by Debra Webb
According to the conference call this morning, they were booked under aliases on a commercial flight from Huntsville, Alabama, to Atlanta. The airport in Huntsville was less than an hour away. Jax had said they would leave early Wednesday morning and, per the usual protocol, take back roads until they had no other choice.
When this began, her attorney had mentioned to her the possibility that dedicated followers of old man Armone might haunt her for many years after his incarceration. Assuming she survived to testify and all went as expected during the trial. There was always the chance, she supposed, that a jury could be intimidated or bought off.
But no one was going to let a man who shot his own son get away with it. Right?
Ali hugged her jacket tighter around her and turned back toward the house. Jax lingered a few yards behind. His gaze caught hers briefly as she walked past him. She had been thinking that it might be best to try and make amends of some sort. If she didn’t live through this, the idea of him spending the rest of his life harboring this resentment he felt toward her was more than she wanted to take to her grave.
He was the one who’d left, and in her mind he owed her the apology, explanation, whatever. Not vice versa. But he didn’t see it that way. All he saw were the facts. She had married a ruthless criminal. Had stayed married to him for five years until he was murdered. Admittedly, that didn’t look so great.
But there were so many things he didn’t know. Things she could not bear to tell anyone beyond the official statement she had given over the course of a week when this thing began.
Rather shortsightedly, she had walked into that FBI office in Kentucky and identified herself. No further explanation had been needed. Immediately, the powers that be were gathered into conference rooms across the southeast and decisions were made. She was interviewed over and over for weeks. Finally when a course of action was decided upon, she was whisked away into hiding to await trial.
There had been no fanfare, no sense of adventure or excitement. Just more loneliness. The deep, sad loneliness she had felt for years by that point. At least the physical pain had stopped.
Oddly, the physical pain was the only aspect of those last three years of her marriage that reminded her she was still alive. She had felt dead most of the time. A body floating through time. The numbness that had overtaken her life had been profound—except for the physical pain he wielded. Sometimes she even looked forward to the moments when the pain reminded her that her heart was still beating.
She wasn’t sure what a psychiatrist would say about that. Most likely she didn’t want to know.
Stamping the snow from her shoes at the back door, she smiled as Bob shook himself, as well.
“Come on, boy.”
They went inside, and Jax followed. She peeled off her jacket and hung it in the mudroom before continuing on into the kitchen. Rubbing her hands together, she went in search of a treat for Bob. She found a small bag of jerky that was still in date.
Bob shifted from paw to paw with excitement as she opened the bag. She gave him a piece, and he sauntered off to pile up in front of the fireplace. Bob liked being near the heat and maybe the crackle of the logs. Then again, it didn’t take a lot to make him happy. The occasional scratch behind the ears, walks and food.
In her opinion, he had the right idea. She longed for simple again.
Finally, she turned to face the man watching her. “We need to talk.”
He lifted one shoulder and let it drop. “Talk.”
“Can we go in the other room and sit while we talk?” No matter that the sun was dropping, light poured into the kitchen’s western-facing windows. She didn’t want to have this discussion in such unforgiving light.
He gestured to the other room. “After you.”
She sat in a chair near where Bob lay. The fire had died down a little while they were out walking. Jax added a couple more logs to fuel the flames. He settled on the sofa, which allowed him to stare directly at her.
“Just so you know,” he said before she could begin, “you don’t owe me an explanation. You’re right. I left. You had every right to move on with your life as you saw fit.”
His face told her he didn’t really see it that way.
“After you left for Seattle, I focused on my classes. It was lonely and I was heartbroken.”
He started to speak but she held up a hand to stop him.
“I was young. I hadn’t even turned twenty-two yet. You were my first love and, of course, I was devastated. I was a bit of a late bloomer, so I hadn’t experienced that kind of intense relationship before.” She swallowed, mustered the courage to say the rest. “It wasn’t your fault that I had been so sheltered until then.”
She waited to see if he had anything to say. When he didn’t, she moved on.
“For the next two years, I hung on to the idea that you would be back.” She laughed softly. “I was confident you loved me just as much as I loved you and that you’d come back and all would be well again.”
His expression changed then. The defensive face melted into something softer, something aching.
“Then my father became ill, and I had to leave school to take care of him. I only had two semesters left, but there was no putting off going home. He was very, very sick.”
She fell quiet for a moment, remembering those pain-filled days. Her father was the only family she’d had left. Saying goodbye to him had been so very difficult.
“Before he died, he made me promise that I would go back and finish school. So I did. I left everything at the farm just as it was and completed my final semesters. By that time I felt as if I could go back and pack things up. Do what I had to do. It took a couple of months, but I got it done. The farm sold practically before I could put it on the market. I decided I wanted to go someplace where I could disappear into the energy and excitement. Atlanta felt like the place.”
