“Do you dance?” Jo asked.
She’d kept the questions coming nonstop, even from her shower. Something he would love to experience with her, but in the motor home he barely fit in the tight space by himself.
“You going to let up on the Q and A sometime tonight?”
They were at the dance hall. Huge. Lots of potential problems. Not enough exits to his liking. People hanging outside the doors, grabbing a smoke. Bystanders or the men following them? He should have thought this through a little longer before agreeing to this place.
Every head that followed them around the room was a potential threat.
“Look, it’s a disco ball in the shape of a saddle.” She giggled. The lights reflecting off the mirrors made her eyes shine even brighter. “You know my father never allowed me to dance.” She said it wide-eyed and innocent like he should believe her. “What if we need to blend in?”
“We wouldn’t want to blow our cover. Looks like I’ll have to teach you a couple of steps.” He wanted to dance with her, hold her close. They both knew she was a very good dancer. He’d seen her a couple of times when Joseph had asked him to escort her home.
No, Joseph hadn’t encouraged it, but she’d experienced a bit of college her father hadn’t found out about.
“I like the steps you taught me earlier,” she said and moved forward through the crowd.
“So do I.”
Her jeans were snug against her hips and thighs. Her short dark hair matched her spunky attitude that she clung to in spite of being drugged, kidnapped, shot at and meeting her parents’ ghosts head-on over the past week.
Sexy wasn’t a good enough description. Admiration didn’t seem a strong enough word. Courageous even fell short.
“We’re early right? Your friend George won’t be here for a couple of minutes.” She took hold of his hand, tugging him behind her to the dance floor. “I love this song.”
Dancing. Not a problem. He recognized the words from Faith Hill’s This Kiss. Jo’s hips swayed to the music. More than one unattached man—and a couple on the arms of other women—took a second look as she passed by.
High heels instead of boots extended her legs and brought her lips closer to his when he turned her to face him. If he tasted her sweetness, he’d be swinging her off the dance floor, out the door and back to their motor home bedroom.
Levi needed to watch everyone and having his hind-side exposed without backup was completely against everything he’d been taught. But there were some other things he’d been taught as well. And a good dance was one of them.
He could try to justify it all he wanted. Plain fact was he wanted to dance with Jo.
Confidence. He could hear his dance instructor shouting across the room. Half the battle of leading a woman backward in front of a couple of hundred people was the confidence that he didn’t look like a dork.
“You really can dance,” Jo said after he’d twirled her back into his arms.
“I’d hate to embarrass Mrs. Shapiro.”
“A dance teacher? You took lessons?” She looked more surprised than finding out he was a native Texan.
“My aunt insisted.”
“I don’t know anything about you, Levi.” She tipped her face up to look at him.
“I think you know plenty.”
Before she dug in her spurs and wanted more of his secrets, the song ended and his excuse to keep his story for another time walked past them to the center bar. “George is in the dark denim shirt, third guy from the end.”
“Rain check on the dancing?” she asked, looking at him through her long lashes. Disappointment was clearly written in her fake sad pout.
“You aren’t escaping the full knowledge Mrs. Shapiro passed to me. I promise.” He dropped a kiss on her forehead, unable to stop himself.
They made their way to George Lanning. Levi had met the FBI agent a couple of times while picking up a witness last year. Briefly. He didn’t know much about the man except what his gut told him.
Good at his job. Dependable. Kept his mouth shut.
They shook hands, no introductions.
“Wanna keep this in the open? Or find a quiet corner?” Lanning asked, pointing to the back of the club.
He led them to a table, spoke to the waitress as if he knew her and ordered them a round of beers. “I guess you need a favor, Cooper, and I’m not going to like it much.”
“I need information on a twenty-year-old murder.”
George leaned his elbows on the table, dragging his chair in a bit closer. Jo sat, seemingly relaxed, but her hands hugged her middle like it hurt again. He could tell she was nervous, even if the rest of the room couldn’t.
“I’m assuming I don’t want to know why you can’t request the info through normal channels?”
“It’s better if we skip that part.”
“Anything to do with her?” Lanning cocked his head toward Jo who didn’t change her expression.
“She was a witness to her mother’s murder.”
His answer must have surprised her. It surprised him to be so honest with a stranger. Lanning would know her real name, but not her current identity. It would all change when she went into protective custody anyway.
“What was she? Two?”
“Five,” she corrected. “And I’m not a witness.”
“When do you need things?”
“Yesterday.”
“As always,” Lanning answered. The waitress brought the long necks. He paid cash and winked.
“Cute. Is she why you come here on Thursdays?” Jo asked, tipping the bottle to her mouth.
Lanning smiled and took a long draught but didn’t answer.
“Here’s the case particulars.” As they shook hands, Levi passed a note with the details he’d listed before leaving the motor home. “When do you think...?”
“Lunch tomorrow. Rock, paper or scissors?”
“Time for some rock.”
“See you there at say, one? We’ll miss the rush.”
“That works.”
Their last hope for a lead walked away with his beer, found his waitress empty-handed and twirled her before the bartender shouted at him to stop. “Can’t a guy have a little fun, Bobby?” he returned with a laugh like it was just another day.
