Witness Protection Widow

by Debra Webb

  That part was more true than he cared to admit.

  “If we’re lucky, that family will be history when this trial is done,” Holloway said. “The son is dead. Now all we need is for the father to be put away for the rest of his sorry life.” Holloway searched his face as if looking for any uncertainty. “I can ask Sheriff Tanner to show you the way to her location if you’re sure we’re good to go.”

  “That works.”

  “Thanks, Stevens. I’ll owe you one.”

  * * *

  THE CABIN WAS well out of town. Sheriff Colt Tanner had met Jax at the courthouse and led the way. Tanner had last checked on the witness an hour ago. At this stage, Jax wasn’t going to simply check on her—he was to stick with her until she walked into that courtroom to testify. Protect, transport...whatever necessary.

  On the drive to her location, he had decided he really didn’t have a problem with doing the job. He couldn’t deny that he had spent a great deal of time trying to find Allison James, aka Alice Stewart, the widow of Harrison Armone Jr., illegal drugs and weapons kingpin of the southeast. In fact, he wanted to do this. He wanted to learn what had happened to the sweet young woman he had known during his training. How had the shy, soft-spoken girl become the wife of one of the most wanted bastards on the minds of FBI, ATF and DEA agents alike? Maybe it was sheer curiosity, but he needed to understand how the hell that happened.

  The actual problem, in his opinion, was how she would feel about him being the one charged with her safety. She no doubt would understand that he was well aware of who she had gotten involved with and would be disgusted by it. Members of law enforcement from Atlanta to DC had wished for a way to eradicate this problem.

  He guessed he would find out soon enough.

  Jax parked his SUV next to hers and got out. She was likely watching out the window. Tanner had updated her on Holloway’s condition and told her that a new marshal would be arriving shortly. Jax had no idea whether the sheriff had given her his name. If he had, she might be waiting behind that door with her weapon drawn. Not that she had any reason to be holding a grudge. He’d asked her to go with him to Seattle, but she had turned him down. No matter that he shouldn’t—didn’t want to—he wondered if she had attempted to track him down at any time during those early years after he left and before she made the mistake of her life.

  Had she even thought of him?

  He hadn’t asked her to marry him, but they had talked about marriage. They had talked about the future and what they each wanted. She’d had expectations. He had recognized this. But that hadn’t stopped him from leaving when an opportunity he couldn’t turn down came his way. She wouldn’t go. Her father was still alive and alone. She didn’t want to move so far away from him. What was he supposed to do? Ignore the offer he had hoped for from the day he decided to join the marshal service?

  That little voice that warned when he had crossed the line shouted at him now. He had been selfish. No question. But he’d had family, too, and they had been on the West Coast. An unwinnable situation.

  He walked up to the porch. Climbed the steps and crossed to the door. Aware she was certainly watching, he raised his fist and knocked.

  She didn’t say a word or make a sound, but he felt her on the other side of the door. Only inches from him. He closed his eyes and recalled her scent. Soft, subtle. She always smelled like citrus. Never wore makeup. She had the most beautiful blue eyes he had ever seen.

  The door opened and she stood there, looking exactly the way she had ten years ago—no makeup, no fussy hairdo, just Ali. The big black Lab the sheriff had told him about stood next to her.

  For one long moment, she stared at him and he stared at her.

  He inhaled a deep breath, acknowledged the scent of her—the scent he would have recognized anywhere.

  “Say it.”

  For a moment he felt confused at her statement.

  “Say it,” she repeated. “I’m not letting you inside until you do.”

  He understood then. “Superhero.”

  She stepped back, and he walked in. The door closed behind him, locks tumbling into place. The dog sniffed him, eying him suspiciously.

  She scratched the Lab’s head, and the dog settled down. “No one told me you were the one coming.”

  She stood close to the wall on his left, beyond arm’s reach. Now that he had a chance to really look, she was thinner than before. Fear glittered in her eyes. Beyond the fear was something else. A weariness. Sadness, too, he concluded.

  “I didn’t know it was you until I arrived in Winchester.” He held her gaze, refused to let her off the hook. He didn’t want this to be easy. Appreciating her discomfort was low. He knew this, and still he couldn’t help it. “I’m glad I’m the one Holloway called. I want to help. If that’s okay with you.”

  “I’m certain Marshal Holloway wouldn’t have called you if you weren’t up to the task.” She shrugged. “As for the past, it was a long time ago. It’s hardly relevant now.”

  She was right. It had been a long time. Still, the idea that she played it off so nonchalantly didn’t sit so well. No need for her to know the resentment or whatever the hell it was he harbored related to her decisions or the whirlwind of emotions she had set reeling inside him now. This was work. Business. The job. It wasn’t personal.

  He hitched a thumb toward the door. “I picked up a pizza. It’s a little early for lunch, but I was on the road damned early this morning.”

  “Make yourself at home. You don’t need my permission to eat.”

  No, he did not. “I’ll grab my bag and the pizza.”

