Witness Security Breach

by Juno Rushdan

  Their only hope is each other.

  There’s not a target out there that US Marshals Aiden Yazzie and Charlotte “Charlie” Killinger can’t bring down. Until a high-profile witness goes missing and a fellow marshal is murdered. On a killer’s hit list, they go on the run. Their will to stay alive is challenged only by their long-denied physical attraction. Can they steer clear of temptation to find their witness and dodge their pursuers before it’s too late?

  The kitchen window shattered with a pop.

  “Get down!” Aiden was already in motion as the words left his mouth.

  At the same time, Charlie drew her 9mm, taking a defensive stance.

  More bullets buzzed through the air and punched holes in the cabinets, sending jagged plywood shards in all directions.

  They had one big problem. The rifle trained on them.

  Charlie? Her name was on his tongue when she came crawling around the kitchen island with her STI Staccato-P, locked and loaded, in hand.

  Another volley of gunfire tore through the room.

  Distance. Aiden needed distance from the scene.

  Impossibly rapid gunfire was controlled, calculated. Bullets whizzed way too close for Aiden’s comfort. The shooter’s accuracy indicated that he or she was well trained, stationary, and had a good, if not spot-on, idea of where they were despite the drawn blinds and the fact that they’d taken cover—but apparently weren’t concealed. Which left only one explanation.

  Their sniper had a precision-guided smart scope that could track targets behind walls.

  WITNESS SECURITY BREACH

  Juno Rushdan

  Juno Rushdan is the award-winning author of steamy, action-packed romantic thrillers that keep you on the edge of your seat. She writes about kick-ass heroes and strong heroines fighting for their lives as well as their happily-ever-afters. As a veteran air force intelligence officer, she uses her background supporting special forces to craft realistic stories that make you sweat and swoon. Juno currently lives in the DC area with her patient husband, two rambunctious kids and a spoiled rescue dog. To receive a FREE book from Juno, sign up for her newsletter at junorushdan.com/mailing-list. Also be sure to follow Juno on BookBub for the latest on sales at bit.ly/BookBubjuno.

  Books by Juno Rushdan

  Harlequin Intrigue

  A Hard Core Justice Thriller

  Hostile Pursuit

  Witness Security Breach

  Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com.

  CAST OF CHARACTERS

  Aiden Yazzie—He’s the best in the Special Operations Group (SOG)—highly trained tactical US marshals brought in when extraordinary measures are necessary. He’s been in love with his partner for years, but he doesn’t want a fling with her. Only forever is enough.

  Charlotte “Charlie” Killinger—A hard-charging former marine and one of the few women in the elite ranks of the SOG. Her complicated past has left a hole in her heart that she’s tried to fill with her job. She keeps everyone at a distance, even her partner and best friend, Aiden.

  Eugene Potter/Edgar Plinski—This witness hasn’t told the Department of Justice all that he knows for a reason and his secret endangers everyone around him.

  Nick McKenna—A good friend of Aiden, Charlie’s ex-lover and a colleague.

  William “Big Bill” Walsh—Self-made and uncompromising, he’s a mob boss with a vendetta and won’t let anyone take what’s his without a fight.

  Frank Devlin—A ruthless mercenary on Walsh’s payroll.

  Ava Garcia—FBI agent building a case against William Walsh.

  For those who fear love.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Epilogue

  Excerpt from Stalked in the Night by Carla Cassidy

  Chapter One

  The next four words to leave his mouth would obliterate a life. Four words every US marshal hated saying. Four words every person in the witness security program dreaded hearing.

  “You’re in imminent danger,” Aiden Yazzie said, closing the last set of kitchen blinds, muting the bright April sun. He turned and met Eugene Potter’s terrified face.

  The urgency of the situation was spelled out in big, bold letters across the bulletproof vests of Aiden’s four-man special operations team, the CAR-15 rifles strapped across their backs and the tactical, turbo-charged vehicle with blacked-out windows parked in front of the suburban Palisades home. When the US Marshals Service identified a need for extraordinary measures, it was the Special Operations Group—SOG—that answered the call.

  The sixty-two-year-old man staggered back and sat on a stool at the counter. “But how?” He ran a shaking hand through his thinning gray hair. “I’ve been so careful. How was I blown?”

  Aiden exchanged a glance with his partner and best friend, Charlotte “Charlie” Killinger. The answer to Eugene’s question had the entire Justice Department in an uproar, had tarnished the impeccable reputation of their San Diego field office and sent the SOG scrambling.

  Eugene had a right to know, along with the other unsuspecting individuals in the program that’d been compromised in the Pacific Coast region, but the reason was classified.

  In typical Killinger fashion, Charlie redirected. “If you want to live, we have to relocate you again. Immediately.”

  “I—I can’t.” Eugene’s mouth hung open, and his eyes blinked rapidly. “My wife is at work.”

  Aiden stepped up beside the trembling man. “We’re prepared to pick her up before we head to the Safe Site and Protection Center. At the SSPC, you’ll both be briefed.” He put a hand on the older man’s shoulder. Tension coursed through Aiden. Each minute they spent in the house endangered Potter. “We should leave now.”

