Enemy Zone (Trident Rescue #1) - Alex Lidell Page 0,1

handle anything.

Exiting off the highway, I enter the more familiar-to-me urban area. The road flares and flashing lights guide me the final few hundred yards to the accident, both the red and blue ones of the ambulance as well as the amber lights of a tow truck. The vic’s car—a Cadillac Escalade that seems pristine except for missing its front half—seems to have been wrapped around a tree.

At least the bastard didn’t hurt anyone else.

I pull into a space a few car lengths down and pop out, notes app on my phone at the ready. But first things first. Photos.

A pair of policemen standing guard, nearly at attention.

A guy in greasy coveralls hooking the abused Caddy onto a flatbed.

A muscular paramedic wearing skintight Under Armour with Trident Rescue stenciled on the back looming over an annoyed-looking guy in a business suit who holds a cloth to his bleeding head, the medical Suburban’s lights flickering in the background.

I swallow, my hand tightening around my phone as my camera zoom shows the medic’s face in full detail. His jaw is square and clean-shaven, his cheekbones chiseled, his mouth firm. Add in the mossy-green eyes full of intelligence and concern, and he’s basically an Adonis. A real live Adonis. Heat rises to my face, my thighs clenching together until I can finally force away the thought of what that medic might look like shirtless and focus on the task at hand.

Making sure my press credentials are clearly visible around my neck, I come up to one of the officers. “Good afternoon, sir. Sky Reynolds, reporter with Denton Uncovered. Can you tell me whether you’ve administered a sobriety test to the driver?”

The uniformed guy looks at me incredulously. “To Eli Mason?”

I’ll take that as a no.

“From the skid marks, it appears Mr. Mason swerved on the road before ramming a tree. Was there someone else involved in the accident? Another victim?” Or did that tree just attack him from the roadside?

“Single-car collision, ma’am.” The guy’s partner comes over with a hard expression that tells me to get the hell out if I know what’s good for me.

Except that I do know what’s good for me. The truth.

Ducking around the officers, I make a confident dash for Medic Adonis and his charge.

“You need stitches and might have a concussion.” Adonis’s voice is a rich commanding baritone that perfectly matches his chiseled body, the navy-blue cargos clinging to a taut waist. His blond buzz cut is shaved close enough that it looks like he might’ve used a ruler. Maybe even a protractor. Not a look I usually go for—too military, and I’ve had my fill of that mess—but on Adonis, it’s perfect.

“I don’t bloody need stitches.” Mason sounds like a hurt animal, his British accent and bravado masking pain. Unlike Adonis’s buzz cut, Eli’s unruly copper hair flops onto his brow. His white button-down business shirt is spotted with blood all down his left arm. “I don’t have a concussion either.”

I step up to the men, extending a hand. “Good afternoon, gentlemen. I’m Skylar Reynolds, reporter with Denton Uncovered. Mind if I ask you a few questions?”

Mason squints at me as if his head aches, so I pivot toward Adonis. But then my eyes meet his, and I watch his gaze turn hard. Even hateful. Nothing like the concerned look he’d had when speaking to Eli. Is Adonis on Eli Mason’s payroll as well? The cops certainly seem to be.

I draw a calming breath. I’ve been around hateful men before, and I don’t like it. In fact, I despise it. Especially when that hard gaze is immediately accompanied by a twist of his lips. A sneer. I’m standing there like an idiot with my hand stretched out, and Adonis is too busy staring me down to even notice.

“Get off my scene,” Adonis snaps, his jaw flexing.

I read the name embroidered on his shirt. Hunt.

“I’m the press, and this is a story, Mr. Hunt. Which means it actually does concern me. If there’s a reason Mr. Mason hasn’t been tested for blood alcohol level? Or been given a breathalyzer test at least?”

Eli’s eyes flash with fury as he twists to me and winces.

Stepping around Eli, Hunt completely blocks my access to him. He has a way of taking over all the space around him. All the air.

“I don’t care if you’re the queen of England, you and Denton Uncovered…” He gnashes his teeth, as if swallowing what he wants to say before coming up with a curt