Texas Holiday Hideout

by Virginia Vaughan

  “Let’s just get through this one day at a time, okay?”

  She nodded and turned her attention back to Dylan.

  Miles walked to the window and tried to regain his own composure. It wasn’t his job to get close to his witnesses, but he’d found offering a sympathetic ear helped them to cope with the abrupt changes happening in their lives. It also built trust between them. But he had to be careful with this one. He’d protected mothers before, even single mothers and their children, but something about this pretty, young woman and her child was tugging at his heartstrings like no one ever had before. He suspected it had more to do with his recent breakup than with his witness. He’d come home from helping to care for his dad only to discover his girlfriend had left him. Even though his absence hadn’t been connected to work at all, she’d decided she couldn’t build a relationship with a man whose frequent absences made him incapable of sharing his life with her.

  It wasn’t the first time his job had gotten in the way of his love life, and he doubted it would be the last. But he couldn’t regret his commitment to his work. Not when there were people like this woman and child, who deserved all the help and protection they could get.

  He was ready to settle down and start a family, but it seemed that particular dream wasn’t going to happen for him anytime soon...if at all.

  He rechecked the room to make sure everything was secure. It gave him something to do besides sit and wait, but it failed to keep his mind busy. He was still thinking about Dylan and how difficult it was going to be to keep an energetic little boy from running off and attracting attention. They needed someplace safe, where they could go so Dylan could run and jump, a safe house with a large living room perhaps or... No, he couldn’t go there. He’d never taken anyone back to his family’s ranch and he couldn’t see himself starting now. He wasn’t going to ask his family to put themselves at risk.

  A knock on the door grabbed his attention and his hand instantly went to his gun. Melissa grabbed Dylan and pulled him to her as Miles walked to the door.

  “Who is it?” he asked.

  A voice replied, “Room service. We have your dinner, sir.”

  Miles frowned. He hadn’t ordered anything, but he supposed it was possible Griffin had placed an order. He’d let the waiter in...but he’d stay on his guard.

  He unlocked the door and opened it, positioning himself behind the door with his hand on his gun just in case as a waiter pushed a cart inside with several trays on top. The man flashed Melissa and Dylan a smile then turned to Miles, handing him the receipt to sign.

  Once Miles took it, the waiter then reached under the cart, pushed aside the tablecloth and grabbed hold of something.

  He was going for a gun.

  Miles dropped the receipt book and pulled his weapon. “Don’t move!” he shouted as the man spun around. Miles kicked him, sending him sprawling backward over the cart and to the floor on the other side of the bed. He raised his gun and shouted for Melissa to grab Dylan and run.

  Without hesitating, she swooped up the child and took off down the hallway toward the elevators. Miles backed from the room, keeping one eye on her and the other on the attacker. When he poked his head up, Miles fired and the man ducked for cover again. Miles heard the elevator door ding, indicating it was there, and he didn’t wait around to see if he’d hit the attacker. He took off running, dashing into the elevator just before the doors slid closed. He hit the button to the basement and willed the elevator to move quickly.

  Melissa tried to comfort Dylan, who was frightened and crying. Miles quelled a desire to tell her to quiet him. He knew how difficult that would be. Still, a crying child was a dead giveaway to their location. He could only hope Dylan would calm down on his own before the elevator doors opened again.

  They had to get out of here now. If Shearer’s men had infiltrated the hotel, there might be more than one attacker coming after her.

  The elevator reached the basement and Miles braced himself for a fight. He raised his gun, ready to fire if anyone was waiting for them. The doors opened and he breathed a sigh of relief that no one was there. Either the shooter was working alone, or his backup was staking out the lobby or some other exit. Still, Miles wouldn’t let down his guard. They needed to get out of this hotel before he came after them.

  He hustled Melissa and Dylan toward his SUV and hurried them inside, glad to see that Griffin had had the forethought to install Dylan’s car seat before he’d left. Melissa crawled into the back seat with Dylan as Miles slid behind the wheel.

  “Put your head down until I tell you it’s clear,” he ordered as he sped out of his parking space and toward the exit.

  Their attacker emerged at the exit ramp. He raised a gun at them, but Miles wasn’t going to be deterred. He hit the accelerator and sped toward the man. The guy fired several shots that hit the windshield but the bullet-resistant glass didn’t break.

  He rammed the accelerator and aimed the car right for the exit. If this guy wanted to get out of his way, fine. If not, he was going to get hit.

  The guy jumped out of the path of the car just in time as Miles turned out of the garage and headed for the interstate.

  “Are you both okay?” he asked as he merged into traffic and checked his mirrors to see the attacker running after them on foot. He wouldn’t catch up to them, but Miles kept an eye on him, anyway, to make sure he didn’t enter a vehicle of his own and give chase.

  “We’re okay,” Melissa told him, but her voice sounded shaky with fear. That was to be expected.

  “Stay low for now.” He pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed his boss’s number. “Griffin, they found us at the hotel.”

  “What? Already? How?”

  “I don’t know, but there was an attacker. He came in, pretending to be bringing room service. Get down to the hotel and see what you can find out. I’m taking them to a safer place. I’ll let you know when we land somewhere.”

