“Stay here.” His voice was hard and cold again, as he firmly moved her away from the door of the shack and went inside. So much for the kinder, gentler Ryan she’d glimpsed when he’d talked her through her fears back in his garage. Or when he’d seemed genuinely amused when she’d used sugar as a curse word.
When he emerged from the shack, he held the door open for her, his gaze darting around the trees as if he expected someone to jump out at them at any moment.
Jessica followed his gaze, beginning to feel uneasy again. “You don’t think they could have followed us, do you? They were on foot. They couldn’t have caught up to us.” She glanced up at him for reassurance. “Right?”
His jaw tightened. “Right.”
He didn’t sound convinced. He raised a brow, waiting for her to enter the shack. She sighed and stepped inside.
The cabin, if it could be called that, boasted one grimy window on the rear wall that barely allowed any light in. Wooden crates were scattered around the floor as if someone had used them for chairs. But there was nothing else, not even a bathroom, a convenience Jessica was sorely in need of at the moment.
Ryan stepped inside and closed the door behind him. He swept past Jessica, startling her by grabbing her hand and tugging her toward one of the overturned crates.
“What are you—”
He pressed her shoulders, forcing her down onto the crate before squatting down in front of her, his gaze at eye level with hers.
She wrinkled her brow in confusion. Was he worried about her? Did she have some blood on her mouth from biting her cheek? She wiped her mouth. No blood. “Ryan, what’s wro—”
“What, exactly, did you do to Richard DeGaullo?”
Jessica’s spine stiffened at the raw accusation in Ryan’s voice. That intense look in his eyes wasn’t concern. It was suspicion. She should have known better. Just because he’d saved her life didn’t mean he’d begun to respect her. To him she was just city girl, the woman he’d been forced to watch over.
“You’re seriously asking what I did to him? He killed my friend, right in front of me. And, oh gee, I had the gall to testify against him.” She curled her fingers around the edge of the crate. “Why are you asking me this?”
“Did you steal from him?”
“What? No, of course not.”
“Date his best friend, one of the other mafia bosses?”
“Are you crazy?” She shoved at his chest, but he didn’t budge. “I didn’t even know any of his friends, let alone some other mafia boss. I’m...I was...an accountant, sometimes a computer hacker. A geek. I worked in an office with four other women. DeGaullo didn’t even know my name. I probably saw him half a dozen times in the five years I worked for him. Why are you asking these questions?”
She shoved at him again, but he grabbed her hands and held them trapped in his.
“The only reason I’m alive right now is because a man was stupid enough to hold a gun to my head, and I was able to head-butt the gun and grab it. If he’d held the gun a few feet away, I probably wouldn’t have made it out of my shower. And you would have burned alive in your cabin. Now it’s up to me to keep you alive. And I can’t protect you if I don’t know what I’m up against. Answer me truthfully. Were you Richard DeGaullo’s lover?”
She gasped and tugged her hands, stomping her foot in frustration when he wouldn’t let go. He stared at her intently, waiting, as if she was going to confess some terrible sin. She felt like a teenager again, her latest set of foster parents accusing her of something one of the other kids had done. After all, Jessica was the one who came from bad stock—a mother who’d died a thief and a junkie, a father on death row for a murder he’d most certainly committed.
Ryan was no different, thinking the worst of her, like everyone else had her entire life. Never mind that she’d worked two, sometimes three jobs to put herself through community college. Never mind that, when she started her first job after graduation, she didn’t even realize the company who’d hired her was owned by the DeGaullo crime family.
“Answer me, Jessica.” Ryan lightly shook her fisted hands.
“No! I was never Richard DeGaullo’s lover.” She tugged her hands again but he still wouldn’t let go. She flushed hot, gritting her teeth. “Let go of me or I swear you’re going to walk funny for a week.” She raised her foot and pressed her sneaker between his legs.
He grimaced and released her hands.
