In Need of Protection

by Jill Elizabeth Nelson

  Didn’t he?

  What if he went into WITSEC with them? Ethan shook his head and jabbed his finger on the enter key more forcefully than necessary. What kind of foolishness was that? He wasn’t ready to give up his career. Was he? But if he did make that move, he’d want to be more to her than her protector or friend. Yet asking her about her feelings for him when they were in this emotionally tense situation would be beyond unethical, if not downright cruel. No, they were stuck on separate paths, and he needed to make peace with the facts. If only peace were anywhere to be found in the turmoil within him.

  “Ethan?” Lara’s voice drew his head up. She was standing in the doorway with Maisy in her arms. “I’m not bothering you at a bad time, am I?”

  “Not at all.” He rolled his chair away from the desk. “I need a break from staring at this screen before I go cross-eyed.”

  The wry remark brought a faint smile from Lara, and the sound of his voice attracted Maisy’s attention. The baby gazed at him and flapped her little arm. It was his imagination, of course, but the action almost seemed like she was waving at him. Ethan rose and reached for Maisy, and she came readily. The smile he received from the little girl was not imaginary.

  “She likes you a lot.” Lara crossed her arms and leaned into the doorjamb.

  “The feeling is mutual.” Ethan tickled the little girl’s chin and won a chortle in response.

  “Good.” Lara grinned. Her gaze fell toward his desk, and she pointed at something. “Is that the tracker we found inside the baby rattle?”

  Ethan turned and gazed down at the small rectangular black box sitting on the corner of his borrowed desk. “That’s the one. Attempting to find the purchaser through the serial number was a dead end, though.”

  Lara frowned, shook her head and then brightened. “I’ve been offered an opportunity to shower in the locker room in the basement, and I was hoping you’d look after Maisy.”

  He fixed Lara with a pointed stare. “The entire building is secure, but you’re not leaving this floor unaccompanied.”

  “Of course not, worry wart. A pair of female Cheyenne PD officers will be with me.”

  Ethan’s shoulders relaxed marginally. “All righty, then. You’ve got yourself a babysitter. Isn’t that right, Maisy-Daisy?” He bounced the little girl in his arms and grinned at her.

  “You’ll make a great daddy one day,” Lara said and walked away.

  Ethan stared at the empty doorway. Was that wistfulness he’d heard in her tone, or was his imagination working overtime? He couldn’t trust his discernment when his emotions were all over the place.

  Get your head together, Ridgeway. Until Lara and Maisy were whisked quietly and secretly away from this location to their new home, he was ultimately responsible for keeping this little one and her guardian safe.

  Half an hour later, he’d fed and changed Maisy, then laid her down for a nap. He stepped into another room, got on the walkie-talkie and called down to one of the PD officers guarding Lara.

  “What’s the status?” he asked.

  “Quiet as a tomb down here.”

  Ethan winced at the officer’s choice of terminology. “Do you have eyes on Lara?”

  “No, but I heard the shower shut off a few minutes ago. She’s probably getting dressed and applying her makeup.”

  “Lara doesn’t wear makeup.” Another reason to marvel at the woman’s extraordinary beauty. She had no need to enhance it. “Stay alert. The people after her are very determined and resourceful.”

  “Copy that.”

  Another twenty minutes passed, and Ethan got on the radio again. When neither officer answered his calls for response, his hair stood on end. He grabbed a passing deputy and assigned him to Maisy, then strode up the hall and found Terry in another office.

  “Lara’s guard detail isn’t answering from the locker room,” he said.

  Terry jumped up. “Let’s go.”

  In tandem, they raced toward the elevator. Ethan’s finger stabbed the elevator button just as an alarm started blaring.

  “Fire?” Terry’s gaze collided with Ethan’s.

  “Not hardly. This is to disable the elevators and create confusion. The stairs. Let’s go!”

  Ethan rammed through the stairway door, and his feet carried him downward recklessly fast. The area was soon jammed with people attempting to leave the building. Heart rate revving into overdrive, he muscled his way downward with Terry in his wake. The last length of stairwell, the one leading into the basement, was empty. No one was coming upward to escape the building—not even Lara or her escorts, unless they’d already made it to the first floor. But Ethan couldn’t afford to make that assumption, not when the PD officers had failed to respond to his radio call.

  Something bad was going on, and he had to stop it before Lara got hurt. If he wasn’t already too late.

  The alarm continued to blare as they reached the bottom of the stairwell and faced the entrance to the basement hallway. Fighting the urge to keep from heedlessly bursting through the door that very second, Ethan took a position to one side of the entrance, and Terry flattened his back against the wall on the other side. At Terry’s nod, Ethan pulled the hydraulic-hinged door open and flung himself through it, posture low and collected, weapon extended.

  The fluorescent lights overhead illuminated a long hallway with doors leading this way and that. No sign of armed enemies. No sign of people at all except for a pair of uniformed figures crumpled on the floor at the end of the hall. Ethan’s throat tightened. Moving ahead, with Terry on his six, Ethan checked the first room along the route.

  “Clear.”

  Terry moved ahead and checked the next door.

  “Clear.”

