Cate Nolan - Christmas In Hiding

Jackson shifted, uneasy with the praise. “It’s in your file.”

TWO

I t’s in your file.

The door closed behind Jackson, but his words lingered, sending shivers down Callie’s spine. Of course she had a file. She just hadn’t really thought of it in those terms before. That somewhere there was a folder—most likely on some computer database—with all her information. Even the way she took her coffee.

If her file included minor details like coffee preferences, what else did it hold? The idea that Jackson, a man she’d just met, knew her personal information, even secrets she guarded from the rest of the world, left her feeling vulnerable in a new and profound way.

Did they know who her mother was? The thought struck from out of the blue. Callie’s fingers curled into fists as she fought to contain the rising dread. Wouldn’t that be ironic if they knew more about her life than she did?

Callie crawled up on the sofa. Cradling the coffee cup in her hands, she gently rocked, seeking calm. How had her life come to this?

Sometimes she thought she’d been asking that same question for three straight months. How had her life gone from being ordinary—her days spent teaching kindergarten—to this constant danger? Three months ago she’d been sitting at her kitchen table writing lesson plans. Now she was in hiding from the kind of dangerous men she’d thought only existed in movies.

She couldn’t even begin to comprehend all she had lost. Not long ago she’d been wondering if she and Rick had a future together. Now he was buried in his family’s plot in a remote Texas graveyard, and she was left to deal with the fallout.

She didn’t doubt her decision to break up with him. If nothing else, everything that followed had proved the wisdom of that choice. But with each day in witness protection, her dream of a family seemed farther and farther away.

For the umpteenth time in her life she was alone.

As a former foster kid who’d been bumped around from house to house during her childhood, she should have developed a thick enough skin to handle it. Should have. But the ache never went away. The longing for a real family remained. It especially hurt at this time of year.

Restless with the memories, Callie rose and drifted around the hotel room. It was too fancy, almost sterile. She couldn’t even find a safe place to set the coffee down without fear of leaving a ring. The suite was more luxurious than any place she’d ever stayed before. New York was so far removed from her small-town Texas life.

She wandered over to the window. If Ben were here, he’d make her step back. Feeling defiant, Callie pressed her head against the glass. Fifteen floors below, people hustled along the street. For a brief time she’d been a part of that. She’d begun to settle into a new job and a new life and had actually thought it would be fun to be in New York for Christmas. She’d tried to look forward to the season, enjoying the lights, the windows, the tree at Rockefeller Center.

Now, that, too, was gone.

Heat poured from the vent, but Callie shivered as she stared at the crowds below. Evening was falling, dusk beginning to shroud the people from view. She wrapped her arms around herself, pulling her sweater tight. It wasn’t exactly a hug, but it was the best she could get at the moment.

She’d allowed herself to be lulled into a false sense of security. There was no safe place for her anymore. Not only could she never go home again, but apparently she also couldn’t trust that she would ever find a home that was safe. For the girl whose only dream had been a home and family of her own, that was a bitter pill to swallow.

Enough of this. Giving herself a shake, Callie turned from the window. She could wallow in sadness, or she could choose to focus on the good. And there was good. She just needed to remember it.

Callie rooted through her bag for her Bible. Focusing on reading scripture had been a tool of self-preservation in the early days of this ordeal. It was a way of reminding herself that God was good all the time. Even in the midst of all the turmoil, she had much for which to be thankful. So many people had helped her, starting with the marshals, like Ben, who were willing to sacrifice their lives to keep her safe.

Regret twisted in her belly. She wished she could have gone with Jackson to check on Ben. He’d helped her get her footing in her new life. At first he’d been a friend, protector and father figure all rolled into one. Once she’d been moved to New York, she hadn’t seen him often, but he’d kept in touch. She should be there for him. Since she couldn’t be, she would pray for him.

Dear Lord, I pray to You in thanksgiving for all You have given me. Jesus, my Lord, healer of the sick, please shine Your love on Ben. Protect him and keep him safe from harm.

Callie paused in her prayer. Ben had been her protector, and now Jackson had that role. She was grateful to God for sending Jackson to rescue her. Whether or not she was grateful for Jackson himself was another matter. She was going to have to get to know him better. A smile tugged at her lips as she turned back to her Bible. Buying her coffee definitely weighed in his favor.

* * *

Jackson gripped the edge of the hospital room door, trying to drain the anger from his body before facing his colleague. Ben didn’t need to deal with Jackson’s baggage. He had enough fighting of his own to do. According to the doctor, the knife had missed anything vital but not by much. Another quarter inch... Jackson shook off the thought. Supposedly Ben was just sleeping. Good. He’d wait.

He sank into the chair beside the bed and scrubbed his face with his hands, fighting back emotions that threatened to swamp him. Ben wasn’t just his colleague. He’d been a friend, a mentor and the closest man in Jackson’s life since his family was murdered.

Minutes ticked by with nothing but beeping machines and bustling nurses. Finally there was a slight movement in the bed. “You might as well spit it out instead of sitting there making angry faces.”

Jackson jolted at the whispered words. Tension slid off as he looked up to see Ben staring back at him. Those sun-crinkled eyes weren’t quite sparkling, but there was a light in them that eased something deep within Jackson.

He reached over and gripped Ben’s hand. “Nice of you to wake up.”

Ben grimaced. “You got her away?”

Jackson nodded. “Safe and secure.”

Ben closed his eyes and let out a slow breath. “Thanks. I owe you.”

“Nope.” Jackson shook his head. Ben had it backward. Jackson owed him everything. The senior marshal had taken a wet recruit under his wing and trained him and molded him into the man Jackson was today. He didn’t even want to think what would have become of the angry young man he’d been after the massacre of his family if Ben hadn’t intervened. Jackson had been drifting, aimless and angry. Ben had taken the bitter youth and helped him find a purpose in life. For that alone, Jackson owed him more than he could ever repay.

For that, if nothing else, he would see that the men who’d done this paid.

“What happened?” Ben’s voice melded with Jackson’s.

The two men shrugged as they simultaneously asked the same important question. It would have been funny if the situation weren’t so grave.

“I was hoping you could tell me,” Jackson urged.

Ben frowned, trying to push past the pain. “I remember coming out of the elevator, crossing the lobby. I told Christine to let me go first, but she pushed past and went into the revolving door.” Ben made a wry grimace. “She was annoyed because Callie had no answers. Said she was in a hurry. I went through the side door. That guy from DEA, Quint, followed me.”