“You went to work for Clayton and Ross, and the rest is history,” he said, the defensive face and tone back in full swing.
“I had no idea the accounting firm had anything to do with the Armone family.” She shrugged. “I had no idea who the Armone family was. The firm offered a very competitive salary plus a bonus. They would pay for my master’s. It was a win-win situation. I found a small apartment and even bought a new car with part of the money from the farm.” She shook her head. “I was so happy. It felt like a fresh beginning. I had been lonely and sad for so long.”
Jax stood. “Then what? Let me guess. Armone came in and swept you off your feet. You had no idea who he was. Thought he was a knight in shining armor.” He walked over to where she sat and crouched down to her eye level. “But you stayed married to him for five years. Five years. Nearly two thousand days and nights. You had to have figured out who he was way before that much time elapsed. But you stayed.” He pushed to his feet. “You’re doing the right thing now, and that’s great. I’m here for you. But for far too long, you pretended you had no idea who the man you were crawling into bed with every night was.”
Fury and regret made her lips tremble. “There are things you don’t know.”
He planted his hands on his hips. “Tell me.”
She shook her head. She couldn’t tell him those things. Ever. The idea of how he would look at her was too painful. She couldn’t bear it. Let him think what he would. She had tried to make things right between them.
“I guess there’s nothing else to say.”
With that pointed announcement, he walked away.
That was the thing with Jax. He always walked away.
* * *
THE SUN HAD DISAPPEARED, and darkness had settled over the landscape. The thin layer of snow reflected the light from the moon. Jax had spent the evening checking the perimeter and ensuring all was locked up tight.
Ali’s words about being sad and lonely kept echoing in his brain. He didn’t wan
t to feel the regret that had crowded into his chest. She had made her own decisions. Yes, he was the one to leave. But he’d been young, damn it. A fool. And yes, it took him a long time to see that fact, and by then it was too late.
Why did she feel compelled to keep trying to make him understand?
He didn’t understand. He didn’t want to understand. He wanted to keep an emotional distance between them, because he didn’t want to feel what he was feeling.
Damn it.
She had said there were things he didn’t know.
Probably just another excuse. She’d had everything she wanted. Money, power, prestige. Who knows what prompted her to decide to testify against the old man? Maybe she was afraid she would be next after he executed his own son.
Or maybe she and the old man had something going on.
He closed his eyes. Hated himself for even thinking such a thing. Anger, resentment, regret—all those emotions were driving him right now. He had to work through this. To keep his head clear.
Brannigan had mentioned the pain she had endured. Did that have something to do with the part she refused to share with him?
Before going back in the house, he put through a call to Holloway.
“Everything okay?” The worry in the other marshal’s voice was palpable.
“Yeah. Everything’s fine.”
“You don’t sound fine.”
Holloway knew him well enough to hear the doubt in his voice.
“I need to see the entire file.” A part of him wanted to argue with his own words. That part of his instincts that warned he would regret knowing nudged him. He ignored it. He had to know the whole story.
Holloway didn’t respond for a bit. Finally, he said, “If she wants—”
“She’s not going to tell me,” Jax said, cutting him off. “Holloway, I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t necessary. If Brannigan can be briefed on the part I don’t know, I can, as well. I need to get my head screwed on right with this.”
More of that lingering silence.
“You said this wouldn’t be a problem. Tell me now if you were wrong. I don’t want Ali at even more risk because you can’t get beyond the past. As for what I shared with Brannigan, that was necessary. I needed his input.”
“I can handle her security,” Jax argued. “I just need to know the rest so I can get...” He exhaled a big breath. No use lying to the man. He would see through it. “I need to get my personal feelings sorted out, and I can’t do that until I understand what she isn’t telling me.”
“This is her life, Stevens. She doesn’t have to tell you anything.”
“You know I’ll hear it at trial,” Jax reminded him. “Better for me to know now and be prepared.”
Holloway was the one letting go of a sigh now. “You’re right. Maybe I should have given you the whole story to begin with. But understand, this is intensely personal. You don’t need to know in order to do your job.”
He was aware that Holloway was only agreeing to indulge his personal needs.
“I don’t want to go into this on the phone. I’ll make sure you see the entire file tomorrow while you’re in Nashville for the teleconference. There’s a video you need to see. I think that will take care of whatever is nagging at you.”
“All right.” He could wait until tomorrow. “I appreciate it, Holloway.”
“You may change your mind when you see the video.”
His gut tightened. “Better to know the whole truth,” he argued.
“Sometimes maybe not,” Holloway countered. “Just keep her safe, Stevens. This might sound lame, but if anyone has ever needed a real-life hero, it’s this woman.”
