Bodyguard

by Shirlee McCoy

That was how she saw things.

  And she wanted to get moving, because she had a horrible feeling that Angus was in the car. Angus, the uncle who wanted her dead, who’d looked into her face and told her exactly why she had to die.

  She shuddered, zipping up the jacket and following Ian as he headed through tall marsh grass, King on-heel beside him.

  Zeke was a few feet ahead, his dog trotting nearly silently.

  They weren’t running, but they were moving fast, plowing through the grass and then on to drier land. She wasn’t sure where they were heading. She didn’t know if the men knew.

  Wherever it was, it was away from that car and whoever was driving it.

  That was all she cared about.

  That was all she needed to know.

  She made the mistake of glancing back, of searching the darkness for the vehicle. And then she saw it, the headlights bobbing along as it sped toward the SUV.

  She wanted to run. Wanted to sprint as far and as fast as she could. She probably would have, but Ian reached back and grabbed her hand, pulling her up next to him.

  “Don’t panic,” he said in that same calm tone Zeke had used.

  Did they go to school for that?

  Did the FBI train them to keep their wits about them so that civilians didn’t panic?

  If so, it wasn’t working on her.

  “Why would I go and do something like that? Just because the car has almost reached the SUV and we’re right out here in the open where any sniper can see us doesn’t mean we should be worried,” she retorted, the words spilling out in a rush of nervous energy.

  “That’s the spirit,” he praised, not quickening his pace. Not glancing back. Not doing anything but moving forward.

  Maybe that was a metaphor for life, but she wasn’t in the mood to think about it.

  Outwardly, she was staying calm, but inside?

  Inside, she was a wild mass of hysteria.

  * * *

  Ian could hear sirens.

  That was the good news.

  The bad news was that their pursuers had already found the SUV. He didn’t have to look to know it. He heard car doors slam. One. Then another.

  At least two pursuers.

  Probably armed.

  Maybe with night vision goggles and long-range weapons.

  That was more bad news, but it was also only speculation.

  Angus had failed in his mission to kill Esme a couple of times. It was possible he wasn’t nearly as well-versed in crime as his nephew.

  He had found them, though. There was no doubt about that.

  Ian wanted to know how.

  He had a feeling it had something to do with Jake. The guy knew exactly how the Tactical K-9 Unit worked. He could have tapped into local databases and gotten a hit when Ian had checked Esme into the clinic. It would have been easy enough for him to pass that information on to Angus, and easier still for Angus to figure out that Esme would spend some time being interviewed by the local authorities.

  After that, it was just a matter of waiting.

  Anyone with enough money could hire people to do that.

  Jake had the money.

  That was what working both sides of the fence did for a person. It made him rich. It was possible it also made him foolish. If Jake were as smart as he liked to think he was, he’d have left the country when he’d disappeared months ago. At the time, the team had assumed he’d been abducted by Angus Dupree and that he would be used as a pawn to get Reginald out of jail.

  It had taken months to uncover the truth. In that time, Jake could easily have found a way to disappear for good. Instead, he’d stuck around, searching—it seemed—for his ex-girlfriend, Penny Potter, and their son.

  As far as the team knew, Jake was still on the Dupree payroll. If that was the case, he could be hunting Esme. For all Ian knew, Jake was in the car that had been following them. If he were, he’d be a more challenging adversary than Angus. He knew exactly how the team worked, exactly how the dogs responded and reacted. He’d be able to anticipate and act accordingly. He’d know that they’d have abandoned the vehicle and would be hiking out with their dogs. He’d also know what weapons they had and how much firepower. What dogs they had with them and what each was trained for.

  He’d probably assume that they’d be heading for the safe house. That was protocol. Get the civilian to safety as quickly as possible.

  Jake would know all that because he’d done it. He’d lived it. But if Anonymous was correct, Ian’s theory was wrong and Jake wasn’t anywhere nearby. He was on his way home with his ex and their son.

  That could mean Montana or something else, but it sure didn’t seem to mean Florida.

  He hoped.

  Prayed.

  They had enough on their plate. They didn’t need to add Jake into the mix.

  He glanced at his watch and adjusted their trajectory, making sure they were heading southeast. Toward the Everglades. The FBI had a house there. It hadn’t been used in several years because it was too far from the nearest city. Most people didn’t enjoy staying in such a remote location. Even if they were in hiding. At least that was what Max had said.

  It was perfect for their purposes, though.

  Ian wanted a place that was isolated. He wanted clear views and an easy escape route. Max had already arranged to have a small boat with an outboard motor delivered. If Jake or Angus managed to find them, they could escape into the Everglades.

  First, though, they had to get to the house.

  Up ahead, several trees jutted up from the soggy earth, their branches thick, their trunks broad. He moved between them, keeping Esme close. If there were snipers in the car, she was their target.

  King growled, the sound filling the uneasy silence.

  Danger. That was what the dog was trying to say.

  Ian heard him loud and clear.

  “Get down,” he commanded, yanking Esme off her feet, covering her with his body. The first bullet hit the tree an inch from their heads.

