In His Safekeeping

by Shawna Delacorte

  A soft knock on the door sent a nervous rush through her body. She looked through the peephole. The relief flowed over her when she saw Brad standing on the other side of the door.

  “Come in.” She stepped aside so he could enter.

  “Good morning.” Brad quickly closed the door behind him. “I brought breakfast.” He indicated the paper bag and the two foam containers as he set them on the table.

  He turned to face her, captivated by her natural beauty yet bothered by the apprehension that covered her features. “Did you sleep okay last night?”

  “I suppose so.” Her answer lacked any enthusiasm.

  “You sound less than sure.” The thought danced through his mind that her wakefulness was due to the kiss he had initiated. She had been upset by his actions. He tentatively reached out and touched her cheek. “Are you all right?”

  “Just a little on edge, I guess.” A tremor of anxiety jittered through her body. “The truth is, I didn’t sleep very well at all. I’ve been awake since about five this morning.” She looked up at him, trying desperately to maintain her composure. She gestured toward the television. “I saw a story on the news this morning about my car. They said my name.” She saw a hint of displeasure dart through his eyes, but his expression gave away nothing about his inner thoughts or feelings. “Why couldn’t we have left before the police arrived?” Her frightened words pleaded with him for some sort of explanation. “My car was burned beyond recognition. No one would have known we were there.”

  “That’s not true. If we had simply disappeared, you’d now have the police looking for you. The people in the restaurant knew you by name and saw us together. And even though your car was a mess, the vehicle identification could still be established and the registered owner determined without much difficulty. Our having left the scene before talking to the police would have created more problems than just a news story. We have to maintain as low a profile as possible—” he glanced at the television “—even though it seems to be getting harder to do, and that does not include having your name on a police bulletin as being wanted for questioning in connection with a car bombing.”

  He drew in a deep breath and slowly expelled it. He wanted to be able to bring her some good news, but that wasn’t the case. “I’m sorry, Tara, but you’ll need to stay here another day. By tomorrow I should have other arrangements that will be safe.”

  “I see.” The disappointment rang clearly in her voice. She seemed to withdraw inside herself, as if all the life had gone out of it. Her gaze lingered on the floor, then she looked up and made eye contact with him.

  “What’s…what’s going to happen next? When will I be able to go home? To go back to my job?” A little sob caught in her throat. “To go back to a normal life?”

  Her obvious distress tugged at his emotions. He’d been in similar situations before with protected witnesses who were feeling the pressure of the circumstances surrounding the trial, but she had already been through that. It wasn’t fair for her to have to be going through it again.

  “I don’t have an answer for you. This is a unique situation, at least it is for me. The steps normally taken to protect a witness don’t apply here. I’m not able to make use of the vast resources of the Marshals Service, not yet—not until I’m sure of who I can trust.”

  He placed his hands on her shoulders, then drew her into his arms in an attempt to provide her with some comfort. He gently hugged her, holding her trembling body against his as he spoke in a soft, soothing voice. “I know this is very difficult for you and I’m sorry you have to go through it. With someone having placed a bomb in your car it’s no longer a matter of if you’re in danger. You are in danger and I have to do everything I can to protect you.”

  The car bomb…his wife dead…his failure to protect her. The guilt he continued to carry around with him surfaced again but slowly gave way to the memory of the heated kiss he had shared with Tara. As much as he didn’t want it to be so, he could not deny his very real attraction to her. He had dated several women since his wife’s death, but it had been as much out of loneliness as out of any real interest in any of them beyond the superficial. But Tara was different. Somehow he had to make sure that he didn’t fail again. He had to see that no harm came to her.

  He lifted her chin until he could see her eyes. “You do understand why you need to stay here for another day, don’t you?”

  “Yes.” There was nothing left for her to say. She had resigned herself to the situation. Circumstances forced her to place the ultimate trust in this stranger…to trust him with her life. Could she be allowing a physical attraction to a sexy man cloud her thinking? She wasn’t sure. She hoped not.