  “You don’t understand.” Eugene shook his head. “We’ve only been married six months. I followed procedure. Sharon doesn’t know who I really am or the things I’ve done.” Despite the air-conditioning that matched the temperate SoCal weather, a sweat broke out on his brow. Propping an elbow on the counter, he wiped his forehead with the heel of his palm.

  “It’s good you followed protocol. Smart,” Charlie said in a clipped tone, flicking a look at her watch. “I’ll explain why you couldn’t have disclosed the details.”

  Those in WITSEC left everything behind, buried the old version of themselves and were instructed never to share the truth or their past with anyone. Not even a new spouse.

  In the event of an ugly divorce, the secret could be divulged out of revenge.

  Starting a marriage based on lies was brutal. But not as brutal as a bullet to the head.

  Following the rules kept people alive and no witness who’d done so had ever been killed. It was Aiden and Charlie’s job to make sure that didn’t change.

  “She’ll know I lied to her!” Eugene’s face snapped up. “She’ll question everything. My love. Our marriage.” His gaze flew to the photo gallery above the breakfast nook. Family memories featuring young children adorned the wall. “Sharon will never leave San Diego. Her four
kids are here, six grandbabies. Cindy, her youngest, is pregnant with her first. I thought I’d be here for the rest of my life. It’s the reason I married her, allowed myself to become part of the family. You people promised that after I testified and got settled, I’d be fine.” His features twisted in pain, his eyes brimming with tears. “I’m going to be sick.” He jumped to his feet and ran into the hallway bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

  “What’s taking so long?” Johnny Torres asked over the comms device in their ears.

  He and Dale Banks were the other two tactical marshals assigned to the high-priority detail. They were covering the front and rear of the house.

  “The dynamic duo should’ve had this wrapped up by now,” Dale said, his tone caustic.

  Aiden rolled his eyes. He and Charlie were indeed dynamic together. They were the best SOG operators in the unit. Smack talk came with the territory. Under normal circumstances he would’ve enjoyed it, but after taking a wrecking ball to a man’s life, he wasn’t in the mood.

  Charlie met his gaze. Those sapphire-blue eyes of hers were hard as gemstones. Held an incisive gleam that never dulled. With blond hair cut in a sleek bob, her fair skin and icy veneer, she was stunningly good-looking, and called the snow queen by the other guys.

  To Aiden, she was more of a Viking warrior ready for battle. She was simply spectacular.

  She toggled her earpiece. “If we want your opinions, we’ll give it to you. Torres, start the car. We’re leaving the wife behind and heading straight to the SSPC.” She disconnected.

  After Torres gave a curt acknowledgment over comms, Aiden asked her, “Isn’t that premature? Mr. Potter might want to try to convince his wife to go with him.”

  “Did you take a gander at that?” Charlie hooked her thumbs in her gun belt and inclined her head toward the picture-perfect wall of photos. “Each person is an anchor, weighting his new bride to her old life. He never should’ve been foolish enough to fall in love and buy into some fairy-tale ending. A clean break is best.”

  “It takes courage to love.” Aiden strode up to her, bringing them face-to-face. Their eyes locked. “Don’t knock it until you’re brave enough to try it.”

  Charlie slinked closer, sexy as sin, and hoisted her chin like a gladiator, quickening his pulse. They would’ve been nose to nose if he didn’t have a good six inches on her.

  “What you call bravery, I see as delusion.” Her voice was low and cold but heated his skin.

  For a second, he was tempted to lower his head and kiss her. Melt her glacial facade with all the red-hot passion burning in his veins that wasn’t professional or platonic, but restraint bred from lots and lots of practice had become one of his virtues.

  When he made his move, it had to be the right time and place. He didn’t want to be one of Charlie’s lovers who had the shelf life of bread. He wanted to be the love of her life.

  “Leaving Mrs. Potter behind with a clean break isn’t our decision to make,” he said.

  “Nevertheless, Tweedledee and Tweedledum outside have a point. This is taking too long. We agreed that we’d be in and out in ten minutes.”

  Aiden didn’t need to check his watch to instinctively know they’d been inside for six. Already his gut agreed with Charlie. They’d been there too long.

  “You still have that bad feeling?” she asked, her hand resting on the gun on her hip.

  The moment they’d pulled up, it was as if a clammy finger had been dragged down his spine.

  He wished he could chalk it up to nerves over keeping his big news from Charlie. Telling her that this might be their last assignment together if he accepted the coveted position as an SOG instructor at Camp Beauregard in Louisiana. It was a conversation he wanted to have about as much as he wanted to get a root canal without Novocain. But this wasn’t nerves.

  Aiden stepped away, scrubbing a palm over his jaw. “Yeah, I still have it.”

  “You might be in denial about your sixth sense, but I’m not. I’ve learned the hard way never to ignore your gift.”

  Denial couldn’t be further from the truth. If experience was any indication, the prickly tingle warned that someone was going to die today.

  Was it a gift to know when death was going to come calling? Felt more like a curse.

