Agent Under Siege

by LENA DIAZ,

  “Come on now. You and I both know you haven’t forgotten my name that easily.” He studied her from head to toe, memorizing the fit of her oversize plaid flannel shirt, the slight loss of color in her face and the dark circles under her eyes. Yeah, living on the run did that to a person. Beckett unbuttoned his holster. He wouldn’t pull. Of all the criminals the United States Marshals Service had assigned him to recover over the years, she was the only one he’d hesitated chasing down. Then again, if he hadn’t accepted the assignment, another marshal would have. And there was no way Beckett would let anyone else bring her in.

  Beckett ran his free hand along the exposed brick of the fireplace. “Gotta be honest, didn’t think you’d ever come back here. Lot of memories tied up in this place.”

  “What do you want, Beckett?” The creases around her eyes deepened as she shifted her weight between both feet. She crouched slightly, searching through the single window facing East Lake, then refocused on him.

  Looking for a way out? Or to see if he’d come with backup? Dried grass, changing leaves, mountains and an empty dock were all that were out there. The cabin she’d been raised in as a kid sat on the west side of the lake, away from tourists, away from the main road. Even if he gave her a head start, she wouldn’t get far. There was nowhere for her to run. Not from him.

  “You know that, too.” He took a single step forward, the aged wood floor protesting under his weight as he closed in on her. “You skipped out on your trial, and I’m here to bring you in.”

  “What was I supposed to do?” Countering his approach, she moved backward toward the front door she’d dead-bolted right after coming inside but kept the gun aimed at him. Her boot hit the go bag she stored on the kitchen counter beside the door. “I didn’t steal that money. Someone at the charity did and faked the evidence so I’d take the fall.”

  “That’s the best you got? A frame job?” Fifty and a half million dollars. Gone. The only one with continuous access to the funds stood right in front of him. Not to mention the brand-new offshore bank account, the thousands of wire transfers to that account in increments small enough they wouldn’t register for the feds, and Raleigh’s signatures on every single one of them. “You had a choice, Raleigh. You just chose wrong.”

  “Beckett...” She slowed her escape. Her fingers flitted over the gun as her expression softened. “You know me. You know I didn’t do this. Find Calvin Dailey, the foundation’s CEO. I told him everything when I discovered the funds were being sent offshore. I’ve been trying to contact him for weeks. He must’ve gone into hiding when the news about my arrest hit the media, but he can clear my name.”

  “I’m afraid Calvin Dailey can’t help you right now. Seems your boss left his house without about a half a gallon of his own blood. Local police haven’t found the body yet, but I don’t think that’s a coincidence, considering you just revealed he’s the only other person you told about the missing money.” He locked his jaw against the fire burning through his veins, the easygoing marshal gone. Beckett lowered his hand from above his holster and took another step. “You think you know a person. Then one day you wake up and see them on the morning news getting arrested for embezzlement.”

  “Calvin’s...dead?” Shock dropped her bottom lip. Real dangerous. Either Raleigh Wilde was one hell of an actress, or she honestly hadn’t known her former colleague had most likely been murdered. Shock bled to resolution and wiped the confusion from her gaze. She secured the butt of the rifle against her shoulder. Just as he’d taught her. “I didn’t kill him, and I didn’t embezzle that money. I’m not going to prison. I can’t. Not now.”

  There was the woman he’d let into his life, the one with vengeance in her eyes and her middle fingers raised high. The one who’d stood up to the mugger who’d tried stealing her purse on a Portland street until it’d gotten to the point Beckett had to intervene before she punctured one of the bastard’s lungs with her high heel. The one who’d thanked him for his help by intertwining her fingers with his and showing him what real desire looked like. He’d never forget that woman. Too bad she’d never existed in the first place. Instead, he’d gotten involved with a criminal, but she wasn’t going to manipulate him again. “That’s up to the judge, sweetheart.”

  “Don’t call me that.” The words left her mouth between gritted teeth. “You lost the right to call me ‘sweetheart’ when you disappeared after my arrest.”

