Witness Protection Widow

by Debra Webb

  The SUV parked next to the house was equipped with all-wheel drive since she lived out in the woods on a curvy mountain road. US Marshal Branch Holloway checked on her regularly. She had a special phone for emergencies and for contacting him. He’d made her feel at ease from the beginning. He was patient and kind. Far more understanding than the first marshal assigned to her had been.

  For this she was immensely grateful.

  Yes. She had married an evil man. Yes. She had been a fool. But she hadn’t set out to do so. She had been taught to believe the best in everyone until she had reason to see otherwise.

  Two years. Yes, it had taken a long time to see past the seemingly perfect facade he had built for her, but she was only human. She had loved him. She had waited a very long time to feel that way again after her first heartbreak at the age of twenty-one.

  “Get over it,” she muttered to herself. Beating herself up for being naive wasn’t going to change history.

  This—she surveyed the bare trees and little cabin—was her life now. At least until the trial.

  In the movies witness protection was made to look like a glamourous adventure, but that could not be farther from the truth. It was terrifying. Justice depended on her survival to testify in court, and her survival depended upon the marshal assigned to her case and on her own actions. The FBI had shown her how much bigger this case was than just the murder of her husband and the small amount of knowledge she had absorbed. The Armones had murdered countless people. Drugs, guns and all sorts of other criminal activities were a part of their network. She alone held the power to end the Armone reign.

  No matter that the family was so obviously evil, she still couldn’t understand how a father could murder his son—his only child. Of course, it was Harrison’s own fault. He had been secretly working to overthrow his father. The old man was nearing seventy and had no plans to retire. Harrison had wanted to be king.

  Instead, he’d gotten dead.

  She shuddered at the idea that his father—after murdering him—had intended to take his widow as his own plaything.

  Sick. The man was absolutely disgusting. Like his son, he was a charming and quite handsome man for his age. But beneath the surface lived a monster.

  Once the trial was over, she hoped she never had to think of him again, much less see him.

  Staying alert to her surroundings, she unlocked the back door and sent Bob inside ahead of her. He was trained to spot trouble. She wasn’t overly concerned at this point. If anything had been amiss, he would have warned her as they approached the cabin.

  The dogs were a new addition to the witness protection family. She hadn’t had a dog at the first location. It wasn’t until she’d arrived here and had Bob living with her that she’d realized how very lonely she had been for a very long time. Since well before her husband was murdered.

  She locked the door behind her, taking care to check all the locks. Then she followed Bob through the three rooms. There was a small living-dining-kitchen combination, a bedroom with an attached bath and the mudroom–laundry room at the back. Furnishings were sparse, but she had what she needed.

  Since cell service was sketchy at best, she had a state-of-the-art signal booster. She had a generator in case the power went out and a bug-out bag if it became necessary to cut and run.

  She shivered. The fire had gone out. She kept on her jacket while she added logs to the fireplace and kindling to get it started. Within a couple of minutes, the fire was going. She’d had a fireplace as a kid, so relearning her way around this one hadn’t been so bad. She went back to the kitchen and turned on the kettle for tea.

  Bob growled low in his throat and stared toward the front door.

  She froze. Her phone was in her hip pocket. Her gun was still in her waistband at the small of her back. This was something else Marshal Holloway had insisted upon. He’d taught her how to use a handgun. They’d held many target practices right behind this cabin.

  A creak beyond the front door warned that someone was on the porch. She eased across the room and went to the special peephole that had been installed. There was one on each side of the cabin, allowing for views all the way around. A man stood on the porch. He was the typical local cowboy. Jeans and boots. Hat in his hands. Big truck in the drive. Just like Marshal Holloway.

  But she did not know this man.

  “Alice Stewart, if you’re in there, it’s okay for you to open the door. I’m Sheriff Colt Tanner. Branch sent me.”

  Her heart thudding, she held perfectly still. Branch would never send someone to her without letting her know first. If for some reason he couldn’t tell her in advance, they had a protocol for these situations.

  She reached back, fingers curled about the butt of her weapon. Bob moved stealthily toward the door.

  “I know you’re concerned about opening the door to a stranger, but you need to trust me. Branch has been in an accident, and he’s in the hospital undergoing surgery right now. No matter that his injuries were serious, he refused to go into surgery until he spoke to me and I assured him I would look after you, ma’am.”

  Worry joined the mixture of fear and dread churning inside her. She hoped Branch wasn’t hurt too badly. He had a wife and a daughter.

  She opened her mouth to ask about his condition, but then she snapped it shut. The man at her door had not said the code word.

  “Wait,” he said. “I know what the problem is. I forgot to say ‘superhero.’ He told me that’s your code word.”

  Relief rushed through her. She moved to the door and unlocked the four dead bolts, then opened it. When she faced the man—Sheriff Tanner—she asked, “Is he going to be okay?”

  The sheriff ducked his head. “I sure hope so. Branch is a good friend of mine. May I come in?”

  “Quiet, Bob,” she ordered the dog at her side as she backed up and allowed the sheriff to come inside before closing the door. She resisted the impulse to lock it and leaned against it instead. Holloway wouldn’t have trusted this man if he wasn’t one of the good guys.

