Valerie Hansen - Family In Hiding

They fashioned a sling, passed a prescription to one of the marshals and had him sign a release before they packed up and left.

Inside the black van, plans were in the making. He sat back and listened as best he could while battling the distraction posed by his pulsing arm. He’d put on a brave front for his wife and children but was rapidly approaching the moment when he was either going to have to take a pill or lie down. Or both.

He shifted his position, hoping to find relief. Instead, a stab of intense pain made him wince. And, of all people, Grace noticed.

She stared and scowled. “I thought that was just a flesh wound.”

“Still hurts,” Dylan admitted. “I’m okay.”

“That’s not how it looks to me,” Grace said, transferring her attention to Marshal Serena Summers. “Can’t you give him something for it?”

“We will. As soon as he’s been properly debriefed,” Summers said. “We’re taking you to a safe house until we can process your paperwork and arrange for permanent transfer. Do you have any friends or family in Texas?”

Grace shook her head. So did Dylan.

“In that case, we’ll proceed as planned.”

Dylan could tell by the expression on his wife’s face that she was already having second thoughts. When she said, “Hold on a minute,” he figured the marshals were in for a talking-to.

If she had not been cradling Brandon, Dylan knew Grace would have jumped to her feet in confrontation mode. “This safe house. If we go there, where will you put Dylan?”

“In the safe house,” McCall answered.

“Not with us, you won’t.”

Dylan was afraid both marshals were going to laugh, particularly when Grace made a disgusted-looking face at him. If he hadn’t been in so much pain, he would have been ready to join them.

“Mrs. McIntyre,” McCall said calmly, “it’s our job to protect you from criminals. We’re not marriage counselors or psychologists. We will provide accommodations that will keep you and your family safe. I suggest you stop thinking of yourself and start considering your children.”

The look of abject astonishment on Grace’s face was a sight to behold, one Dylan knew he would not soon forget. In the following moments she went from amazement to anger, then to resignation and finally penitent surrender.

Nodding, she said, “You’re right. I’m sorry. I suppose he’ll behave since his arm is hurt.”

The bullet wound was not the only place Dylan was hurting. He cast sad eyes on his wife and slowly shook his head, taking care to move the rest of his body as little as possible. “I have never abused or even threatened you, Grace, and I’m not about to start now, with or without a bullet hole in my arm.”

“I never said you had.”

“You implied it.” He heaved a noisy sigh. “Look. I made some big mistakes and I’m paying for them. I don’t deny that. But what I did, I did for you. For our family.”

“Don’t try to put the blame on me,” she countered. “I never told you to lie or steal or whatever else you did.”

“You were always happy when I brought home those hefty bonus checks.”

“Because I didn’t know what you were doing to deserve them! You...you...”

Marshal McCall stepped between them. “That’s enough. Both of you. You’ll have plenty of time to argue once we settle you in the safe house. Right now, we need to transfer the children and their mother to one of our cars for transport.”

Dylan was about to ask about himself when Grace did it for him.

“He stays with us until we’ve finished asking questions and have turned his computer files over to our techs to make sure they’re what he promised,” McCall answered. “Then, if all goes well, he’ll join you.”

The expression on Grace’s face was cynical when she said, “I can hardly wait.”

In Dylan’s mind the same sentiment lurked. Only in his case, sarcasm was not involved.

* * *

Grace had no idea where a younger marshal was taking them, nor did she ask, although Kyle did pipe up once to object to their not going home. As long as she and her poor, tired babies were safe she didn’t really care. Not tonight, anyway.

Picturing tough, belligerent Kyle as a babe made her smile. He’d been such a sweetie—until his sister had come along and he’d ceased being an only child. Conversely, when Brandon had arrived, Kyle had acted delighted to have a brother on his side against the females of the household.

That ratio was normally two to two since Dylan was so seldom in the picture. His absence was one of the things that saddened her, although, in retrospect, she was glad her estranged mate had not had as much direct influence on their children as she’d had.

If her parents had been able to cope she might have called upon her own father to step in as a surrogate, but he had developed Alzheimer’s and was so far gone he didn’t even recognize his wife and caregiver these days. Male relatives on Dylan’s side of the family were nonexistent. His late mother had raised him by herself, meaning there had never been a father figure in his young life.

Perhaps that was the crux of his problem, Grace mused. And, if he’d chosen a role model from work, perhaps someone like his boss, Fred Munders, he’d probably been looking in the wrong place. She wasn’t positive, but since Fred’s wife ran an adoption agency, she wondered if good old Fred might be up to his neck in this mess.

The unmarked, black sedan approached a modest-looking, darkened house on a quiet, suburban street. The driver parked in front of the closed garage door and started to get out.

“So, this is it?” Grace spoke quietly to keep from disturbing her exhausted, dozing children.

“Yes, ma’am. Please stay in the car until I tell you it’s safe to get out.”

“We weren’t followed, were we?”

“Only by an unmarked police car, and he turned off just before we arrived so we wouldn’t draw attention.”

“How long will I have to stay here?”

“Until McCall or Summers tells you to move,” the driver said. “You need to trust them. They’re good at what they do.”

“I certainly hope so. What are my instructions? Do I just go in the house and wait? How will I know what’s going on in the outside world? And what about school for the older kids? Classes were almost over for the summer but I know they’re missing final exams.”

“All of that will be taken care of. Wait here,” the driver told her as he got out of the car.

Grace watched as he raised the overhead door, returned and pulled the car into the garage. He then moved to a side entrance to the house, unlocked the door and, pulling his gun from a shoulder holster beneath his coat, slipped into the silent house.

Grace’s fingers clenched in her lap. If this place was so safe, why did he need to inspect it with a gun in hand? What had Dylan gotten them into? The more she learned, the worse the situation became. Unfortunately, at this point, there wasn’t a whole lot she could do about it, either.

The agent returned. She thought he was talking to himself until she realized he was taking a hands-free phone call as he opened her door and helped her out.

“Yes, sir,” he said into the headset. “Forty-five minutes. I’ll get them settled and be ready when you arrive to relieve me.”

“Was that your boss?” Grace asked, more for something to chat about than out of curiosity.

The agent nodded and replied as he unbuckled Brandon and handed him to her before freeing Beth. Kyle undid his own seat belt. “Yes, ma’am. Marshal McCall will be here shortly.”

And that meant...? “Him and who else?”

“Mr. McIntyre and Marshal Summers, I believe.”

Grace mumbled, “Peachy,” belatedly noting that Kyle had observed the telling reaction. Well, too bad. She had tried more than once to explain to the children why she’d filed for divorce and had basically failed, or so it seemed. Of the three, Kyle remained the most antagonistic, which figured, since he was the oldest. The boy was ten going on thirty, thanks to having mentally tried to assume the responsibility for the family that his father had neglected for so long.