She levered up, would have lobbed the rock at the fleeing man, but King was there, a shadowy blur, so close she could feel his fur as he raced past.
Surprised, she jerked back, her knees slipping in the layer of wet earth, her elbows sliding out from under her. She would have face-planted, but someone grabbed the back of her shirt, yanking her up.
“Hey!” She turned, the rock still in her hand.
“I told you to stay where you were,” Ian growled.
“I was trying to help.”
“Since when is getting in the way helping?” he retorted, King’s wild barking nearly covering his words.
Esme didn’t think he expected a response, and she didn’t bother giving one. He was already moving again, sprinting toward his dog.
She followed, keeping a few steps behind him. Despite his sarcastic comment, she had no intention of getting in the way. The more gunmen he could take out, the safer they’d be. Once they were safe, she could go back to her plan. Get out of the Everglades and out of Florida.
Alone.
“Federal agent! Freeze!” Ian shouted, and she froze before she realized he hadn’t shouted the command at her.
“Call off your dog!” a man replied, his voice tinged with a hint of panic.
“You want me to call off the dog, you freeze.”
“This is all a mistake!” the man whined. “I was out here hunting gators and—”
“One command, and his teeth will go straight to the bone,” Ian cut in.
The man must have stopped moving, because Ian stepped forward, gun trained toward something Esme couldn’t see.
“Keep your hands where I can see them,” he commanded, King still growling beside him.
“And you,” he continued, and even though he hadn’t turned to look at her, Esme was certain he was talking to her. “Stay where you are. The guy ditched his gun back at the campsite, but that doesn’t mean he’s not armed.”
“I ditched my gun because your crazy dog was trying to kill me.”
“You can explain it all to the judge.”
“What judge? I was hunting gators. I can’t help it if I got in the middle of your shoot-out.”
“Like I said, you can explain it all to the judge. I’m sure he’ll be really interested in your version. He’ll also be interested in what your friend has to say. If he survives.”
“I didn’t come with a friend. Never seen either of those men before in my life.”
Ian didn’t respond.
Esme could hear the men walking toward her, their feet slapping against wet grass and soggy leaves. They reached her seconds later, Ian taller and broader than the man he’d apprehended. He looked fit and strong. The perfect bodyguard. If she were looking for one. She wasn’t. What she was looking for was some peace. She wouldn’t get that until her uncle was apprehended and he and her brother were convicted of their crimes.
“What now?” she asked, trying to think ahead, to figure out the best way to separate herself from the situation. Once she knew his plans, it would be easier to make hers.
“We’re heading back to the camp. I’ve got one man down and cuffed there. The other ran off.”
“He could return,” she pointed out.
“Local law enforcement is close. Hopefully, one of them will pick him up.”
“I stopped hoping for safety right around the time my uncle tried to murder me,” she muttered.
He eyed her through the evening gloom, his expression unreadable. For a moment, she thought he wouldn’t respond. When he did, his tone was gruff. “I hope you’re not living in the delusion that your uncle is the one responsible for all of this.”
“Who else would it be?”
“Your uncle might have tracked you to Florida, but your brother is calling the shots from prison.”
“Maybe.” Probably.
She didn’t want to admit that.
Not even to herself.
She and her uncle had never been close. She could almost pretend they weren’t family.
She and Reginald, though...
They were siblings. Sure, he was much older, but they’d been raised by the same parents with the same values.
Somehow they’d taken completely different paths, found value in completely different things.
She’d watched him kill a man.
She would never forget that. She would testify against him.
But this was by far the most difficult thing she’d ever done.
It was the right thing, but that didn’t make her feel good about it. It sure didn’t make her safe. Her family would do anything to keep her from testifying. She still couldn’t wrap her mind around that.
The proof was here, though—the cuffed man walking beside a federal agent who had come to track her down. Both of them wanted Esme for different purposes. One wanted her dead. The other wanted her to stay alive. At least until her brother’s trial.
The sirens had grown louder, and she could see flashing lights through the mangroves. Help had arrived. It didn’t seem like Ian needed it. He motioned for his prisoner to sit on the raised sleeping platform.
“Guard,” he commanded, and King snapped to attention, his eyes trained on the cuffed man.
“He’s guarding you, too,” Ian said, meeting Esme’s eyes.
“It’s not like I have anywhere to go,” she responded. She could see the canoe, a dozen yards out, listing heavily to the right. Enough bullets had been fired to cause it to sink. If she’d been in it, she’d be dead. She shivered, suddenly chilled despite the warmth and humidity.
“There are plenty of places to go. You’ve proved that several times.” He turned and walked away, moving across the clearing and crouching next to a man who lay near the water.
She thought he was checking the guy’s pulse and rendering first aid, but it was hard to see through the deepening gloom. This would have been her third night out in the Glades. She should be used to how quickly darkness descended After so many months running from people who wanted her dead, she should also be used to skin-crawling, heart-stopping fear.
