Marta Perry - Twin Targets

“Last night.” She swallowed. “They say identical twins can sense it if something traumatic happens to one of them. I didn’t feel a thing. But we’ve been apart so long.”

“Have you?”

She gaped at him, not sure she’d heard correctly. He’d moved a step away, taken off his heavy jacket and tossed it on the back of the sofa. Now he sat, pulling the straight-backed chair up so that they were knee to knee.

“I—I don’t know what you mean.” She stammered the words, mind racing. Ruby had broken some rule, probably, in letting Jade know she was being sent to Montana. A vague need to protect her sister moved through Jade. “I haven’t seen Ruby since she went into Witness Protection. You must know that.”

His gaze probed, as if he looked for a chink in her armor. “You’ve corresponded with her. E-mailed, maybe.”

“No.” What was he getting at?

“What are you doing in Montana then, Ms. Summers? This is hardly normal stomping grounds for an Easterner like you.”

She had control now. She wouldn’t let him rattle her. “I can’t think of any reason why that would be your business, Marshal McGraw.”

“It wouldn’t,” he said. “Except that if Ruby broke the rules in order to bring you here, that might explain what happened to her.”

For a second she stared into those stern brown eyes, feeling like a jackrabbit caught in the headlights of an oncoming pickup. Then a cleansing wave of anger washed through her.

“What are you saying? Are you accusing me of contributing to my sister’s death?”

He looked as if he might respond, but before he could speak, she swept on. “How dare you? How dare you imply such a thing? Ruby testified in that Mob case because you people offered her a fresh start. You promised you’d protect her. You said no harm would come to her. You cited all kinds of statistics to prove she’d be safe. If anyone’s responsible for my sister’s death, it’s you!”

McGraw rose, and for a second she thought he was threatening her. But he raised his palm, signaling her to silence.

She heard what he must have picked up first—the sound of a vehicle coming down the lane.

“Are you expecting someone?” The question was low and sharp.

“No.” She got up, shaking off the atmosphere of fear he’d brought into her house with him. “It’s probably a neighbor.” She took a step toward the door. “I’ll get—”

He caught her, pulling her against him, his hand going over her lips. Her first instinct was to struggle, but his grasp was protective, not menacing.

“Stay here.” He whispered the words against her ear, his breath moving her hair. “I’ll check.”

Ridiculous, one part of her mind said. But some instinct kept her glued to the spot, watching as he moved silently to the window. Keeping to one side, he peered out cautiously.

Then his body stiffened, and his hand moved toward his gun.

Micah forced himself to remain motionless, assessing the odds. Two of them, both armed, with their weapons out in the open, obviously not fearing any interference in this isolated location. Even as he watched, one man signaled the other to go around the back of the small house, cutting off any retreat.

His hand was on his weapon. If he were alone…

But he wasn’t. The woman had to be their target. His first priority was to protect her, and he only had seconds to make a decision.

He reached her in three quick strides, yanking out his cell as he did.

“A place to hide,” he murmured the words as he punched in numbers. “Think.”

To his surprise, she didn’t argue. She touched his hand, guiding him to the stairs. They went up swiftly even as he identified himself and gave terse instructions to the local police dispatcher.

She led the way into a bedroom, across it, to a closet.

That was the first place they’d look. He shook his head, but even as he did so, she pushed clothes back to reveal a small door. Hidden at the end of the closet, it probably led into a storage space. Not great, but the best they could do.

The sound of the door being kicked open downstairs decided it. He shoved Jade through the small door, pulled clothes back into place to hide the opening, and slid in after her, closing the door.

Their hiding place was a narrow, confined space under the eaves, redolent of mothballs, the ceiling so low he had to stoop. He hoped she wasn’t claustrophobic. They were close enough that he could feel her breath on his skin.

She had to be afraid, but she was handling it well, at least so far.

Another thud, another door kicked open. The second thug was in the back now. Kitchen, probably. If he’d seen the rest of the house, he’d have a better idea.

He heard their noisy progress through the downstairs. A mutter of voices came, and then one rang out loudly.

“I tell you they have to be here. His car’s still there, isn’t it? Check the cellar!”

Heavy feet on wooden floorboards, followed by the crash and tinkle of breaking glass.

Jade moved on a swift intake of breath. He put his palm over her lips again, holding her immobile against him, shaking his head in warning, not that she could see it in the darkness.

“They must be upstairs.” The one who seemed to be in charge spoke. “Let’s go.”

Footsteps on the stairs muffled whatever response the other man made. Then his voice rang out, probably as they reached the top of the stairs.

“…maybe this isn’t the right one, either. What do we do then?”

Jade stiffened, straining against him as the import of the words seeped in for her, as well as for him. The right one? What on earth did that mean?

Thought was cut off as the door to the bedroom crashed open. Micah shoved the woman behind him as best he could in the tiny space. He pointed his gun at the opening. He might not be able to take on both of them, but he could do some damage to the one who opened that door.

“I’m telling you, they musta got out the back before I got there. There’s no place to hide in here.”

“Check the closet anyway. I’ll cover you.”

Micah held his breath, steadying his gun hand, a silent, wordless prayer forming. This was it—another second, maybe two—

The faint cry of a siren, growing louder, mounted to a wail. He managed a breath. That had to be the sweetest sound he’d ever heard.

The gunmen reacted even faster than he did. Thuds marked their progress down the stairs, across the lower level, out the door. The car roared down the lane.

Jade moved, squirming around him as if to open the door. He caught her, holding her still until he heard the cop cars pull up below. Then he got out of the closet first, holstering his weapon, holding both hands in the air, his badge opened in one.

“Up here,” he shouted when he heard them enter the house, having no desire to start downstairs until he was sure he wouldn’t be met by a trigger-happy inexperienced kid. “Deputy U.S. Marshal Micah McGraw.”

Two uniformed officers burst into the room, weapons focused on him. He stood perfectly still.

“Who’d you say you were?” The older man barked the question, gesturing to the younger, a tow-headed kid who didn’t look old enough to be a cop. The kid edged up on him carefully and took the ID from his hand.

“Deputy U.S. Marshal Micah McGraw,” he repeated patiently. “Two armed men broke in. Their car—”

“We saw it.” The older man checked his identity card thoroughly, then nodded to him to put his hands down. “Already put out an APB.” He tossed the ID back. “Sorry, Marshal.”

“No sweat—I’d do the same in your place.”

“What about Ms. Summers? She here when this went down?”

“She’s here.” He held the door open, and Jade crawled out of the closet.