by Terri Reed
“We’ve got to find a way out of here,” Anthony stated, his watchful gaze locked on the entrance.
“Shouldn’t we call the police?”
His eyes shifted toward her, his expression hardened. “We could. Is that what you want to do?”
Turmoil churned in Viv’s stomach. She wasn’t sure what she wanted or what to think. Twice now they’d been found. The next time they might not escape. She couldn’t help but wonder if Anthony had somehow given them away. But he seemed capable. He certainly knew how to drive a car at breakneck speeds. And she’d already decided to try trusting him. After all, her father was thorough. He wouldn’t have hired an incompetent protection agency.
She thought about how easily Officer Peal released her and Mikey to the custody of the two men who’d claimed to be agents. Would the Boise police be as easily fooled if another set of fake agents arrived?
At the moment Anthony was the only buffer they had. She shook her head. “No.”
An unidentifiable emotion crossed his features before he nodded. “Good. I’ll call Trent and see how quickly someone can come get us.”
Viv glanced out the exit door into the parking lot. An older woman was loading several shopping bags into the trunk of her big Cadillac. The woman looked like a grandmother.
“I have a better idea.” Taking Mikey by the hand, she pushed past Anthony and out the door.
“Hey, wait!” he exclaimed.
She kept walking, forcing him to follow. Viv made a beeline for the woman and car. “Excuse me, I’m hoping maybe you can help us.”
Surprise widened the woman’s gray eyes. Wrinkles creased her face. She smiled at Mikey and then glanced at Anthony with curiosity. “Sure, if I can.”
Counting on the friendliness of most people in Idaho, Viv said, “Our car won’t work and we really need to get to the airport. We have a plane to catch. Would you, by any chance, be willing to give us a lift? We could pay you.”
“Oh, goodness.” The woman bit her lip, her suddenly wary gaze darting between the three of them.
Vivian offered her as much of the truth as she could. “My son is autistic. All this upheaval is difficult for him. I just need to get him home,” Viv said and blinked back the unexpected tears burning her eyes.
Sympathy softened the older woman’s gaze. “Oh, my. My friend Gertrude from Bible study has an autistic grandson. Traveling with him is never easy. I suppose I could drop you off. The airport is only about fifteen minutes from here. It’s not too far out of my way.”
Relief washed over Viv. She took the woman’s hand between her own. “God bless you. Thank you so much, Mrs…?”
“Dear me, where are my manners? Edna Wilson.” She gestured to the gold Cadillac. “Please, climb in.”
Anthony opened the back door for Viv. Approval filled his dark eyes when she glanced at him. For some odd reason his appreciation warmed her.
“Come on, baby,” she prodded Mikey, urging him to climb in. Anthony took shotgun with Mrs. Wilson at the wheel.
“Don’t like here,” Mikey groused and squirmed to be released from the seat belt. “Home.”
“I know, honey.” Viv wanted home, too. Only she didn’t know where home was now. Certainly not at the Washington, D.C., house she’d shared with Steven. Not only was the place tainted by his death, but the years of silence and animosity that had become the norm between them would always haunt her, mocking her dream of a happy family.
With Steven gone Viv would have to find her and Mikey’s place in the world. They were free to start over, anywhere. She could choose where to live, something she’d never been able to do for herself. And with the sale of the house and funds from the life insurance policy, she wouldn’t have to worry about money for a while if she were conservative. She was kind of excited about what the future might hold for her and Mikey. She hadn’t felt this way…in a very long time.
But first they had to get away from the people who wanted to kill them. And they had to clear her name.
After repeatedly refusing to accept any form of compensation for her trouble, Mrs. Wilson pulled to the curb of the departing passenger’s de-loading zone of the Idaho airport terminal. “Have a safe trip.”
Anthony glanced at Viv, grateful for her quick thinking. Viv waved goodbye to their Good Samaritan. As Mrs. Wilson drove away, Anthony propelled Viv and Mikey along through the bustling crowd of travelers to the bank of monitors showing the plane departures.