The cuffed gunman shifted position, and King growled, flashing teeth that looked as deadly as any gun or knife Esme had ever seen. He was focused on the prisoner. If she were going to try to escape, now would be the time to do it. She could see the emergency vehicles, hear people moving through the mangroves. She scanned the clearing and spotted her backpack abandoned near the edge of the campsite.
It would take seconds to grab it and just a little bit longer than that to disappear. She’d done it before. She could do it again.
But she was exhausted from endless running, tired from months of being on guard. She didn’t trust the police or the FBI to keep her safe, but she wasn’t sure she had the stamina to keep trying to do the job herself. Not that she had any choice.
The trial was just a month away. That seemed like forever, but it was nothing in comparison to the amount of time that had already passed. Once she testified, she’d disappear again. This time, she had no intention of being found. New name. New job. New beginning. Not the life she’d planned, but she knew she could make it a good one.
All she had to do was survive long enough to get there.
Just do it. Grab the bag and run! her mind shouted, and she was just tired enough and just scared enough to listen.
She darted forward, snagging the straps and lifting the bag in one quick motion. The rest was easy. Or should have been. The mangroves provided perfect cover, and she ducked behind one of the scrub-like trees, water lapping at her ankles as she moved.
She would have kept running, but something grabbed onto the bag, yanking her backward. She released the pack, but she was already falling, her ankle twisting as she tried to pivot and run.
She went down ha
rd, splashing into a puddle of muck, the dog suddenly in her face, teeth bared, dark eyes staring straight into hers.
“I told you,” Ian said calmly, his voice carrying through the mangroves, “he was guarding you.”
She couldn’t see him, and that made her almost as nervous as looking in the dog’s snarling face did.
“He’d have been better off guarding the guy who tried to kill me,” she responded, not even trying to get to her feet. Not with the beast of a dog staring her down, his teeth still bared. In any other circumstance, she’d have admired him for what he was—a handsome, fit working dog. Right now, she just wanted him gone.
“The perpetrator is in police custody. I guess you were too busy planning your escape to notice them moving in.”
“I noticed.”
“And did you think I wouldn’t notice you leaving?” Branches rustled, and he stepped into view, his head and shoulders bowed as he walked through the trees.
“What I thought was that I wanted to live, and that being alone seemed like the safest way to make sure that happened.”
“Esme, you really need to stop fighting me,” he said, crouching a few feet away and looking straight into her eyes. There was something about his face—the angle of his jaw, the sharp cut of his cheekbones—that made her think of the old Westerns she used to watch with her dad, the hero cowboy riding to the rescue on his trusty steed. Only, this hero didn’t have a horse; he had a dog.
“I’m not. I’m making your job easier. Go back to your office and tell anyone who cares that I refused federal help. I want to do this alone.”
“What? Get yourself killed?”
“Call off your dog, okay? I want to get out of the mud.” And the Everglades and the mess her family had created.
To her surprise, he complied.
“Release!” he said, and the dog backed off, sitting on his haunches, still watching her. Only this time, she was sure he was grinning.
* * *
King had had a great night. He’d found his mark twice and brought in an armed man. He was obviously pleased with himself, his tail splashing in a puddle of water, his dark eyes turned up to Ian.
“Good boy,” Ian said, scratching behind King’s ears and offering the praise he’d been waiting for.
“That’s a matter of opinion,” Esme muttered.
Ian flashed his light in her direction. She’d fallen hard but didn’t seem to be much worse for the wear. “He did what I asked him to. That’s always a win.”
“That depends on what side of his teeth you’re sitting on.”
“He wasn’t going to bite you.”
“Right,” she scoffed, tucking a strand of auburn hair behind her ear. She hadn’t colored it. That had surprised him. It would have been the first thing he’d have done if he’d been in her position.
“He bites when he has to, but it’s not in his nature to snap. Unless I give him the command.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said, a hint of weariness in her voice. She looked as exhausted as she sounded—her skin paper white in the twilight, dark circles beneath her eyes. He’d seen photos of her taken just a few months before she’d watched her brother execute a man. Her cheeks hadn’t been as hollow, her shoulders as narrow.
He didn’t want to feel sorry for her. She was, after all, part of the family that had taken his. Years ago, Reginald Dupree had called the hit on Ian’s father. He’d been just starting out, sticking his toes in the water of his new family business. Ian’s father had been a Chicago police officer, determined to undermine Dupree’s efforts. He’d arrested two of Reginald’s lower-level operatives. In retaliation, Reginald had paid a couple of street thugs to shoot him when he left the house for work. They’d opened fire as he’d stepped outside. The first bullet had killed him instantly. The second had killed Ian’s mother, who’d been standing in the doorway saying goodbye.