  He ended the call. He didn’t tell Griffin where he was going. He didn’t know himself yet. There were two other backup safe houses. One of them was only six blocks away, but when he checked his mirrors and spotted a car that looked suspicious, he questioned going there just yet. He made a left turn and the car followed him, so he tried more evasive measures. The car kept on their tail.

  They were definitely being followed.

  It seemed the attacker had an accomplice after all.

  He hit the redial button on his phone. “I have a black SUV following us. I’m nixing the West Street safe house.”

  “I’ll call the local cops and have the car stopped. Where are you?”

  “Eighth and Main Avenue, turning right onto Riverside.”

  “I’ve got cars headed to your location now.”

  He turned and again the SUV kept up. He glanced into the back seat. Melissa was crouched on the floorboards, her body tucked around her son’s and her eyes wide with fear. He had to keep them safe. Dylan was still crying, but she was doing her best to comfort him and keep him quiet. At this point, it wouldn’t put them in any more danger whether he screamed or not, but it sure would help Miles’s concentration if he was quiet.

  He turned again and screeched to a stop. Traffic was bumper-to-bumper. He grimaced. This wasn’t good. The black SUV pulled up behind him. He drove aggressively and managed to move up two spaces in the other lane, but they weren’t going forward anytime soon and the SUV had blocked their way backward.

  Miles rammed the vehicle into Park and reached for his phone and his gun. “We have to move now.” He crawled across the front seat to the passenger side and pushed open the door. He raised his gun, then opened the back door for Melissa and Dylan. She emerged carrying the boy in her arms and he pushed her forward, through the mass of motionless cars, positioning his body between her and the SUV.

  The men in the SUV saw them and got out, revealing their
own weapons.

  “Run,” Miles shouted as he raised his gun and fired, hitting the black SUV. The two men began returning fire and Miles turned and ran after Melissa.

  People in their cars began to scream and jump out of their vehicles at the sound of gunfire, trying to get to safety. Miles stopped every few feet and fired off a few rounds, shooting high to keep from hitting anyone. He didn’t like putting innocent bystanders in danger, but he couldn’t do anything to stop the bad guys from firing their weapons into the crowd. Nothing except giving up, which he wasn’t prepared to do. The chaos was good for them, though. It helped give Melissa and Dylan cover as they ran. And he was sure to keep up with them.

  He heard sirens, and moments later several police cars appeared. The men went in opposite directions, but stopped pursuing them. Miles saw one disappear into a store and the other into an alleyway. The police called for Miles to stop, too, but he didn’t. He couldn’t lose Melissa in the crowd. He had to remain with her. He turned and took off running, hoping the cops wouldn’t fire in a crowd of people like the bad guys had.

  They didn’t, and soon their shouts to stop were nothing more than voices on the wind. Catching up with Melissa and Dylan, he pushed them into a crowded restaurant, through the kitchen and out the back door into an alleyway, ignoring the protests of the restaurant staff. He took out his phone and called Griffin again.

  “Any news?”

  “The shooters got away, but the local police department has their car. Maybe we can get some answers from that.”

  He doubted it. It was probably stolen or had been rented under a false identification, and the men were almost certainly wearing gloves to avoid leaving fingerprints. These guys weren’t amateurs.

  “Where are you?” Griffin asked.

  “Still on the street, but I haven’t seen any signs of the shooters. They scattered after the cops arrived.” He ended the call, then motioned for Melissa to crouch behind the dumpster in the alley. “Let me check out the street.”

  She nodded and ducked down, pulling Dylan with her.

  He walked to the end of the alleyway. People were milling around, coming and going, oblivious to the commotion they’d caused, which had been several blocks away. He didn’t see any sign of the shooters or anyone who appeared to be looking for them. He spotted a cab turning from the opposite direction and silently sighed in relief. He walked into the street and hailed it, leaning into the driver’s window to check his identification against the driver’s face before he motioned for Melissa and Dylan to come out.

  She hurried from the alley and climbed into the cab, seating Dylan on her lap. Miles slid in beside them and told the driver to head to the airport. The driver turned the cab around and headed back in the opposite direction.

  “Are we taking a flight?” she asked Miles.

  He shook his head but lowered his voice. “We’ll rent a car at the airport.”

  Once the cab dropped them off, he headed toward the car-rental desk.

  “I also need to rent a car seat,” he told the clerk. Dylan’s car seat was back in his SUV and they were not going back that way.

  His mind was already ticking as he tried to figure out how Shearer’s men had found her at the hotel. Griffin had made those arrangements and Miles had double-checked everything to make certain they were secure. She should have been safe. Unless...

  The clerk handed over the keys, along with the car seat, and Miles led Melissa and Dylan toward the vehicle, keeping a hand on her back and his eyes on a constant scan, making sure no one was watching them. He helped install the car seat and stood guard as Melissa buckled Dylan in, then crawled in beside him. Miles slid into the driver’s seat of the rented SUV, but before he started the engine, he turned to Melissa. He needed to see her face as he asked these questions. “Have you made any calls? Phoned anyone? A friend, a relative, Dylan’s day care?”

