter’s car window and returned to the house just as the sky darkened and the rain began to pour down. They both limped their way back up the gravel driveway, getting wet from the storm. She noticed the two men didn’t move as gracefully as they once did. They had both been through a lot. Hannah handed them towels as they came into the garage.
“You guys barely got that covered in time.”
“Nah, we had it,” Cole said, looking back down the drive at the torrential downpour as Hannah helped dry him off.
“Uh-huh. Come on in. Let’s enjoy the reception. We’re supposed to cut a cake or something. Everyone’s waiting on us.” Hannah took Cole’s hand and pushed Capps in ahead of them to the crowded kitchen. Folks were spread out around the kitchen table and into the living room.
Janice and Capps each offered a toast to the bride and groom, while Hannah and Cole thanked the guests and Hannah’s parents. Cole politely fed Hannah a small piece of the cake that Mrs. Jacobs had baked. When it was Hannah’s turn, she shoved a large piece into Cole’s mouth, nearly choking him. “That’s about what he looks like when he eats now, isn’t it, Jess?” she said, getting laughs from everyone.
There was music, laughter, and joy in the peaceful country home that evening. The song “Something Just Like This” by The Chainsmokers and Coldplay came on, and Jess turned the volume up. All the girls jumped with their hands in the air during the chorus.
Cole watched Hannah, Jess, Brittany, Amy, and the others dance. He laughed as Capps joined them, bouncing on his good leg. Cole couldn’t resist. He pulled himself out of his chair and joined in. The aches and pain in his body seemed to fade as Cole appreciated the moment, tilted his head back, and joined the singing
About the Author
Camden Mays is the pen name for the author who lives in Atlanta, Georgia with his wife, Debbie, and dog, Toby, a Cavalier King Charles Spaniel. Mays loves to travel and watch football or a good movie.
He is the proud father of two grown daughters but hates that the older they get, the older it makes him feel. He loves a variety of music genres but can’t dance without embarrassing himself. He is an aviation enthusiast with a private pilot license but is convinced that mother nature and economic realities conspire against him to keep him grounded.
For more information visit the author’s website:
CamdenMays.com
p; Camden Mays, The Lion's Prey
