Bodyguard

by Shirlee McCoy

  “Yeah. I know.” She sighed, walking away, heading toward the distant emergency lights, her stride hitched but brisk, her shoulders straight.

  “Esme,” he said, not sure what he wanted to add, what he could possibly say to make things better or easier or right.

  “I think we’ve both said everything we need to, Ian. How about you just let me do what I need to? I’m sure the police would like to talk to you, and I’ve got a long way to go before I reach civilization.”

  He could have stopped her.

  He had the authority to do it. He had the strength. He had King.

  But he let her go, because he thought she needed some space. It was five miles to the main road, and there were emergency vehicles everywhere. She’d be safe enough.

  “All right,” he said, and she met his eyes.

  He thought he saw tears before she looked away again.

  Then she was moving, putting distance between them, her backpack lying a yard away, abandoned on the muddy ground. He snagged it, figuring she’d want it later. He needed to check in with the local police, and then he’d get in his SUV and pick her up on the way out.

  “King,” he said, and the dog looked at him, eager for the next command. “Guard!”

  The Malinois took off, racing across the clearing, his light brown fur visible in the darkness as he followed Esme through the trees and out into the main campground.

  THREE

  Long Pine Key Campground was not difficult to find. Esme simply followed the flashing emergency lights through a copse of mangroves and out into a field of vegetation. The vehicles were probably a quarter mile away, but the darkness made them easy enough to see. She picked her way across the field, the ground growing soggier with every step. If it got any wetter, she’d have to find another route. She didn’t mind getting wet, but she didn’t like the idea of being knee-deep in water that was filled with slimy, slithery, scaly creatures.

  Esme was almost ready to turn back when she spotted a wooden walkway that stretched the remainder of the way across the area. She stepped onto it, the wood giving a little as she moved.

  She was halfway over when she heard quiet panting and the soft pad of paws. Her heart in her throat, she spun around, her sore ankle nearly giving out. The dog was there. Of course. King. And he was so close she could have reached out and touched his nose, so close she could feel his panting breath on her hand, see his goofy smile through the darkness.

  Because he was smiling again.

  Why wouldn’t he be?

  She kept running. He kept finding her. A fun game for a dog. Not so much fun for Esme.

  “Go home,” she commanded.

  The dog didn’t even blink.

  “Where’s your partner?” She glanced back the way she’d come, saw nothing but the empty field and shadowy mangroves. “Did he tell you to follow me?”

  The dog settled on his haunches, his dark eyes looking straight into hers.

  “Release!” she commanded, pointing in the direction she wanted him to go.

  Nothing.

  “Go! Cease!”

  Still nothing.

  “Fine. Do what you want. I’ve got more important things to do than argue with a dog.” She limped the rest of the way across the boardwalk, stepping onto wet grass, King close behind her.

  The Long Pine Key parking area was straight ahead, the dark figures of emergency personnel visible in the flashing strobe lights of their vehicles. She’d seen way too many emergency vehicles the past few months. Beginning with the one that had been sent to the scene of her brother’s crime.

  She’d still been in shock—the memory of Reginald pointing the gun and firing it, of a man falling to the ground, blood spurting from his chest, taking up so much room in her mind, there hadn’t been space to create memories of conversations she’d had, of people she’d spoken to. All she could remember were the emergency lights and the questions, barked one right after another—a series of words that had had no meaning.

  Esme sighed.

  She knew Ian meant well. She knew the FBI meant well. Law enforcement, witness protection, they meant well, too. But meaning well couldn’t keep her alive.

  Better to not take a chance of being waylaid by another well-meaning entity. She’d steer clear of law enforcement. She turned to the right, heading through a grove of cypress trees, aiming for the road that led into the parking lot. It should be straight ahead. She didn’t have her map, but she’d memorized the topography and knew what landmarks to look for to ascertain how far she was from civilization. It would be a long walk to anyplace where she could make a phone call. Five miles on the back road, then out onto a main road that would eventually lead her to town. Once there, she’d borrow a phone and call...

  Who?

  Not Violetta. She loved her sister, but she couldn’t count on her. Not the way she’d thought she could. Violetta’s loyalties were torn. She wanted to support Reginald and see him freed from prison. Esme knew that, and she knew why. It wasn’t all about love and family. At least not according to the FBI, it wasn’t. Violetta had been happy to take whatever gifts Reginald offered—money for a new car, financial backing to support her business, new windows for her house. Esme had been shown a list of all the things her sister had accepted from Reginald.

  At first, she’d argued that Violetta hadn’t known where Reginald was getting the money. But, of course, the FBI had been prepared for that. They’d proved her wrong. Violetta had known...she just hadn’t cared. She’d kept her hands clean, but she sure hadn’t been willing to jeopardize Reginald’s career. After all, she was benefiting too much from it.