  He walked out to his SUV. He took a breath. Struggled to slow his heart rate. He had an assignment to complete, and it was essential he pulled his head out of the past and focused on the present. What happened ten years ago or five years ago was irrelevant. What mattered was now. Keeping her safe. Getting her in that courtroom to put a scumbag away.

  He grabbed his bag and the pizza and headed back to the cabin. She opened the door for him and then locked the four dead bolts. He placed the pizza on the table and dropped his bag by the sofa. He imagined that would be his bed for the foreseeable future. The place didn’t look large enough to have two bedrooms.

  “This is Bob, by the way,” she said of the dog who stayed at her side.

  He nodded. “Nice to meet you, Bob.”

  Bob stared at him with a healthy dose of either skepticism or continued suspicion.

  “Would you like water or a cola?”

  Since beer was out of the question, he went for a cola. She walked to the fridge and grabbed two. On the way to the table, she snagged the roll of paper towels from the counter and brought that along, as well. She sat down directly across the table. Apparently she had decided to join him. He passed her a slice, grabbed one of his own and then dug in. Eating would prevent the need for conversation. If he chewed slowly enough, he could drag this out for a while.

  She sipped her drink. “You finally get married?”

  He was surprised she asked. Left her open for his questions. And he really wanted a number of answers from her. At the moment dealing with all the emotions and sensations related to just being in the same room with her was all he could handle.

  “No. Never engaged. Never married.”

  Silence dragged on for another minute or so while they ate. Keeping his attention away from her lips as she ate proved more difficult than he’d expected. Frankly, he was grateful when she polished off the last bit.

  “Technically,” she pointed out as she reached for a second slice, “we were engaged—informally.”

  He went still, startled that his heart didn’t do the same. He hadn’t expected her to bring that up under the circumstances. “Technically,” he repeated, “I suppose you’re right.”

  “How long were you in Seattle?”

  “Until l
ast year.” He wiped his hands on a napkin. “I’m sorry about your father.”

  “It was a tough time.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure it was.” He had come so close to attending the funeral, but he had wondered if he would be welcome, so he hadn’t.

  He bit into his pizza to prevent asking if that was why she’d ran into the arms of a criminal. Had she wanted someone to take care of her? A sugar daddy or whatever? Fury lit inside him. He forced the thoughts away. It didn’t matter that they had spent months intensely focused on each other, practically inseparable. That had been a long time ago. Whatever they had then was long gone by the time she married Armone. All this emotion was unnecessary. Pointless. Frustrating as hell, actually.

  “What about your parents?” She dabbed at her lips with a napkin. “Your sister?”

  “The parents are doing great. Talking about buying a winter home in Florida. Is that cliché or what?” He managed a smile, hoped to lighten the situation.

  She looked completely at ease. Calm. Maybe he was the only one having trouble.

  Her lips lifted into a small smile. “A little.”

  “My sister is married with three kids.” He shook his head. “I don’t know how she does it.”

  “She’s lucky.”

  “You have kids?” He knew the answer, but he didn’t know the reason.

  “No. He didn’t want children. He had two with his first wife.” She stared at the pizza box for a moment. “Looking back, I was very fortunate he didn’t.”

  For now, he guided the conversation away from the bastard she’d married. He asked another question to which he already knew the answer. “You were determined to finish school. Did you manage?”

  “I did. With taking care of my father it took forever, but I finally got it done.”

  “That’s great.”

  More of that suffocating silence. He stared at the pizza, suddenly having no appetite.

  “Your career is going well?” she asked.

  “It is. The work is challenging and fulfilling.”

  She stood. “Thank you for the pizza.”

  He watched as she carried her napkin and cola can to the trash. She stood at the sink and stared out the window.

  The urge to demand how she could have married a man like Harrison Armone burned on his tongue, but he swallowed it back.

  “I think maybe they should send someone else.”

  Her words surprised him. Flustered him. He stood, the legs of his chair scraping across the wood floor. “Why? I see no reason we can’t put the past behind us.”

  She turned to face him but stayed right where she was, her fingers gripping the edge of the countertop as if she feared gravity would fail her. “If he finds me, he will kill me. If you’re in the way, he’ll kill you, too.”

  Chapter Three

  The man she had fallen head over heels in love with when she was barely twenty-one stared at her as if she’d confessed to the world’s most heinous crime. How could he be the one they sent to protect her?

  It shouldn’t be him.

  She didn’t want it to be him.

  Too dangerous.

  “I’m a highly trained US marshal with a decade of experience under my belt. You don’t need to worry about me, Ali.”

  Ali. Her throat tightened as she attempted to swallow. His voice, the one that had haunted her dreams for a decade. Even when she’d told herself she loved her husband—before she learned his true identity—this man had stolen into her dreams far too often. No matter that the monster she had married had showered her with gifts, no matter that she had bought into the whole fairy-tale life...all of it, every single moment, had been an attempt to erase this man from her heart.

  Hadn’t worked.

  Now, here he was, prepared to put his life on the line to protect hers. Or maybe he wanted to see the person she had become. The widow of one of the most sought-after criminals in the country.

