by Rebecca Deel
“Better than you, Major.”
At the sober rumble in his ear, Josh’s smile disappeared. He sat up and swung his legs to the side of the bed. “What’s up?”
“Put feelers out about the incidents in your neck of the woods. An operator’s in the area. Only HVTs.”
Judge John Reece was definitely a high value target. So why come after Del and Ivy? Even if they identified him, he’d reinvent himself. Good papers weren’t cheap, but a skilled merc charged premium prices. He could afford the papers plus plastic surgery to fool facial recognition software.
Del and Ivy being forced into Witness Security made Josh’s stomach twist into a knot. He refused to let that happen. “Anything else?”
“Guy is a ghost. Slides in, takes out his target, and is gone before anyone identifies him. No tracks, no brass, nothing.”
“Had another run in with him a few hours ago. Took a bullet to the vest, so now there’s brass. Nicked him in return. He left blood at the scene.”
“Can you get me a sample?”
“On the way.” He’d taken his own sample, knew Quinn had connections at some swanky private lab. He’d gladly foot the bill for the testing if it safeguarded Del. “Should reach you by five.”
“Perfect. I’ll drop it off at the lab on the way out of town.”
“Going somewhere?”
“Due some vacation time. So are Nate and Rio. Thought we’d fish around Otter Creek.”
He missed his team. “Bring all your gear. Not sure what we’ll need. Literally might be fishing if the feds luck out.”
A soft huff came over the speaker.
Josh agreed. “See if there’s any scuttlebutt about this ghost being black ops.”
Silence for a moment, then, “Shooter was military?”
“Delta or SEALs. Same moves. Jackrabbit fast.” Del and Ivy could be in more danger than the marshals knew. An operator trained by either of those teams wouldn’t back down until he completed the mission or died trying.
Del put away the last of the condiments while her cousin finished loading the dishwasher. “Did you see the food in the pantry and refrigerator? We could eat for days and not run out of anything.”
“Guess that’s by design. Heaven forbid we escape this prison to buy sugar or milk.”
Del froze at the hard edge of anger seeping into her cousin’s voice. Less than one day in this posh confinement and Ivy was chafing at the boundaries. What if Josh and Ethan took several weeks to find Judge Reece’s killer? She didn’t know if Ivy could tolerate being housebound without sliding into a deep depression, much as she had after Lee.
“Don’t look like that, Del.”
She grabbed a washrag, dampened it, and started wiping the counter top. “Like what?”
“Worried I’ll lose my mind in this beautiful jail.”
The back door opened to admit Deke. Ivy stiffened. She turned back to her task, tossing in a dishwasher tablet, and set it to run. “I’m going to our room.”
“Want some tea?” She felt a compulsive need to do something to lighten the mood for her cousin. Ivy loved iced tea more than any other drink. She said it reminded her of sunshine-filled days and lazing under a tree in a hammock.
A shake of her head, and Ivy left the room.
A minute later, a door clicked shut.
“Do I make Ivy uncomfortable?”
“Why do you think that?”
“She leaves a room every time I enter it.”
She opened the refrigerator and pulled out the fresh pitcher of iced tea. “It’s not you, specifically, Deke. Men make her uneasy.”
“All of us? That’s hardly fair. The whole male gender isn’t evil.”
Del waved him to the kitchen table. He looked hot and sweaty. Not surprising given the temperature outside. Well, what she heard about the weather through the news she listened to earlier. Burns and Vance refused to let them outside even for a couple minutes of fresh air. Del hadn’t cared so much for herself. She loved sitting inside with a book anytime. Ivy, however, felt as though the walls were closing in. Her cousin had claustrophobia, courtesy of Lee and a weekend spent locked in an unfinished storm cellar with no light, food, or water. “Only took one.”
The marshal dropped into a chair.
She poured Deke a glass of tea and set it in front of him. “She knows most men aren’t evil. Takes a while to trust your assessment of someone’s character when you guessed wrong and paid a heavy price for misjudgment.”
