Love Inspired Suspense January 2014 (14 page)

He'd almost moved to Billings after he'd graduated college, taken a job in law enforcement there, but the job with the marshals had opened up. It was an opportunity he'd been hoping for, and he'd taken it.

“I spent every summer at the St. Louis library,” Annie said. “Reading about all the places I wanted to visit. Milwaukee wasn't one of them.”

She sounded so disgusted that he chuckled, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek without realizing what he was doing.

He pulled back, clenching his hands into fists to keep from touching her again. “Sorry about that. I didn't get to make the choice about where you were going when you left St. Louis.”

“It's a nice enough place, but after this is over, I'm going to go somewhere else.”

“Yeah?” He got out of the SUV, walked around to her door and helped her out. “Where do you want to go?”

“Somewhere safe. Somewhere where Sophia can run around and keep pets and enjoy being a little girl.”

“I'll make sure you get to go where you want this time, so think about it between now and the trial,” he said. The cul-de-sac was still and quiet, but he hurried her to the porch, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end. He wanted her inside and safe.

“Thanks.”

“The other thing I'm going to make sure you get is a visit with your parents before you leave town.”

“Really?” She stopped, her foot on the first step of a wide front porch, sunlight glinting in her dark hair. Threads of gold and red were woven through the dark strands, the burnished highlights natural and even more beautiful because they were.

“Yes.”

“I thought I wasn't going to be able to see them while I was here.”

“Once the trial is over, I'll try to arrange something. It should be safe for you to spend a few hours with your folks.” He cupped her elbow, urging her up the stairs. The danger might be minimal, but the sooner he got her inside the house, the happier he'd be.

The door opened before they reached it, Steven Antonio motioning for them to enter.

“Glad you could make it for the meeting,” he said, his narrow face creased in a smile that didn't quite meet his eyes. “We'll be in the office in the back of the house. Bud made coffee.”

“Bud?” Hunter asked.

“Hollingsworth. He heard about security being breached at the safe house and knew I'd been planning to meet with Annie. We were at lunch yesterday discussing the case. He offered his place. It seemed like a better idea than bringing Annie to my place or my office.”

The news was a surprise, but not an unpleasant one. A retired U.S. marshal, Bud was a go-to person when difficult cases arose. As a matter of fact, Hunter wouldn't mind discussing the case with him. He might have some ideas about who the leak might be or, at least, where it might be originating. “Is Bud around?”

“Right here!” Bud called from a room to the left of the door. A second later, he appeared in the doorway, his khaki pants and blue polo more casual than any outfit Hunter had ever seen him in.

“How are you, Hunter? Annie?” he asked with a warm smile. “I heard there was some trouble yesterday.”

“Everyone is fine, but you're right. We're having a problem,” Hunter admitted.

“A leak, if the way the safe houses are being found is any indication. Want to hash it out while Steven and Annie talk?”

Hunter hesitated, realizing that if Annie were any other witness, he'd be fine with Bud's plan.

“Sure,” he said, giving Annie a quick smile. “Unless you'd rather I stay with you.”

“I'll be fine. Thanks.”

“All right. Let's get this show on the road, then,” Steven said, taking Annie's arm and leading her down the hall.

She seemed reluctant to go, her muscles stiff and tense, her footsteps heavy as she walked into a room to the left of the door.

Hunter wanted to go after her, wanted it more than he wanted to follow the rules and stick to protocol. Wanted it not because he thought she wouldn't be safe, but because he thought she needed him.

Even if she wasn't willing to admit it.

FOURTEEN

B
y the time Annie answered the last of Steven Antonio's questions, her head was pounding so hard she thought she was going to be sick.

Not enough sleep and too much worry. That was the problem. The only solution was getting through the trial.

She sipped lukewarm coffee while Steven glanced through his notes, deep lines grooved into his forehead. He probably worried a lot and spent too many nights bent over files and notes.

She couldn't fault him for being meticulous and thorough. She couldn't hold it against him for wanting to make sure every detail had been covered, every possibility discussed.

But she was tired. They'd been there two hours, and she was ready to go home to Sophia.

Home?

She and Sophia didn't have one anymore.

Not yet, but if Hunter was telling the truth, she could choose any place in the United States to settle down in. She could rent a little house on acreage in a small community where everyone knew everyone.

She could have the things she'd wanted when she'd met Joe but had given up because his dreams were so different from hers. Of course, she'd have it all as a single mother. She'd never expected that, hadn't planned for it.

She'd never wanted to raise a child alone, but she'd make it work. Just the way she'd made the past year work. One day at a time.

“Okay, Annie,” Steven said. “Looks like we're all set. I don't think I'll need to see you again until the day before the trial.”

“That's great!” she exclaimed.

He smiled, running his hand over thinning brown hair. “I'm glad you're not disappointed.”

“It's not that I don't enjoy our meetings—”

He laughed and shook his head. “Better not start lying now, Annie. Your reputation is stellar, and we want to keep it that way until the trial.”

