by Alicia Scott
She polished off the last of her toast in silence, the wheels in her mind spinning rapidly. Another afternoon walk would give her the last of the information she would need. By midnight. It could all be done by midnight.
She stood, looking down at her empty plate now smeared with syrup. Then her gaze swept up to find Mitch once more watching her with intent brown eyes.
“I believe it’s your turn to do the dishes,” she said simply. And without waiting for a reply, she walked over to the entryway, grabbed his coat and was out the door.
He watched the closed door a little longer. Strange she would take his own coat when she never had before. Unless, of course, she’d taken his coat precisely so he couldn’t. He got up from the table, leaving the dishes behind. Grabbing Jamie’s smaller jacket, he threw it over his shoulders and left, as well.
If she didn’t want him outside, it was all the more reason to go.
* * *
She retired early that night, excusing herself at nine, just after dinner. She had a big night ahead of her, and it wouldn’t hurt to get a couple hours’ sleep before it all began. Her nerves were tense, her face slightly flushed from the adrenaline pounding through her veins. She took off some of the edge by packing a small bag with enough clothes to get her through the next two days. She’d taken the Social Security card and birth certificate from the file, so now she was all set. She looked one last time in the mirror.
The hair was different, the eyes, the face. And Mitch was right. If she slouched forward just a little, she lost that smooth, model’s grace. Whatever else she thought of the man, he was good at his job. Hopefully so good that Jess McMoran could fade off into never-never land without any problems at all. Or so she hoped.
Through sheer force of willpower she slept for two hours. At eleven-thirty she was up again, the adrenaline easily banishing the sleep. She picked up the bag and took a deep breath.
Not having her own coat was going to pose a problem. Mitch’s was definitely the warmest, but it also retained that hint of spicy soapiness that she associated so strongly with him; she didn’t really want to spend more time in that coat. She would take Jamie’s instead, at least until she got to town. Then she’d definitely have to buy a new one as Jamie’s was too easy to recognize.
They’d told her it was a good twenty miles to town. After giving it a bit of thought, she decided she really had to take the car. And a casual conversation with Bill this afternoon had told her exactly where to find it. The keys were conveniently located in the kitchen drawer.
Starting the car would alert everyone that she was leaving. She hadn’t been able to think of a way around this. At least they could only follow her on foot, giving her the distinct advantage. She’d leave the car in town, of course. She wasn’t a thief, only a woman who wanted her privacy back.
She looked inside her bag, thumbing the thick stacks of cash she’d withdrawn from her account six months ago, when she’d first set all the wheels in motion. Twenty thousand dollars. That ought to help her with some nice relocation funds. Not to mention all the money she’d been secretly stashing in a Swiss bank account for six years now. It was as if even back then, she’d known this day would come. Her life had been a cycle of violence and running. At least with age she was learning to do it in style.
The last thought brought a bitter smile to her lips, but she banished it with a firm squaring of her shoulders. This was the last time. She would keep Jess McMoran, go back to school for her teaching license and live out her days as a brunette schoolteacher in a small town somewhere. She would buy a modest country house, grow a garden. Maybe she’d get a couple of cats, a dog and a goat. Her life would be nice and simple and free of complications.
Just her and her mother.
Picking up the bag, she crept quietly to the door. No floorboards creaked this time, and she eased down the stairs. A brief foray to the kitchen, and the car keys were hers. She grabbed Jamie’s jacket from the peg, and slid outside the house.
Her watch glowed 12:15 in the dim moonlight. If she understood Bill’s comment earlier, he and Jamie ran a strange, rotating mix of walking patterns, designed by Mitch. To an outside observer, the scheme appeared completely random, making it hard to sneak in under the watch’s guard. There was an underlying order, however. Jess just hoped she understood the concept well enough to use it.
If memory served, Bill would be behind the house now, leaving the front right corner unattended. Exactly where the car was camouflaged. She crossed over, keeping low in the night. There, that large pile of brush in the corner.
Her heart pounded, but her lips thinned into a grim smile of determination. She fingered the heavy metal of the keys in her hands. Almost there, Jess. Almost.
She quietly pulled the first dry brush away, illuminating the pale glow of a metal door handle. Quick glance at the watch. She had only five more minutes before Bill would round the corner. It was time to move faster.
But just as she reached over to pull off the leaf-encrusted net, a shadow shifted and solidified to her left. There was no time to move, no time to scream.
All of a sudden a man was before her, and the dull gleam of a 9-millimeter gun made his intentions all too clear.
Chapter 7
“You don’t even use the limited sense God gave you.” The black-clothed figure swore softly. “Just what the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Jess felt a sharp spike of relief stab through her; it was only Mitch. As she watched, the gun dropped down, though the aggressive stance refused to relent.
“Start talking, Jess, or I might just change my mind and shoot you anyway. At this point, I think more lives might be saved that way.”
Her chin came up, her face cool and expressionless in the dim moonlight. “How did you know?” she demanded.
“You asked Bill too many questions,” he replied evenly. “And there’s no reason for you to care about the car—unless, of course, you planned on going somewhere.”
