by Amelia Autin
Shaken more than he cared to admit, Liam swallowed hard and glanced away. His eyes caught those of Dave Morgan across the table, and knew the other man had spotted the same thing he had. Was having the same kind of reaction any decent man would have to the knowledge that Cate had been abused. Bound. And most likely raped—repeatedly.
Guilt slammed into him again. Guilt that he’d judged her from the beginning, that he’d wondered how and why she’d become a prostitute. That he’d been baffled by his attraction to a woman of the streets, even one who looked like her.
Now he knew that whatever she’d done, it hadn’t been by choice. She hadn’t chosen her life any more than she’d chosen to have those scars inflicted on her by Aleksandrov Vishenko. Has to be him, he reasoned. Who else it could be? No wonder she despises him. No wonder he’s afraid of what she’ll say on the witness stand and tried to have her killed. And no wonder Alec wishes he could exact a little vigilante justice. I do, too.
Liam’s new cell phone suddenly shrilled, startling him out of his reverie. The ringtone wasn’t his usual one, so it took him by surprise. He quickly excused himself from the table to answer the call.
“Yeah?”
“It’s me. Cody. Just wanted to let you know we were right. The agent you gave your cell phone to used it, on my orders, just to see what would happen. And sure enough, someone in the FBI was triangulating on the signal.”
“Shit.”
“No kidding. Doesn’t necessarily mean anything bad. Could be they’re just trying to locate you to bring you in for routine questioning in the shooting—you’d be cleared of course, but they have to follow procedure. Get your statement and match it to the statements of the other witnesses, not to mention Alec’s statement. Do ballistics tests on your gun. The whole nine yards. Or it could be they just want to bring Caterina in for safekeeping—she’s still a key witness in the conspiracy trial. On the other hand, it could be someone trying to track down the two of you...for Vishenko.”
“Yeah, I get that.”
“So D’Arcy wants to change the plan a little. We’ve got Alec and his wife in protective custody—and boy, the FBI was pissed about that, especially when D’Arcy refused to divulge their location to them. We want to ensure the same for Caterina and you—but the FBI knows about the agency’s safe house in Fairfax. Don’t ask how—it’s a long story. So D’Arcy wants to move you to another safe house, one outside Fayetteville, North Carolina. If you leave now you can be there in just under five hours.”
Liam was tired—he’d had a long drive yesterday from New York to DC, today had been another long day and his body had used up its store of adrenaline already—he wasn’t looking forward to a five-hour drive. But now wasn’t the time to worry about that. Safety was the primary concern. Cate’s safety.
Cody was still talking. “Don’t use your credit cards to get there—pay cash. The Morgans will give you enough cash for anything. And new identification and credit cards for both of you will be waiting at the next safe house, just in case we have to move you again. Oh yeah, and swap GPS units with the Morgans.”
Surprised, Liam blurted out, “They can track us by my GPS? I didn’t think that was possible, not without—” He stopped abruptly, realizing that law enforcement was constantly coming up with new and improved surveillance techniques, some of which the public was completely unaware. And if it could be done at all, the FBI would know how.
Silence at the other end. “Think about it,” Cody said finally. “But don’t think too long. We want you out of there in the next fifteen minutes.”
“What do I tell Cate?”
“At this point I think you’re going to have to tell her the truth. At least some of it.”
“I already told her about the death of the other witness.”
“I told you not—”
“She knew,” he said flatly, cutting Cody off. “She figured it out, so there was no reason not to confirm it.”
“How’s she holding up?”
“She’s keeping it together, at least on the surface. I don’t know what she’s feeling inside, but it can’t be good.”
“She’s still planning to testify, right?”
Liam grunted. “Don’t worry. Whatever Alec told her, it must have resonated. So yeah, she’s still planning to testify. No matter the cost.”