“Okay.” She smiled, relieved that the meeting had drawn to an end. “It's not that I have anything against you. I'd just prefer to be with my daughter. Especially with everything that's been going on.”

“Understandable, and I think keeping you in one place rather than having you transported to more meetings is the best way to keep you safe.” He stacked a sheaf of papers and placed it in a folder. “If you'll wait here, I'll see if Bud and Hunter are finished.”

“All right.” She stood as he exited the room, afraid if she sat in silence she'd fall asleep.

She wasn't sure who Bud Hollingsworth was, but his house was gorgeous, the office large with floor-to-ceiling windows that probably looked out over the front and side yards. She couldn't know for sure, because heavy curtains blocked the view. She didn't dare pull them back and take a look outside.

Faint voices drifted into the room, but they didn't seem to be coming closer. She walked to a large shelf filled with books, each one turned with the spine out, all of them organized from tallest to shortest. No photos of family or friends, but the place had a homey feel. She wouldn't have minded having an office with shelves of books and a big desk.

She wouldn't have minded just having the little house that she and Joe had chosen together, the tiny kitchen with the peeling linoleum.

For some reason, thinking about that made her eyes burn and the knot in her chest grow tighter. Once the trial was over, she'd move on. All the things that she and Joe had created together would become distant memories. She tried to remember their wedding day, the way he'd looked as she'd walked toward him down the aisle, but she only had a vague impression of sandy brown hair and a thin face, a tuxedo and a church filled with well-wishers.

“We're finished, Annie. Ready to go?” Hunter appeared in the doorway, his eyes deep chocolate-brown, his face cut in hard angles and plains. If she closed her eyes, she knew she could picture him perfectly.

She swallowed down a wave of grief and guilt. It had been only a year, and she'd already forgotten so much about Joe. The most vivid thing she remembered was his death.

And his lies.

“Are you okay?” Hunter stepped into the room.

“I'm fine,” she lied, because she couldn't tell him why she wasn't. Not without saying more than she wanted to.

“You don't look fine.”

“Thanks.” She grabbed her coat from the back of the chair she'd hung it on.

He took it from her hands, helped her into it, his knuckles brushing her nape. “Let me rephrase that. You look beautiful but tired.”

“Thanks. Again,” she murmured, her cheeks suddenly hot, her heart racing a little too fast.

“It's just an observation.” He pulled the edges of her ponytail out from the collar of the coat. “No need for thanks. Come on. Let's get out of here.” He pressed a hand to the small of her back. Even though she was sure she shouldn't be able to, she could feel the warmth of his palm and the gentle pressure from each of his fingers.

For a year, Hunter had been in the periphery of her life. He'd called the shots, made the decisions, told her where to be and when. Other than that, he'd kept his distance.

He wasn't keeping his distance any longer. She couldn't deny her heart's quick thrum of happiness at the thought. She also couldn't deny that guilt that stabbed through her.

Joe had been dead for only a year.

How was it possible that she was looking at another man? How was it possible that she was finding him attractive?

Not just his looks, either.

The way he cared for Sophia. The way he cared for
her.
He was always kind, always willing to go the extra mile to make sure they were comfortable and happy. He'd been there for her through some of the toughest times she'd ever lived through. She knew he'd just been doing his job, but things would have been a lot worse without him there.

A schoolgirl's crush, that was what she had.

And it was downright embarrassing.

She cast a quick look in his direction.

He seemed oblivious to her thoughts.

She hoped that he was.

Feeling a quick zing of physical attraction was one thing. A full-blown case of puppy lo...

“Enough!” she whispered. She did not have a case of puppy love. Not even close. What she had was a splitting headache and a brain that was functioning on three hours of sleep.

“What was that?” Hunter asked, one dark eyebrow raised in question.

“Just talking to myself.”

“Do you make a habit of that?”

“Only on days when I've been driven crazy by repetitive questions and memorized answers.”

He laughed, pushing open the front door and motioning for her to wait while he walked onto the porch.

“We're good. Come on.” He grabbed her hand and hurried to his SUV. She climbed in quickly, more to put some distance between them than because she was afraid that danger might be lurking nearby.

She thought he would close the door, but he leaned in, his face a couple of inches from hers. “For right now, we're just going to concentrate on getting you to trial. We'll worry about the rest after it's over.”

“The rest of what?”

“This.” He touched her cheek, his finger trailing along the hollow and stopping just short of her lips.

Her breath caught. Her heart skipped a beat.

She wanted to close the distance between them almost as much as she wanted to run from the way Hunter made her feel.

He closed the door, leaving her pulse thrumming and her thoughts racing. It took him way too little time to round the SUV and get into the driver's seat.

She tensed, not sure what he was going to say. Not sure what she
should
say.

“How did the meeting go?” he asked, the question so mundane, so typical of every conversation they'd ever had that she wondered if she'd imagined his other words.

“The same as always. Steven says that we probably won't have to meet again until the day before the trial.” She hoped he couldn't hear the slight tremor in her voice.