“There’s a 6:30 p.m. flight to Dulles on United,” Viv pointed out.
Anthony checked the time. Less than an hour. “Let’s see if they have seats.”
He steered them toward the ticket counter. Mikey started shuffling back and forth as they waited in line. Viv whispered something in the kid’s ear. Mikey nodded vigorously.
“I need to take him to the restroom,” Viv said.
“Can he wait?”
She shook her head. “Not much longer.”
Blowing out a frustrated breath, Anthony spotted the restrooms near a sports bar. He gestured in that direction. “Let’s go.”
With a tight smile, Viv nodded. With Mikey in tow they wove their way through the terminal.
To the left of the restrooms was a sports bar and grill. The sounds of the newscaster on the television hanging over the bar mingled with the clanging of dish-ware as people ate and drank. Anthony parked himself where the bar’s railing met the wall to wait for Viv and Mikey.
His gaze roamed over the people coming and going, searching for some hint of danger. Minutes ticked by. Anthony checked his watch, his impatience growing. The plane would be boarding soon and their opportunity to purchase tickets would be gone. They were cutting it close. Too close.
From his peripheral view, he saw Viv and Mikey step out of the women’s bathroom. He pushed away from the wall just as the newscaster’s voice snagged his attention. He thought he heard the name Senator Grant. Slowly, Anthony turned toward the TV screen.
A picture of Viv and Mikey flashed on the monitor. The newscaster, a Tom Selleck wannabe with a thick mustache said gravely, “Senator Steven Grant was found murdered in his Washington, D.C., home over the weekend. His wife, Vivian Grant, is the FBI’s number one suspect. She disappeared shortly after the gruesome murder with her son. If you know the whereabouts of Vivian Grant or Michael Grant, please call the number you see at the bottom of the screen.”
Shock sucker punched Anthony in the gut. Adrenaline surged in his veins. Out, now.
He spun around, captured Viv by the arm and started toward the exit at a fast clip. Aware of the multiple security cameras recording their presence, he said, “Keep your head down. We’re getting out of here.”
“Why? What happened?” she said in a breathless rush as she dragged Mikey along beside her.
“The FBI wants to charge you with murder.”
FOUR
Heart pounding, Viv stepped out of the airport terminal. She blinked at the stinging sunlight as she walked briskly to the far corner of the passenger vehicle loading area. Confusion thrummed through her. “What do you mean the FBI wants to charge me with murder?”
Anthony touched her elbow, urging her to turn away from the cars passing by. “Your pictures are plastered all over the TV news. You’re the FBI’s number one suspect in your husband’s murder,” Anthony replied.
She shuddered. “This can’t be happening.” She looked at Mikey, then cupped her hand over her mouth and whispered, “I didn’t kill Steven.”
“If you didn’t, then someone is going to a lot of trouble to make it seem like you did,” Anthony replied solemnly. “I had the license plate numbers run.”
Eager for some proof she was telling the truth, she clutched his arm. “FBI, right?”
“Unregistered.”
“Then that has to mean government.” No one else could get away with driving an unregistered vehicle.
“Maybe. Maybe not.”
Indignation flashed. “Are you kidding me?”
He still doubted her innocence even after the attempts on her life? For some reason that stung. Why would he believe the worst when he didn’t know her?
He held up a hand. “Not my call. You two stay put for a moment.”
With purposeful strides, he walked away and approached a man sitting on the bench in the designated smoking area. The two men talked a moment, then the man took off his hat and handed it to Anthony. In exchange, Anthony handed him some money.
He returned, handing her a battered cowboy hat. “Here, put this on.”
“Is that really necessary?”
“Your blond hair stands out like a neon sign.”
Pressing her lips together, she took the hat and tried not to grimace when she plopped it on her head.
“Pull it lower to shield your face,” Anthony instructed.
She complied and caught a whiff of stale tobacco clinging to the hat’s suede material. Though her eyes watered, she refused to complain.