  “And here I was thinking you’re the one who broke us up.” He pulled a set of cuffs from the back of his holster, shards of reflected sunlight bouncing across her face. “I’m bringing you in.”

  “I’ll give you one chance to walk away, Beckett.” She racked the shotgun, her expression softening slightly. “Please. For both our sakes, don’t make me pull this trigger. Turn around and pretend you never found me. It’s better for everyone if I stay lost.”

  “You’re going to shoot me now, is that it?” It was possible. Honestly, how well did he really know her? They’d been together six months before she’d gotten arrested. Sure, she’d let her past slip out every once in a while, but, it turned out, nearly everything he’d known about her had been a lie. The deeper he’d dug into her life, the more he’d realized how stupid he’d been to trust her. People didn’t change. Once a criminal, always a criminal.

  “I’ll do whatever it takes to survive.” The shadows across her throat shifted as she licked her lips and swallowed. “This isn’t just about me anymore.”

  Beckett stuck his hand in his jeans pocket and pulled out the rounds he’d taken from the gun. Pinching one between his thumb and index finger, he held it up for her to see. “How are you going to shoot me if the gun is empty, Raleigh?”

  She faltered, her green gaze lowering to the weapon.

  Beckett dropped the cuffs and the rounds and lunged. Ripping the rifle from her grip with one hand, he unholstered his own weapon and aimed with the other. In less than two breaths, he had his fugitive. The shotgun hit the floor, jarring her instantly. Nice to see there were still some things that could get through that carefully monitored exterior. “Now I can guarantee you this gun is loaded.” He motioned her to the left with the barrel of his service weapon. “Cuffs. Now.”

  “You’re making a mistake. If Calvin was killed as you said, whoever stole that money is cleaning up loose ends. He’s the only one I told about the missing money. Who do you think they’ll come after next?” Raleigh crouched, picked up the handcuffs and secured one over her wrist. The cords between her shoulders and neck flexed tight as she moved. She straightened, facing him, her light vanilla scent making its way deep into his lungs. “You take me in, you’ll only make it easier for his killer to find me.”

  He ensured the cuffs were tight enough she couldn’t squirm loose, his fingers brushing the inside of her wrist. An electric jolt shot up his arm in response. Hell. He’d forgotten what it was like to touch her, how his body had always craved hers. His heart threatened to beat out of his chest, his lungs pressurizing with the air stuck in his throat. Six months. That’d been all the time he’d needed to fall for her, she’d been that addictive. He’d run to help when some purse snatcher had tried to take off with her bag, but, in reality, she’d been the one to save him that day. She’d changed...everything, given him hope he didn’t have to spend the rest of his life alone. Until he’d learned who she really was. Learned it’d all been one long con.

  The cuffs ratcheted into place, the clicks loud in his ears as he secured her hands in front, and reality bled into focus. Justice. Integrity. Service. He’d sworn to uphold the law when he’d become a marshal, and the woman in front of him wouldn’t change that. No matter how strong her gravitational pull. Or how clever her lies. “No, Raleigh. The mistake was trusting you from the beginning.”

  “I’m not going back.” She stared out the window over his shoulder, almost lost, green eyes ethereal. Seconds ticked by. Then, in an instant, her gaze snap
ped back to his, and his instincts screamed in warning. Raleigh wrenched away from him, then kicked him square in the gut. “Not until I clear my name.”

  His head hit the old wood mantel above the fireplace—hard—and he went down. The cabin blurred in his vision as he struggled to his feet; the only illumination came from a beam of sunlight through the now open front door. It was enough to give him direction. The go bag from the kitchen counter was gone. He pressed his free hand to the back of his head, then glanced at his fingers. Blood. Pain spread fast through his skull. Damn, that woman had powerful legs. Beckett charged out the door, gun up, finger on the trigger. He blinked against the brightness glinting off the lake and shook his head to clear the soft ringing in his ears. “Raleigh!”

  Movement registered along the lake’s shore about fifty feet to his left. Cuffed, she sprinted toward a thick line of trees behind the cabin, all that soft brown hair trailing behind her.