“Is he dead?” Deke’s voice was flat.
“Jail.”
A nod. He downed half the glass before taking a breath. “Thanks for this.”
“Once she gets to know you a little, learns she can trust you, Ivy will be fine.”
“Needs to happen fast,” he said. “She must trust me enough to do what I tell her if we have a security breach. If I have to touch her and she has a panic attack at the wrong time, it could cost all of us. If she can’t do that, I’ll ask for reassignment. Though I think I’m a nice guy and so does my wife, your safety and hers is more important than my dented ego.”
She poured tea for herself and settled across from him. “Give her a chance. It will be that much harder on her to bring in someone new.”
The marshal studied her a moment. “Does Ivy trust any man?”
Alex’s face popped up in her mind, followed by Josh. “One for sure, maybe a second.” Odd that a virtual stranger had wiggled past some of Ivy’s defense mechanisms.
“Must be a saint,” he muttered.
Del grinned. Though she didn’t know Alex Morgan well, she knew enough to realize that moniker didn’t fit. Alex gave the impression of walking trouble. She finished her drink and excused herself. She glanced into the security room, noted Stella watching the monitors. Nothing moved except leaves on the trees. Pretty view, but boring since the video feed was black and white.
She climbed the stairs and walked to the bedroom. Ivy, sprawled on her back with a book propped against her stomach, glanced up and smiled. “What’s for dinner?”
“You ate a fully dressed hamburger along with a pile of potato chips.”
She laughed. “Just wanted to get a rise out of you.”
“Worked. Which book did you settle on?”
Ivy held up her favorite romantic suspense.
Couldn’t beat Elizabeth Lowell, though Jayne Ann Krentz was right up there with her. So many books, so little time to read. If only she didn’t have to work. “Deke’s worried about you.” She sat on the end of the bed and faced her cousin. “He’s afraid you won’t trust him to protect you.”
“If that time comes.”
Ivy Monroe was stubborn when she wanted to be. Well, so was the Peterson side of the family. “Make an effort to know him. You can’t do that if you run when he shows his handsome face in the same room.”
Her cousin’s head whipped around to face her. “You think he’s good-looking?”
“If you don’t, you need your eyes checked.”
“I thought you were nuts about Josh.”
Del’s face heated. “I am. Doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate a handsome face. Deke seems really nice.”
“Unlike Vance.”
“If you can’t trust Deke, he’ll have to be reassigned. Your safety might depend on it. Ivy, he didn’t say this, but I think he and Stella are partners. If he leaves, she might be reassigned as well.”
“I like her.”
“Me, too. Deke’s married. That should make him safer. Make an effort, okay?”
“I’ll try.” She moved the book back into position. “So, really, what’s for dinner? It’s what I’m living for right now.” A wry smile lit her face.
“Something easy. Chicken Alfredo.”
Ivy sat up. “Easy? Mom tried that several times, each one a total failure. She scorched it every time. The last time she tried, the kitchen caught on fire. Dad made her swear never to attempt it again.”
“Must have tried making the sauce from sc
ratch. I’m opening jars and heating the sauce to pour over hot pasta.”
“And the chicken?”
“Slow cooker. Ready in a few hours.”
“If I’d known cooking was so easy, I might have tried it myself.”
“This isn’t haute cuisine, but it’ll do.” Del grabbed her backpack and unzipped the front pocket. Curious what the packing fairy included for her to read, she reached in and pulled out five books. “Yes!”
“What do you have?”
“Books by my favorite authors. Carolyn Hart, Meg London, Joanne Fluke, Nora Roberts, and Elizabeth Lowell.” She picked up the Nora Roberts book, frowned. “This isn’t my copy.”
“How do you know?”
“I started rereading the book for maybe the seventh time a few weeks ago, and I dropped the book. The corner folded, created a new crease. This book doesn’t have the crease.” Del passed the book to Ivy who examined it.
“You’re right.” Ivy tilted her head. “Is this Mae’s copy? She owned every Nora book ever published.”
