Shirlee McCoy - Safe by the Marshal's Side

“Someone found me at the safe house, Hunter,” she finally said. “Talking about Sophia won’t change that.”

“I know, but I thought it might help you relax.” He glanced into the rearview mirror, offering a rare smile. It changed his face, made him less austere and more approachable.

“It’s hard to relax when someone wants me dead.”

“We don’t know that there’s a price on your head.”

“But you think that Saunders and Fiske want to keep me from testifying against them. You told me that if they killed Joe, they wouldn’t hesitate to kill me.” She’d believed him because she’d seen the look in Luke Saunders’s eyes after he’d shot Joe. Triumph. Excitement. Just thinking about it made her stomach churn.

“Unless they’ve been able to arrange for the hit from their prison cells, what happened tonight could just be—”

“I saw the person at the back fence. I know something was tossed into the yard. Don’t try to tell me that it was some New Year’s reveler. I’m not going to believe it.”

“I wouldn’t lie to you, Annie,” he said quietly, and she thought that he probably meant it.

But Joe had said the same thing so many times, she’d almost stopped hearing it. He’d said it when checks bounced or electricity bills weren’t paid. He’d said it when she’d asked why he was home late from work or why their money always seemed to disappear.

She’d believed every lie he’d told her.

She wouldn’t make that mistake again. Not with anyone. Even a guy who seemed to be honorable.

“Everyone lies sometimes,” she responded. “And you getting me to relax isn’t a solution to our problem.”

“Trust me, I know that. I’m taking this situation very seriously. The whole team is. We’ll figure out how you were found, and we’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

She wanted to believe him, but nothing had happened the way it was supposed to in the past year. She blinked back tears. She’d cried an ocean of them since Joe’s death. Every time she thought she was cried out, more tears came.

Not this time, though.

A new year. A new beginning. No more tears over things she couldn’t change. She was going to take control, make her life what she wanted it to be. What she thought God wanted it to be.

Hunter turned down a well-lit street lined with tall apartment buildings. Not as quiet as the street the safe house had been on. Lights shone from most of the apartment windows and a few people milled around in a small courtyard between two buildings.

Hunter bypassed the taller apartment complexes and pulled into the parking garage of a four-story building that sat on a small corner lot. Several cars filled spaces in the dark enclave. He parked near a door, shifting in his seat and looking straight into Annie’s eyes.

He had the darkest eyes she’d ever seen, his eyelashes thick and just as dark. She didn’t know why she was noticing. Maybe because it was easier than thinking about getting out of the SUV with Sophia, walking through the parking garage and into the building, the hot breath of danger still on her neck.

“What are we doing?” she whispered as if someone outside the SUV might hear.

“Waiting for Marshal Summers.”

Annie knew the woman. She’d been at the safe house several times in the past month, her dark hair pulled back, her brown eyes kind. They hadn’t spoken much. Just a few hellos and goodbyes. Not enough to get to know her well.

A black sedan pulled into the space beside them, and Serena Summers got out. All business in dark slacks and a heavy coat, she opened Annie’s door and gestured for her to get out. “Let’s go. I don’t know about you, but I’ll feel a lot better once you’re inside that building.”

“I need to get Sophia.” She reached for the car-seat buckle, but Hunter was already opening the door on Sophia’s side.

“I’ll get her. You go with Serena.”

“But—”

“I won’t let anything happen to her. I promise,” he said.

Don’t promise me anything, she wanted to say.

But he was already unbuckling Sophia.

Arguing out in the open where anyone could see her seemed even more foolish than trusting him to take care of Sophia. Besides, she might have learned hard lessons about trust from her marriage, but she knew Hunter would do everything he could to protect Sophia. She just hoped it was enough.

She got out of the SUV and hurried into the building with Serena. The place was quiet, any tenants tucked behind closed doors. Two elevators stood on the far wall of a brightly lit foyer. Serena led her there, sliding a card into a slot next to one of the doors, her foot tapping as she waited for it to open.

As soon as it did, she urged Annie in, holding the door open as Hunter hurried in behind them. Sophia snuggled in his arms, her head against his shoulder, her thumb in her mouth. She smiled sleepily as she saw Annie.

“Momma, hold me!” she said, her little arms reaching for Annie.

Annie took her from Hunter’s arms, loving the solid weight of her. She didn’t think she’d really known the depth of God’s love for her until Sophia came along.

“Where’s we going?” Sophia asked, pressing her hand to Annie’s cheek and looking into her eyes.

Joe would have been so excited to hear her talk. He’d been longing for the day when she would say more than Dada, Momma and the few other words she’d perfected in the months before he was killed. Now she could, and he was gone, undone by his gambling addiction, murdered by men he’d owed money to.

Her throat tightened at the thought, the tears she’d decided not to shed burning the backs of her eyes.

“A new house,” she responded, her voice thick and watery.

The elevator doors opened, and Hunter took her elbow, leading her into a wide corridor. His fingers seemed to burn through her long-sleeved T-shirt, the feeling so surprising, she shrugged away.

Hunter let Annie go. There was no need to be overly protective. The five apartments on this floor were empty, each one secretly rented by the U.S. Marshals. It was easier that way. No danger of tenants seeing a high-profile witness and leaking the news to the press. No need to do background checks on people who rented the apartments.

Serena used her key to open the door at the end of the hall. The place hadn’t been used in over a year. There’d be a layer of dust on everything and an air of neglect that couldn’t be helped. He knew Annie wouldn’t complain. She never did. He still wished they’d had time to make the apartment a little more kid-friendly. Some toys. Safety covers on outlets. A crib.

He frowned.

They’d need to improvise for the night. Tomorrow, he’d buy one of those portable cribs his sister used for her son.

“Here we are,” Serena announced as she flicked on a light. “Home sweet home until the trial.”

It didn’t really look like a home. Just a couch and a coffee table. No throw rug on the wood floor. No pictures on the wall. A small galley kitchen connected to the living area, the appliances stainless steel, the cupboards white. It was fancier than the little house Annie had lived in before entering witness protection. Hunter knew that for a fact. He’d seen pictures of the crime scene. The kitchen with its mustard-colored appliances and peeling linoleum floor. Thanks to her husband, Annie hadn’t had much to brag about.

Hunter didn’t think she was the kind of person who cared. Still, if he ever got married, he’d want to do a lot better for his family than a run-down house in a questionable neighborhood. He knew that wasn’t possible for some people, but Joe Delacorte had made enough money to provide for his family. He’d just preferred to spend it gambling.