  Still, standing here with a stranger after all these months, she couldn’t help feeling a little uneasy. Bob sat at her feet, his gaze tracking every move the stranger made.

  “Is there anything you need, ma’am? Anything at all. I’ll be happy to bring you any supplies or just...” He shrugged. “Whatever you need.”

  The kettle screamed out, making her jump. She’d completely forgotten about it. “I’ll be right back.”

  She hurried to the kitchen and turned off the flame beneath the whistling kettle. She took a breath, pushed her hair behind her ears and walked back into the living room.

  “Thank you for coming, Sheriff, but I have everything I need.”

  “All right.” He pulled a card from his shirt pocket and offered it to her. “Call me if you need anything. I’ll check on you again later today and give you an update on Branch’s condition.”

  She studied the card. “Thank you.” She looked up at him then. “I appreciate your concern. Please let the marshal know I’m hoping for his speedy recovery.”

  “Will do.” He gave her another of those quick nods. “I’ll be on my way then.”

  Before she opened the door for him to go, she had to ask. “Are his injuries life-threatening?”

  “He was real lucky, ma’am. Things could have been far worse. Thankfully, he’s stable, and we have every reason to believe he’ll be fine.”

  “What about his wife?”

  “She wasn’t with him, so she’s fine. She’s at the hospital waiting for him to come out of surgery. If you’re certain you don’t need me for anything, I’m going back there now.”

  “Really, I’m fine. Thank you.”

  When the sheriff had said his goodbyes and headed out to his truck, she locked the door—all four dead bolts. She watched as the truck turned around and rolled away.
She told herself that Marshal Holloway’s accident most likely didn’t have anything to do with her or the trial. Still, she couldn’t help but worry just a little.

  What if they had found her? What if hurting the marshal was just the first step in getting to her? Old man Armone was pure evil. He would want her to know in advance that he was coming just to be sure she felt as much fear as possible. Instilling fear gave him great pleasure.

  Harrison Armone Sr. had a small army at his beck and call. All were trained mercenaries. Ruthless, like him. Proficient in killing. Relentless in attaining their target. They would be hunting her. If being careful would get her through this, she had nothing to worry about. But that alone would never be enough. She needed help and luck on her side.

  With this unexpected development, she would need to be extra vigilant.

  “Bob.”

  He looked up at her expectantly.

  “We have to be especially alert, my friend.”

  The devil might be coming.

  And he wouldn’t be alone.

  Chapter Two

  Winchester Hospital

  Jaxson Stevens left Nashville as soon as he heard the news of the accident. He and Branch Holloway had been assigned together briefly before Holloway transferred back to his hometown of Winchester. Holloway was a good guy and a damned fine marshal. Jax was more than happy to back him up until he was on his feet again.

  He parked his SUV in the lot and headed for the hospital entrance. He hadn’t been in the Winchester area in ages. He hailed from the Pacific Northwest, and he’d taken an assignment in Seattle when he completed training with the marshal service. He had ended up spending the better part of the first decade of his career on that side of the country. Then he’d needed a change. He’d landed in Nashville last year.

  Truth is, he’d hadn’t exactly wanted to spend time in the southeast, but it was a necessary step in his career ladder. There was a woman he’d met when he was in training at Glynco. The two of them had a very intense few months together, and he’d wondered about her for years after moving to Seattle. They’d both been so young when they first met. He’d kept an eye on her for years while she finished college, certain they would end up together again at some point. He’d anonymously helped out when her father passed away.

  Then his notions of a romantic reunion had come to a grinding halt after she moved to Atlanta.

  She had gotten married. He shook his head. All those years, she had haunted his dreams. He’d thought he had known her, thought they had something that deserved a second go when the time was right. He’d definitely never felt that connection with anyone else.

  But he had been wrong. Dead wrong.

  A woman who would marry a man like she had was not someone he knew at all. He imagined she fully comprehended what the world thought of her choice about now.

  Irrelevant, he reminded himself. The past was the past. Nothing he could do about the years he wasted wondering about her. He was happy in Nashville for now. He had just turned thirty-two, and he had big career plans. There was plenty of time to get serious about a personal relationship. God knew his parents and his sister constantly nagged him about his single status.

  Maybe after this case was buttoned up. The witness had to be at trial on Thursday. After that, he was taking a vacation and making some personal decisions. Maybe it was time he took inventory of his life rather than just pouring everything into the job.

  The hospital had that disinfectant smell that lingered in every single hospital he’d ever stepped into. The odor triggered unpleasant memories he’d just as soon not revisit in this lifetime. Losing his younger brother was hard as a ten-year-old. He couldn’t imagine what his parents had suffered.

  His mom warned him often that he shouldn’t allow that loss to get in the way of having a family. He had never really considered that he chose not to get too serious about a relationship because of what happened when he was a kid, but maybe he had. His parents had spent better than twenty years telling him that what happened wasn’t his fault. Didn’t matter. He would always believe it was. He should have been watching more closely. He should never have allowed his little brother so close to the water’s edge.