  She jerked, but he pressed her deeper into the earth as the second bullet struck, this time slamming into the ground, releasing bits of dirt and splatters of mud.

  King was crouched beside them, and he growled again, his gaze on the area they’d just left.

  “We’re out of range for our handguns,” Zeke whispered. “But I’m going to take a couple of shots and give you cover to move. There’s a ravine straight ahead. They shouldn’t be able to see you once you’re in it. I’ll circle around. Try to get a look at the perps. If the police show up, I’ll deal with them.”

  He fired the first shot almost before he finished speaking, the loud report ringing through the night.

  “Let’s go,” Ian said, rolling off Esme. “On your belly all the way. Keep the trees between you and the SUV. Don’t stop until I tell you to.”

  “You mean between me and the gun?” she asked, sliding across the damp earth, her dark clothes blending in with the ground.

  He followed, calling to King and smiling grimly as the dog pranced past. Zeke fired two more rounds, the sound masking what Ian thought was the sound of an engine firing up.

  Were the perps on the run?

  He didn’t glance back to see.

  He was focused instead on getting to the ravine and lowering himself into it, because Esme had disappeared somewhere up ahead, and he could only assume that was where she’d gone.

  She might be out of sight of the gunmen, but she was also out of Ian’s sight.

  He didn’t like that.

  Not at all.

  The ornery woman wanted to go it alone. She’d planned to hide until the trial. Without the protection of the team. She’d told him that. This had been the perfect opportunity for her to escape protective cus
tody, and he’d handed it right to her.

  He reached the edge of the ravine, lowering himself down and calling himself every kind of fool for letting Esme go ahead of him.

  NINE

  Esme’s feet had hit the bottom of the marshy ravine, and she’d started running. Without thought. Without a plan. Just going as fast as she could toward some unknown destination, fleeing the gunshots, the car and, probably, Ian.

  He’d been offering the protection she longed for, the security she craved. He’d given her comfort and smiles and, even, a laugh or two.

  He’d been a port in the storm, a place to hunker down while the wind of Angus’s wrath was raging around her.

  But he wasn’t a forever kind of thing.

  He was a stopgap, a hero who’d run to the rescue when she’d needed him but who’d walk away when this was over and leave her exactly where she’d been when they’d met—alone.

  Which was fine.

  She liked solitude.

  She enjoyed silence.

  She didn’t mind her own company.

  And she certainly didn’t want to be with someone just to fill a hole in her life.

  Brent had taught her a lot about what she needed and what she didn’t. She hoped that she’d learned the lessons well.

  Time would tell.

  Time that wasn’t filled with running for her life.

  The marshy ground grew wetter, her feet splashing in a quarter inch of water. She needed to get out before she found herself in a creek or tributary up to her ankles or knees or shoulders. Wading through muck and dodging slithering, snapping, slimy reptiles.

  She scrambled up the far side, feet digging into loose earth, hands grasping thick blades of grass. She was breathless when she reached the top, covered in dirt and mud. The sleeves of Ian’s jacket hung past her fingertips, and she shoved them up, still moving fast. If she took off the jacket, she could leave it for King to find. That would let Ian know which direction she’d been headed, because she wasn’t trying to outrun him or King or Zeke. She was trying to outrun the men who wanted her dead. If Ian and King found her, great. If not, maybe she’d find them.

  For now, though, she was doing what she’d been told—running until Ian told her to stop. She shivered, her teeth chattering. Strange because the night was balmy and warm. She knew that. She could feel the sticky, humid air kissing her cheeks, could glimpse the clear sky and the moon resting just above the western horizon. The landscape was flat enough for her to see the distant flashing lights of emergency vehicles.

  The police were on the way. It was possible they’d already reached the SUV and were rounding up whoever had been in the car. It was possible Uncle Angus was being arrested and that he’d be tossed in jail where he belonged.

  Anything was possible, but she didn’t think either of those things were likely. Angus had proved himself to be wily as a fox, moving mostly in the dead of the night, slipping in and then out without a sound.

  Her uncle hired people to do the less subtle things—driving through clinic windows, shoot-outs in swamps. He liked darkness and enjoyed terrorizing people.

  At least, that was the impression she’d gotten these past few months.

  Her foot caught on a tangled web of marsh grass, and she went flying, landing hard on her hands and knees, her arms skidding in one direction, her legs in another.

  She hit the ground with a thud, would have been up and running again, but a wet nose nudged her temple, warm dog breath fanning her cheek.

  She looked into dark eyes, and then into King’s grinning happy face.

  His tongue lolled to the side, his eyes sparkling with what could only be joy. He’d found her, and he was very pleased with himself.

  If she hadn’t been lying flat on wet ground, the scent of decaying foliage in her nose, she might have smiled back.

  “You don’t have to look so pleased with yourself every single time. I’m not very difficult to find,” she explained, but King had already darted away, heading back to his partner, tail high, carriage jaunty.

  He was pleased with himself and ready to share the happy news of his discovery.