  The last time Esme had seen her sister had been six months ago. Violetta had looked just as cool and reserved as ever, her beautiful face not showing even a hint of stress or anxiety. Esme, on the other hand, had been a mess. But, then, she was the one who’d watched a man die. She was the one who’d had to make a choice between family and justice. She was the one who was swimming against the tide and doing exactly what her family didn’t want her to.

  And she was the one who’d pay with her life if her uncle got his hands on her again.

  Esme shuddered, her skin clammy from the humid air, her body leaden from too many restless nights. She had to believe that she was going to get through this. She had to trust that God would keep her safe, that doing the right thing would always be best even when it felt so horribly wrong.

  Betrayer. Traitor. Turncoat.

  Her uncle’s words were still in her head, the feel of his fingers around her throat enough to make her want to gag. She stumbled, tripping over a root and going down hard, her hands and knees sliding across damp earth, her shoulder bumping into a tree trunk.

  She lay where she was for a few minutes too long, the muted sound of voices carrying on the still night air. Maybe she should go to the parking lot, turn herself in to the authorities and hope and pray that they could keep her safe. That seemed so much easier than going it alone.

  It also seemed more dangerous.

  A woman had died, and she’d almost been killed because of an information leak. Ian had told her the leak had been plugged, but she couldn’t count on that. She couldn’t really count on anything.

  “Your pity party is getting you nowhere,” she muttered, pushing up onto her hands and knees.

  A cool wet nose pressed against her cheek, and King huffed quietly. She jerked back, looking into his dark face. He was a handsome dog when he wasn’t snarling and showing teeth. Right now, he looked like he was smiling again, his tongue lolling out to the side.

  “I think I told you to find your partner,” she scolded, forcing herself up. Lying around feeling sorry for herself would accomplish absolutely nothing. Going back into the situation that had almost gotten her killed would do the same.

  She had
to stay the course—find a place to go to ground until trial, then contact the authorities and arrange to be escorted to court. Armed guards would be great. Six or seven dogs like King would be a nice bonus.

  Right now, though...

  Right now, she just had to find a safe place to hide.

  She started walking again, trudging through saw grass and heading away from the emergency vehicles. There were no streetlights on the road, no beacons to lead her in the right direction. She went by instinct, the rising moon giving her at least some idea of what direction she was heading.

  Northeast would bring her to the road.

  The road would bring her to civilization.

  She’d figure out everything else once she got there.

  The grass opened up, the earth dried out and she could see the road winding snakelike through the Everglades. She stepped onto it, her ankle throbbing, her stomach churning. After three days and nights in the Everglades, it felt strange to be out in the open. No water surrounding her. No foliage to shelter in. She could see emergency lights to the left, so she turned right, trudging along the road as if she didn’t have a care in the world.

  Five miles wasn’t much.

  She loved hiking, biking and running. Before she’d entered witness protection, she’d been training for a half marathon. Walking a few miles should have been a piece of cake, but she felt like she was slogging through mud, her legs heavy with fatigue.

  King pressed close to her leg, his shoulder brushing her thigh as they walked. He didn’t look nervous, and she took that as a good sign. It wasn’t good that he was sticking to her like glue, however, because eventually his handler would come looking for him. When he did, he’d find Esme, too.

  Unless Esme could ditch the dog.

  She patted the pockets of her cargo pants, found the package of peanut butter crackers she’d planned to eat for dinner. She opened it, the rustling paper not even garnering a glance from King.

  She slipped a cracker from the sleeve, held it out to the dog. “Hungry?” she asked.

  He ignored her and the cracker.

  “King?” She nudged the cracker close to his mouth.

  He didn’t break his stride, didn’t look at the food.

  “It’s peanut butter. Peanut butter is good. Fetch!” She waved it closer to his face, then threw it back in the direction they’d come.

  It hit the pavement, and King just kept walking.

  Esme blew out a frustrated breath. Great...just great. Now she’d end up in town with a dog that didn’t belong to her. Probably a very expensive dog. The FBI wouldn’t be happy if she left the state with one of their dogs in tow.

  For all she knew, she’d be charged with kidnapping.

  Dognapping?

  “King!” she said, trying to put an edge of command in her voice. “Sit!”

  He didn’t.

  “Fetch!” She tried another cracker. “Retrieve!”

  “Do you not speak English?” she asked, stopping short and eyeing the dog. He was still wearing his vest, a logo on the side announcing that he was a law enforcement dog. Esme wasn’t sure about much lately, but she knew this—she did not look like a law enforcement officer. At least not one that was on duty. She didn’t have a uniform, a gun or a holster. And no badge. If she made it to town, people would wonder what she was doing with a dog who was obviously supposed to be working.

  “This is a problem,” she said, crouching a few feet from the dog and watching him. He was watching her just as steadily.

  “Listen, buddy, I’m sure your handler told you to follow me, but I’d prefer you go back to what you were doing before you got sent on this wild-goose chase.”

  He cocked his head to the side, then glanced back the way they’d come. He’d gone from alert to stiff with tension. She wasn’t sure what that meant, but it couldn’t be anything good.