Yeah. He didn’t want to feel sorry for anyone in the family, but his father had raised him to be compassionate, to look out for those who couldn’t look out for themselves. More than that, he’d raised him to do what was right. Even when it was difficult. The right thing to do was to protect Esme. Despite her last name and her family, she’d committed no crime.
“How about you keep something else in mind, too?” He offered a hand, and she allowed him to pull her to her feet.
“What?”
“Next time I tell you to stay somewhere, you should do it. It’s a waste of King’s energy to chase after you when he’s supposed to be keeping you safe.”
“You told him to guard me,” she pointed out.
“Because the closer you are, the easier it is for me to make sure your brother doesn’t get what he wants.”
“Me dead, you mean?”
“I wasn’t going to put it so bluntly, but yes.”
“My uncle is the one who wants me dead, Ian. It’s his hands that were around my throat the other night.” Her tone was hard, her voice raspy, and the compassion he didn’t want to feel welled up again.
“Does it make you feel better to keep telling yourself that?” he asked gently.
“It will make me feel better to be done with this. It will make me feel better to do what I promised and to get on with my life. So how about you leave me alone and let me go back to the business of staying safe until the trial?”
“Do you think this will all end if we have your uncle in custody?” he asked, calling King to heel and leading Esme back the way they’d come.
“I hope it will,” she murmured, limping as she tried to keep pace with him. She must have hurt her leg or foot. He shouldn’t have cared. She was a means to an end. Despite the clean criminal record, the supposedly upright business, she was who she was—a Dupree.
But he did care, because she was a person who’d found herself in an untenable position and had chosen to do the right thing. She’d witnessed a horrible crime, and despite the fact that her brother had committed it, she’d gone to the police and offered to testify.
“What’d you do to your leg?” he asked, and she shrugged.
“Twisted my ankle. It’s fine.”
“Then why are you limping?”
“Because I’m tired, okay? Because I want to get out of this stupid swamp and into clean clothes. I want to take a shower and wash three days’ worth of bug repellent off my skin. Mostly, I just want to close my eyes, open them and find out that this has all been some horrible nightmare.”
“I’m sorry,” he said and meant it.
“For what? Being the one they chose for this assignment?”
“For the fact that all of this isn’t just a bad dream. Your family has deep pockets, Esme. They can afford to pay people to do their dirty work. Which means you won’t be safe until we shut down the crime ring your brother and uncle control.”
“You’re a wellspring of joyful tidings, Ian.”
“I’m honest.”
“And, like I said, I’m tired. So how about we discuss this another time?”
“You want to survive, right?” He stopped short and looked straight into her pale face.
“Would I have spent three days in the Everglades if I didn’t?”
“Some people love it here.”
“I’m not one of them,” she huffed.
“And yet, this is where you ran when you left witness protection.”
“My parents and I spent every summer here when I was a kid. They’re—”
“Buried twenty miles from here. I know. I’m sure your uncle knew. Your brother. Your sister.”
“I feel like you’re trying to make a point, so how about you just get to it?” Her hands were on her hips, her chin raised. Of the three Dupree siblings, she was the one Ian understood the least. Reginald was all about power and money. He’d go to any lengt
h to get it. Violetta wanted the same, but she wasn’t willing to break the law to get it. On the other hand, she wasn’t willing to cooperate with law enforcement to make her brother pay for his crimes.
But Esme...
Ian couldn’t wrap her in a tidy package and put a label on her. That bothered him. He’d spent most of his adult life studying people, figuring them out, deciding whether they were telling the truth, were dangerous or could be trusted. He’d missed the mark with Jake Morrow. A member of the Tactical K-9 team, Jake had put on a good show. He’d pretended to be everything the team believed in—a man of honesty, integrity, honor. That hadn’t meant Ian had liked him. There’d always been something a little cocky about Jake, something a little off. Still, he’d trusted him.
That trust had been misplaced.
Jake had been on the Dupree payroll. He’d betrayed the team, and he was still on the loose, still causing trouble.
“Here’s my point,” he said, King panting quietly beside him. “You came to a place where anyone who knew anything about you would look for you. You would have been better off sticking with witness protection.”
“One innocent person already lost her life because I was in the program. I’m not going to risk someone else dying for the same reason.”
“We had a leak. We’ve sealed it. No one else is going to be hurt,” he responded, keeping his tone neutral. He’d thought she was worried about her own safety, that she’d run from the program because she thought she’d be safer away from it. The fact that she’d been worried about others put a twist on things. A twist he didn’t like. He wanted to lump her in with the rest of the family, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t seem to do it.
“You don’t seem to understand.” She swung around, her auburn ponytail flying in an arc as she moved. “One person being hurt is too many. I think about it every day. About how that woman died because someone mistook her for me.”
“It wasn’t because of you. It was because of your uncle and your brother. It was because they thought they were above the law, because they hadn’t expected to ever be stopped. They like their money and their power, and neither of them want to give it up.”
Bodyguard Page 3