Del shrugged. “I don’t know how I ended up with her copy. We didn’t take books from the Reece place.”
“Don’t you remember? I unpacked four boxes of Mae’s estate sale finds. She brought them by the house a couple days before she passed away. One of those boxes had a copy of the book.”
“That’s right. She bragged about the bargains, said some relatives had boxed up all this woman’s possessions and were selling them dirt cheap. I don’t care how I inherited this book, as long as I have something to keep me busy for a while.” She retrieved the book from her cousin. “Grab your book. Let’s go into the living room.”
“Del.”
“We’re not hiding in this room. The walls will close in on us if we stay in here. This is the perfect chance to test yourself with Deke. Burns and his sidekick aren’t here.”
A grin from Ivy. “If I can’t trust Vance, you think we can have them replaced?”
“Our luck, the marshals would send someone worse.”
“Don’t see how that’s possible.” She sighed. “Okay, let’s go.”
Deke turned from one of the living room windows, his eyebrows rising, as they walked into the room and settled on opposite corners of the couch. “What’s up, ladies?” he asked, his gaze studying Ivy’s face which was already buried in her book.
“New scenery,” Del said.
“Thought we’d keep you out of trouble,” Ivy chimed in. Her voice trembled a bit, but she wiggled deeper into the couch cushions, making a statement. Had to give her points for refusing to run. The sweat beading on her forehead gave witness to the battle raging inside her cousin.
Deke’s lips twitched. “Marcie, my wife, gave up on that a month after we married.”
“Do you have kids?” Ivy’s gaze flickered up at him for a moment, then dropped to her book.
“Two.” Deke grinned. “Twin girls. My princesses are five.”
The knot which formed in Del’s stomach as they left the bedroom untangled. Her cousin loved kids. One day, Ivy would find the right man for her, one who wanted a house full of children. Her cousin dreamed of a home filled with laughter and love, a contrast to the home in which she grew up. “Got pictures, Dad?”
He reached into his back pocket, pulled out his wallet and withdrew several snapshots. Ivy dropped her book on the couch and reached for the pictures. While she looked at the series of shots, Deke faced Del. “What happened?” he mouthed.
Del inclined her head toward the photographs. “What are their names, Deke?”
“Isabella and Isadora. Bella and Dora unless they’re in trouble.”
“So beautiful,” Ivy murmured. “And happy, full of life.”
“Livewires, that’s for sure.”
“Is your wife okay with your long-term assignments? What about your girls?”
“It’s no different than being in the military except the marshal service tries not to keep me on the road all the time. We’re based out of certain areas. I’ve been lucky. Most of the time, I’m close enough to go home with regularity.” He put the photos back in his wallet. “Time to make another circuit outside.”
The rest of the afternoon passed without incident. Ivy engaged Deke in conversation every time he made his rounds in the house. By the time Del dragged her cousin into the kitchen for a quick lesson in easy cooking, Ivy’s conversations weren’t forced. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say Ivy Monroe is several steps closer to trusting the married marshal.”
“I feel like I ran a marathon. I haven’t asked a man that many questions since Lee and we both know what a disaster that was.”
“Deke would never treat you like that jerk did.”
At dinner, Deke took over security camera duty, said it was time to give Stella a break. Del suspected he was giving Ivy a break from his company. Though he didn’t say, he seemed pleased with Ivy’s interaction and some of the tension he’d shown at lunch had dissipated.
Over dinner, Stella told several of the funnier stories about her time with the marshals.
“The man actually ran out of the bedroom in his birthday suit?” Ivy asked, her eyes wide.
“We told him not to sleep unclothed. We always anticipate the worst. What if security was breached or maybe a fire? He believed the car backfire was a gunshot and he leaped out of bed and ran into the security room.” Stella shook her head. “Wasn’t a pretty sight.”
“That’s an understatement,” Deke called from the security room. “Dude weighed at least three hundred pounds.”
“Enough,” Del said, holding her sides which hurt from laughing so much in the past few minutes. “I thought you’d be wracked with tension while you’re on the job.”
