The Shot: Traincoach of Death, Book 1 by Leona Bushman

speaking with in the public dining area, and then followed her back through the cars until they gained some seclusion.
    “What is it?” he asked gently.
    “Not here,” she whispered . You never knew who could be listening. When had she become so paranoid? Her sister’s troubles? Or her own? It didn’t matter. They needed to find a way to talk without risk of her father overhearing. “In my private car.”
    He nodded and followed her closely until they reached her sleeping car.
    “I need to know,” she began. “Have you told my father you’re giving me a voicelet?”
    “No. It’s none of his concern, and after the weird day we had, I’m not sure who to trust.”
    “Oh, thank goodness. Don’t tell him. He’s been spying on me and my sister all our lives. However, he’s unaware that I know. I’m letting him replace the voicelet on his account, but still want one with you, if you’re willing.”
    “Sure. But can I ask a personal question?” he replied.
    Victoria laughed. A weak laugh, but genuine. “Of course. I’ve been more personal with you than many of my acquaintances.” And wasn’t that just a fine kettle of tea.
    “Why not get one on your own? You’re credit has to be good enough to get a voicelet.”
    “Yes, good question. I did once, as soon as I turned eighteen. You know what happened? It never worked right. I couldn’t do anything on it. I replaced it four times before giving up. When I’d call and ask the company for help, they were always chipper and accommodating. They’d pull up my screen and all of sudden it became, ‘Oh, I’m sorry. My supervisor will have to help you.’ I finally gave up and went back on father’s plan. At least I could call out for pizza on it.”
    He stood, one arm across his chest, the other elbow resting on the arm, and his hand stroking his chin. She smiled. He reminded her of old movies with his formal clothes and manners. She waited for him to declare her paranoid and delusional.
    “I see your point. No, I won’t tell the Earl I’m getting you a voicelet. I’ll have someone bring it to me at the next station. In the meantime, I have a favor to ask of you.”
    “Yes, what is it?” she inquired.
    “Don’t leave this train without me. I also have a secret to tell you. You must not give in that you know it. But there are things, like the Inspector pulling me aside separately, that are going to happen, and you need to trust me since you can’t trust anyone else.”
    Victoria blinked rapidly at him. His words, so close to the Inspector’s, caused her heart to beat faster, and her breath came out in little gasps. “That’s essentially what the Inspector said. He told me not to trust anyone, but then added I needed to listen to my instincts.”
    “What do your instincts tell you about me?” he asked.
    “I’m asking you for help, aren’t I?” she said a tad waspishly as the day’s events weighed upon her. Then she relented as she realized how shrewish she must sound. “I trust you.”
    “Then you’ll make sure I’m with you whenever you leave the train?” he insisted.
    “Yes.”
    “Good. Now, for my secret, I’m actually a Duke. I’m working under cover for the King of America. He’s a cousin of mine, and some of his men discerned some odd happenings which were seemingly unrelated.”
    “You’re a spy,” she stated hiding her excitement in case she’d misunderstood. Since her own titles would be in play in a few months, and she’d played with the king as a child, his title was less impressive to her.
    “I’m a spy.”
    A brilliant smile broke out on her face where only tension and fear had been, giving her a heady sense of lightness. “That’s fantastic. No wonder you’re so cool under fire.”
    “Not so cool when they shot at you,” he muttered.
    “That’s to be expected. You were nowhere near to help.”
    He groaned. “That’s not exactly it, but never mind about that. We just need to be careful with