by Asha King
Chapter One
Jann Pedersen was already waiting in the private room of the Japanese restaurant before Michael O’Hara got there, and Mike had aimed to be ten minutes early. He disliked being late, even if he technically wasn’t—he prided himself on being early for meetings and taking a seat first. He found Jann sitting in Mike’s preferred spot, his back to the wall where he could see the exits. Though Mike bristled slightly, he didn’t let it show, and approached the table with a nod to the waitress standing just outside the archway.
Jann stood when Mike reached him, offered his hand in greeting, then sat back down. Mike deposited his coat and scarf, both damp with snow, on one of the extra chairs. The waitress stepped up as Mike sat, left them with menus and a promise of a bottle of warm sake, and then they were alone to discuss business.
With the lunch hour rush past, the restaurant beyond was quiet, but Mike still kept his voice low. “It’s been a while.”
Jann sighed and ran a hand through his head of thinning, graying hair. “And I wish it was under better circumstances.”
So he wanted to get right to the point. Good. Mike preferred that. He’d driven three hours out to meet him and given the snow building on the roads, the three hours back to Midsummer would be challenging if dusk fell before he left.
“Tell me,” Mike said.
The older man shifted and lifted his briefcase to the chair beside him. He popped open the lock and withdrew a manila envelope from within, which he passed to Mike.
The waitress returned then with the sake, nodded when Jann said they’d need a few more minutes, and exited once more. Mike waited until she was well out of sight before he opened the envelope and slid out the papers.
First was the signed contract from Seven Security, Mike’s company. All Mike had been told was that it was a bodyguard position and he’d sent the boilerplate contract over, expecting to negotiate. Instead, Jann had signed it as-is and included a check as a deposit for his services.
Interesting. Mike would still have to sign it himself before it was in effect, and that Jann hadn’t argued with any of the points—or the cost—made him wary to do so.
He set the ten-page contract facedown on the table beside him, then the check, and then looked at the following papers. A police report, witness statement, more legal files—he scanned all these, intending to come back and take a deeper look when he had the full context.
At the bottom of the stack was an 8x10 photo of a woman—an employment one, if he guessed correctly. Her full lips were painted a deep, blood red and pulled into a half-smile, the kind of grin that promised you could find out what had her smiling if you could keep up with her. Large brown eyes, dark skin, and wide glossy curls that were a raven blue-black rolled down over her shoulders. It was a headshot against a plain brick wall, a black T-shirt and the edge of a logo of some type in white high on the left side of her chest.
Liliana White, said the sheet attached to the photo. Twenty-six. Waitress.
Witness to a murder.
He flipped back to the photo, her teasing smile drawing his attention again, then lifted his gaze to Jann. “You want her guarded until trial?”
Jann rubbed at his face, the shadows under his eyes seeming even more pronounced than they had been. “Well, the trouble there is that there isn’t a trial so far. Because there isn’t a body. The police are still investigating, trying to find something that’ll stick beyond the one eye-witness testimony.”
Mike set the pages down, chewing the information over while he poured himself a cup of sake and took a sip. There were plenty of questions here—why the police couldn’t keep an eye on her and who the hell would be paying for his services when there wasn’t even a trial yet. Jann was a private attorney, so he represented someone’s interests here, but he doubted it was the girl’s.
“So the assumption is that she’ll disappear before more evidence can be found, putting the police at square one?” Mike guessed.
Jann nodded. “It’s happened before.”
There was the link. “Tell me.”
“About three years ago one of my clients lost their daughter. I say ‘lost’ because technically she’s missing still, but we know she’s dead. She was barely twenty, still going through a rebellious period, and dating a man her parents didn’t approve of. Her friends reported to us later that he’d been abusive.
“She’s dead. There is no doubt of that. An hour before she went missing, a homeless man witnessed the couple arguing outside their building and the boyfriend pulled her into his car. It was the last time she was seen and his whereabouts couldn’t be corroborated until the next day.”
“The witness?”
“Also ‘lost’,” and Jann made air quotes around the word, his mouth twisting with distaste, “about three days after he came forward.”
“The boyfriend?”
“Jimmy Hartley. There’s some info about him in the package but you should be able to access his detailed police record if you want it—or what exists of it. His juvie record was sealed. His adult record is sparse, scrubbed as often as possible by his mother. She owns several businesses, has more money than you’d guess at first glance, and has done what she can to keep him out of jail.”
“This girl...” He turned the pages on Liliana White over so they were facedown with the rest of the pile. Her dark eyes remained in his mind, even has he tried to shake them from his memory. “She saw him kill someone else?”
Jann nodded. “Another waitress or bartender or something he was apparently involved with. She went to the police but there was no body, no evidence. Nothing but her word, at least so far.”
“Your clients don’t want him to get away with it again.”
“Exactly.” Jann poured his own glass of sake at last and drank it down in one long sip. Then he poured another. He knew this family personally; clearly it wasn’t purely a business thing. The death of the first girl bothered him—it was in his tired expression, the pain in his eyes, the stiffness in his shoulders. Long term clients, likely—long enough that Jann had watched her grow up.