  She shook her head. “No one. Why?”

  “I’m just trying to figure out how they found us at the hotel.”

  Her brow creased and anger lit her eyes. “I didn’t call anyone. I haven’t broken any of the rules. Those other marshals tried to accuse me of making a mistake, too, but I wouldn’t do anything to put my son in danger. Trust me, I know the risks.”

  He believed her. She’d witnessed her mother’s murder. She knew the risks all too well. But that didn’t explain how yet another safe house had been compromised, especially when such precautions had been taken. He didn’t like what that indicated. No witness assigned to his office’s detail who’d followed the rules had ever been killed, and he wasn’t ready to change that statistic. He was proud of it. But he was baffled by her case and understood why Griffin wanted this protection detail kept quiet from the rest of the office.

  He hated even considering it, but he couldn’t ignore the facts. If Melissa had followed the rules—and he believed she had—then the only ones who could have known her location were the agents who had guarded her before Miles arrived.

  And that meant Griffin was right—someone in WITSEC was a mole.

  TWO

  He drove for five hours before pulling in at a motel and paying for a room. Dylan and Melissa had both fallen asleep during the drive. The stress on her face was enough to tell him she needed the sleep and he considered driving on. But he was tired, dead tired, and he needed a break, too, if not to sleep then to just rest while he processed all that had happened.

  He understood the danger Griffin had warned him about. Whoever was after this woman and her son was fearless and had access to information that was supposed to be secret. He didn’t like believing there was a mole in WITSEC, but how else could he account for the multiple breaches of safe houses? He couldn’t.

  He considered their options. He had an official credit card he used to pay for anything witnesses needed during their initial relocation, but any charges could be traced by someone in the agency. Using it would give away his location and it would indicate that he was the one who was on Melissa’s case, since, officially, he was supposed to be away from work and shouldn’t have needed the card at all.

  He could turn to a friend for help, but Griffin wanted him to do this on his own and now he understood why. Even the phones at the US Marshals Service could be compromised. He had no idea how deep the mole’s interference went, and he couldn’t risk her life that way.

  Which meant he was operating with no backup and no resources except for what he had on him, which amounted to his gun, his phone and—he checked his wallet—a hundred and twelve dollars in cash. Good thing he’d made that ATM stop before meeting Griffin at the hotel.

  They needed somewhere to go where they could be out of the public eye. Whoever was after Melissa had the weight of the marshals information service at their disposal, which meant the most modern technology, including facial-recognition software and access to police status updates. No, being out in the open on their own was too dangerous. But any safe house known to the marshals service wasn’t feasible.

  He saw only one option and it was one he didn’t like, but it would certainly solve their problems. If he couldn’t count on his colleagues to have his back, the only other people he trusted in the world were his brothers.

  Griffin had said he was telling people that Miles was returning to his family’s home. No one would have any reason to think he was connected to the case, so no one would be monitoring his family. Shearer had no reason to look for her at the ranch, which meant the twenty-six-acre spread would be an ideal place to keep Melissa safe. It would even allow Dylan a little running room. And with his brothers and sister around, he would have backup if things went sideways.

  Tomorrow morning, he would pick up a burner cell phone at a convenience store and phone his brother Josh, the current sheriff of Courtland County, Texas—the county that held his family’s ranch. But he needed a way to explain Melissa and Dylan’s presence that didn’t raise an
y red flags to anyone in town.

  He sighed and realized his family was in for a shock when they arrived.

  * * *

  Melissa jerked up in bed, suddenly realizing that she’d dozed off. The room was quiet and Dylan was still sleeping beside her. Miles was up, sitting at the table and working on something.

  “It’s okay,” he said softly. “It’s still nighttime. You’ve only been asleep for three hours.”

  She sat up on the bed and rubbed her eyes, surprised she’d even dozed off. She hadn’t wanted to let her guard down even though she was so tired. The marshals service wasn’t impressing her with their ability to keep her and her son safe.

  But something about Miles’s quiet strength did reassure her. As did his broad shoulders and deep green eyes.

  She shook off those thoughts. Where had they come from, anyway? She hadn’t noticed a man since her husband had passed, and she was certain it was only Miles’s close proximity and the fact that she was sleep-deprived and half out of her mind with fear that was making her think such things. He had saved them from a dangerous situation and she was grateful. Nothing more.

  She stood and stretched out her arms and legs, then walked over to the table to see what he was doing. He’d cut up the documents the other marshal had given her and it looked like he was making up new ones. She sighed. “Time to change identities again?”

  He nodded. “I’ve decided to take you someplace where I know you’ll be safe.”

  “Where’s that?”

  He hesitated and she understood. She’d been through this too many times in the past weeks. “Oh, yeah. You’re not supposed to tell me until we get there, right?”

  “Right.”

  “Where did you get the supplies to do this?”

  “Borrowed what I needed from the front desk.” He handed her new identification to her.

  The photo was the same one she’d had on her original driver’s license, but the last name was different and it showed a Dallas address. “Melissa Avery. So I take it we’re going to Dallas?”