  Then Ethan took the next room.

  “Clear.”

  Finally, Terry took the fourth room and pronounced it clear.

  Ethan hurried ahead to the pair of officers on the floor. No blood or signs of injury. He touched their necks and found healthy pulses. What had caused them to collapse and lose consciousness?

  The entrance to the locker room was closed, and no sounds emanated from within. Heart hammering, Ethan slowly pushed the door open and entered in a shooter’s stance. No hostiles evident, though the banks of lockers could hide many thugs. Over the din of the fire alarm, it was impossible to hear any movements enemies might be making. Terry came up beside him, moving his gaze and his gun barrel this way and that.

  “Lara?” Ethan called out.

  No response.

  If anything had happened to her—no, he couldn’t think that way. Not right now. The blare of the alarm suddenly cut out. Silence rang in the wake of the clamor. Wordlessly, Ethan canted his head at Terry, who moved off toward one end of the room while Ethan took the other.

  “Lara?” Ethan called softly as he rounded the corner into a lane between banks of lockers.

  A petite figure dressed in jeans and a T-shirt lay on the floor, prone and still, her still-damp hair a golden curtain across her face.

  “Lara!”

  FOURTEEN

  One side of Lara’s jaw and ear throbbed. The other side was pressed against something chilly and hard. Her whole body ached.

  “Lara!”

  Someone was calling her name. She released a low moan and opened her eyes. Between strands of her hair, squares of black-and-white linoleum swam into view. Her stomach rolled at the chemical odor of wax. What was she doing on the floor?

  A pair of booted feet showed up in front of her eyes and then a pair of knees clad in black slacks took their place as someone knelt beside her. Gentle hands moved the hair draped over her face. A face lowered near her own. Ethan!

  She started to smile but her jaw protested the movement. “What happened?” she managed to mumble.

  “You came down to the locker room to get a shower and someone mu
st have attacked you.”

  Lara blinked. “I don’t...” She was about to say “remember” when it all rushed back to her. “Yes.” She began to lever herself off the floor on rubbery arms.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Ethan lifted her up and pulled her close, supporting her against his chest. His heartbeat thrummed in her ear, fast but steady. “We need to get you checked out by a doctor before you get too rambunctious.”

  “I’m okay, Ethan. At least I will be.” She failed to follow up the declaration by pulling away from his warm embrace. Chalk it up to the weakness permeating her body...or simply the comfort of his closeness. “I was just tying my shoes when I heard a small outcry from the hallway. I got up to investigate, but a figure dressed all in black rushed at me, kicked me in the head, and the lights went out.”

  Terry came around the corner of the bank of lockers and walked up to them. “Lara’s okay?”

  “She says she will be,” Ethan answered.

  “Good.” The man heaved out a long breath.

  “Somebody with martial arts skills kicked her and knocked her out,” Ethan continued. “Sounds like Blaine Roberts to me.”

  “Who’s Blaine Roberts?” Lara asked.

  Ethan’s lips flattened. “The Draytons have this martial arts expert on their payroll.”

  “Sounds like Roberts took out the officers in the hallway, too. They’re up but are still pretty incoherent. One of them mumbled something about being attacked from above. Makes sense since the grate from the air duct above the guards’ heads is missing.”

  “The air ducts? That’s how he got in? Roberts is slender enough to make that work.”

  “That guy is deadly.” Terry scowled and planted his hands on his hips. “He can kill with a single blow.”

  “So why am I still alive?” Lara asked, looking from Ethan to Terry and back again.

  “Good question,” Ethan said. “We’ll pick up that train of thought as soon as we get everyone some medical attention.”

  “I’ve radioed for help,” Terry said, “but I guess it’s still pandemonium upstairs and outside. The fire department is checking the building from top to bottom.”

  “Why? What happened?” Lara pulled away from Ethan.

  “The fire alarm went off,” Ethan said. “And I find the timing suspicious.”

  A shiver ran through Lara. “Where’s Maisy?”

  Terry jerked a nod toward his partner. “I’ll go check while you look after Lara.” The man darted out of the room.

  “I’m going, too.” Lara struggled to get to her feet.

  Ethan reached out a hand to help her. Lara gripped his arm but released it as soon as she was upright.

  “I have to find her,” she told him, and their gazes locked. She refused to look away.

  “I know, but you’re going to stick to me like glue and let me help you every step of the way.”

  “No argument from me.” A newborn kitten would probably feel less wobbly than she did.

  Lara leaned into him as they made their way up the hallway toward the stairwell. The recovering officers formed a rear guard. As they neared the top of the first flight of stairs, Terry burst through the door in front of them.

  “Maisy’s all right!” he called breathlessly.

  Lara’s knees went weak, and Ethan lowered her onto a step and squatted beside her.

  He looked up at his partner. “They didn’t go after her?”

  “Sure, they did. As soon as they brought her out during the evacuation. But the marshal had so many officers and deputies around her, they couldn’t get close. Our people spotted them and took them down well before they got within reach of her. They’re in custody, and hopefully, they have more information than the other Drayton muscle we’ve apprehended.”