“Obviously taking a commercial flight’s not an option.” Anthony removed his cell phone from his pocket. “I’ll call Trent and see if he can arrange a private plane.”
Viv touched his arm. “What about Mrs. Wilson? Once she sees the news, she’ll call the police and they’ll come here.”
“Good point.” With his cell phone at his ear, Anthony dialed and took a step away from her. “Carlucci here.”
Hearing him discuss her and the situation so matter-of-factly to the other person on the line made Viv feel so vulnerable. Why was someone trying to destroy her?
Mikey tugged on the strap of her hobo bag, signaling he wanted a treat. She dug inside for a wrapped piece of hard candy. She handed it to him. He made quick work of the wrapper, putting the little piece of cellophane into her hand before popping the treat into his mouth.
“Sounds good,” Anthony said and hung up. “Trent Associates has a corporate account with several rental-car agencies. We just need to get to one.”
He hailed a taxi. Twenty minutes later Viv sat in the front passenger seat of a rented minivan; Anthony was behind the wheel with Mikey buckled in the back avidly watching a video on the built-in DVD player. The rental guy had even supplied them with a stack of movies which would keep her son entertained for a long time. One less thing to worry about.
Anthony handed her a road map as he drove toward the interstate highway.
“So what’s the plan?” Viv asked.
“I’m taking you to Trent Associate’s headquarters in Boston and we’ll figure out what the next move is after that.”
Dismay washed through Viv. Maybe she hadn’t heard him correctly. “We’re driving cross-country?”
“Yes. A private jet will attract attention. This will take us three days longer, but we’re just another family taking a road trip.”
A family. If only. Her heart ached. Anthony had no idea how badly she wished for a complete, happy family. She glanced over her shoulder at Mikey. He deserved a family. She sighed. Not going to happen. She was all he had. And if driving cross-country was the only way to ensure his safety then so be it. “This won’t be easy.”
A rueful expression played on Anthony’s handsome face. “Very little in life is.”
His statement piqued her curiosity. Was he jaded because of his work or had something happened to make him so cynical? The question lay on her tongue but she held back. The last thing she needed was to become emotionally involved in this man’s life. He served a purpose. To get them to safety. Nothing more.
She spread out the map on her lap. “We take U.S. 20 to I-84 east to I-80 east and keep going until we hit Iowa. Then we’ll merge onto I-280 east.”
He nodded but didn’t respond.
The distance on the map looked daunting. She sent up a silent prayer of protection. Hopefully, neither the bad guys nor the police would find them along the way. Viv stared out the window, watching the miles go by in a haze of anxiousness.
The silence became too much. She gave in to her curiosity about the man she’d entrusted her and her son’s lives to. “How did you become a bodyguard?”
His hesitation sent a ribbon of uncertainty through her.
“I started out on the Boston police force,” he said finally.
She tucked in her chin. “So wait. You’re a bodyguard that was a government lawyer that was a Boston police officer? A little bit of an overachiever.” But he still hadn’t answered her question.
He shrugged. “I studied law at night after I joined the force. When I received my degree and gained my license, I applied for a government job.”
“You didn’t want to practice law?”
“No. Being an attorney was never my goal. I just needed the degree to do what I really wanted to do.”
“Which was?” she asked.
“Work for the Treasury Department. Secret Service.”
She raised her eyebrows. “And did you?”
“Yes.”
Impressive. Guarding the President was a far cry from protecting the widow of a senator. “Why’d you leave the service?”
He slanted her a glance. “Does it matter?”
“To me it does.”
“What difference will knowing make?”
She frowned. “Anthony, I have entrusted Mikey’s well-being to very few people. I’ve taken a huge leap of faith in trusting you this far. I’m putting a lot of faith in your ability to keep Mikey safe.”
His mouth pressed into a thin line. “Your faith probably won’t help.”
Apprehension bounced in her tummy. “That’s not comforting. Care to tell me why?”
