Page 1 of Shadows of Before

Prologue

Will Kirkland was feeling pretty damned cocky tonight. At thirty-seven, he’d gotten his dream job, the coveted Presidential Protective Detail. He’d been guarding the president for nearly three weeks but he already felt a part of the team. Guys respected him. Women, too. He glanced past the president. Special Agent Jill Tramane had also been appointed to the PPD.

President Patrick Mahoney, affectionately dubbedIrish, had been elected three years ago and had made a campaign stop for the next election. He was a good guy. Fair. Honest. And it helped that his politics were the same as Will’s.

Will darted his gaze to the crowd. He saw a glint on the right side. He said into his com, “Glint. Coming from…”

The sound of a gunshot.

Will dived for the President. But he was too late. Mahoney lay crumpled up on the ground, Tramane over him. Had she been hit?

She lifted her head and said into her com, “I need medics on stage. Irish has been shot.”

Will went pale.

Tramane looked at him. “It came from the left. Your territory. Hell, Will, you’re responsible for the president getting shot.”

Chapter 1

He came home in disgrace. He’d been suspended from the PPD pending an investigation. He would have gone to the Caribbean and lost himself in liquor but he was forced to return to his hometown instead. His father died, and Jonas Kirkland had left notes to his lawyer that the service should be this week.

Still shaken by what happened, Will had driven to Westwood from D.C. and went right to the house he grew up in. Entered it. The place had been closed up for a long time since his dad was in nursing home and Will couldn’t stand the stuffiness. He dropped his bags in the living room and headed out again. He hadn’t been to visit his dad for a while, and he felt guilty about that. He deeply mourned the man who had raised him.

He drove through the streets of Westwood to Al’s, a dive bar on the outskirts of town frequented by people who didn’t want to be seen. He walked inside and up to a stool and sat. He ordered a scotch and circled around to survey the clientele. When his gaze landed on one of the tables, he practically choked on the sip he’d taken.

What the hell was Katie Donovan doing in a place like this? Images of her when they were guarding his friend Diego filtered through his mind…

Katie, her jaw stubborn as she yelled at him.

Katie, her blue eyes wide with concern over Annie visiting Diego.

Katie’s confession,I was wrong about Denzi…

And finally, that scorching hot kiss in the car. But he’d been another man, then.

Still, he crossed to her. She looked up from her glass. “Kirkland?”

“Yeah.”

“What are you doing here?”

He gestured to her glass. “Same as you, I guess.”

“Go away.”

He sat instead. He could see her blue eyes were muddy with fatigue. She was only thirty-four but lines had formed around those eyes and that luscious mouth that weren’t there before. When she turned her head, he saw her hair was pulled back into a short tail. That she’d chopped all those luscious locks was the worst of all.

She sipped her drink.

“I came home for my father’s funeral.” The words had come out hoarse.

Ah, there was some warmth. “I’m sorry to hear he died.”

“Whathappenedto you?”

A ragged expression. “I was the detective assigned to protect Diego and Annie. After two weeks with nothing happening, I made the decision to end the coverage of him and the house. Too early, it turns out. The girl from the gang got Annie. The chief blamed me.”

“And?”

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