  “What is it?” she whispered, as if the dog could answer.

  He barked once—a quick high-pitched sound that made her hair stand on end.

  Someone or something was coming.

  That was the only explanation.

  She ran to the side of the road, plunging into the thick shrubs that lined it. She didn’t know if King had followed. She was too focused on finding a place to hide. She crouched low, her heart throbbing hollowly in her ears. Lights splashed across the road and filtered through the leaves.

  A car was coming. First the headlights, then the soft chug of an engine. She shrank deeper into the shadows, King’s lean body suddenly beside her, pressing in so close his fur rubbed against her arm. Mosquitoes buzzed, dive-bombing the exposed areas of Esme’s skin. She didn’t dare swat them away. The car was closing in, the engine growing louder. She wanted to grab King’s collar and make sure he didn’t lunge out from their hiding place, but she couldn’t get the image of him barking at the gunmen out of her head. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t stop seeing his sharp teeth and snarling mouth. Sure, he currently looked like a sweet goofy pet, but she knew he could be vicious if he needed to be. She’d keep her hands to herself and hope for the best rather than risk losing one of her fingers to his sharp teeth.

  “Don’t move,” she whispered, and the dog shifted closer, his shoulder leaning into hers.

  The car slowed as it approached, the tires rolling over dry pavement.

  Keep going, she silently commanded. Please, keep going.

  The car stopped, the engine idling, the soft chug making her blood run cold. Could the driver see her? Did he know she was there?

  A door opened, and she stiffened. She had no weapon. Her only option was to run. In a place as inhospitable as the Everglades, that could get a person killed.

  Staying could get her killed, too.

  She waited another minute, praying that whoever was on the road had stopped to look at a snake or save a turtle or do some completely normal thing that didn’t involve hunting a woman through the swamp.

  King barked, the sound so loud and startling, Esme jumped.

  She didn’t scream, but she came close.

  And then she ran, darting away from the road as fast as her twisted ankle could carry her.

  * * *

  Two strides and Ian caught up, catching Esme’s arm before she could run any farther.

  She swung around, throwing a punch that nearly hit its mark.

  “Hey! Cool it,” he growled, dragging her arm down to her side the same way he had before. This time there was no knife, and she looked even more scared, her eyes wild with fear.

  “Let me go!” she demanded, and he did, releasing his hold and stepping back.

  “Calm down, Esme. It’s just me.”

  She met his eyes, seemed to finally realize who he was and frowned. “You just scared six years off my life.”

  “Sorry about that.”

  “You don’t sound sorry,” she accused.

  “Maybe because I’m tired of following you all over Florida,” he replied, and she cracked a half smile.

  “I’m not going to apologize, if that’s what you’re hoping for.”

  “I’m hoping we can get out of this area before we run into more trouble.” He took her hand again, and this time, she didn’t resist as he led her back to the road and his SUV.

  He opened the back hatch and called for King, and she didn’t say a word, didn’t try to leave.

  The Malinois jumped in, settling into his kennel and heaving a sigh that would have made Ian smile if he hadn’t been standing next to Esme.

  She was a problem.

  Up until he’d tracked her down, he’d been resentful of the time and resources they were putting into finding her. The prosecutor had a good case against Reginald Dupree—even without his sister’s testimony. She was the witness who would put him away for good,
though. First-degree murder. Planned and executed with cunning and without remorse.

  Esme was the only witness, and without her testimony, evidence was circumstantial at best. At worst, it was unconvincing. A good defense lawyer might get Reginald off. That wasn’t something Ian was going to allow.

  Yeah. He’d wanted to keep her safe for purely mercenary purposes. With her testimony, the Dupree crime family could be stopped. Without it, Reginald might go free.

  Now...

  He was beginning to feel sorry for her, beginning to see her as something other than the family she’d been born into. She’d given up her entire life to make sure her brother went to jail for his crime. She’d left her job, her friends, her fiancé. She’d done it all without complaining. Everyone who’d met her or worked with her had had only good things to say.

  He’d told himself it was because she was a good actress and consummate manipulator. After hearing her talk about the woman who’d died, hearing the regret in her voice, seeing the tears in her eyes, he doubted that was the case.

  Unless he was misreading her, she was who everyone else on the team seemed to think she was—a woman who’d been pulled into something she hadn’t expected or wanted. A woman who’d been running from her family because she valued doing what was right more than she valued loyalty to her family.

  A tough place to be standing.

  A tough decision to make.

  She’d made it. She’d continued to say that she would testify despite the obvious threats against her.

  He admired that.

  A lot.

  He frowned, closing the back hatch and turning to face Esme. “Did you really think you were going to walk out of here?”

  “I sure didn’t think I wasn’t going to,” she replied, flipping her ponytail over her shoulder. A few strands of hair had escaped and were clinging to her throat and neck, the dark red strands gleaming in the SUV’s parking lights.

  “The nearest town is twenty miles away,” he pointed out.

  “I’ve walked farther.”