  Lara looked at Ethan. “The Draytons must be beyond desperate to attempt a stunt like this. Something doesn’t add up. It seems staged.”

  A deep furrow appeared between Ethan’s brows. “I agree. What’s the theater all about?”

  “And I still don’t get why my attacker didn’t just kill me instead of knocking me out.”

  “I don’t get it either, but I’m glad you’re with us.” His words were positive, but if his frown got any darker, a storm cloud might form over his head.

  An hour later, Lara had been seen by the physician on call with the marshals service. Aside from treating her injuries, the top-to-bottom examination was also designed to look for anything this Blaine Roberts might have planted on her in lieu of killing her. Nothing was found. The doctor diagnosed a bruised jaw, but no break, and a slight concussion. She’d wanted Lara to come in for a CT scan to rule out a subdural hematoma, but Lara had refused and the marshal concurred taking her off premises was too risky.

  “Despite the morning’s events,” Ethan told her as he walked her back to the office she and Maisy had slept in, “this building is still the best place for both of you until we can finalize arrangements for your safe future.”

  What safe future? Lara didn’t voice the question out loud, but it reverberated through her head. If the marshals service hadn’t managed to keep her off the Drayton’s radar over the past harrowing days, despite Ethan’s heroic efforts, what made them think they could pull it off permanently? This was beginning to seem like a losing battle. Maybe it was the head trauma talking, but maybe it was simply facing reality.

  Maisy’s mewling cry carried up the hallway, and Lara hurried into their shared space. The infant was fussing in the arms of a pacing and harried-looking desk clerk. Lara took the child, and she instantly stopped crying and cuddled up on Lara’s shoulder. Warmth flowed through Lara’s body. Maisy not only recognized her but needed her. This must be what motherhood felt like. All that afternoon, Lara reveled in the experience like she never had before. When Maisy went down for the night, there was almost a sense of letdown.

  As she went to freshen up in the ladies’ room and prepare for bed herself, heaviness gripped the pit of Lara’s stomach. Ethan had been gone since early afternoon following a lead on the Draytons, and he was still gone. Terry had been scarce, too, though she’d seen him over a shared pizza at supper. Then he’d taken off, as well, presumably to assist Ethan with whatever he was doing. Maisy and she were left under the watchful care of multiple armed guards.

  All day long, everyone around had been super nice to her and Maisy, but if she missed Ethan this dearly for one afternoon and evening, adjusting to his absence forever was going to be horrible. She might as well face that her attachment to him was deeper than dependency on him for protection. Here she was surrounded by armed and trained people committed to keeping her safe, and she was still pining. No, her heart longed for Ethan, the man, not the deputy marshal. What a fine mess her emotions were in! And she didn’t dare breathe a word of her feelings to Ethan and make things harder than they already were.

  Lara plodded back to her cot and sat down on it. The headache that had receded for most of the day had returned with a vengeance. She rubbed the side of her jaw and winced. The tenderness and slight puffiness testified to the purplish bruise she’d seen in the bathroom mirror when she brushed her teeth. Vincent and Ronald Drayton had so much to answer for. When would they finally be brought to justice?

  A muffled ringtone sounded from somewhere nearby. Lara jerked and stared toward the landline phone on the desk that had been pushed against the wall to make room for Maisy and her, but that wasn’t the source of the ringing. No, the faint sound was coming from...her go bag!

  Pulse rate ramping up, Lara unzipped a side pocket of the bag. A cheap burner phone lay within, along with a brown-tinted glass vial containing something liquid. The items had to have been planted in her bag during the fire alarm, perhaps by the same person who had attacked her in the locker room. This Blaine Roberts person could have crept into this room through the ductwork just as he had done in the basement. Wit
h shaking fingers, Lara pulled out the phone and stared at it. No caller ID, but she had no doubt who was trying to communicate and whatever they had to say couldn’t be good.

  She should run straight to Ethan with this. No, he wasn’t back in the office yet. She could go to Terry. No, ditto. What if this call had something to do with Ethan? Her heart seized. Maybe he hadn’t returned to the office because he couldn’t. Maybe the Draytons had him!

  Lara punched the button to answer the call. “Hello?” Her voice came out tentative and trembly. Not at all her normal tone.

  “Ms. Werth, good to finally speak with you.” She recognized Vincent Drayton’s smooth, smarmy voice from the man’s brief conversation with Ethan when they were on the run from the bombed safe house.

  Something like a fist clenched beneath her breastbone. “I can’t say the same thing about you.” At least her words came out less wimpy this time.

  “Understandable, but in the absence of Deputy Ridgeway and his partner, I believe we can come to a satisfactory arrangement that will spare you unnecessary grief.”

  “Grief? Have you got Ethan?”

  “Why would you think so? Ah, you have feelings for the man. Interesting.” The ruthless gunrunner drawled out the last word in a way that ran fingernails across the chalkboard of her mind. “No, but we do have eyes on your mother. Don’t worry,” he added hastily, “she’s still in the custody of the marshals service, but we have a sniper perched nearby, who will take her out at my word.”

  A slow burn began deep inside Lara. Who did this man think he was, going around threatening innocent people’s lives?