  “We can’t wait for Eugene to pull it together.” Charlie shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Crossed her arms over her chest. “We need to go.”

  No bad feeling necessary to realize that was an understatement.

  There was a high price on Eugene’s head. His personal information had been sold on the dark web. At least one hit man that they were aware of had been contracted, prompting the urgent relocation. It was possible others might come slithering out of the gutter to try to collect.

  A toilet flushed and water ran.

  Eugene stumbled out of the bathroom, looking peaked and more devastated than before. “I need to talk to Sharon, say goodbye at the very least. Tell her I’m sorry. I owe her that.”

  Aiden threw Charlie an I-told-you-so look, which she returned with a conciliatory nod.

  “Let me grab something first,” Eugene said, “and then we can go.”

  “There’s no time for you to pack anything.” Aiden sidestepped, blocking his path. “All the essentials will be at the SSPC, just like last time.”

  “It’ll only take a second. I won’t leave without it.” Eugene pivoted, scurrying around him to the open shelving beside the stove, which was lined with cookbooks, dishes and knickknacks. He took down a display of wine corks in a tall glass vase, dumped them onto the counter and fished out one from the pile. A relieved look washed over him. “Okay. Now we can g—”

  The kitchen window shattered with a pop.

  “Get down!” Aiden was already in motion as the words left his mouth.

  He lunged for Eugene. At the same time, Charlie drew her 9 mm, taking a defensive posture.

  Aiden shoved Eugene hard to the floor as the vase on the counter shattered, spraying glass over them. More bullets buzzed through the air and punched holes in the cabinets, sending jagged plywood shards in all directions.

  They had one big problem. The rifle trained on them.

  Covering his head with his hands, Eugene shrieked but had the sense to stay pinned in the chaos of the fusillade.

  Aiden tightened his hold on him, ensuring Eugene was shielded. No bullet would reach Eugene unless it went through Aiden first.

  Charlie? Her name was on his tongue when she came crawling around the kitchen island with her STI Staccato-P, locked and loaded, in hand. Only SOG carried the STI rather than the Glock 22 that rank-and-file marshals were issued. What elite operator didn’t want a gun that held twenty-one rounds, shot superfast and never failed in accuracy?

  Another volley of gunfire tore through the room.

  Distance. Aiden needed distance from the scene.

  He pushed back mentally, slowed down the external factors along with his breathing and the rush of blood through his ears. His soul quieted.

  His mind brought everything into razor-sharp focus, discarding every distraction in seconds.

  From the sound, the rifle being used was suppressed. Based on the I-want-to-blow-off-your-head-sized holes in the cupboards, it was also high-powered.

  The impossibly rapid gunfire was controlled, calculated. Bullets whizzed way too close for Aiden’s comfort. The shooter’s accuracy indicated that he or she was well trained, stationary, and had a good, if not spot-on, idea of where they were despite the drawn blinds. Aiden had got Eugene behind cover—but apparently they weren’t concealed. Which left only one explanation.

  Their sniper had a precision-guided smart scope that could track targets behind walls. “Shooter is using LIDAR or ultrasonic technology,” Aiden said to Charlie.

  “Must be military grade.”

  If
they didn’t want to ingest lead, sitting there wasn’t an option.

  “We’ve got to move,” Aiden said. “Now!” Not waiting for Eugene to react, he grabbed the older man by the collar and hauled him up to his knees.

  Bullets peppered the spot where they’d been.

  They shuffled forward. Aiden used his own body as cover. Glass crunched beneath them.

  A maelstrom of rounds strafed the kitchen all around, riddling the drywall with holes. A hot slug sliced past their heads.

  Too close. One centimeter closer and Aiden would’ve been toast.

  Eugene fumbled, a panicked flush on his cheeks. The wine cork slipped from his grasp.

  “I need it!” He had the reckless gall to resist moving and reached back for the cork. A piece of glass sliced open his palm, drawing blood.

  Eugene yelped from the small cut like he’d been shot.

  Aiden pushed him lower and grabbed the wine cork. Rather than handing it over, he held on to it and forced Eugene toward the refrigerator.

  The fridge was one of those massive units, a sixty-four-inch side-by-side fridge-and-freezer set.

  Aiden opened the fridge and tucked Eugene behind the door.

  “Give it to me!” Eugene tried to wrest the cork from Aiden’s hand.

  If he was more concerned with a piece of bark than taking a bullet, no way in hell was Aiden giving it to him.

  Eugene snatched hold of one end of the wine cork and pulled on it, separating it in half, revealing a concealed flash drive.

  “What is this?” Aiden asked, holding tight to the drive.

  “I need it!” Eugene clawed at Aiden’s fingers like his life depended on getting it back.

  Aiden shoved him against the interior of the fridge before he waved Charlie over to take the other side. There was only space for two behind the doors.

  “Torres, Banks,” Charlie said over comms, her voice like steel as she made her way to the refrigerator, “we’re taking gunfire. What’s your status?”

  “I left the vehicle. I’m headed inside to help get Potter out,” Torres responded.