  A lie.

  Her entire existence these past five years had been a lie.

  She had no one to blame but herself. She had allowed herself to buy completely into the fantasy.

  Now she would be lucky if she survived.

  “Why?” she demanded.

  His gaze narrowed—those brown eyes that made her shiver with just a look. “Why what?”

  “Why you? There’s what, a couple thousand marshals? Why you?” she repeated.

  “Holloway and I worked together in Nashville for a while before he relocated to Winchester. When he had his accident, he reached out to me. There wasn’t time to go through the usual red tape. He needed someone with you ASAP. So here I am.”

  She shook her head. “This doesn’t work for me.”

  She surely had some choice in the matter. After all, she was the witness—the star witness, according to the prosecutor. Without her, their case would fall apart at the hands of the dozen or so powerful attorneys Armone kept on retainer.

  Jax shrugged. “I can pass along your objection to the powers that be. It’s possible someone else could take over for me, but that would take time, and time is short. The trial is in four days. We don’t want to do anything that might draw attention to where you are.”

  No. This would not work. She couldn’t be this close to him. Night and day in such a cramped space. Impossible. More important, she did not want him to get hurt. “Call them. See what they can do.”

  He took a step toward her. Then another. She told herself to breathe, but her lungs refused the order.

  “Is there some reason you don’t trust me? Maybe you believe I’m not capable of handling the job?”

  “I have no idea what your credentials are,” she improvised. “I’m just not comfortable like this...with you.”

  He nodded once. “I see. You don’t like being alone with me?” Another step disappeared between them.

  Her heart refused to stop its pounding. She stared at him and told the truth. The truth was all she had left. “In light of the circumstances, I would like to be reasonable, but I’m having some difficulty. Yes.”

  For a moment he hesitated, then he said, “I’ll stay out of your personal space. You have my word.”

  He backed away, turned and crossed to the other side of the room, and sat down on the sofa.

  When she could breathe again, she dragged in a lungful of much-needed air. “I usually take a walk at this time every afternoon.”

  It wasn’t necessary for him to know she’d already taken a walk this morning. Sometimes she took a couple of walks in a day in addition to a nice long run. Right now, she needed out of this too-tight space. She needed to breathe. To think.

  “All right.” He stood. “I’ll go with you.”

  Well, that didn’t work out the way she’d planned. “I usually go alone. With Bob, of course.”

  “Starting today, you don’t go anywhere alone.”

  No point arguing the decree. He likely had been briefed on things she was not privy to as of yet. She understood there were aspects of the case she shouldn’t or couldn’t know. At first she hadn’t been happy about that part. Eventually she had come to terms with focusing on her role and allowing the marshal and the prosecutor to do what they needed to do.

  Frankly, it wasn’t that different from her life with Harrison. He had told her what to do and when to do it. The funny thing was, she hadn’t realized how controlling he was at first. In the beginning, their life together had felt as if he were pampering her and taking exquisite care of her. Her entire adult life had been about taking care of others. First her mother and then her father. Not that she had minded. She had done what any daughter would do. College had been more of the same. Go to class, do the work. Since she’d had to squeeze college in around the health issues of her parents, she had been twenty-five when she finally attained her undergraduate degree. Then she’d moved to Atlanta
and met Harrison, and everything had changed.

  Suddenly someone was taking care of her. Making the decisions. Showing her the world and showering her with luxurious gifts.

  It was hard to believe now that she hadn’t recognized her fairy-tale life was too good to be true.

  The trouble was, she had needed it to be true. Sometimes a need was so powerful that it overrode good sense.

  She had thrown good sense and logic out the window.

  Beating herself up about it more wasn’t going to change the facts. She’d done what she’d done, and now she was in the middle of this situation.

  “Let’s go, Bob.” She patted her thigh, and he jumped up to follow her.

  She locked up and handed Jax the key she typically kept in her pocket. If he was in charge, she might as well turn that over to him, as well.

  The sun hovered near the treetops as they walked away from the cabin. She surveyed the blue sky. It was supposed to snow late tonight or tomorrow. Snow would be nice. A dusting or two had happened since she arrived in this location. A whole two inches had fallen on Christmas Eve night. She had needed that beautiful display of nature. She’d felt so intensely alone.

  Christmas afternoon Marshal Holloway had shown up with a veritable buffet of goodies. His wife and mother had made a lovely Christmas lunch, and they had wanted to share with her. He’d also brought a little decorated tree. The sort you picked up at the grocery store. Those simple gestures had touched her so deeply. That was the moment when she realized she might actually be okay eventually.

  If she survived beyond the trial, she could make a new life. There were still plenty of good people in this world. She would be fine.

  If she survived.

  “What’s your plan for when this is over?”

  The sound of his voice, the deep rumble that had whispered in her dreams for so long, made her pulse flutter.

  “I really haven’t thought that far ahead. Mostly I’m focused on surviving.”

  “I’m sure you’ve met with the AUSA in your case and done the necessary prepping.”