C.J. Miller - Shielding the Suspect

Brady had spoken to Susan, but she’d done most of the talking. She had been waiting in his room when he’d returned from his session with the therapist. At the thought of Susan, the memory of making love with her lodged in his mind, making it difficult to focus on the conversation. She was a true beauty with long hair and expressive brown eyes, a narrow waist he could wrap his hands around and soft, delicate skin. At least his injuries hadn’t killed his libido. Whether they were bad for each other or not, Brady would never stop wanting Susan.

His brief discussion with Susan wasn’t Justin’s business. “Yes. She came to the hospital.”

No point in denying it and no point in delving into details. If Susan wanted Justin to know something about their conversation, she would tell him.

“Susan and I are engaged. Did she tell you that?” Justin asked.

She hadn’t. But Brady had known. His brother Reilly had mentioned it to him. Reilly and Susan worked together at the police station, Reilly as a detective and Susan as a sketch artist. It was a job she’d taken to supplement her income from selling her artwork.

“I’m aware of your engagement.” Their engagement. Susan belonged to another man. Though he’d heard it before, the words hit him with blunted pain.

Justin bared his teeth and Brady took a sliver of delight in knowing his caginess was getting to the other man. “If you are aware of it, then stay away from her and don’t jeopardize what we have. You walked away from her. Don’t think you’ll win her back with some poor, hurt veteran routine.”

Brady took exception to almost everything Justin had said. He wanted Susan to be happy and he would never put her in a place to make a difficult decision, like asking her to choose between him and Justin. After the way Brady had treated her, she’d probably choose Justin anyway. She deserved what Justin was offering. A house. A family. A stable life. A boring life perhaps, but a stable one.

Things Brady couldn’t offer anyone. Couldn’t offer before and certainly couldn’t offer now. His knee throbbed and he forced more weight onto his good leg and the cane.

“You’re engaged. She made her choice.” Leave it at that.

“Yes, she did. She chose me,” Justin said, his expression radiating superiority.

Justin was former air force and he had friends and family who were still active duty. He could provide Susan the type of life she deserved, but he was also under his father’s thumb. Brady couldn’t help wondering what Lieutenant General Tim Ambrose thought of Susan. Brady had gotten the impression Justin’s father wanted his son to pick a Stepford wife who would blend in with the Ambrose family’s social circle. Brady couldn’t picture Susan as servile, submissive or thrilled to take a role in the political games that were played by military men at Lieutenant General Ambrose’s level.

“I’m happy for her,” Brady said. For her. Not for Justin. He couldn’t have cared less about Justin’s happiness. Bitterness seeped into his chest, taking some of the heat off his stinging leg. Though Brady wasn’t good enough for Susan, it wasn’t easy to watch another man with the woman he desired. Hell, two years ago, he would have gone crazy with jealousy to think about Susan with another man. He’d had to let her go. For her sake. He was a disaster for her.

“If you’re happy for her, then stay away. We don’t need you nosing around,” Justin said.

Justin hadn’t changed. Despite his lofty façade, he was still plagued with self-doubt and the constant need for reassurance, just as he had been in the military. Brady wasn’t in the mood to stroke his fragile ego.

Brady’s thigh muscles shook with fatigue. He dug deep for the energy to remain standing. “If Susan is satisfied with you, you have nothing to worry about.” Justin needed to leave so Brady could rest.

Justin glared at him. “Don’t mess with me. My family is powerful and you’ll regret it.”

Brady didn’t care about power or worry about Justin’s threat. The Truman family was loyal and resourceful. Brady’s mother was former CIA, his dad a former Navy SEAL, his brother Reilly was a detective and his oldest brother, Harris, an FBI agent. Over the course of their careers, they had made contacts and alliances with people in influential positions. Even Brady had a few connections he could reach out to if a situation became too dicey. But none of those connections could help him walk again or erase what had happened in the past and win over Susan.

Is that what he wanted? To win over Susan? He didn’t want to watch Susan marry Justin, but like everything else, Brady couldn’t do anything to change it.

Brady’s knee gave out and his other leg couldn’t catch his balance despite the cane. He fell, his cane skidding out from under him, his head slamming into the rail on the hospital bed.

Justin’s laughter faded as two nurses raced in, shooed him from the room and assisted Brady.

Brady’s leg hurt only second to his pride.

Chapter 1

Six months later

Brady shifted in his easy chair and stretched his legs in front of him, flexing his foot and rubbing at the pain that shot from his heel to his thigh. His right leg ached when he sat for too long. Sadly, most of what he did involved sitting, as well as thinking and occasionally taking the edge off with a cold beer.

He had nowhere to go and nothing to do except twice weekly rehabilitation appointments. One of those appointments was with the shrink from the hospital. He dreaded those visits.

It was late and most televisions stations were showing infomercials. He reached for the remote to change the channel, but stopped when a knock sounded at the door. Who was visiting this late?

He planned to ignore it and hope whoever it was went away. Instead, keys in the lock jingled and then his brother Harris’s voice called, “Brady?” as the door swung open.

Brady didn’t want to deal with a family visit right now. “What are you doing here?” he asked, knowing he sounded surly. But that was how he felt. Surly and angry. He didn’t like people dropping by unannounced. Lately, he didn’t like seeing people at all.

“Oh, my sincerest apologies. Am I interrupting your doing-nothing time?” Harris asked dryly.

“What do you want?” Brady asked. He wasn’t in the mood for a lecture.

“Since you aren’t returning your phone calls or emails, you left me the option of finding time away from an undercover operation so I could talk to you about something important.”

Guilt mushroomed through him. Brady should have returned his family’s phone calls, but he wasn’t ready. He didn’t want them—or anyone—to see him this way. Now he’d forced Harris temporarily off an undercover mission. He’d add that to his list of screw-ups. He shut off the television. “You’re here. Say what you need to say.” Whatever it was, Brady wasn’t going to like it.

“Reilly is in trouble.”

Brady hadn’t expected that and he rose to his feet. The words lit a fire under him and for the first time in months, Brady had good motivation to get off his butt. “What trouble?”

“Reilly was the first responder on a murder scene and he’s been accused of tampering with evidence,” Harris said. “He’s on administrative leave pending an investigation into the matter.”

Reilly, the middle Truman brother, was a celebrated detective, his recent promotion a reward for the tough cases he’d solved. He would never compromise the integrity of an investigation by hiding or manufacturing evidence. “That’s ridiculous. Why would he tamper with evidence? What idiot would believe something like that?” Brady asked.

“The mayor believes it.”

“The mayor?” Brady didn’t like the pompous windbag who served as mayor of Denver, but since when did the mayor insert himself into police business?