  She could have gotten up and kept going, but she had as much hope of survival with Ian as she did on her own. More hope, because he had a gun. She had her mud-caked clothes and her will to live. Neither would stand much of a chance against a well-aimed bullet. Esme turned onto her back, staring up at the stars and the dark sky, her ankle throbbing dully. She didn’t know what time it was...and she didn’t care. In a few hours, the sun would rise, and she’d be facing another day of hide-and-seek. Winner took all. Loser lost everything. If Angus lost, he’d go to jail. If she lost, she’d die and her brother might go free. There’d be more crime, more drugs, more human trafficking and sorrow and terror and fear.

  It was that simple and that awful. It was the reason she’d kept going for as long as she had. It was the reason she’d agreed to testify, and the reason why she wouldn’t change her mind.

  But right now, she really couldn’t get up the gumption to care about any of it. She lay where she was, watching the night sky, thinking about how nice it would be if her life went back to normal, if she could simply close her eyes and open them and realize she’d been having some horrible dream.

  The grass beside her rustled, and Ian was there, looming over her. She closed her eyes. Opened them again. Nothing had changed. Except that now he was crouched beside her. Not touching. Not talking. Just waiting, his eyes glittering in the darkness, King panting nearby.

  “I wasn’t trying to escape you,” she explained. “I was just following orders. I guess running into the Everglades without any idea of where I was going wasn’t the best idea I’ve ever had. I should have stopped at the bottom of the ravine and waited for you. I don’t know why I didn’t.”

  “Fear does funny things to people, Esme,” he said, offering a hand and pulling her to her feet. “How’s your ankle holding up?”

  “It’s fine,” she said, ignoring the throbbing pain as she walked beside him.

  “Fine is the word most people use when they think the other person doesn’t really care. For the record—” he stopped and turned to face her, tugging his jacket tighter around her and zipping it “—I care.”

  “It hurts,” she corrected. “But I can walk on it.”

  “You never got the Ace bandage.”

  “We were distracted by the truck that drove through the window.”

  “Right. It’s been a busy night.” He started walking again, his hand on her elbow as he helped her through the thick grass. She didn’t mind that. Not at all.

  “Once we get to the safe house,” he said, his voice a quiet rumble on the balmy air, “I’m going to let you call your sister. You can ask her about Jake or not. I’m not going to put pressure on you either way.”

  “I’ll ask her,” she said, because it couldn’t hurt, and it might help.

  “Is there anyone else you’d like to talk with?”

  “No one important enough to risk my life for.”

  “Not even your fiancé?” he asked.

  “Are you fishing for information?”

  “Not fishing. I’m out-and-out asking. According to your file, you’re engaged.”

  “My file is wrong.”

  “Let me guess, he wasn’t ready to marry you, but he didn’t want to wait for you to be out of the program?”

  “Something like that,” she responded. “It’s old news, though. I’ve been over it for a while.”

  “He was an idiot,” he said, and she smiled.

  “According to him, I was. He didn’t want me to testify. He thought I was asking for trouble. He told me Reginald and Angus were dangerous, and that he didn’t want me to get hurt.”

  “Then he should have married you and
entered witness protection with you to make certain you were safe.”

  “He’s not much of a fighter.”

  “Not much of a man, if you ask me. As a matter of fact, if he was standing here, I’d call him a coward,” he said bluntly.

  “I guess he was, and he obviously didn’t love me all that much. We had the whole wedding planned and paid for. I really thought he was going to be my forever. I was wrong.”

  “I’d like to say I’m sorry,” he said softly. “But that would be a lie.”

  She could have asked him what he meant.

  Should have, probably, but this thing between them? It seemed new and fragile and lovely, and she didn’t want to ruin it by asking questions that would be answered in their own good time.

  They’d reached a steeply sloping hill that led down to what looked like swamp—dark water snaking through thick foliage.

  “Careful here. It’s slippery,” he said, his hand tightening fractionally as he helped her navigate the slick landscape. “You don’t want to end up gator food. Fall into the swamp, and that could happen.”

  “Maybe we should head in another direction,” she suggested nervously.

  “If we do that, we’ll never make it to the safe house.”

  “It’s in the Glades?”

  “Does that make you nervous?”

  “I spent a few too many days alone there. I’m not all that excited about repeating the experience.”

  “You won’t have to. I’ll be there with two other team members and their dogs.”

  “Sounds cozy.”

  “It will be safe.”

  “That, too.” Her foot slipped, and she’d have gone down if he hadn’t dragged her back.

  “Like I said,” he murmured, “it’s slippery.”

  “Any idea of how far we are from the safe house?”

  “Too far to walk. One of my teammates is meeting us on the road about a mile from here. See that bridge?” He put his hands on her shoulders and turned her slightly, his forearm brushing her cheek as he pointed.

  She’d probably have seen whatever he was pointing at if her heart hadn’t been beating so fast, her pulse racing with something that had nothing to do with crocodiles or Uncle Angus or her near slide into the murky water and everything to do with Ian.