  He reluctantly released her from his embrace and tried to inject a lighter mood with an upbeat attitude. “Come on, let’s eat the breakfast I brought before it gets cold.” He put his arm around her shoulder and walked her to the small table. “I brought some coffee, orange juice, yogurt, French toast and bacon. I hope there’s something here that you like.”

  “That sounds fine. I’m hungry.”

  Those may have been her words, but her actions said otherwise. He watched as she spent more time poking at her food than eating anything. He tried to alleviate the tension by making idle conversation, but he had difficulty drawing her out of her shell. Even though he wanted to stay with her, he knew he couldn’t. He finished eating, then stood up to leave.

  “I have things I need to do in the office, but I’ll be back at lunchtime. Is there anything special you’d like for lunch?”

  “I noticed a coffee shop across the street. Couldn’t we go there for lunch? I don’t know anyone in Tacoma, so there’s no reason for anyone to recognize me. We’d be there less than an hour.” She offered a hopeful smile that came off as more strained than anything else. “It feels like the walls are beginning to close in on me.”

  “I’m sorry, but we can’t take that chance. I’ll get you out of here by tomorrow. Just hang in for one more day.” He put his arm around her shoulder again and gave it a comforting squeeze. “Do you think you can do that?”

  She attempted a chuckle, but it came out more bittersweet than upbeat. “Do I have a choice?”

  He saw the resignation in her eyes and heard it in her voice. As it had the night before, it tugged at his emotions in a way that made him decidedly uncomfortable. “No, I’m afraid you don’t. I’ll see you in a few hours.”

  Tara watched as he climbed in his car and drove out of the parking lot. As soon as his car was out of sight, she slumped into the large chair in the corner. She couldn’t even open the drapes to let in the daylight for fear someone would see her. He had also cautioned her about letting in housekeeping to clean the room.

  She closed her eyes. The heated kiss from the night before still lingered on her lips and burned in her senses. It fueled her desires where Brad Harrison was concerned…desires she knew were totally inappropriate and equally impractical. He was not the type of man for her. She wanted someone settled, someone who would treat her as an equal partner in a relationship, someone whose life wasn’t filled with danger. She shook her head in an attempt to rid her mind of the errant thoughts.

  She had to pull herself together. For someone who had lived a life devoid of taking chances, the last year had certainly made up for that. Sitting around feeling sorry for herself was not going to accomplish anything. Somehow she had to make a contribution to Brad’s efforts to protect her, not just sit by, doing nothing, with her fate in someone else’s hands. There had to be something she could do other than hiding in a motel room. She glanced at her watch. It was eight o’clock and time for her to be at work.

  Her gaze moved from the motel phone to Brad’s cell phone. She had to call to say she wouldn’t be at work. Just not showing up was unacceptable, irresponsible and wasn’t fair to her employer. She had to notify Judy, but what should she say? She couldn’t tell her the truth even though she was sure it wouldn’t matter to the situation at hand. Af
ter all, there wasn’t anyone she worked with who had any connection to this mess from her past. She thought of several explanations and finally settled on one. She placed the call from Brad’s cell phone, mindful of his instructions about not using the motel phone, which would give the front desk a record of the number she had called.

  “Judy…it’s Tara. I’m afraid I won’t be at work today…or for the next few days, either.”

  “What’s the problem. Are you sick?”

  “No…” Tara paused a moment. Something in Judy’s voice sounded strange. “It’s a family emergency. My mother is in the hospital and—”

  “Which hospital is she in? I’ll have some flowers sent from the company.”

  “Uh…no, I don’t think you should. We don’t know how long she’ll be there. They might be moving her to another facility tomorrow. I won’t know until later today.” A headache pounded at her temples. She had never had a talent for lying. What if she didn’t sound believable? Would Judy suspect she was lying?

  “Where are you now…at home?”

