Scorched (Shenandoah Shadows Novella Book 2) by Melissa F. Miller

Author:Melissa F. Miller [Miller, Melissa F.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Brown Street Books
Published: 2021-02-14T16:00:00+00:00

10

Trent peered out the window. The gracious gentleman farms of Northern Virginia were vague, hulking shapes, nearly invisible against the dark, new moon sky. Olivia was silent as she navigated the station wagon along the windy, narrow ribbon of road.

They crested a hill and flowed left around a sharp curve. They were close. He’d only been here once before, but he remembered that rise and curve. He leaned forward and strained to see.

“There,” he said, pointing across her to a large structure on the left. “That’s Sampson’s place.”

She slowed the car to a crawl and followed the line of his finger with her eyes. “It’s huge. So what’s the plan?”

“We’re going to knock on the door and Sampson’s going to let us in.”

She eased off the gas and turned to face him in the dimly lit car, her uncertainty splashed across her face. “At eleven o’clock at night, uninvited and unannounced? Are you sure about that?”

He was reasonably confident. “I’m pretty sure. The rear admiral personally signed off on my honorable discharge. He flew me out to meet with Jake himself right here at his farm. If it weren’t for the two of them, I’d probably be sitting in the brig in Norfolk right now.”

She bobbed her head from side to side, considering. “Okay. I just hope he’s a night owl.”

“He is,” Trent assured her.

Lloyd Sampson was not only a night owl; he was a night drinker. And at this point in the evening, he’d be about three bourbons in, chatty but cogent, just the way Trent wanted him.

Olivia rolled up to the entrance, eased the car between two weathered brick columns, each topped with a bronze post light that burned brightly in the darkness, and continued on to the smooth, paved drive leading to the governor’s circle in front of the Sampson estate.

Trent pulled his thoughts together as they walked up to the door. He raised his hand to lift the knocker, and the porch sconces illuminated before the metal had fallen back against the wood, flooding the porch with light. The front door opened a crack, and one faded green eye peered through the opening above a deadbolt chain.

“What do you want?”

The gruff question came out with a smooth edge, no doubt courtesy of the rear admiral’s top shelf whiskey.

“Rear Admiral, sir. It’s Trent Mann. I served under you in Abuja. Task Force Blue, sir.” Muscle memory kicked in, and he stiffened, ramrod straight.

The eye widened, a spark of recognition lit within it, and the door cracked open another inch.

“I remember you, Lieutenant Commander. Who’s your friend, son?”

“This is Olivia Santos, sir. If you recall, I’m working for Jake West at Potomac Private Services now. Ms. Santos is a client.”

The chain snicked along its track, and the door swung open. Lloyd Sampson examined the pair on his porch with a wary expression. “And you’ve brought a client to my doorstep in the middle of the night for what purpose?”

“If you let us in, sir, I can explain.”

Sampson hesitated, then scanned the dark front lawn and the lane beyond it, trying to spot an ambush or a second team.

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