* * *
They drove through the night, a night that—thanks to the full moon and the steady stream of traffic—wasn’t all that dark. But it was anonymous, and that’s all Cate cared about. She hadn’t hesitated when Liam told her they had to move on to another safe house. Moving on was something she did on a regular basis, so it wasn’t unusual for her. She’d packed the few clothes and other essentials the Morgans had given her into a small suitcase—also provided by the Morgans. She’d been ready in less than five minutes.
Now, as she watched Liam driving at a steady pace—the speedometer just barely nudging the legal limit—she considered asking him the questions that had been percolating in her mind since his sudden announcement right after receiving the phone call. Who called you? Was it Alec? He’s a witness too, so is he safe? And Angelina. What about my cousin?
But she wasn’t in the habit of asking too many questions. When you started asking questions, people had the unfortunate response of thinking that gave them the right to ask questions in return. And Cate didn’t answer questions. Not as a general rule. The less people knew about her, the less chance there was that Vishenko’s men would find her.
Alec had asked questions. So had the FBI and the men from the US Attorney’s Office. She’d had no choice but to answer those questions. And she would answer any and all questions put to her in court. Honestly. But for some reason she didn’t want Liam asking her questions. Especially about her past—she didn’t want him to know. Anything.
And why is that? a little voice inside her head asked. The answer was one she didn’t want to acknowledge. You don’t want him to think badly of you. But you don’t want him to think of you as a victim, either. You just want him to think of you as a woman. A woman he’s attracted to. Admit it.
“You’re awfully quiet over there,” Liam said. “You okay?”
“Fine. I’m just thinking.”
“Worried about this move?”
She shook her head, but realized his eyes were on the road and he couldn’t see it. “No. Not really. I’m used to it.” I’m used to moving from place to place, she thought. Whenever I got the feeling Vishenko’s men might be close, I always moved on. Why do you think I’m still alive? But she didn’t say any of this to Liam.
The long silence that followed was broken when Liam said, “Cody—my brother-in-law—said the FBI knows about the safe house we were just at. That might not mean anything, but Cody’s a damn good poker player. First rule of thumb—never give away anything, especially an edge. Not if you don’t have to.”
“‘Need to know,’” she said. “I understand.”
“Exactly.”
“So where are we going now?” she asked.
Liam hesitated.
“I do have a need to know,” she said softly, but putting determination behind it. “It’s my life—not only do I need to know, I have the right to know.”
“Okay, yeah,” he agreed finally. “The agency has another safe house in Fayetteville, North Carolina. Cody and his boss think we’ll be safer there than at the one in Fairfax.”
“Why?”
He told her. Flat out. Not trying to sugarcoat anything. When he was done she said, “Thank you for being honest with me.” She considered everything he’d said, then asked, “So Vishenko has the FBI infiltrated?”
Liam shook his head. “We don’t know that. It’s only one of several possibilities they’re considering. But in the meantime, the agency doesn’t want to take any chances. Not with you.”
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Cate thought of something. “Alec is a witness, like me. And Angelina. Are they being guarded, too?”
She could tell her question bothered Liam somehow—it wasn’t anything he said, just a feeling she got. Is he worried about his brother’s safety? she wondered. As I am?
“Don’t worry. The agency has them in protective custody,” he said curtly. Then he asked, “What do you mean Angelina’s a witness, too?”
“Not a witness in this case—the conspiracy. But she would be a witness against Vishenko if he’s extradited to Zakhar.”
He glanced at her for a second, as if puzzled, then shifted his attention back to the road. “I don’t get it.”
“For the attempted assassination of the crown prince,” she explained patiently. “Don’t you know?” She added a few specifics regarding the assassination attempt in St. Anne’s Cathedral in Drago during Crown Prince Raoul’s christening ceremony the year before, an assassination attempt foiled by her cousin, Angelina and Liam’s brother. “If Vishenko gets off in this trial, he still has to face justice in Zakhar. Alec told me the extradition paperwork has already been processed on Zakhar’s end. They’re only waiting for the outcome of the conspiracy trial here before pressuring the State Department to turn Vishenko over to them for Zakharian justice.”