She nodded, acknowledging the mistake while the wheels turned round in her mind. He’d caught her red-handed. What to do now? How much to even say? Mitch took a step toward her, and she stiffened.
“Well?” he challenged, dark and low. “Are you going to start talking yet? I’m mighty curious why the woman I was hired to protect seems hell-bent on running away. That eager to get yourself killed, Jess?”
She said nothing, her brown gaze watching him warily as he took yet another step forward. In the dim moonlight, he loomed larger than ever. Big and strong and dangerously angry. She raised her chin a little higher, but her heart beat frantically in her chest.
Abruptly he stopped, his eyes narrowing as a thought struck him cold.
“Son of a bitch,” he breathed softly, the realization washing over him with stunning sharpness. All the questions that had been puzzling him suddenly clicked together like a cruel jigsaw puzzle. “There’s another man, isn’t there?” he stated sharply. “That’s why you turned on Les. After all, he’d never let you leave him for another man. And having gone through all that, you certainly don’t want to give up your new lover now, do you?” His voice sunk an octave lower, the anger rising fierce and fast. “Do you!”
Her hands were beginning to shake lightly—she could feel each tremble in the hollowness of her stomach. But she kept her gaze level, willing the icy control to flow through her.
“No,” she said at last, her voice quiet in the darkness. “There is no one...” she hesitated slightly. “No man involved.”
But she could see Mitch shaking his head, hear the low stream of his angry curses. Before she could so much as react, he stormed past the car, bearing down upon her with two hundred muscled pounds of fury.
“Do you remember what I told you the first day?” he demanded fiercely, towering over her with his dark face. “Do you remember that small trivial point on how we’re in this together? That while you might fear we’ll betray you, in fact you can betray us, as well? What did you think I was talking
about, Jess? What did you think I even meant?”
She couldn’t quite stop herself from shrinking back this time. He was such a large man and so angry. On their own, her eyes glanced down at his fists. Large, powerful fists. They could probably knock her down with one blow, send her sprawling while her face exploded in nerve-popping pain. Her lip would split, her cheek bruise.
He whirled away from her abruptly, not noticing how she’d looked at him. He walked back two steps, feeling the adrenaline border overload. She had been about to betray them, and all for some man. He felt at once enraged and disappointed, and something else suspiciously close to hurt. Had she thought of this lover when she’d been kissing him? Had she planned this midnight rendezvous even as she’d pushed closer, angling back her head to deepen the passion? He shook his head in disgust at himself, the night and the situation. That little fool. He’d known all along she’d harbored a secret. But somehow he hadn’t wanted to find out it was this.
He turned back around, willing his anger under brutal control. She was still looking at him, her face expressionless and waiting in the pale moonlight. He ran his hand through his hair, and shook his head again.
“You don’t really understand, do you?” he found himself saying.
Ever so slowly, her eyes never leaving his, she shook her head.
“Six years ago,” he said curtly, “there were two agents on assignment. Two of our best agents, I might add. An attempt had already been made on the witness, a sleazy accountant who’d agreed to turn over evidence against a big-time drug smuggler. It was a big case and a big bust. We just needed to keep the man alive. Of course he was terrified, especially after almost being shot into Swiss cheese. The two agents... They decided to disappear with the man. You know why they did that, Jess?”
Once again she shook her head.
“Because they suspected a leak inside the department,” he informed her impatiently. “Because they thought someone might betray the accountant for the lure of easy money.” He took a restless step forward, his eyes burning and intense as his voice dropped low. “And do you know how this man repaid them, Jess? Do you know what he did?”
Pinned by his gaze, she could only continue to shake her head.
“He violated the Witness Protection Program agreement, Jess. Rather than walk away from his old life, he skipped out on his two agents—sound familiar, Jess?—so he could show up at a bank and claim the small fortune he’d embezzled from Valéncia, the drug smuggler. Of course, the drug smuggler had found out about this embezzlement and had men watching the bank. The two agents showed up just in time for a dark sedan to drive by. A dark sedan with very big guns.”
He ended flatly, his eyes grim with disgust and anger and pain. Jess found herself whispering the question, compelled to hear the ending she already knew.
“And the accountant died?”
Slowly, his brown eyes boring into hers, Mitch nodded.
“And the agents?” she whispered, autumn leaves and blue suits slashing through her mind. “They died, too?”
“One of them,” Mitch said softly. “The other lived to be blamed for the incident. His renegade ways had made enough enemies as it was. They were only too happy to kick him out of the FBI as an example. They took away his badge, his gun. Everything he’d worked for, everything he’d ever wanted to be.”
Slowly her brown eyes widened in the moonlight, the first flash of recognition sweeping over her.
“It was you,” she stated dully. “All of this was about you.”
Once again, that relentless nod.
“But you’re back now,” she stated, trying to fight the facts laid so baldly before her. “You work for the program now.”
“Later,” he said levelly, “they caught an agent red-handed, accepting money from Valéncia. There really had been a department leak. Had we stayed within the normal procedures, Ramos would have been killed, and probably Victor and myself, as well. Of course, Ramos’s betrayal led to his and Victor’s death anyway. At any rate, I was offered my job back. I wouldn’t take it, though—the red tape is too dangerous. Instead, I worked out a deal to become an independent specialist, operating on my own terms.”