For Lanning, it was just another day at work. As for Jo, it may never be a normal day again. Levi wanted a life for her. Wanted more than driving around in a motor home or wondering if she’d ever dance again.
“Rock, paper or scissors?” Jo asked.
“Possible restaurants. Rockfish or Paper Plates drive-through burgers.”
“And the scissors?”
“It’s a Japanese hibachi grill, lots of knives.”
“Nice code.” She tipped her bottle again. “Your friend’s nice.”
“Acquaintance, but he’s a good guy.” He finally took a swig of his own beer, letting down his guard for just a minute. “We’ll know whatever the FBI knows tomorrow.”
“And until then?”
“We wait.” No one was shooting at them. No one seemed to be watching them. Well, not him. Jo was beautiful and still attracting attention.
“And how do you suggest we spend our time?”
“Well, I could show you a few more of Mrs. Shapiro’s famous dance moves.”
“Got any other famous moves you’re ready to show off?”
“Only in the privacy of the motor home.”
“Can’t wait.” Jo stood, offering her hand. “But since we paid to dance, how about another go? Cool dance floor.”
Lanning moved to another group. No one seemed to be following him. Levi took her small hand into his, welcoming the chance to make her happy. Even if it had to end tomorrow.
* * *
GEORGE LANNING WATCHED Levi Cooper and Emaline Frasier—or Jo Atkins—dance around the center floor. When they were out of sight, he set his earpiece and caught the chatter from the other agents located around Cowboys Red River.
He l
eaned on the bar, ignoring the couple as much as he could, following with his eyes and not his head. The other agents could handle trailing them so he enjoyed the last of his beer.
“That’s it? You’re walking away after a six-and-a-half-minute conversation?” his partner, Kendall Barlow, asked.
No—interrogated.
“Don’t start. What else was I supposed to do? Chat them up to see how they were paying for their beer and ask ‘Where are you staying?’ He’s good. Anything else and he would have been suspicious.” He set his elbows on the bar, spying the flirty waitress he had a weekly dance with just to remind the bartenders he was there.
“I don’t understand this assignment, George.”
“We were asked to keep an eye on Marshal Cooper and the woman. Simple enough. We just need to find out where they’re staying. The rest is need-to-know.” Look at them acting like there’s not a major player out there with a hit man breathing down their necks.
“I think they’re sort of cute together. He’s a pretty good dancer.”
“He’s taken.”
“I can tell. Same as every woman in here who has one eye and half a brain.”
“Surveillance is cutting into my dancing,” he said with his feet tapping and ready to move. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask if she wanted to take a spin. Naw, she might read something into it.
“Rough job.”
“Targets are headed toward the front.” He heard another agent state through his earpiece.
Kendall pushed her stool away and followed Cooper and his charge to the exit. “Remember, there are enough of us here to find out where they’re at without blowing our cover. Hang back,” she stated the obvious to them all.
A couple of minutes later, as Lanning made his way to the parking lot, Kendall’s voice laughed into his ear.
“You’re not going to believe this, George, but it’ll be super hard to lose sight of this getaway vehicle they’re climbing into.”
“What?” he asked.
“We found their hotel.”
“Quit joking around, Barlow.” George caught up with her, and she pointed. A motor home. “Find out where they’re parking this thing.”
George took the case info Cooper had palmed him, climbed into his truck and dialed his Agent in Charge. “I got it and you’re not going to like it.”
Chapter Fourteen
No one paid attention to her with the good-looking men sitting at the table. It was actually fun watching the waitresses eyeing the federal agent as he’d come in the door. George Lanning looked like one hundred percent cowboy on his day off as much as he had dancing. Royal blue pick-up, scuffed boots, straw cowboy hat, T-shirt under a Western-cut suede jacket and a very nice-to-look-at pair of faded jeans.
But Jo was very satisfied with the muscles and the gorgeous man sitting next to her in his simple golf shirt. Her own “cowboy” protected her from the rest of the room, leaning forward if she did, then back when she rested against the booth. He’d done the same thing last night at the bar.
Maybe that’s why she wasn’t as apprehensive as she’d been for the past week? Or it could have everything to do with yesterday’s relaxing afternoon, dancing last night and their nowhere-to-be morning with breakfast in bed. Oh, well, back to the nerve-racking conversation being dished up for lunch.
This meeting with George was comfortable and terrifying at the same time. They were tucked away in a corner of an Irving restaurant, hoping no one overheard their discussion of murder. With television screens on every wall providing sports noise, it seemed unlikely, but they still spoke in whispers.
“A wife of a colleague discovered a back door into the Bureau during another case. I went to her for help. Jane knows her stuff. No reason to worry, it was the safest way and no one knows we were there.”
Jo patted Levi’s thigh when it stiffened beside hers. She could tell he wanted to shout at George for involving yet another person in their search. He didn’t and under the table, laced his fingers through hers.
“You’re certain no one detected anything and no one tailed you?” Levi asked.