“Alec didn’t mention it.” And there was an edge to Liam’s voice that said he was upset he’d been kept in the dark.
Cate put a hand out to touch his arm in commiseration, then drew it back. Instead, she said, “At first I asked Alec why I needed to testify. Why I needed to risk my life to put Vishenko behind bars in the US when he will be tried in Zakhar for what he nearly did to the crown prince. One of the shooters has already confessed, naming Vishenko as the man behind the attempt. The man who supplied the money.” She breathed deeply. “But Alec made me see it is not just Vishenko, although he is key. All the men in the conspiracy must face justice—the Zakharians who lured the trafficked women and the men from the US embassy who provided the false visas are just as guilty as the men from the Bratva. We cannot bring them down unless Vishenko goes down.”
Cate was silent for a moment. “Whenever I’m afraid—and I’m often afraid—I remind myself that even if Vishenko escapes justice here he will be tried in Zakhar. And the courts in Zakhar are much quicker than they are in the US. Justice is swift. Punishment harsh.” Her voice dropped a notch. “Even if he kills me he will not escape. And that is a very comforting thought.”
“He’s not going to kill you,” Liam asserted. “Not if I have anything to say about it.”
Warmth from out of nowhere filled Cate at Liam’s words. Not so much the words themselves as the tone of voice in which they were uttered. Coolly confident in his own abilities. Determined. And she knew he meant it. She was safe in his hands, as safe as it was humanly possible to be...which was a tremendously relieving feeling.
* * *
They arrived at the new safe house before midnight. As he’d done at the first safe house, Liam didn’t pull into the driveway, walk up to the front door and knock. He reconnoitered first, driving past the house and around the block slowly, then circling back again. It was a little thing, but it emphasized to Cate he wasn’t a novice at this. And that extra caution only added to her feeling of safety. Vishenko might still succeed in killing her—anything was possible—but Liam wouldn’t make it easy for him.
Just as before, Liam parked on the street a few houses away, and Cate knew he didn’t want to announce to anyone who might spot the SUV or who might have been following them which house they were actually in. Not that they’d been followed—Liam had made sure of that, too, long before they’d arrived at the safe house. Another little detail.
So many details, Cate thought. Between the US Marshals who’d guarded her before and Liam now, she realized just how much she hadn’t done to safeguard herself those six years on the run. Vishenko’s men hadn’t found her, so she must have done something right. But some of that must have been luck. Blind luck.
Liam handed Cate’s suitcase to her and grabbed his duffel bag with his left hand. He guided her down the sidewalk toward the safe house without actually touching her, his right hand tucked inside his jacket. And Cate knew why. He’d killed for her before. He would again, if necessary. And somehow, instead of making her afraid of that ruthless side of him the way she feared Vishenko, the thought helped her breathe easier.
* * *
It was after two in the morning, and Liam still couldn’t sleep. He was exhausted—more than exhausted after a long, adrenaline-packed day capped by a five-hour drive through what seemed an endless night. And he hadn’t been able to let Cate share the driving for two very good reasons. First, she had no ID at all on her, since she’d left her purse behind in the courthouse, so of course she wouldn’t have a driver’s license or other state-issued ID with her. And second—more importantly—she didn’t know how to drive.
He’d been dumbfounded when she’d admitted as much to him when they’d stopped for gas and he’d asked her if she wanted to take a turn behind the wheel while he rested. Except for a few anomalies, such as residents of New York City, what US citizen over the age of sixteen didn’t know how to drive? He’d held back the question with an effort, but then realized he should have known. Duh, he’d told himself when she’d flushed with shame at her deficiency. Cate wasn’t born and raised here. And if she’s been living off the grid for much of the past seven years, what chance would she have to learn to drive? To practice?