  He should have been better prepared to help him if something went wrong.

  Why the hell had he gone down that road?

  Jax shook his head and strode across the lobby, kicking the past back to where it belonged—behind him. A quick check with the information desk and he was on his way to the third floor. He followed the signs to Holloway’s room.

  His gaze came to rest on his old friend, and he grimaced. The left side of the man’s face was bruised and swollen as if he’d slugged it out and lost big-time. What he could see of Holloway’s left shoulder was bruised, as well. “You look like hell, buddy.”

  Branch Holloway opened his eyes. “Pretty much feel like it, too. Glad you could make it, Stevens.”

  Jax moved to the side of his bed. “What happened? You tick off the wrong cowboy?”

  Tennessee was full of cowboys. Jax had tried a pair of boots. Not for him. And the hat—well, that just wasn’t his style. He was more a city kind of guy. Jeans, pullovers and a good pair of hiking shoes and he was good to go. He was, however, rather fond of leather. He’d had the leather jacket he wore for over a decade.

  “I wish I could tell you a heroic story of chasing bad guys and surviving a shootout, but it was nothing like that. A deer decided my truck was in his way. I didn’t hit him, but I did hit the ditch and then a couple of trees. One tree in particular tried real hard to do me in.”

  Jax made a face. “Sounds like you’re damned lucky.”

  “That’s what they say, but I gotta tell you right now I’m not feeling too lucky. My wife says I will when I see my truck. It’s totaled.”

  “Can I get you anything?” Jax glanced at the water pitcher on the bedside table.

  “No, thanks. My wife was here until just a few minutes ago. She’s hovered over me since the paramedics brought me in. Between her and the nurses, I’m good, trust me.”

  Jax nodded. “You didn’t want to discuss the case by phone. I take it this is a dark one.” Some cases were listed as dark. These were generally the ones where the person or persons who wanted to hurt the witness had an abundance of resources, making the witness far more vulnerable. Sometimes a case was dark simply because of the priority tag associated with the investigation. The least number of people possible were involved with dark cases.

  There were bad guys in this world, and then there were really bad guys.

  “Need-to-know basis only,” Holloway said. “We’re only days out from trial. Keeping this witness safe is essential. At this point, we pretty much need to keep her under surveillance twenty-four hours a day until trial. This couldn’t have happened at a worse time.”

  “Understandable,” Jax agreed.

  “I’m sure you’re familiar with the Armone case. It’s been all over the news.”

  Jax’s eyebrows went up with a jolt of surprise. “That’s not a name I expected to hear. I knew the patriarch of the family was awaiting trial, but I haven’t kept up with the details. Besides, that’s a ways out of our district.”

  “The powers that be felt moving her out of Georgia until trial would help keep her safe. They’ve kept the details quiet on this one to the greatest extent possible. Even with all those precautions and a media blackout, her first location was jeopardized.”

  Her? A bad, bad feeling began a slow creep through Jax.

  “Hell of a time for you to be out of commission,” he said instead of demanding who the hell the witness was. This could not happen. Maybe it was someone else. A secretary or other associate of the old man. Or maybe of the son, since he was dead. His death may have prompted someone—an illicit lover, perhaps—to come forward.

  “Tell me about it,” Holloway grumbled.


  “Why don’t you bring me up to speed,” Jax suggested. “We’ll go from there.”

  “The file’s under my pillow.”

  Jax chuckled as he reached beneath the thin hospital pillow. “I have to say, this is going the distance for the job.”

  “We do what we have to, right?”

  “Right.” Jax opened the file, his gaze landing on the attached photo. He blinked. Looked again. She looked exactly as she had ten years ago.

  “You okay there?” Holloway asked. “You look like you just saw a ghost.”

  “Full disclosure, Holloway.” Jax frowned. “I know this woman.” No. That was wrong. He didn’t just know this woman—he knew her intimately. Had been disappointed in and angry with her for years now.

  “Well, hell. If this is a problem, we should call someone else in as quickly as possible. I’ve got the local sheriff, a friend of mine, taking care of things now. But I can’t keep him tied up this way. No one wants this bastard to get away this time. We’ve got him. As long as she lives to testify, he’s not walking.”

  Holloway was right. The Armone family had escaped justice far too long. “I’ve got this.” Jax cleared his head. If Holloway thought he was not up to par, he would insist on calling in someone else. Jax was startled, no denying it. But he wanted to do this. He had to do this. For reasons that went beyond the job. Purely selfish reasons. “You can count on me. I just wanted to be up front. We knew each other a long time ago.”

  “If you’re sure,” Holloway countered. “I’m confident I can count on you. I just don’t want to put you in an unnecessarily awkward situation. Sometimes the past can adversely affect the present.”

  Jax felt his gut tighten. Maybe he wasn’t as ready for this as he’d thought.

  No choice.

  If he didn’t do this, he would never fully extract her from his head.

  The what-ifs would haunt him forever.

  “I can handle it. Like I said, we haven’t seen each other in years,” he assured the other man. “No one wants this family to go down more than me.”