  Beckett pumped his legs hard. The sun had already started hugging the mountains. If she evaded him long enough, there was a chance she’d disappear forever. That wasn’t an option. Raleigh vanished into the tree line ahead of him. Loose rocks and fallen branches threatened to trip him up, but he only pushed himself harder.

  His heart thundered behind his ears as shadows enveloped the small dirt trail ahead. Too many damn places for an ambush. He slowed, sweat beading in his hairline, and forced the adrenaline pumping through his veins to cool. His training kicked in, instincts on high alert. Raleigh might be a criminal, but she wasn’t a trained law-enforcement officer. Any family she’d ever had had turned their backs on her a long time ago, and her friends had been advised to keep their distance by counsel. She couldn’t hide from him. At least, not for long.

  The sound of a broken twig snapping in two twisted him to the right. He took aim as branches of a fir tree swayed with the fresh breeze. Tension tightened every muscle down his spine. Three seconds. Four. A shadow slipped into his peripheral vision off to the left, and he spun, too late.

  Thick dried bark scraped across the exposed skin of his arm a split second before he ducked out of the way of the massive branch she’d swung at him. He lunged as she widened her stance for another round, hiking her over his shoulder in a fireman’s hold. A sharp jab of her knee knocked the air from his lungs. A growl rumbled through his chest as they hit the forest floor. He pinned her beneath him, all that lean muscle and soft skin. “You’re making this harder on yourself.”

  Raleigh hooked her foot under his shin and shoved, trying to roll him onto his back. Wouldn’t work. Struggling for purchase, she bucked her hips up to dislodge his advantage. Fire ignited the subtle hints of gold around the edges of her eyes.

  He secured her wrists between his hands and pulled her to her feet. “You’re under arrest.”

  * * *

  HEARTS WERE WILD CREATURES. Traitorous, deceitful creatures who didn’t know the difference between the US marshal who intended on bringing her in and the man she’d envisioned spending the rest of her life with up until a few months ago.

  Raleigh Wilde focused on where her boots landed along the trail and not on the fact she’d actually been happy to see him. Those coastal-blue eyes, his thick dark hair she used to tangle her fingers through or his beard that would tickle her throat when he kissed her. Not to mention every ridge and valley of muscle she’d memorized from the first day they’d met all those years ago.

  It’d been four months since the last time they’d stood face-to-face, and this was how it was going to end? Beckett would bring her into the Marshals’ district office, turn her over to the FBI, and whoever’d framed her for taking that donation money would enjoy their freedom while she served time for a crime she didn’t commit. Because, of all the things she hadn’t been able to depend on in this world, Beckett and his unbreakable sense of duty was something she could count on.

  She sucked in a lungful of clean Oregon air. Dried needles crunched beneath her feet, red, orange and yellow foliage clinging to the thick line of trees around her aunt’s small property. It’d been a long time since she’d had the guts to come back out here. Not since her brother’s death. Pressing her cuffed wrists against her lower abdomen, she shook her head. She should’ve known Beckett Foster would be assigned her case. He was the one who knew her best, after all. The only one she’d trusted with pieces of herself. He’d known she’d come here. But she wasn’t a criminal. No matter what he believed about her or what the evidence said. She hadn’t stolen a dime from the foundation she and Calvin had built together, and she’d prove it. She’d clear her name and get her life back. She slid the edge of her thumb over the growing baby bump she kept hidden. Get her future back. “I never meant for you to get involved in any of this.”

  “Don’t talk to me like we’re friends.” His heavy steps echoed loud behind her. The sun had gone down behind the mountains, making the dangerous tone in his voice that much more terrifying. The slide of steel against her spine kept her moving. Twenty feet, maybe less, until they left the safety of the trees. “My head is still bleeding.”

  She was out of time. She couldn’t go to prison. She could run again, but he was so much stronger than she was, faster, bigger. Raleigh slowed. His dark, rich scent still lodged in her lungs. Outdoors and man. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed that comforting smell until just now. She dug her nails into her palms against the truth. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed him. They were nearing the edge of the tree line. He’d parked his truck straight ahead. The second he put her in that vehicle, it was over. She had to tell him the truth. She had to make him believe her. “Beckett, there’s something I have to tell—”

  A gunshot exploded from the trailhead, echoing off the mountains at their back.