Now as he laid in bed, moonlight streaming through the window across the room, he wondered what else Cate had missed out on besides the teenage rite of passage of obtaining a driver’s license. Don’t go there, he warned himself. But it was already too late. His thoughts winged to the scars on her wrists he’d noticed at dinner, and what they meant. What they had to mean. He gritted his teeth as he heard Alec saying, “You really don’t want to know. I wish I didn’t.”
But he did want to know. He wanted to know everything. And he wanted Cate to be the one to tell him. He wanted her to trust him as much as she trusted Alec, and he wanted her to confide in him the way she’d confided in Alec.
Jealousy reared its ugly head again. It made no sense. Cate didn’t belong to him and he had no right to feel possessive of her. No rights at all where she was concerned. Especially when it came to his brother. His married brother. But that didn’t stop Liam feeling as if he did. As if somehow...someway...as if saving Cate’s life gave him the right to care about her. Not just her future, but her past, too.
Liam’s older brothers Shane and Niall used to tease Liam when he was little, saying Liam had been born in the wrong time. That Liam should have been a knight-errant in the twelfth century, roaming the world saving damsels in distress. He’d hated that designation as a boy—hated being teased—but as a man Liam had to admit there was more than a little truth to it.
Wasn’t that why he’d been so upset when it seemed as if Trace McKinnon was taking advantage of Princess Mara back when the three of them—McKinnon, Alec and Liam—were guarding her? Wasn’t that why he’d wanted to confront McKinnon about how obviously in love with him the princess was, even though he’d let Alec talk him out of that confrontation?
And wasn’t that why—when he and Alec had drawn straws to see which one of them got to tell McKinnon what the princess had left behind for him when she’d unexpectedly returned to Zakhar—he’d almost decked Alec when Alec had won the draw? Because he’d wanted to be the one defending the princess. Because he’d wanted to be the one making McKinnon pay for hurting her so grievously.
Liam sighed and turned over restlessly, the sheets rustling softly around him. “You can’t escape who you are, Jones,” he muttered, punching up his pillow. And on that note he finally fell asleep. But his sleep was rocked by dreams. Dreams of Cate. Dreams of saving her from a fire-breathing dragon...a dungeo
n...the black knight, who bore a strong resemblance to Aleksandrov Vishenko in armor. Dreams of riding off with Cate on horseback, her slender body cradled protectively in his arms. Even in his dreams he knew it was ridiculous—he didn’t know how to ride. But that detail wasn’t germane, because in his dreams he was invincible—he could damn near do anything he wanted to...in his dreams. And what he wanted to do more than anything was keep Cate safe. No matter what he had to do.
Chapter 5
Aleksandrov Vishenko jerked awake, his heart pounding, shreds of a nightmare still lingering in his mind. He sat up and reached for the ever-present water bottle he kept beside his bed and drank deeply.
A body stirred beside him. “What is it?” the young woman asked drowsily.
“Nothing. Go back to sleep,” he answered in harsh tones.
She obeyed, resettling her blond head on her pillow—they always obey—he told himself contemptuously. Whores always obey. Only one woman had defied him. One woman had fought him for more than a year, as if she was still the virgin she’d been the first time he’d taken her. Her desperate struggles had added immeasurably to his excitement, and he’d relished conquering her. Each time. Every time.
Caterina hadn’t cried after the first night. Hadn’t begged him to let her go. Hadn’t begged him for anything. But her eyes...her eyes had betrayed her. He’d still been virile enough then to lust after her at least every day. Overpowering her futile struggles—laughing even, when she fought him—his ultimate victory ramping up his sexual prowess in a way he hadn’t achieved since his teenage years. Every time he forced her to admit defeat he walked away feeling like a king. Like a god.
Then she’d surrendered—or seemed to—and that conquest had been even sweeter. Infinitely sweeter. Knowing she acknowledged him as her master. Knowing, too, she hated his touch despite her surface acquiescence—ahhh, that had kept his excitement flowing. He’d known she tried to escape him in her mind, but he hadn’t cared...so long as her body belonged to him.