  “Uh…yes, but I have my car keys in hand and I’m running late. I’ll be leaving here as soon as I hang up.” Car keys in hand…that was a laugh. Her car was probably still smoldering in the restaurant parking lot.

  “You’re driving? Didn’t I hear on the late news last night about your car and an explosion? That you had been having dinner with your fiancé? I didn’t realize you were engaged to anyone.”

  Was it her imagination or had she detected a hint of accusation in Judy’s voice? No, that wasn’t it…not accusation. Perhaps Judy was hurt that she didn’t know about Tara’s supposed engagement. Surely that’s all it was. There was something there, though, something that wasn’t right. Maybe Judy was upset because she had to hear about the car explosion on the news.

  “I…I didn’t realize there was anything on the news about it. It was just some kind of freak accident. The…uh…gas tank somehow exploded. I have a rental car supplied by my insurance company.”

  “Well, I had assumed you were all right.” Judy’s apparent resentment over not being personally notified came out in her voice. “The news story said no one was injured. I called your home but didn’t get an answer so I left a message on your machine. Didn’t you get it? I was worried when I didn’t hear back from you.”

  “I’ve, uh, been having trouble with the machine. I need to replace it.”

  “Will you be here in town?”

  “No, I’ll be out of state.” More lies. She had not been prepared for Judy to ask so many questions or bring up the news story about her car. Nor had she been prepared for her friend’s off-putting attitude.

  “Do you have a phone number where I’ll be able to reach you in case of a work emergency?”

  “I’m not sure where I’ll be staying. I’ll call you when I have more concrete information.”

  Tara quickly concluded her conversation. She sat on the edge of the bed and thought about what had happened. Something about the conversation left her uneasy, but she wasn’t sure exactly what it was.

  She shook her head. No…she was just being paranoid. She had lied to her friend and was now suffering pangs of guilt. That was all there was to it. She needed to get her nerves under control. She glanced around the room, then cleaned up the breakfast remains.

  Her fingers moved to her lips, the sensation of the kiss still very real for her. What would it be like to have Brad Harrison as a part of her life? She didn’t have an answer for the question. She wasn’t sure she really wanted to know the answer.

  Chapter Five

  As soon as Brad arrived at work he grabbed a cup of coffee, took several file folders from the file room and settled in at his desk. He took advantage of Thom Satterly’s momentary absence to dig out more information on the John Vincent case. The deputy marshals assigned to protect the witnesses had been headed by Ralph Newman. He had worked with Ralph on a couple of cases.

  Although competent in handling assignments, at forty-eight years of age Ralph hadn’t progressed as far up the ladder as he probably should have and made no secret of being disgruntled by his lack of advancement. He didn’t socialize very much with his co-workers and had a known proclivity for poker and racehorses, a pastime that had put him in a precarious financial situation on more than one occasion. The latest office gossip had him owing thousands of dollars to a bookie, an allegation which, if proven, could cost him his job. Brad took the Vincent file and wandered casually over to Ralph’s desk.

  Ralph looked up and quickly shoved something in his desk drawer, but not before Brad recognized it as a racing form. “You need something, Brad?”

  He carefully worded his comments to make it appear that he had just started to work on the file. “I’ve been assigned file follow-up duty until the doctor gives me a medical release to go back into the field.”

  A hint of confusion crossed Ralph’s face. “So what is it I can do for you?”

  “One of the files I’m working on is the John Vincent case. You headed the team in charge of protecting those witnesses, didn’t you?”

  Ralph regarded Brad warily for a moment before answering. “Yeah, that was me. It says so in the file.” He leaned back in his chair, his tone and manner becoming defensive. “Why do you ask? Is there a problem of some sort?”

  “Problem?”

  “Why is there a follow-up on the case? Everything was closed out, Vincent was convicted and sent to prison, all my paperwork was completed in a timely manner.” Ralph gestured toward the file folder in Brad’s hand, his voice taking on an edgy quality and growing louder. “Everything’s in there that’s supposed to be. My reports are always thorough.”