“It can be like that.” Stella drained her tea glass. “Like the military, we have long stretches of boredom interspersed with intense pressure. Nobody can handle adrenaline rushes all the time. Before I joined the marshals, I had this glamorized version of what we do in my mind. You know, protecting witnesses from the bad guys, riding in like the cowboys in white hats to save the day. Most of the time, though, we protect lesser bad guys from bigger bad guys. Sometimes, we protect the innocent, like you and Ivy.”
“I’ll take the bookstore pace,” Ivy said. “Lots of slow periods with a lunchtime rush.”
Not working with her books and customers left Del with an ache that physically hurt. She missed Josh. That special Otter Creek officer was worming his way into her heart.
“What’s wrong, Del?” Stella’s gaze studied her.
“Any word about the hunt for the killer?”
“Not yet.”
“I have good workers, but I’m a small business owner. My profit margin is so thin you can see through it. If it takes too long to track this guy down, I may not have a business left to go back to.”
“At least you’ll be alive to start again,” the marshal countered. “We’re doing our best to track him down.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I just want to go home.”
“Heads up,” Deke said as he strolled into the kitchen. “The night team is coming up the drive.”
“Can we let them clean up?” Ivy stood, grabbed her plate and glass.
“You can leave it,” he said. “It will be right here when you wake in the morning. Those two are not domestic.”
“Burns is old school.” Stella started collecting empty plates and glasses. “His wife takes care of everything at the house so he’s come of expect other women to do the same.”
“And Vance?”
“Let’s just say he’s not one of my favorite people to work with.” She carried the dishes to the sink and scraped scraps into the garbage disposal. “Ivy, if you want to skip Vance’s company, I’ll help Del clean the kitchen before I leave.”
Her cousin looked tempted. A grim look of determination grew on Ivy’s face. “I’ll be fine. If I’m not, I’ll take it out on Marshal Vance.”
Del bumped Ivy’s shoulder with her own. At her
cousin’s questioning look, she winked. Yep, Ivy would be fine.
Sometime after midnight, Del woke to muffled shouting. What were Burns and Vance doing? Were they arguing? She sat up, listened. Somewhere on the first floor, glass broke. One of the marshals groaned.
She looked at her cousin, still sleeping beside her. Del reached to shake her, drew back. She didn’t want to wake Ivy if this was a difference of opinion. Open the door and check? Unprofessional though it might be, if they were settling a difference of opinion she’d leave them to it.
Still dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt, Del eased her legs over the side of the bed and slipped her feet into her tennis shoes. She and Ivy had paid attention to the story Stella told about the three hundred pound guy running around in the buff. They concluded being a little uncomfortable while they slept was better than being embarrassed or dead.
She grasped the knob, twisted, pulled the door open a couple inches. Soft rustling drifted up the stairs. Thankful the door didn’t creak, Del eased to the landing. She moved forward enough to see down the stairs. At the foot of the staircase, Vance lay on his back, arms and legs spread eagle. Had Burns knocked him out and left him?
Red liquid spread from underneath the young marshal’s fallen body. Cold chills raced down her spine. Vance was lying in a growing pool of blood.
Her first instinct was to help him. Del didn’t know exactly what happened, but there were only two choices, both bad. One, Burns had shot Vance. What that meant for her and Ivy was anyone’s guess. Two, their security had been broken, which meant Reece’s killer could be the culprit. And if Burns wasn’t already dead, he would be fighting for his life. If the killer slipped past the remaining marshal, she and Ivy were dead.
Not if she could help it. They needed help, fast. Del wanted to pull out her cell phone, waited. If her assessment was wrong, Burns would take the phone and she wasn’t relinquishing her lifeline to Josh without a fight.
Reaching the bedroom, she closed the door, locked it behind her. Stared, picked up a nearby chair, lodged the back under the doorknob. Not much of a deterrent. A few more seconds might mean the difference between life and death. Del rushed to Ivy’s side, shook her cousin’s shoulder. “Ivy,” she whispered. “Wake up.”