“Situations in which people like me are needed tend to be short on comfort.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
He glanced at her. The world of hurt she saw in his eyes tugged at her heart. She wanted to ease the pain she saw there. Empathy prompted her to lift her hand to offer some sort of solace. His expression hardened as he shifted his gaze back to the road, making it clear he didn’t want her compassion. Oddly hurt, she let her hand drop to her lap and folded her hands together. There was too much at stake to let raw emotions get in the way.
“The man I was protecting was assassinated on my watch.”
Viv sucked in a stunned breath. Bad guys after them. The FBI suspecting her of murder. An unknown quantity of a bodyguard. And now this.
But she wouldn’t jump to conclusions. Too many people had done so with her over the years. Even him, in thinking her capable of killing her husband. She wouldn’t be guilty of the same thing with Anthony. She tried to follow the Golden Rule as best she could. “So did you make a mistake or was it just one of those unavoidable tragedies?”
Anthony gripped the steering wheel tighter. Feeling her gaze like a laser dot on his temple, he tried to decide how to answer her question. He settled on the line his superiors kept spouting. “When a bullet’s got a name on it, there’s nothing anyone can do once it leaves the barrel.”
She made a strangled noise. “What does that even mean?”
“Good question,” he said with a wry laugh. Her brains matched her beauty. “It means that even the best sometimes can’t stop the inevitable, or so they say.”
“You feel guilty for his death,” she stated solemnly.
She didn’t know the half of it. “Yeah, I do.”
She was quiet for a moment. “Who died?”
He changed lanes, keeping his gaze alert for any signs of being followed. “A delegate from Kashmir who’d come to the U.S. seeking assistance in gaining peace between India and Pakistan.”
“Those three countries have been at war since the forties,” she said. “It’s just so tragic.”
“It is. India and Pakistan are in constant conflict over the territory of Kashmir. Each has nuclear capability and is prepared to use it if necessary.”
“But war didn’t break out when the dignitary was assassinated, right? I mean, we’d have heard something about it on the news.”
“No, thankfully. The assassina
tion wasn’t related to the politics of the countries, but rather something to do with the personal life of the dignitary. Gambling.”
She sat back. “Well, that’s something at least.”
“Yeah, at least.”
But the shooting had killed his career and damaged his shoulder. Worse, it had eroded his confidence. Which this job was supposed to help rebuild. So far it hadn’t.
“Tell me some more about your relationship with your husband. I want to be fully prepared when we face the authorities.”
She gave a long-suffering sigh. “There’s not much to tell. I married Steven right after my eighteenth birthday. I was in awe of this older man. Steven was kind and considerate. Dashing even. But it didn’t take long to see the real him. Steven wasn’t the best at interpersonal relationships. He did great in crowds and was a smooth politician, but…”
She shrugged. “Mikey came along four years later. I was so happy to have a child. Steven was happy to have a son. By the time Mikey was three I knew something was off. The autism diagnosis devastated Steven. My parents, or more specifically my mother, wanted me to put Mikey in a home. Steven agreed with her.”
Anthony ached for Vivian, for the lack of support she apparently received. “That’s harsh. Why did you stay married to him?”
Her expression made it clear she thought the question absurd. “I made a vow before God. Marriage is forever.”
He liked her answer. In fact he found himself liking her a lot. “I agree marriage is forever. But he wanted to take your son away. Most people would have either bolted or capitulated.”
“Yes, well, needless to say, I stayed and I didn’t allow them to remove Mikey from me. I refused to bend under their pressure.”
“That’s very admirable. Shows a great strength of character.”
She flashed a pleased and slightly embarrassed smile. “Thanks. That was the first time I’d ever stood up to my mother.” Her mouth twisted in a cynical smirk. “She didn’t like it much and still hasn’t forgiven me.”
“I take it you and your mother don’t get along?”
“That would be an understatement. My mother is… Hmm, how best to describe her. The Wicked Witch of the West? Mommie Dearest.”