  Fire burned along the edge of her neck as strong hands ripped her off the trail and into the trees. In the span of a single breath, Beckett shoved them behind a large fir. Protecting her? Raleigh clamped a hand over the wound as he drew his weapon.

  Beckett released the magazine from the gun, checked it, then slammed it back into place. Just as he’d taught her when he’d insisted she needed to learn how to handle a weapon. He spun, facing her. Rough calluses tugged at her skin as he forced her hand out of the way and studied her wound. “How bad is it?”

  Her heart jerked behind her rib cage as his fingers brushed against the oversensitized skin of her throat. That almost sounded like concern in his voice. But she knew better. He’d protect her because she was a fugitive whose file had come across his desk. He’d get her back into federal custody, even if he had to shoot his way out of here to do it. She was a job. Nothing more. Anything they had together had been destroyed the moment he’d turned his back on her after her arrest. Bright blue eyes locked on her, and her blood heated in an instant. She hissed as the salt in his skin aggravated the bullet’s burn on her neck and pulled back. “It’s a graze. I’m fine.”

  “Good.” Beckett turned his back to her, all that concern that’d warmed her from the inside turning to ice. “Then you know the drill. Stay behind me, and don’t even think about running again.”

  “Exactly where am I supposed to go?” she asked.

  A short burst of laughter shook his shoulders. “Didn’t stop you from trying a few minutes ago.”

  Another bullet ripped through the tree at her right, and she flinched away as fear took control. Her fingers tightened in his shirt, the cuffs cutting into the soft tissue of her inner wrists. They had to get out of here. Raleigh patted him on the shoulder. “Where are your handcuff keys?”

  “US Marshals Service! Put your weapon down, get on your knees and put your hands behind your head!” Beckett pulled the trigger. Once. Twice. The shadow disappeared from the edge of the trees, but Raleigh wasn’t naive enough to believe the shooter had suddenly grown a conscience and backed down. Calvin’s disappearance couldn’t be coincidence, and neither was the fact someone had come for h
er minutes after Beckett showed up. He’d been followed. And he’d led a killer straight to her. “The cuffs stay on. You’re not getting away from me again.”

  She focused on the slight bulge beneath his lower pant leg. Screw the cuffs. She wasn’t going to die out here. She had too much to lose. Hiking up Beckett’s pant leg, she unholstered the small revolver he kept strapped to his ankle and fired three shots toward the shooter.

  Beckett twisted around. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “Giving us a fighting chance.” She left the cover of trees along the trail, positioning herself as a smaller target, and backed farther into the woods. They’d have to find another way out. Whoever’d shot at them had them pinned down, and they knew it. If Beckett wanted to get her into federal custody, he’d have to do things her way. “I know these woods better than anyone. If you want to get out of here alive, you’ll do exactly as I say. Unless your oversize ego won’t let me save your life.”

  He stepped out from behind the massive fir he’d shoved her behind when the bullets had started flying, gun raised at the entrance to the trail. “I don’t trust criminals.”

  Air lodged in her lungs. Was that what this was all about? Why he hadn’t come to see her in county lockup. Why he hadn’t returned her dozens of calls once she’d been arrested. She’d taken a risk revealing the pieces of her past she’d shared with him, her need to have someone to rely on when so many others—family, friends—had up and disappeared from her life. She’d trusted him, believed the promise he’d made to stick by her side, no matter what happened. But, in the end, he’d been exactly like the rest of them. Unreliable. Self-righteous.

  Her heart thundered in her chest as she studied his broad shoulders. She didn’t have to see those light eyes to sense the disgust surging through him, and her stomach twisted with nausea. He’d spent over a decade chasing fugitives for the Marshals Service, experiencing firsthand how evil people could be. She sucked in a shaky breath. Was that how he saw her now? As one of the bad guys?