Chapter Five
Secrets of the A-List (Episode 3 of 12)
Secrets of the A-List (Episode 4 of 12)
Secrets of the A-List (Episode 1 of 12)
Joss Wood
A billionaire on the verge of death. And his family? In free fall...
The wealthy Marshall family is untouchable. Or so they thought. But when a car accident puts patriarch Harrison in a coma, cracks appear in the family facade. It seems Harrison had an awful lot of secrets, and he’s not the only one. His wife, Mariella, and children, Luc, Rafe and Elana, not to mention nephew Gabe, all have things they’d rather keep hidden.
Enter a mysterious figure called the Fixer... Who is this person, and what is the Fixer’s connection with Harrison? And with those cracks becoming ever wider, what sins will be revealed?
Super Rich. Super Sexy. Super Addictive.
Secrets of the A-List
JOSS WOOD loves books and traveling—especially to the wild places of southern Africa. She has the domestic skills of a potted plant and drinks far too much coffee.
Joss has written for Harlequin KISS, Harlequin Presents and, most recently, the Harlequin Desire line. After a career in business, she now writes full-time. Joss is a member of the Romance Writers of America and Romance Writers of South Africa.
Visit her Author Profile page at www.millsandboon.co.uk, or josswoodbooks.com, for other titles.
“He’s in the hands of the trauma surgeon.”
“Status?” The words were supercharged verbal bullets. This information was well paid for—to hell with politeness.
“Bad. Head injuries, broken bones. He was thrown from the vehicle as it hit the guardrail. If he’d been wearing his seat belt, he would’ve been part of the fiery wreck at the bottom of the cliff.”
“Has the family been informed?”
“Not yet,” the EMT replied. “I presume one of the nurses will make those calls in the next few minutes.”
“Have the press gotten wind of the story yet?”
Imagining the young woman glancing toward the entrance to the ER—her brown eyes would be scanning the hallway for the more familiar members of the press corps. “Not yet, but they will soon. News that Harrison Marshall is in critical condition will spread like a California wildfire.”
A few low curses escaped. “Prognosis?”
The EMT remained silent, in preparation to deliver the bad news, and sucked in a deep breath. “Not good. Prepare yourself.”
Prepare yourself. Pity that suggestion didn’t come with a how-to manual.
The Fixer disconnected the call and looked down at the hand clutching the cell phone, noting with annoyance the trembling fingers holding the expensive phone in a tight grip. Breathe, dammit. He’s not dead.
Not yet, anyway.
The Fixer swiped a thumb across the screen of the smartphone and looked at the call log, realizing the last conversation they’d shared was probably shortly before Harrison’s Bugatti Veyron made its acquaintance with the highway’s low guardrail. According to another source on the payroll, a California Highway Patrol officer, the responding officers had few doubts that this was anything but an accident—the Pacific Coast Highway had seen many cars leave its surface thanks to its unforgiving twists and bends—but,