“Then it worked out in the end,” Jess said.
“Tell that to Victor,” he replied coolly. “I became an independent specialist for one reason and one reason only, Jess. I am determined to keep my witnesses safe. In return, however, I expect them to play by my rules. You broke those rules, Jess. And it’s not just my own life I’m worried about. It’s Bill’s and Jamie’s, as well. Wasn’t Darold’s life enough, Jess? How much blood do you want on your hands?”
She felt her stomach fall out of her, the chills catching her quickly as the last statement rang through her head. How much blood do you want on your hands? How much, how much? He couldn’t know, she reminded herself faintly, but that didn’t stop her features from turning ashen.
For the first time, she wavered. For the first time her master plan ripped through her mind and she wondered if she might not be dreadfully, horribly mistaken. She’d thought to run away. She’d thought that if she lived by herself long enough, she would finally find peace and no longer be a threat to anyone.
But what if Mitch was right? What if her “escape” actually led to discovery? Les knew about her mother. Indeed, Les had blackmailed her with that information for a long year and a half. Somehow she’d figured she could slip in for just one crucial meeting under the cover of her new identity. But what if she was wrong? What did she really know about such things and such men? She’d just been a model, for crying out loud.
For the first time, she contemplated failing. And not just failing herself, but the large seemingly immortal man in front of her and the two other men she’d come to know. She couldn’t take it. She had to look away.
Mitch’s eyes narrowed as he watched her. Her face looked suddenly pale in the moonlight, and as she brought a hand to her throat, he could see it tremble in the chilly night. He’d struck a nerve, all right. The Ice Angel may have secrets, but at least she had a conscious, as well.
“Tell me about him, Jess,” he prodded, moving closer. “Tell me about this man that you just can’t leave behind. Surely the Ice Angel doesn’t find any man worth dying for.”
The last words were mocking, but she didn’t respond. Instead her gaze remained focused far out into the night.
“There’s no man,” she said quietly at last, inhaling softly as if she might say more.
And for one tiny moment, the desire did tug at her. The desire to simply tell him everything: the smoking gun, the gold-patterned carpet, the nightmare she couldn’t quite ever leave behind. And about her mother and the horrible bond that drew them together in a haze of guilt and pain and misery. She had left cities behind, past identities. But she would never turn her back on her mother. She owed her too much, even as she half hated her for the debt. Les had known that. Les had thought he could use it to torment her forever, until the one night she’d crept down to the library, intending only to remove the incriminating evidence against herself, and discovered as well all the information she’d needed for her vengeance.
Tell Mitch, a small corner of her mind whispered. Just tell him everything. Maybe Mitch, of all people, would understand.
“Come on, Jess,” he breathed softly, reaching out one arm toward her. “Tell me what’s going on. Trust me.”
She stiffened abruptly, the moment of weakness washed bitterly away at his words. Trust him? Trust him? There was no such thing as trust, she thought vehemently. No such things as reliability and safety and security. There was only yourself, and she had gotten herself this far. She stiffened her spine, feeling the coldness fill her now, giving her strength. Slowly her eyes came up, the brown depths no longer shadowed, but frosted into a brittle hue.
“I trust no one,” she told him coolly. “No one at all.”
He watched her sudden transformation with a growing sense of helplessness. Once more he’d sensed the
woman beneath, only to watch her retreat behind the prison of her control once more. He shook his head in the night, the frustration tearing at his gut.
“Damn you,” he swore low. “You and all your control. Do you really think a frosty stare can stop a bullet, Jess?”
She didn’t even blink, angering him all the more.
“Fine, then,” he bit out. “Tell me how much you don’t need anyone. I don’t really care what you say. Facts are facts, and right now the fact is you do need me. And the fact is I can’t trust you. No more outside privileges,” he said curtly. “From here on out, you will have one of us in your presence at all times. And I will personally keep guard outside your door each and every night.”
“You can’t do that,” she retaliated frostily. “I am not some prisoner here!”
He leaned forward, glaring at her with dark brown eyes. “You forget, Jess. I’m the boss around here, and I don’t have to follow FBI procedures or PR. Welcome to the true meaning of ‘independent specialist.’ The way I see it, you’re a threat to yourself and the rest of us. Therefore, you are unofficially under house arrest for the duration of this session. Now is that clear?”
She looked at him for a long moment, and he could practically see her bite back the retorts rising to her tongue.
He looked at her coldly. “Whoever he is, Jess,” Mitch said slowly, “he’s not worth it.”
“I said,” she bit out evenly, “there’s no man involved.”
“I think you’re lying,” he stated baldly. “And given that you’re the one who made an agreement with the program you never had any intention of keeping, and that you’re the one who’s sneaking around after midnight to steal cars, I say you’re the one who can’t be trusted. Not me.”
“Damn you to hell,” she replied.
“Sweetheart,” he drawled, “if this evening is anything to go by, I’m already there. Now back to the house.”
She whirled away, her short hair whipping around to hide her face. And even as she cursed him a thousand times in her mind, she still felt the unexpected sting of unshed tears.