Locked, Loaded and SEALed

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Locked, Loaded and SEALed Page 20

by Carol Ericson


  And vanishing.

  “It made the news.” He pulled out a chair, flipped it around and straddled the seat. “You made the news.” He whistled. “That asshole of a boss really threw you under the bus.”

  She lifted another shot glass and drained it in a gulp.

  “Drinking yourself into oblivion isn’t going to make the situation better...” Cameron cocked his head and studied her.

  Her brows shot up at that. “Cam, I’m not even close to oblivion.”

  He should know better.

  “The case is wrong.” She slammed down the glass. “Allan March is wrong. I don’t buy it. The scene was too pat. He was too desperate. That guy isn’t the one I was after.”

  Cameron blinked. “The reporter said plenty of evidence was on hand—”

  “Like people don’t get framed?” She laughed, and the sound was bitter. “I know all about that. My dad lost his badge because he got pulled into that BS about setting up drug dealers on his beat.” Though her dad had always sworn he hadn’t been involved in the frame-ups, his protests did little good for his reputation. “People get framed. It’s a sad fact of the world.” She pushed a glass toward Cameron.

  He didn’t take it. He never drank much, and when he did drink, it was only the best. Expensive wines and champagnes. Jeez, the guy loved his champagne. When they’d gotten their master’s degrees, she remembered the way he’d gone out and bought that fancy bottle of—

  “Why would someone want to frame that guy?” His quiet question jerked her from the memory of their past.

  She rolled her shoulders. “Because Allan was convenient.” Duh. Wait, duh? Maybe she did need to slow down on the drinks. “An easy target. The custodian who kept to himself. The widower with no close friends. Maybe the perp I’m after wanted the attention off his back, so he tossed Allan into the mix.”

  Cameron frowned. “Allan...he killed himself.”

  “That’s the part I haven’t worked out yet.” But she would. “I don’t understand that bit. I swear, I actually thought the guy was going to shoot me, but then he turned the gun on himself. Weird as hell.” She reached for another shot glass. The bartender had done such a lovely job of lining them up for her. “Maybe he had a deal with the killer. I mean, Allan had a daughter, after all. One that needs money for college, money for life. And Allan didn’t have any money. He barely had anything at all. Maybe the killer offered Allan money to take the fall. Maybe he was supposed to go out in a blaze of glory.” Her eyes narrowed as she considered this new angle. If Allan had gotten a payoff, then perhaps she could find the paper trail. Follow the money. “But... Allan was a caretaker.” Her voice dropped as Allan’s profile spun in her head. “His nature was protective, so in the end, he couldn’t shoot me. Couldn’t shoot at Blake. That wasn’t who he was.” Her lashes lifted as realization hit her. “He couldn’t attack us because Allan March wasn’t a killer. Instead of shooting us, he turned the gun on himself. The only person he hurt was himself.” Excitement had her heart racing.

  But Cameron just shook his head. His hair—blond and perfectly styled, as always—gleamed for a moment when he leaned forward beneath the faint light over her table. “Normally, you know I love it when you bounce your ideas off me...”

  Her temples were throbbing.

  “But the man had a dead woman at his feet. That part made the news, too.”

  “And no blood on him,” she mumbled. Because that had been bothering her. That was why the scene had been wrong. When they’d first arrived, Allan had been sweating in his white shirt—and there had been no blood on the shirt. Not until Blake shot him. “The vic’s throat was slit—ear to ear—and Allan didn’t have a drop of blood on him. He should’ve had her blood on him.” She pushed to her feet. “I have to make Justin listen to me. I’m not wrong. Allan was just a fall guy. The real killer—”

  Cameron surged to his feet. His hand wrapped around her arm. “You can’t go to your FBI boss with alcohol on your breath and a wild theory spilling from your lips.” His voice was grim. “You want more than a suspension? You want to lose the job forever?”

  “I want to stop the killer!”

  Don’t miss

  AFTER THE DARK by Cynthia Eden,

  available April 2017 wherever

  HQN Books and ebooks are sold.

  www.Harlequin.com

  Copyright © 2017 by Cynthia Eden

  ISBN-13: 9781488012730

  Locked, Loaded and SEALed

  Copyright © 2017 by Carol Ericson

  All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, 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 hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, M3B 3K9 Canada.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

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