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His own sister, Keira, had taken a bullet meant for another man who’d been targeted for elimination. And all because he’d brought down the New World Militia and its founder, David Pennington, years ago.
That thought gave him pause. Could this attempt on him have anything to do with that organization or a similar one? His public stance on terrorism—both foreign and domestic—had made him a few enemies, he had to admit. Was that the reason?
I wonder if Niall has any vacation time coming to him. The brother closest to him in age was a black-ops warrior—not really the name for it, but that’s how it was referred to by the public. Niall had been a marine sniper years ago before he’d left the Corps to take up an even more dangerous calling. But that didn’t really qualify him as a bodyguard. If you need a bodyguard, Alec or Liam would be better suited to the task, he reminded himself. Both of his younger brothers had been Diplomatic Security Service—DSS—special agents for years, although only Liam still worked as a bodyguard now. Alec was the regional security officer at the United States embassy in Zakhar.
But Alec and Liam were both married. Niall wasn’t. Shane might call on Niall to help him out in this crisis, but he’d have to think long and hard before he put one of his baby brothers—married baby brothers, each with a baby of his own—in harm’s way.
Shane laughed beneath his breath, imagining what Alec and Liam would say to that. He was so caught up in his inner musings that it barely registered when the seat-belt light was turned off and the announcement was made that portable electronic devices could now be used. It wasn’t until a soft oath from his press secretary, Mike Adamson, impinged on his consciousness that he realized the man had availed himself of the airplane’s Wi-Fi and was looking with dismay at something on his laptop screen.
“What?” Shane asked Mike, then nudged him to get his attention when the other man’s earphones prevented him from hearing Shane’s question. “What is it?” he asked after Mike removed the earphones.
“See for yourself,” Mike replied, handing both the laptop and the earphones to Shane.
He clicked to restart the news video. It only took a few seconds before he was swearing internally, although he had enough restraint not to curse aloud—he’d long since learned that wasn’t acceptable from a public figure in a public place.
“An assassination attempt at the Mayo Clinic in Phoenix, Arizona, was foiled today by Colorado’s junior senator, retired Marine Lieutenant Colonel Shane Jones, in a scene reminiscent of his heroic rescue of a pregnant woman during a domestic terrorism incident five years ago,” Carly Edwards told the TV camera, a microphone in her hand.
Then a video began playing as Carly’s voice continued. “The alleged assassin escaped by running through a small park north of the clinic, to the parking lot, and from there to parts unknown via truck. The footage shown here was taken with a smartphone by this reporter, who just happened to be a bystander when the incident occurred. The Phoenix police warn that the suspect is armed and should be considered extremely dangerous—no one should attempt to approach or apprehend him. Anyone who recognizes the alleged shooter—described as a stocky white male of average height between the ages of forty-five and sixty—or the white getaway truck, is urged to call the Phoenix police or the FBI—” two phone numbers scrolled beneath the video “—or Crime Stoppers to report anonymously.” Another phone number came up.
Carly appeared on the screen again. “Once more, please note the suspect is armed and extremely dangerous—do not approach. Stay tuned to this station for updates on this developing situation. Back to you, Phil.”
“I thought the police would confiscate her smartphone,” Mike muttered to Shane when the video clip came to an end.
Shane’s smile was grim as he removed the earphones. “She’s a smart lady. She probably knew they would. I’ll bet you anything you want to name she emailed the video to herself or her news agency before they had the chance.”
“No bet.” Mike thought for a moment. “The reporters will be all over you, wanting a statement. We’d better have one ready.”