  “Calm down, Ralph. I’m not accusing you of anything. John Vincent died of a heart attack while in prison. I’m going to be contacting the witnesses to let them know that he’s now permanently out of the picture. Just a courtesy thing, that’s all. Is there anything special about any of the witnesses that I should know?”

  Ralph shifted his weight in his chair and creased his forehead in concentration, his manner and voice still guarded. “I can’t think of anything special. Certainly nothing that’s not in the file.”

  “Okay. Since you were involved with the original case, I just wanted to touch base with you before you left for the day. You’re on the Judge Allen protection team, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah, the judge has been getting death threats. I’m covering him from noon until eight o’clock.”

  Brad retreated to his cubicle. Ralph’s behavior struck him as odd, almost adversarial, as if he had accused Ralph of something. If Ralph had any information, he had chosen to keep it to himself. He gave no indication that he was aware of any of the witnesses being dead or for that matter that John Vincent had died almost six months ago. Brad filed that bit of information away in the back of his mind.

  “How are you doing with those files?” Thom Satterly’s sudden appearance startled Brad out of his thoughts. He closed the Vincent file and stacked it with four other folders.

  “Everything’s coming along fine, but this is boring stuff. I’ll be glad to get back in the field.”

  “Just as soon as the doctor gives you a medical release for that shoulder wound.” Thom pointedly stared at the two stacks of file folders on Brad’s desk. “Do you still have all of these to go through?”

  Brad gestured toward the larger pile. “These are done except for some final entries.”

  “Then those five are all that’s left?” Thom started to reach for the smaller stack of folders, but Brad quickly snatched them up.

  “Yes, just these five.”

  Thom’s eyes narrowed as he stared at the file folders clutched in Brad’s hand. He lowered his voice to the point where no one else would be able to hear. “You’re not following up on that cockeyed theory of yours about the witnesses, are you?”

  “Hey…you’re the head of the Seattle office and you said there was no case. So, that means there’s nothing to look into
.”

  Thom pointed to the Vincent file. “Then why is this in your office?”

  “Just bringing it up to date like the others.” Brad drained the last drop of coffee from his mug. He held it up toward Thom. “I think I need a refill. Can I bring you something?”

  “No.” Thom continued down the hallway toward his office.

  Brad grabbed another cup of coffee, then settled in behind his desk again. He had gone through proper channels by taking his suspicions to his immediate supervisor, but had been shut out as far as pursuing it. He still found Thom’s attitude very strange and highly suspicious.

  Thom had already been head of the Marshals office in Seattle for five years before Brad was assigned there eight years ago. At age fifty-seven Thom had probably advanced as far as he could within the U.S. Marshals Service. Brad had heard from other deputy marshals that Thom had at one time been a real hotshot with an unlimited future. Then a couple of bad breaks came his way, a couple of botched assignments, and his career had stagnated. Like Ralph Newman, Thom Satterly was someone Brad never would have been friends with away from work.

  And also like Ralph Newman, Thom had money problems. A year ago he had taken on the financial responsibility of caring for his invalid father and paying his father’s considerable debts.

  Brad tapped his pencil against his desktop as he thought about his next move. Once again the image of Tara Ford popped into his mind accompanied by a sudden shortness of breath and an increased heartbeat sending a heated surge through his body. Even though their kiss had become emblazoned in his memory, having it pop into his mind while he was trying to work was not a pleasant diversion—a serious distraction was a more apt description, one that did not sit well with him.

  He had refused to consider the possibility of a serious relationship since his wife’s death. Intellectually he knew that carrying around guilt because she died from a car bomb meant for him was neither healthy nor realistic. But emotionally…well, that was another matter. So how could he explain such an intense attraction to Tara Ford? He told himself it was only physical, nothing more. She drove his senses wild, made his blood rush and his heart pound. And kissing her had only reinforced how much he wanted more of her.