Yuletide Suspect by Lisa Phillips

Author:Lisa Phillips
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2017-01-10T05:00:00+00:00

ELEVEN

Tate was getting sick of explaining himself over and over again, but Liberty was currently being assessed by an EMT so he wasn’t going to start complaining. Concessions would be nonexistent until he convinced these feds he wasn’t the person behind this missing plane.

Nevertheless, he couldn’t help saying, “Maybe you should be out trying to find them, instead of here harassing a guy who has nothing to do with it.”

The fed didn’t react, but Tate’s attention was across the waiting area so it was possible he’d missed it. Liberty winced, but he didn’t think it was over what he’d said. The EMT looked like he was poking her shoulder. The man said, “Looks like you’ll need a stitch or two, and likely some antibiotics. There’s all kinds of germs in a gunshot wound.”

Liberty nodded.

When the agent, Francis Bearn—what kind of name was that, anyway?—started to tap his foot, Tate looked up. Francis stood over him, likely to reinforce the fact that he was in charge and had full control over what happened to Tate next. Which he probably did, but he didn’t need to make a big deal out of it like he was. Tate knew the drill.

“Whether or not you had anything to do with the missing people remains to be seen.” Francis tapped the screen on his phone. “It’s been thirty-six hours since the plane went missing, and right now cooperation is the name of the game.”

“I don’t need to see the picture again. I don’t know where they’re being held, but it looks like an empty room to me. Not sure that’s going to help find them.”

“That’s not what I intend to show you.”

Tate figured the man’s displeasure was due to the fact that he hadn’t been on a presidential detail in at least a decade. He was old enough he’d probably been a Secret Service agent for at least that long, if not longer, but Tate had never met him. Francis could’ve been here in Montana, and slipped through the cracks of promotion, never making it to Washington.

Tate would probably be mad if it had happened to him. Whether or not he’d channel the feeling into making a suspect in a missing persons case feel like the worst criminal in the world, well—he’d like to say he’d be professional enough not to make this personal, but he’d never been accused of taking a back seat.

Tate had been written up a few times, but for nothing more than infractions. It had happened in the army as well, so he’d figured it was just his personality. Some people didn’t like those who inserted themselves into a situation when something didn’t sit right with them. And in the old-boy’s network of the Secret Service, it had happened a few times. Agents like Liberty and the rookie female he’d met in the coffee shop, Alana, didn’t deserve to be treated like they weren’t as good as all the male agents just because they were women. They didn’t deserve to get called “Little Darlin’” and asked to fetch coffee for the men.

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