Free A Night of Southern Comfort by Robin Covington Page A

shoulder before turning back to her with a contagious grin. “But, let me know if he goes for his gun. His mom will kill me if I bleed on her floor.”
    …
     
    Teague Elliott was a dead man.
    Jack gritted his teeth when Kayla laughed at something his best friend said. Ex-best friend.
    She was beautiful, her hair tumbling around her shoulders in golden waves. The silky strands had smelled like vanilla and weighed heavily on his skin.
    He’d spent the last two days shadowing Kayla, watching her, the people who interacted with her, and the people who watched her. After their argument, he knew she would hinder his surveillance if she suspected what he was doing. Adaptable, he’d lurked in the shadows and resorted to breaking into her office and home to place several spikemikes.
    Reviewing the tapes had revealed the usual, mundane, coma-inducing stuff until a familiar voice sounded across the line—Teague calling her house to confirm their plans for a date. He’d replayed the call several times, analyzing their voices, tearing apart every syllable to determine whether she was interested in Teague.
    He was acting like a damn teenager and he couldn’t stop himself.
    “Jack, you need to stop. The thousand-yard sniper stare is seriously creepy.” Lucky turned to their other companion, Dr. Beckett Sutherland. “Beck, tell him he’s got to cut this shit out.”
    Beck looked up from the medical journal he was reading while indulging in a piece of pie. Distracted at first, his expression sharpened. He removed his glasses and pointed at Jack. “Cut that shit out.”
    “Thanks a lot, Beck,” Lucky grumbled.
    Beck sighed, rubbing his face. The fatigue of a long hospital shift deepened the lines around his mouth. Jack’s attention was diverted for a moment. Beck’s usual drive and ambition was in hyper-drive lately and he looked close to the end of his rope. Only one thing could wring him out like this—a woman.
    Welcome to the club, buddy.
    “Lucky, he has his rules, the way he keeps his balance. Leave him alone.”
    “I should have known you’d take his side.” Lucky grunted, then slapped a pile of folders onto the table. “You’re no better with your I-won’t-sleep-with-people-I-work-with rule.”
    “Leave me out of this. I’m just trying to eat my pie.” Beck’s voice was a low warning.
    Jack listened to the same bickering and fighting he’d been privy to for the last thirty years or so. They were all tense. Pretty soon, this would end in bloody knuckles, a bottle of booze, and a killer hangover. After the last few days that sounded very appealing; however, he couldn’t afford to sink into a bottle of oblivion. He had a job to do.
    He grabbed the top file and opened it, reviewing what Lucky’d gleaned from two days of research into the background of Dr. Michaela Roarke. Mother died when she was 8…took her mother’s maiden name after college graduation…raised by a succession of nannies… Older brother Jeff, history professor, lives in Barcelona with his part—
    He snapped his head up. “Her brother’s gay?”
    “Yep. He came out of the closet and ran off to live in Europe after his father made it impossible for him to stay.” Lucky curled his lip in disgust and pointed to the folder Jack held in his hand. “Michaela hasn’t fared much better. She’s had a handful of lovers and the relationships all ended after they received dream opportunities that could only be arranged by someone with powerful connections.”
    Pleased that Kayla’s list of lovers was short, Jack stifled the urge to preen. He read down the page, processing the facts presented to him, discarding what was irrelevant and categorizing what was left. A couple of boyfriends in college; a fellow medical student; a police officer who was unexpectedly promoted to a detective position out of the DC area; Mitchell Rhodes, currently working as Governor Eastland’s assistant.
    “She dated the asshat from her father’s office?” Jackson