George seemed confident enough he hadn’t been followed, but she still caught herself looking around the room, scrutinizing the faces to see if any would morph into an anime cartoon. No tears or flashbacks this time. She tapped the table and kept her emotions in check while thinking of her mother’s murderer.
“The file’s been flagged. We found that someone began digging into Elaine Frasier’s murder over a year ago.”
“That’s six months before the convenience store murder,” Levi said in the low voice he’d been using for the entire conversation. “If they reopened the case, it would explain why the killer has waited so long to eliminate the only known witnesses.”
“I still think it’s a lot of trouble for them to flush us from hiding. It’s a very slim chance I can remember a face from twenty years ago.” Jo was surprised her voice wasn’t ear-piercingly high with the uncertainty she felt. “Doesn’t it make more sense that the investigation risked exposing them to prosecution?”
“Exactly.” George drained his tea glass. Two waitresses picked up pitchers and raced to the table. One filled the glass and the other left her pitcher. “Thanks.”
Jo buried her laugh and waited for them to leave. How could things seem so real, yet the situation was anything but? She’d fallen in love with a man who had hidden his identity from her. Made love to him before knowing if he had one living relative. She was still waiting to further that conversation. It seemed the more she tried to escape lies in her life, the more she was surrounded by them.
“Whatever they’re trying to cover up, they’re convinced it’s worth killing to do so,” George said.
“Can we assume that the man chasing us has a lot of influence? I mean, they knew when the case was reopened. Maybe they have a secret that needs to stay hidden,” she added.
Levi had been very quiet. Listening, contemplating, watching.
“Makes sense,” he finally said. “They’re worried about something that’s still relevant to whoever would have been prosecuted by the DoJ. And Jo’s the only witness left to eliminate.”
The food arrived, everyone was quiet. Somehow the entire restaurant went quiet, too. She knew what Levi said was true, but his matter-of-fact statement for some reason chilled her to the bone.
“I’m willing to help on this, Cooper, official capacity or not,” George said, fork in his hand ready to dig into his salmon.
“You’ve done enough, Lanning. The Department of Justice and Marshals Service don’t consider this a case—”
“Don’t mention it. I sort of like your girl here.”
His girl?
Levi released her hand with a squeeze. Was she Levi’s girl? At least until he sent her off to WITSEC for a new life. Oh yes, that’s exactly what that look of his meant. Definitely a conversation they’d need to repeat soon. He needed to accept she wasn’t headed to WITSEC.
“Did you see anything in the file? I’ve been over it a hundred times in the past four years. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary and both agencies seemed to have covered all aspects of the case.”
“The list of clients,” she said, jumping back into the conversation. “Most listed their occupations as savings and loans officers in the ’80s. A lot of their banks failed.”
“I didn’t know you’d looked at the file.” Levi sat back, seemingly in no hurry to eat the fried catfish on his plate.
“That’s an angle the original investigation followed. It didn’t pan out,” George stated. “I can find out what’s happened to those clients over the past twenty years. It might just be the substantial lead we need.”
Levi smiled at her, she couldn’t decipher why. “The client with the most to lose is our guy.” Then he turned to his plate of food. “It always comes back to money.”
* * *
IT TOOK SEVERAL minutes to walk across the busy intersection and to the other end of the strip mall whi
ch included a busy grocery store. They quickly crossed over the highway into a subdivision, taking side streets in case they were followed. Jo had been in the back of the motor home and came to the front when they slowed for a school zone.
“Look. Normal people.” She laughed at Levi before belting herself into the passenger seat.
“What do you mean?”
He hadn’t heard her laugh in a long while. Not a carefree laugh. Since their first kiss and subsequent years in Georgia, she’d been guarded. Watching what she said and limiting any time alone with him if her father had left the room.
It was good to hear her laugh.
“They’re walking their kids home from school. Stopping at the swings in the park. Discussing what they learned in class today. You know, normal. Wondering what’s for dinner is their current, most pressing problem.”
“That’s the life you want?”
“Someday,” she answered with a longing sigh.
“You sound like it’s a faraway dream. It’s right around the corner.” He drove and noticed her laughter and smiles had stopped. Replaced by the are-you-serious face. A guaranteed warning not to pursue his line of questioning. But he did anyway. “What’s that look for?”
“Are you kidding? It’s a pipe dream.”
“We’re close to finding the evidence. When we do, the Department of Justice will offer you protection and you won’t feel like this any longer.” He patted her arm, wanting her fingers back in his hand to reassure her. Didn’t happen. She yanked away, popped her seat belt open and darted out of his reach.
“Just how do you think I feel, Levi? Remind me again what happens in your world when the DoJ offers me protection?”
He could see her in the corner of his eye, swaying with the motions of the motor home, braced against the cabinets lining the wall. “Come back and put your seat belt on, Jo. You’re making me nervous.”
“Seriously? That’s how you’re going to avoid this conversation?”
“I’m not certain what conversation we’re actually having.”
She moved to the rear and slammed the door to the bedroom. He paid closer attention to their surroundings, parking in their assigned spot. He jumped out, not allowing himself to go to Jo. If he did, he’d kiss her until she had hope again.
Dangerous Memories Page 13