Jessica dropped her foot and scrambled off the crate, desperate to escape Ryan’s accusations, but even more desperate to take care of her painful bladder. She grabbed at the waistband of her sweatpants before they could fall to her knees, and shoved her bangs out of her eyes. “Don’t follow me.”
His knowing look made her face flush even hotter.
“Don’t go out of sight of the cabin,” he said. “If you’re not back in five minutes, I’m coming after you.”
She mumbled something beneath her breath that was definitely not sugar, and flung the door open. Her dramatic exit was ruined when she tripped on her floppy shoes. She caught herself against the doorjamb, glared at Ryan, and slammed the door.
* * *
RYAN GRINNED AS the sound of the slamming door echoed through the shack, but his grin faded as he remembered the shattered expression on Jessica’s face when he’d asked her about being DeGaullo’s lover. He hadn’t expected that wounded doe look in her eyes, either. And he certainly hadn’t expected to feel like such a heel for even asking her those questions.
She’d surprised him, looking so appalled, so offended, so...innocent. With her curves and sultry, pouting mouth, he’d assumed all along that DeGaullo would have made her his mistress. Who would have thought that sexy little Jessica was just as disgusted by that thought as he was? She seemed to be telling the truth, but nothing added up.
Mike Higgins, or whatever his real name was, had known Ryan was a marshal. He knew Jessica was a protected witness. He couldn’t have known that unless he’d received inside information. The unmistakable conclusion was that someone had infiltrated WitSec, a feat which, as far as Ryan knew, had never been done before.
Richard DeGaullo had lost a tremendous amount of clout with the other mob bosses by being in the Justice Department’s crosshairs during the money laundering and murder investigation, and subsequent trial. DeGaullo hadn’t been able to make a move without an FBI agent shadowing him. So why would he risk placing himself back under their scrutiny, unless his gripe against Jessica was personal?
If Jessica was telling the truth, and there wasn’t anything personal between her and DeGaullo, then maybe someone else was behind the leak at WitSec. But who would have the motive, or the power, to infiltrate a program whose very existence was built on the premise of absolute secrecy and unimpeachable security? And why?
This whole mess was a frustrating puzzle, and Jessica would pay the ultimate price if Ryan couldn’t piece that puzzle together—fast.
He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his cell phone, and the battery pack he’d removed last night to ensure no one could trace his location. Without knowing who the mole was inside WitSec, calling his boss didn’t seem like the brightest idea. Alex Trask was no slouch. As soon as Ryan called, Alex would put a trace on the call.
But what other choice was there? Ryan needed to know if he could trust Alex. Calling him was a risk he’d have to take. He’d keep the call short, hopefully too short to trace.
He noted the exact time on his watch, down to the second, and made a mental calculation of just how long he thought he could safely remain on the phone. Countdown starting...now.
He snapped the battery pack on and punched the contact number for his boss.
“Alex Trask.”
“It’s Ryan Jackson.”
“Ryan, what in blazes is going on? Where are you? Where’s my witness?”
The fine hairs on the back of Ryan’s neck stood straight at attention. How did Alex know that he and Jessica were on the run? The local
police didn’t know Jessica was a protected witness, so they wouldn’t have notified the Feds. And Ryan wasn’t due to place another check-in call with his boss for several more hours.
“What are you talking about?” Ryan hedged.
“Don’t give me that. Your witness’s house burned down last night, and rather than call me and get a team of marshals to extract her, you’ve both gone missing. We’ve also got two dead guys at your cabin. I don’t have to wait for ballistics to know who killed them. You’d better start explaining.”
Ryan glanced at his watch. “How did you know about the fire?”
“What? Now, listen here. Don’t you start interrogating me. I need answers. You wouldn’t believe the pressure coming down from the higher-ups. Where are—”
“How did you know about the fire?” Ryan repeated.
