Free Bishop (Political Royalty Book 3) by Evelyn Adams

woman behind her like a shadow.
    She’d left the rally while he was still shaking hands, he assumed to get out of the heat and go back to the hotel room to cool off. From the looks of things, she’d been up to something. He had a feeling he didn’t want to know what. Looking like a woman on a mission, she headed straight for Haven. Walker moved quickly to intercept her, but his wife didn’t glance in his direction.
    “Haven, darling,” she said, layering on a thick film of bless your heart condescension. “I need help with something. Is there somewhere private we could go to talk?”
    He would have bet most of his fortune Sandra wouldn’t confront Haven about what was going on between the two of them. It wasn’t her style. Treating the other woman like a serf and enlisting her to do something demeaning was, starting with telling her to help rather than asking.
    “Sandra, Haven is busy with the campaign. What do you need—maybe I can help?”
    His wife looked at him, considering, before glancing back at her companion. The young woman looked familiar, but Walker couldn’t place her. She nodded, her eyes huge and owlish, and Sandra turned back to face him.
    “Fine, but I need Haven too.”
    “Of course, Mrs. Walker,” said Haven, interjecting herself between them. “We can use the room next door. It’s empty.” She motioned to the door linking the adjacent hotel room. “Give me a minute to finish up here and I’ll join you.”
    Not waiting for Sandra’s answer, she turned her attention back to a stunned-looking Justin. Sandra ushered the other woman through the door and Walker had a moment to wonder where he was supposed to be. Did he follow his wife or wait for his mistress? How the fuck did men do this shit? He felt completely out of his element and uncharacteristically irrelevant. In the end, he trailed after Sandra, taking one of the armchairs in the small seating area. Sandra and the other woman sat on the small sofa and if he hadn’t known better, he would have thought his wife was being protective. It didn’t make sense, but nothing about this cluster fuck made sense anymore.
    “Shepherd Walker,” he said, leaning forward and offering the young woman his hand.
    She took it, the strength of her grip surprising him. She’d seemed shy, almost shrinking, to begin with, but it was as if sitting next to Sandra somehow gave her confidence.
    “Becca Newman,” she said. “Matt—the Tribune reporter—is my brother.”
    It only took a second for him to put it all together. The family resemblance, now that he knew about it, was easy to see.
    “You’re at ASU, right?” Her brother had said something about computers, he thought. “Are you here visiting Matt?”
    “Becca’s been traveling with the campaign for a couple of weeks now. While she was on spring break.” Anyone else would hear Sandra’s words as perfectly polite. He’d known her long enough to hear the you dumb shit implied. “She spent time with the girls when we were in Florida.”
    Sandra would have told him that. He knew she would. He remembered almost everything his staff said to him. Enough that they’d occasionally teased him about it over the years. He wondered how much of what his wife said he missed.
    “Of course, how thoughtless of me. The girls had a fantastic time with you and your brother. I’ve been hearing about magic spells and quidditch for weeks. When do you go back to school?”
    Before she could answer, Haven slipped into the room and hurried to the armchair across from him. He was such an idiot. What possible upside was there to wedging himself between his wife and his mistress?
    “Now, what can I help you with?” asked Haven, ignoring him for the time being to lean closer to the women.
    “I need you to make an assault charge go away.” Sandra leaned back in the sofa, looking like the queen of all she surveyed and clearly enjoying the shock value of her statement.
    “Whose assault charge?” asked Haven,