Hard Case by Elizabeth Lapthorne Page A

different light.
    “I keep on coming back to Marshall with this,” Troy ground out, frustrated beyond bearing. “Why try to have him killed? Why him? Why not some other dignitary. Is this personal? Is Marshall involved in something we don’t know about? Why him? Why now?”
    “We’ve been over this,” Steve replied. His tone was mild, not accusing or exasperated in the least.
    Troy realized that among his many other excellent qualities, Steve was a patient man.
    “Yes, but it doesn’t make sense yet.” Troy ran a hand agitatedly through his hair, scrubbing his scalp and probably making it look even more scruffy than usual. He couldn’t care less though, his brain ticking over all the frustrating questions he had.
    “We’re assuming the assassin is still here, waiting to pick off Marshall, right?” Troy started again, faster this time as he felt a small opening for them to do something arose.
    “Yeees,” Steve drew the word out, sounding cautious for the first time.
    Troy turned around and eagerly faced his partner. Steve’s face was alight with keen interest.
    “Marshall’s security team will have been briefed when the previous attempt on him failed,” Troy explained. “But the next step is logically that the assassin will try and pick Marshall off, the sooner the better, while his new routine is still in an uproar and mistakes will be made. The longer this drags out, the worse it will be for the assassin and the more pressure James will place on him.”
    “Maybe,” Steve hesitated. “Or maybe James will call him off and set a whole new plan into motion.”
    “Possible, but not likely,” Troy insisted, more sure of himself the longer he thought about it. “This plan has already been thought over a million times, analyzed, maybe even tested out. He’ll be attached to this. While I agree it won’t take much to tip the scales and have James cut his losses and start again, I don’t feel like we’re quite there yet. He’ll think this second assassin is still undiscovered, a wild card—and in many ways that’s true.”
    Troy looked at his watch. It was a little after eleven. He glanced from the laptop—still chugging away through the numerous search engines—to Steven. Steve sat back in his chair, his hands resting lightly on his flat belly, fingers still interlocked. Troy resisted the impulse to squirm under that calm, steady blue gaze. He could practically see his lover’s thoughts, the friendly, warm amusement at his urgent rush to be in action.
    “You want to go over there right this minute,” Steve said, his words completely confident and not remotely a question. “You’re itching to ask Marshall more questions, interrogate him again and then just hang around and try to spot the assassin. Aren’t you?”
    “Of course not,” Troy replied loftily, lying through his teeth. “I’ve just started some runs. They’ll be at least a few hours in the making. We’re being proactive right here.”
    Steve raised an eyebrow, unconvinced.
    Troy glanced again at his watch—not even a minute later than when he last checked—then peered out of the window down to the street. Unconsciously he started to pace yet again, catching himself and freezing when he realized it.
    “Bloody hell.”
    Steve barked out a short, sharp snap of laughter.
    “What say we wait until lunch time?” Steve offered. “That will give us an hour or more to see if we can find James. Then we can pop over and tell Marshall we were out getting some lunch and decided to drop in on him. It won’t look quite as bad as telling him we want to hang around and wait for the assassin to try and shoot him to get our next lead.”
    Troy nodded and came to sit down on the couch. He angled the laptop so they could both see the screen.
    “Deal,” he agreed. They both scooted forward on their respective chairs. Troy grinned, eager to get back to work.

Chapter Seven
     
     
     
    “Gentlemen,” Leland hung up the phone, stood and