Long Shadow (Veiled Intentions #2) - Elle Keaton Page 0,74

opportunities when he left the navy, and the latter had resulted in people he’d trusted no longer speaking to him.

“If he gets custody of Caleb, I’ll never see him again.” Trevor had leaned in closer to Niall and Marshal, saying quietly, “That can’t happen. Frank Whaley is a POS, and I won’t have my son around him. Unfortunately, he’s also an admiral and has the power to do exactly what he wants. I have no chance against him. I’m lucky had a damn good divorce attorney at the time Emma and I split; he’s spread so many lies about me, I’m almost starting to believe they’re true.”

“I’m wondering if you could dig into Frank Whaley’s life,” Marshal asked. “I can’t help but think that someone who spreads lies like those has something to hide himself. There must be some way to stop him.”

Niall had agreed to see what he could do. He had the resources of West Coast Forensics behind him now; he’d see if they were able to deliver.

“What about Mat?” he’d asked. Keeping a secret from his… boyfriend… felt wrong.

Marshal grimaced. “I’ll talk to Mat. In fact, I’ll take Trevor to meet him.”

“You will?” Trevor looked startled.

Marshal grinned. “You’ll like him. After he gets over his protective grizzly bear act.”

A stray thought had Niall asking Marshal, “Have you treated anyone else lately? Someone like Trevor, someone who couldn’t or didn’t want to go to the hospital?”

He was thinking about Duane Cooper and wondering, if he’d been injured, would he try to get the kind doctor to help him?

Marshal frowned. “No. Usually it’s people like you, Niall, with nowhere else to go, or the seniors who just need a little TLC.” He stopped; he’d obviously remembered something.

“What?”

“Every once in a while, someone on this side of the island will stop by with a minor injury—just to make sure they don’t need the hospital. Joella Wainwright was here the other day, worried about her ankle, and Tress Black is always stopping by with one of her kids. What she really needs is an ER punch card. Her kids throw themselves out of trees, off garage roofs with no regard for their safety.”

“You haven’t seen Duane Cooper, have you?”

“No. Cooper would never ask me for help. The gay might rub off.”

Twenty-Six

Mat

After five days in the hospital—even if he’d been asleep for the better part of them—Mat was about ready to murder someone. He liked to think he was an easygoing kind of guy, but apparently that was a myth. Not being able to do things for himself rubbed him the wrong way, and it didn’t help that he felt weak as a kitten and could only expand his ribs and lung the tiniest bit before he wanted to throw up from the pain.

“You’re in good shape. The next few days will be hard, but by Wednesday or Thursday you’ll feel a lot better,” Marshal said cheerfully.

Mat glared at him. “Is that the truth, or are you just trying to get me to stop bitching?”

Marshal shrugged. “I do know if you keep that language up you’re going to end up teaching Riley some new words.”

“Fuck.”

“Yes, that would be one of them.” Marshal sat on the edge of the bed. “So, before you leave…”

Something about his tone had Mat paying close attention. Marshal seemed off-kilter somehow, but Mat couldn’t put his finger on what it was. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Marshal said. “I just want you to meet the doctor who’s really responsible for saving your life.”

Mat frowned. “What are you talking about? You’re the only qualified surgeon on the island.” To be honest, after he’d learned the extent of his injuries, he was surprised he wasn’t in Everett or Seattle.

Marshal called out, “Trevor, come on in. I want to introduce you to Mat when he hasn’t just been blown up.”

A man about Mat’s age appeared in the doorway; he must’ve been waiting just outside the room. He was tall and lean, almost too lean, with dark hair and shockingly blue eyes. He was in street clothes: worn denim jeans, a T-shirt, and an unzipped hoodie over it. He came over to the bed.

“Hi, Mat, it’s nice to see you awake.” Trevor had a soft voice.

“Marshal says I owe you my life.”

“Well, I don’t know about that. He’s pretty handy with a scalpel.”

“I’m grateful. Grateful to both of you.”

“Now comes the hard part,” Trevor said. “You have to rest and let your body heal.”

Marshal snorted. Trevor glanced at him and rolled his eyes. “It’s