by Leslie Jones
The brigadier inclined his head as he offered his hand. Shelby liked the strength of his grip, but this man hadn’t helped Trevor when he needed it.
“Pleased to meet you,” she said coolly. Lark also looked less than enthusiastic.
“I regret you got caught up in all this,” the brigadier said. “But I must say that MI-5 is grateful for your assistance.”
“We were happy to help Trevor,” Shelby said.
The brigadier turned to him. “We executed the warrants to search Whitcomb’s business and home, as you requested. We can discuss what we found on Monday, and you can back-brief me on this evening’s activities.”
“Very good, sir.”
“Meanwhile, you have injuries that need tending.” The brigadier looked around, found what he wanted, and snapped his fingers.
One of the cops approached. “Yes, sir?”
“We need medical care. An ambulance, right away.”
“Yes, sir.” The cop grabbed his shoulder mike and spoke into it. “Right down this way, sir, if you please.”
The brigadier lifted a casual hand, already turning away to help restore order. “First thing Monday morning, then, Trev.”
Trevor kept his arm around her all the way to the ambulance, and hovered by her side as the paramedic cleaned her knife wound and put a bandage over it.
“You’ll need transport to the hospital for stitches,” the paramedic said. “But it should heal up nice and clean. Now you, young man.” She pointed to the space next to Shelby on the tailgate of the ambulance. “Hop up. Let me take a look at those cuts.”
Trevor looked like he was about to give his “I’m indestructible” speech, so Shelby patted the empty spot next to her. “I’d feel better if I could see that you’re okay,” she said.
He came at once to sit next to her, twining their fingers together. He didn’t seem to notice the paramedic treating his chest wound or the many cuts. He simply held her hand, looking out at nothing.
“Hey,” she finally said, bumping him with her shoulder. “What is it?”
He finally met her eyes. “I’ve never been so scared in my life,” he said, voice so low she had to strain to hear it. “The magistrate issued the search warrants. Why did you feel you had to do all this?”
He gestured around them. The excitement had died down when the police had driven Max away. Now only a few reporters and police mop-up crews remained. An ambulance pulled up directly in front of the manor house. Two paramedics wheeled a stretcher out, its occupant covered by a tarp. She shivered, her hand tightening in his.
“Because of who Max is. He’s fooled the public for years. He supports charities and builds schools. People use words like humanitarian and philanthropist around him.”
“All right. Go on.” Trevor squeezed her fingers encouragingly. She took a breath, thinking how she could explain it.
“I work with both American and foreign politicians like him sometimes. You know they have an agenda you’re not privy to. You walk a razor-wire trying to puzzle out the real plan,” she said. “Sometimes they get caught doing something unethical, or even illegal. In my experience, they’re either reelected because word never reaches the people, or they simply find a new home in a special interest group or PAC or government think tank.”
“And they’re never held accountable,” Trevor said.
She nodded. “Because the public doesn’t know. I wanted the public to know this time. I wanted justice for all the people he’s hurt.”
They sat quietly for a few minutes. The paramedic finished with his cuts and abrasions, and looked at his knee.
“It’s swollen,” she said. “I’ll have to cut your trousers.”
Trevor waved her off. “It’s fine.”
Shelby laughed at him. “Big strong he-man scared of scissors?”
He pretended to glare, but stretched out his leg so the paramedic could cut the material open. Shelby sucked in a breath when she saw it.
“My God, Trevor, it’s the size of a grapefruit!”
“Eh. Maybe a baseball.” A grin tugged at his mouth.
The paramedic put an icepack on the knee. “You’ll be off to hospital as well, young man, to get that knee X-rayed. You two lovebirds will want to ride together, I’m guessing?” Her eyes twinkled.
“Yes,” Trevor said firmly. “Together.”
Her heart in her eyes, Shelby reached up, turning his face to her. He grinned, running a thumb over her cheek. “Trevor.”
“Mm-hmm?” He was looking at her lips now.
“Do you know that I’m mad about you?”
Light flared in his eyes, a delight and possessiveness that thrilled her. “I said I’d do better next time.”
“Well, get going, mister,” she whispered.
His eyes brightened. “I’m completely mad about you,” he said.
And then kissed her senseless.
Did you enjoy Leslie’s alpha
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NIGHT HUSH
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About the Author
LESLIE JONES was an Army Intelligence officer for many years and she brings her firsthand experience to the pages of her work. She resides in Scottsdale, Arizona, and is currently hard at work on her next book.
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By Leslie Jones
Deep Cover
Bait
Night Hush
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. References to real people, events, establishments, organizations, or locales are intended only to provide a sense of authenticity, and are used fictitiously. All other characters, and all incidents and dialogue, are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real.
DEEP COVER. Copyright © 2016 by Leslie Jones. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
EPub Edition JANUARY 2016 ISBN: 9780062363183
Print Edition ISBN: 9780062363206
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