“That's good news. The more hidden we can keep you, the more likely our chances are of getting you to trial without another incident.”

“Is that what you call a beheaded doll and a bomb? ‘Incidents'?” she asked, doing her best to act just as fine as he seemed.

She wasn't, though.

She felt shaken and unsure, every thought she'd had about schoolgirl crushes and puppy love making her want to crawl under the seat and hide.

Which was silly and childish.

Being attracted to Hunter wasn't a crime.

But it might get her into way more trouble than she wanted.

“Do you have another word for it?” he asked as he backed out of the driveway.

“‘Intimidation tactics'? ‘Attacks'?”

“Those work,” he conceded, shooting a quick smile in her direction. He had a fantastic smile. The kind that changed his face from stern and unapproachable to warm and inviting.

She looked away, focusing her attention on the world outside the window.

“Did you mean what you said about me visiting my parents, Hunter?” she asked. Anything to keep the conversation going, keep silence from taking hold of them. She didn't want to sit quietly the entire trip back, thinking about what he'd said, what she'd felt, what it all meant.

“I told you that I did.”

“Can I tell them?” Her parents would be ecstatic. It had been a year since she'd seen them. In that time, Sophia had gone from being a baby to being a toddler. Hunter had agreed to forward photos on a couple of occasions, but pictures weren't the same as seeing someone in person.

“You know the rules. No contact with family members as long as you're in the program.”

“I know the rules. I'm just getting tired of following them.”

“It's only—”

“A couple more weeks.” She sighed. “Trust me. I know. I've had the date memorized for months. How did
your
meeting go?”

“Good. Bud is going to put his ear to the ground, listen for any rumors. He worked for the marshals for years, and he has contacts all over the city. It's possible someone on the streets has heard rumors about a rogue marshal. If so, Bud is the guy who can find out.”

“He's retired?”

“Supposedly.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means he retired a year ago, but we call him in when we have particularly tough cases. Like yours.”

“I thought mine was pretty straightforward.”

“It was until someone found you. Twice.” He merged onto the highway, the sun high overhead, the sky gray-blue and dotted with clouds. A beautiful day. She wanted to take Sophia to a park, put her in a baby swing and listen to her squeal in delight. She wanted to take her to the grocery store, let her pretend to steer the little car cart while she shopped for groceries.

What she didn't want to do was go back to Hunter and Burke's place.

She rubbed her forehead, trying to ease the terrible ache behind her eyes.

“Headache?” Hunter asked, resting his hand on her nape.

“Yes.”

“I'm not surprised. Your muscles are coiled like a rattlesnake ready to strike.” He kneaded the tight muscles at the base of her neck.

It felt so good, she almost closed her eyes, leaned back into his hand. Gave herself over to another person's touch.

She stiffened, forcing herself not to melt.

“Relax,” he said. “If you're tense, it defeats the whole purpose of a neck massage.”

“I am relaxed.”

“Right.”

“I
am.
”

“Then why are your hands fisted, and why do you look like you're ready to jump out of the SUV?” His hand dropped away, and she told herself she was glad, but she wasn't sure it was true.

“I guess I've been tense for so many months, I've forgotten what relaxed feels like.”
That
was the truth.

“I'm sorry, Annie. I wish things were different.” He glanced in the rearview mirror and frowned.

“What's wrong?”

“Probably nothing.”

“Then why do you look like it's something?” She craned her neck to see what was behind them. The highway was filled with commuter traffic. Trucks. Cars. Vans. She didn't know what she was looking for, but she scanned the lanes of vehicles anyway.

“You're going to get a crick in your neck,” Hunter said calmly. He didn't sound anxious, but he never did. There could be an army of men with submachine guns chasing them, and Annie thought he'd sound and look as cool as a cucumber.

“I wouldn't have to risk it if you'd just tell me what's going on.”

Hunter mumbled something she couldn't quite hear and shook his head.

“What?” she asked, still watching the traffic behind them.

“When are you going to start trusting me, Annie?” he responded, and the tone of his voice pulled her attention from the road and to him.

He was looking straight ahead, eyes focused on the road, hands tight around the steering wheel. His profile was austere, his cheekbones high and sharp, his hair just brushing the collar of his shirt. In the year she'd known him, she couldn't think of one time when he'd betrayed her trust or failed to follow through on something he'd said he would do. The one time that she'd been sure he was lying, she'd been wrong.

If anyone she knew was trustworthy, it was Hunter.

“I do trust you.”

“Then why are you watching traffic?”

“Because...” Why? He'd asked a valid question, and she couldn't think of an answer. Except that she really
didn't
trust him. Not completely. Despite everything he'd done, she couldn't quite believe that he only had her and Sophia's best interest at heart.

“Exactly,” he muttered, and she felt like a horrible person. Or, at least, a horrible witness or client or whatever it was that Hunter referred to her as when he talked about work.

“It isn't that I don't trust you. It's just that I've been doing everything on my own for a year, and it's hard to just let go and let someone else do them for me.”