Jake Westerby: Deep Undercover by Derek Adams

Author:Derek Adams
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: M/M Suspense, Source: Amazon
ISBN: 9781554878055
Publisher: eXtasybooks
Published: 2011-02-14T00:00:00+00:00

“Mr. Westerby?” Jake’s shoulders hunched forward and he considered ducking out of the lecture hall. Unfortunately, the knot of students loitering at the nearest exit blocked his way. He turned slowly and made his way back down to the lectern, feeling very much the errant schoolboy.

Nothing had gone right since he stepped out of the showers that morning. First off, he had nicked himself while shaving—something he almost never did. It was a stubborn little gash, requiring the application of several wads of toilet paper to stanch the flow of blood.

That little episode had put him ten minutes behind, making breakfast and coffee impossible. He had rushed back to his room, slipped into khakis and a pale blue shirt, grabbed his books and dashed out the door, confident that he looked like a legitimate student.

As he loped across the main quadrangle, he was puzzled by the startled looks his fellow students were giving him. Curious, he slipped into the men’s room at the lecture hall. To his dismay, Jake saw that the damned cut on his cheek had begun to bleed again, spraying the front of his shirt with crimson speckles, making him look like the victim of a particularly messy accident. He stripped off the shirt, stuck it under the cold-water tap and scrubbed it vigorously. The effect was less than successful—now he looked like a man who had bled to death in deep waters.

Jake wadded up the shirt and crammed it in the garbage can beside the door. The tank top he had worn as an undershirt wasn’t exactly appropriate, but his choices were limited. He had heard that Castellano was a stickler for attendance, ousting students who didn’t show up for his lectures unless they had a damned good reason. Well, he was no longer bleeding, so he couldn’t very well plead a medical excuse and the weather this morning was actually warm enough to justify a tank top. Besides, Jake looked good and knew it. He made a futile effort to adjust the navy fabric to cover his prominent nipples, brushed his hair out of his face, left the bathroom and headed towards the lecture hall that housed Professor Castellano and his musings on the ancient world.

He was late and his entry disrupted the proceedings as he made his way to the only available seat in the hall—dead center, first row, directly under the patrician nose of Jeffrey Castellano. The man stopped his lecture in mid-sentence and stood silently while Jake sat down and fumbled with his notebook.

“And you are…” the professor asked, quite obviously displeased.

“Westerby,” Jake muttered meekly, his cheeks flaming crimson. “Jake Westerby…” Detective, First Class he almost said, but stopped in time. “I’m sorry, sir.”

“So are we all, Mr. Westerby. Now then, if you’re quite settled, I’ll try to pick up the thread of my lecture.”

“I’m sorry,” Jake muttered his apology a second time. Castellano began speaking and Jake’s blood pressure began to slip back into the normal range. Then, when he reached

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