So the family had kept an eye on this Jimmy Hartley, then come to Jann and said “make sure someone nails him this time.”
Liliana White was their only link to see that done.
“Have there been any overt threats on her life yet?” Mike asked. Jann was an old friend and he’d already decided he was taking the job, but Mike still wanted to know precisely what he was getting himself into. “Or is this purely anticipating something happening to her?”
Jann scowled at this and downed more sake. “There’s barely been a chance yet.”
Mike frowned, checked the dates on the file again. “It’s been three weeks. What do you mean?”
“Oh,” Jann sighed over the lip of his sake before taking a sip, “you’ll see when you meet her.”
****
A car flew by the bus stop, tossing dirty, slushy snow against Liliana’s legs. She’d be irritated if her jeans weren’t already wet from the last car. Now it was just a mild annoyance, a brief flash of cold and extra weight she’d forget about soon enough.
She stood shivering in her black winter coat, her head craned to watch the passing vehicles in case the bus was on its way. She didn’t know the schedule, didn’t know where the bus—if the damn thing ever showed up—would be going, either. She just had to get far enough away to disappear, then keep her babysitters off her tail.
Goddamn police. They’d believed her, sure, but then the friendly detective explained Polly’s body was missing, there was no physical evidence, and Jimmy’s lawyer was stonewalling them. With a sinking feeling, she’d realized going to them was probably the stupidest thing she could’ve done, and she wouldn’t have if she’d realized the Hartleys would have cleaned up the scene so quickly.
Then they’d squirreled her away in a hotel. For her own “protection”, they’d said.
Right. She snorted again at the thought. If they couldn’t get to The Palace in
time to find a body or collect some DNA or whatever, how the hell were they supposed to “protect” her?
They couldn’t. She was on her own. So screw them, she’d disappear so far away, no one would find her again. It had been easy enough to slip out the hotel bathroom window after grabbing the money one of the men guarding her had left out for pizza. Dusk was settling, tinging the snow-filled clouds a deep gray-blue, and she had thirty bucks in her pocket. She could do plenty with that before they figured out where she went.
If the bus would ever get here.
She bounced from one foot to the other, trying to stay warm. She could’ve ducked into the bus shelter but she wanted to be out here, watching, so she wouldn’t miss her ride out of town. The way the thick, heavy snowflakes beat against the shelter’s Plexiglas didn’t leave her confident the bus driver would even see her if she remained in there.
The stretch of road she waited on was busy, thick with cars. Probably people headed home from work.
Liliana wondered, idly, if they’d replaced her at The Palace yet. Her and Polly, and the thought of her dead co-worker pinched at her conscience.
Not your fault the cops didn’t help. You tried to do the right thing for Polly. They just suck at their jobs.
Then she wondered about her apartment. She’d been allowed to collect a few things before they’d whisked her off, but now? Now three weeks had passed. Her landlord had a post-dated check for the first of this month, but she had no idea if it had been cashed or not. No ATMs, no going to the bank. No doing anything that might reveal her whereabouts. Without her regular paycheck, even if this past month’s rent had cleared, the next wouldn’t. She’d be evicted. Her possessions all sold.
She tried not to think on it. At least she was still alive. That was the important thing.
A big black SUV in her peripheral vision slowed, then came to a halt in front of the donut place not far from the bus stop. Newish paint job the way it gleamed, and slick wipers knocked all the falling slow from the windshield just as fast as it hit.
The driver’s side door opened and closed, a man in a black peacoat and brown scarf exiting and rounding the vehicle.
She wouldn’t have paid any attention to him if he hadn’t been headed right for her.
Immediately Liliana froze, her eyes growing wide and heart beating hard as she stared at him. Thick snowflakes fell, clung to his short auburn hair. The brown scarf came up to partially hide his jaw and mouth, but even somewhat disguised, she was sure she didn’t know him. Or want to. He was tall, six-two or three maybe, and moved with the assuredness of strength and purpose. His dark eyes were fixed on her and Liliana was already backing up.
Her ass bumped the bus shelter then she was turning, scrambling around the Plexiglas, no damn idea where the hell she was going to go but—
Steps crunched on snow and rock salt behind her, and she yelped when strong, unyielding fingers latched onto her upper arm.
“I-I didn’t say anything to anyone!” she sputtered immediately. “Tell Jimmy and his mom I didn’t do anything!” Though she pulled and twisted, his grip was firm as he dragged her back toward his SUV.
“Stop making a scene,” he said in a low voice, his pace swift enough that she struggled to keep up with it. “I’m here to get you to safety.”
She blinked up at him, nearly tripped on the snow at her feet. He wasn’t one of the regular officers or the plainclothes guys she’d been dealing with. He didn’t look like a cop, either. So either she’d been passed to some new babysitter, or he was full of shit and working for Jimmy.
“I can get to safety on my own, goddamn it. Let me go!”
They’d reached the SUV and she wasn’t stupid—getting into a vehicle with some strange man was not a good idea. She gave another tug as he reached for the door, twisting against his vise-like grip.
