Protector: The Elect, Book 1 by Loribelle Hunt

the other guy’s jacket pocket. It lay abandoned a few feet away, a small square business card next to it. She only had time to pick it and shove it in her pocket before Brax hurried her out and back to the car.  
    “Where are we going?”  
    “Aaron’s office. Mallory is going to meet us.”  
    “I thought we were seeing her later.”  
    “She’s a paramedic, baby. She’s going to check out your arm.”  
    “I’m fine,” she grumbled, but left it at that.  
    His worry for her was a discordant clang in her head. She’d submit to an exam if it would stop that. But she stopped at the elevator.
    “Wait. We can’t leave. Why isn’t Aaron coming here? Or sending someone here?”
    “The Elect will take care of this.”
    She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Brax,” she said patiently. “I just killed someone. You can’t make that disappear.”
    “Yes, I can, angel.” His voice was soft, gentle, and completely at odds with cold hard look in his eyes. “My job is to protect the Elect. Making this public will only draw attention to us.”
    According to the rules of his world, she knew that made perfect sense. It was her world too, she reminded herself. Strange and new and maybe not quite as civilized.  
    He didn’t say a thing as she thought it over, just watched, patient, waiting. Finally, she nodded, and he gave a long exhale that sounded like relief to her. This time she didn’t argue when he took her hand and led her into the elevator, then out to the car.
    The drive didn’t take long, and the desk sergeant gestured them upstairs. If he thought it strange a bleeding woman was going to see a police captain instead of to a hospital emergency room, he kept it to himself.  
    Aaron was waiting for them when they stepped off the elevator, his fury and concern just as off the charts as Brax’s. She wondered briefly if they felt and magnified each other’s emotions. Brax filled him in while Aaron led the way to a spacious corner office. A pretty young woman in a firefighter’s uniform was waiting for them. Her smile was warm, and she extended her hand to Esme.  
    “I’m Mallory Littman.” Her grip was strong, confident and brief. None of her emotions bled through, but Esme thought she saw a flash of curiosity in the other woman’s eyes as they flicked over the two men who seemed to fill the large space. Esme liked her immediately.  
    “Esme Durand.”  
    “Come to the desk, and let’s get this jacket off.”  
    Esme followed her, shrugging free of the garment and reaching for the edge of her shirt to pull it over her head. Mallory snapped on latex gloves and probed the area carefully.  
    “Well, the good news is, it looks like a small caliber round and it just nicked you.”  
    “Bad news?”
    “Stitches. Three should do it.” She started pulling supplies out of her bag, starting with a syringe and alcohol swab. “I’m just going to deaden the area. It shouldn’t make you woozy or anything.”  
    Esme nodded her assent, and it was quickly done. Mallory got ready for the next step with smooth efficiency. “I don’t suppose anyone wants to tell me what happened? Is this related to my arson investigation?”  
    Esme huffed. “Hell. It must be.”  
    “What I’d like to know is how they knew where you were,” Brax snarled, exchanging a speaking glance with his brother, who nodded.  
    “We’ll check the car, but I can’t believe Mason missed something.”
    She may not be able to read Brax’s thoughts unless her let her, but Aaron’s were loud and clear. It was the first stray thought she’d caught from him. She wondered if it was because he was talking to Brax or was just pissed off.  
    “You think there’s a tracking device on Brax’s car?”  
    Aaron met her gaze, as steady and strong as his brother. “Don’t worry. We’ll find out before you leave here.”
    “Do you check for that kind of thing often?” she asked Brax.  
    He shook his head. “Not