Alex cursed into the phone. “Someone staked a copy of The New York Times on the witness’s lawn, the same edition that was published right after the mistrial. That got the local PD’s attention, and the press, I might add. The police contacted the FBI, who then contacted me. Enough stalling. What’s going on? Is the witness okay?”
The cabin door opened and Jessica stepped inside, clutching the waistband of her baggy sweatpants. Her eyes widened when she saw Ryan on the phone.
He held his finger to his lips to signal her to be quiet.
“She trusted WitSec to keep her identity and location a secret,” Ryan said. “She was almost roasted alive. You tell me. How do you think she is?”
Jessica’s face paled, making her eyes stand out in stark contrast. She moved to one of the crates a few feet away and sat very still, watching him.
A loud sigh sounded over the phone. “I understand your frustration. And I guess I can understand your suspicions, even though I don’t appreciate it. But you can trust me, Ryan. I’m in D.C. at FBI headquarters right now. We’ve got everybody who’s anybody looking into this. In the meantime, there could be men in the mountains already searching for you two. You’ve got to come in. Tell me where you are and I’ll send someone to pick you up.”
“Tell me who the mole is and I’ll bring the witness in,” Ryan said, glancing at his watch again. He needed to end the call. He and Alex were careful not to use Jessica’s name, but if someone was listening to this call, they wouldn’t have to be a genius to figure out who “the witness” was.
“You don’t get to make demands,” Alex fumed. “I want her back in protective custody in twenty-four hours or you’ll face charges, starting with obstruction of justice.”
Ryan hung up and snapped the battery pack off the back of the phone.
“Who was that?” Jessica asked, as Ryan shoved the pieces of the phone into his pocket.
“My boss, Alex Trask. I called to see if he knows who leaked your location.”
“Does he?”
“Not that he’s admitting, no.”
“You don’t believe him?”
He shrugged. “I haven’t decided yet.”
Jessica rubbed her hands up and down her arms, hugging her jacket tighter. “I don’t understand any of this. How did DeGaullo figure out where I was?” Her skin stretched taut across her cheekbones. The strain of the past few hours was beginning to show.
“Someone inside WitSec leaked your information. If DeGaullo isn’t the one who’s after you, then whoever is behind this is framing DeGaullo. Does anyone else have a reason to want you dead?”
Her pink lips parted in surprise. “Are you saying someone else is trying to kill me?”
“That depends on whether you’re hiding something from me.”
Jessica fisted her hands beside her on the crate. “I’m not hiding anything.”
Ryan wanted to trust her, but everything he knew about her told him he couldn’t. “I wouldn’t have thought DeGaullo had enough influence to get someone inside the Justice Department to help him. He’d have to have some pretty bad dirt on someone to make them do that. Or offer an equally incredible favor in return.”
He crouched down in front of her again and put his hands on her shoulders, anchoring her in place. “Give me one reason to trust you. Tell me why DeGaullo would risk everything for revenge against a former accountant he barely knew. Why does he really want to kill you?”
Chapter Seven
Jessica’s lips flattened and she shoved his arms off her shoulders. “Maybe he just doesn’t want to spend the rest of his life in prison.” She fairly spit the words at him. “If you’ll remember, he wasn’t found not guilty. The trial ended in a hung jury. The Justice Department can retry him at any time. If they do, they’ll need me to testify again.”
Her face was alarmingly pale. And in spite of her fiercely uttered words, it was all bravado. She was shaking, and she looked so lost, so vulnerable, that Ryan had the sudden urge to pull her close, to wrap his arms around her and hold her until the color returned to her cheeks and the fear left her eyes.
He doubted she’d appreciate that gesture, since he’d just accused her of sleeping with a scumbag like DeGaullo. The fact that he even wanted to hold her didn’t make sense. His lack of sleep must be clouding his judgment.
He clasped his hands together to keep from reaching for her, and reminded himself of what she’d done. She’d helped a crime lord launder money. She’d covered his tracks so he could spew drugs and violence into the streets of New York. That knowledge helped ease Ryan’s insane urge to comfort her, if only a little.