The call ended, and Jax stared at the house. Ali had been standing at the window watching him, but she wasn’t there now.
He’d said too much. Every time they talked about the past, his anger got the better of him. Not once in his adult life had he had this problem with anyone else. He’d always been easygoing, nonjudgmental.
But he couldn’t maintain his objectivity in her presence.
This was the real problem. He still had feelings for her, and it drove him crazy.
He didn’t want to feel any of this. He just wanted to do his job.
Inside the back door, he locked up and removed his jacket. Maybe he should make another pot of coffee and see if she would open up to him. Why hear the truth from a stranger when she was right here?
He emptied the carafe, rinsed away the old grounds from the brew basket and prepared a fresh pot. When it started to brew, he went in search of her. She’d already shut herself and Bob up in her room. He stood outside her closed door and tried to think of something to say.
Finally he shook his head. Tomorrow would just have to be soon enough to hear the rest of her story.
* * *
ALI STOOD AT the door, her hands pressed to the cool wooden surface. She closed her eyes and laid her cheek there. As much as she wanted his forgiveness, his understanding, she could not tell him the details of her marriage.
It was too painful. She couldn’t bear to see the pity in his eyes.
When this was over, he would go on his way, and she would go hers. Vying for his understanding was a selfish luxury that was not necessary to her continued existence. She would get over the hurt. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d had her heart fracture over Jaxson Stevens.
He moved away from the door. She felt his withdrawal more than heard it. She moved away, as well. It was only eight o’clock. Going to bed this early was a little ridiculous, but it was safer than allowing that little voice in her head to goad her into telling him the whole story.
What he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him or change what he was assigned to do. It would, however, devastate her.
In hindsight, there were parts she wished she hadn’t shared in those initial interviews. But she had been desperate, vulnerable. The story of her marriage to Harrison Armone had poured out of her like a poison her body had needed to expel. Each time she fell silent, the interviewer was there, prodding her for more. No one would ever hear those parts, the agents had promised.
As time moved on, she had slowly but surely been informed that it might become necessary to use those details as proof of her motivation for coming forward. The fear, the humiliation and endless abuse she suffered could be an incredible asset for setting the tone for the jury.
Ali was a victim, and the jurors needed to see that victim. They needed to feel her pain.
She paced the room. Keeping Jax out of the courtroom was likely impossible. He would hear all the gory details, and there was nothing she could do to prevent it. But at least she wouldn’t have to look at him. She would focus on the man questioning her.
As much as she dreaded that part of the questioning, she would do whatever necessary to see that the bastard went away. He could not be allowed to get away with all that he and his son had done.
It was time he paid.
She climbed onto the bed and closed her eyes. After all she had endured, it would be almost worth it to see the look on his face when the jury announced, “Guilty.”
Chapter Eight
Two days until trial
Tuesday, February 4
Ali pulled on her jacket and finished off her second cup of coffee. She stared out the window over the sink. Thin patches of snow lingered here and there, but it would be gone by midday with the subtle rise in temperature. The interstate to Nashville wouldn’t be a problem either way, but some of the back roads might still be icy this morning.
Jax had said back roads would be the word of the day. The only person who knew their exact route was Marshal Holloway, and even he didn’t know the turn-by-turn details. Both she and Jax trusted him implicitly. They’d spoken this morning. She was so thankful he had been released from the hospital late yesterday. He was still on leave because of h
is injuries, but he was healing. Ali appreciated all that he had done for her this past six months. The first marshal assigned to her hadn’t been so friendly. She had gotten the impression he had considered her a lesser life form. But he had done his job and gotten her out of danger when the time came.
“You ready?”
She turned to the man who had spoken. They hadn’t said a word to each other since that unpleasant exchange late yesterday. Not even good morning.
He’d gone outside and checked his SUV. Not that he’d told her what he planned to do when he walked out the door. She’d watched from a window. He’d gone over the vehicle very carefully. Surely if anyone who had intended to do harm had found their location, they would have burst into the cabin and done so last night. Then again, she supposed it was better to be safe than sorry.
When he’d finished his inspection, she was back in the kitchen pulling on her jacket. She decided not to worry about her purse. All she needed was her driver’s license and lip moisturizer. Those she carried in her left jacket pocket. The emergency cell phone Holloway had given her was in the other pocket.
“I am,” she said in answer to his question. She rinsed her cup and placed it on the counter before turning to face him.
“We should get started just in case we run into any closed roads.”
She crouched down and gave Bob a hug. “You take care of the place while we’re gone.”
His tail wagged, and she gave him a scratch on the head as she stood. She followed Jax out the front door and to his SUV. A minute later they were rolling down the treacherous road that led back down to the paved one below. Ali found herself holding her breath more than once.