Then she was slammed against the vehicle abruptly, not hard enough to hurt but so quickly it left her jarred and startled. The guy crowded her space, stared down at her with cold, calculating eyes that could probably stop a person with a glare. Liliana was taller than the average woman at five-nine and this guy made her feel small, towering over her. His hand still bit into her upper arm, despite the thick layer of her jacket and the brown leather gloves he wore.
“I was hired to keep you safe,” he bit out slowly, carefully, like he was speaking to a small child. “Standing in public at a bus stop is not safe. Running away with the money you stole from the people watching you is not safe. Not being where you were supposed to be when I went to pick you up tonight and making me spend an hour trying to find you is not safe. Now get in my car, Miss White. The more you waste my time, the more you put your life in danger.”
She swallowed dryly, still staring up at him. When he jerked the SUV door fully open and directed her to sit, she did so without a word. He slammed the door shut and her shoulders tensed. Around the vehicle with quick steps again and then he was in the driver’s seat, key in the ignition. The heater blared on, stinging Liliana’s cold cheeks and bare hands, but she sat frozen still, staring at him in silence.
His gaze darting between the mirrors, he pulled onto the road. “Please put your seatbelt on.”
Who the hell was this guy?
Chapter Two
Mike had spent all of three minutes in her company and already he wanted to kill Liliana White himself.
Witnesses could be flighty, he knew. Prone to doing stupid things out of fear. But, generally speaking, once they were in custody and protected, they liked being there, or at the very least knew they were safe. They preferred it over a uniform patrolling their apartment. Even confined, it meant someone was invested in their safety.
But the more Jann talked over sushi, the more Mike realized precisely why there had been no negotiating the usual Seven Security high fees. This girl had taken off four times already, slipping past the meager security detail Jann’s clients had hired and the local police. They always caught up with her—once she barely got out of the parking lot—but she was creating more work for everyone and couldn’t seem to get it through her head that her best chance at not getting killed was to stay where they could see her.
Toward the end of their meal, when a call came in for Jann and his face grimaced with the news, Mike immediately knew she’d left again. Then he had to track her down before she got far, delaying any further plans. His boilerplate contract allowed him to charge for any number of expenses and extra hours. He suspected that clause would come into use for however long he had to keep an eye on her.
That is, if he didn’t kill her himself first.
She sat silently in the car next to him. Still hadn’t put on her seatbelt, which made him suspect she planned to bolt from the SUV the first chance she got. Either that or she was still too scared to move. She hadn’t stopped staring at him.
Guilt twinged him. Not enough that he would acknowledge he felt badly for scaring her, but enough to keep himself in check before he let irritation take a hold of him again.
“My name’s Michael O’Hara,” he spoke as he drove without looking at her. “I own a company called Seven Security. I’ve been hired to keep you safe.”
Silence ticked on between them. He smoothly maneuvered the vehicle on the slick streets, between cars and around tight corners.
“I’m taking you to a different hotel,” he continued. “We’ll spend three days there. Then we’ll move to another. This will continue while the authorities continue their investigation and prepare to file charges. As you’re a material witness, the authorities will take over my job from there.”
He felt her big eyes on him, weighted and probing. Mike ignored her stare, however, keeping his focus on the road and not the shifting woman in his peripheral vision. Her nylon jacket crinkled as she moved, and he braced in case she was reaching for the door handle—he didn’t think she was stupid enough to jump from a moving vehicle, but he hadn’t eliminated the possibility yet.
The SUV was getting uncomfortably warm.
Just in case she bolted and he had to chase her, he opted for turning the heat down rather than removing his gloves and scarf.
“So you’re not the police,” she said at last. Her voice was smooth and rich now that she wasn’t yelling and had time to calm down.
“No, I’m not.”
“Which means you’re basically kidnapping me.” When he didn’t reply, she continued, “If Jimmy was charged and there was a trial, sure, they could keep me against my will as a witness. But you’re not the cops and there’s not gonna be a trial so you’re kidnapping me. I’m not stupid.”
“That’s open for debate.”
Normally he’d avoid antagonizing someone he was supposed to be protecting but that shocked her into silence again and he needed that—needed her a little off kilter. Because if she got too comfortable, she’d be trying to wiggle her way free, and that was precisely what he’d been paid to ensure she didn’t do.
“This is not the first time Mr. Hartley has allegedly killed someone,” Mike continued. “You are not the first witness. You are, however, the only one still alive. And I will keep you that way. Right now the safest place for you is right at my side, always within my sight. The more you make me chase you, the more of a fight you put up, the harder my job becomes. You don’t think you’re stupid? Shut up and let me do my job.”
Several minutes passed. In the distance, the glow of the hotel sign shone in green and yellow. He’d already booked a room—third floor, so she couldn’t jump out the window—for five days, despite the fact that they were staying three. Once he had her locked inside, he’d call his team to pick up the pre-packed overnight bag he kept in his front hall closet to deliver to the hotel as he hadn’t had time to return to Midsummer for it before retrieving Liliana. Despite the detour of having to find her at the bus stop, the evening yet might get back on track.