“Are you sure there’s a leak in WitSec?” she asked, squeezing her arms around her middle. “Maybe that jogger recognized me from the papers. Maybe he called a reporter, and—”
“That jogger was a contract killer. You couldn’t see his face because it was turned away, but he was one of the men lying on the floor of my bathroom.” He hated the way her eyes widened in fear, but he didn’t have time to coddle her. If he’d misjudged the length of time it would take for a phone trace, Alex could have men zeroing in on his location right now. And the men who’d shot at him and Jessica could be following their trail, too.
“Higgins knew I was a marshal,” Ryan continued. “And he knew who you were. You haven’t been into town since you moved in. So unless you called someone—”
“I didn’t.”
“Then the only way anyone could know where you were was if they got that information from inside WitSec.”
She took a minute to process that, her throat working as she swallowed. All her earlier bravado was gone. “What are we going to do?”
The desolation in her words had him gritting his teeth. He glanced at his watch again and stood. “You have to make a choice.”
Jessica shoved herself up from the crate and stared up at him, her doe eyes big and round. “What choice?” she whispered.
Ryan shoved his hands in his pockets. It was either that or grab her and try to wipe that frightened look off her face. He didn’t see how the jury had let DeGaullo go when they’d seen Jessica on the stand. She had him half believing her and he was the last person to trust someone like her.
“First option,” he said, forcing a coldness into his voice that he was, unfortunately, far from feeling, “you go back into protective custody and hope the marshals assigned to you aren’t on DeGaullo’s payroll.”
She winced. “What’s the second option?”
“Stay in the mountains with me. Let me protect you.”
She swallowed and blinked several times. “Why would you do that?”
Because, for some inexplicable reason, he couldn’t quite reconcile her notorious past with the forlorn woman in front of him. Right now, she seemed so innocent, so fragile. She needed him, and he couldn’t stomach the thought of turning her over to someone else without knowing if he could trust them to keep her safe.
Not that he’d admit that to her. She wouldn’t believe him, anyway, not after enduring all his city girl comments. He chose a half-truth instead. “It’s my job.”
Her quick nod of acceptance, acknowledging that he would o
nly protect her because it was his job, had him clenching his jaw.
“How would you protect me?” she asked.
“We’d head deeper into the mountains and hide for a few days. Stuart, the guy I mentioned earlier, opened a private investigation and security firm after he got out of the army. He’s been investigating something for me already. He won’t mind looking into this as well. He has a lot of powerful contacts he groomed while still in the service, plenty of strings to pull, favors to call in. He might not be able to figure out who the mole is, but he can help us figure out who we can trust to help us.”
What Ryan didn’t tell her was that their only chance to elude any trackers on their trail was to go into some rough terrain, where even the motorcycle couldn’t go. They’d have to hoof it from there. He hoped city girl could handle it. She looked like she was in good physical condition, but she wasn’t used to hiking for hours on end. She also couldn’t hike with clothes so big they were falling off her, and floppy shoes that tripped her up. He’d have to do something about that if she agreed to his plan.
“Where would we stay?” she asked. “How would we survive?”
The uncertainty in her voice was palpable, but she seemed to be seriously considering going on the run with him. Maybe she was tougher than he thought. Then again, maybe she just didn’t realize exactly how hard the next few days could be if they stayed in the mountains. He decided to lay it all out, so she couldn’t say later that he hadn’t warned her.
“It won’t be easy,” he said. “The nights are bitterly cold in these elevations this time of year. I brought some energy bars and water, but not enough to sustain us for long. We’ll have to live off the land.”
A look of doubt crossed her face. “Live off the land? What does that mean?”
“No grocery stores, no electricity, no soft bed to sleep in...no bathroom.” He waited for that to sink in. From the disgruntled look on her face, he guessed the no bathroom comment had made her decision for her.
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