Dangerous Memories

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Authors: Angi Morgan

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THE MORE SHE REMEMBERS…

After witnessing her mother’s murder as a child, Jolene Atkins had forced the memories from her mind. Now the killer had resurfaced, but this time Jo had Levi Cooper to protect her. Even if he was disobeying direct orders from the U.S. Marshal service to do so….

THE MORE ONE U.S. MARSHAL HAS TO PROTECT HER

Levi had vowed years ago to always keep
the innocent beauty safe. So when Jo insisted on finally getting some answers, Levi had no choice but to help her. But watching as the pain of the past threatened to crush a spirited Jo, Levi ignored every professional instinct and pulled her into his arms. After one night together, Levi was more determined than ever to close this case. Because that one night would never be enough….

Did she really think she could get away from him on a train? Where would she hide?

The compartment lock turned.

Key.

Not Jo. Not the steward.

He wanted to let whoever threatened inside, catch them, eliminate the danger.

He shot across the room as soundlessly as he could, pulled Jo down with him on the floor, covering her mouth as she woke. As best as his
six plus feet could manage, he rolled on top of her to protect her from assault.

He recognized the momentary panic in her eyes that quickly subsided, shifting to question.

Shh. He mouthed the age-old sign to be quiet and braced for an attack.

The door had slid inches, but no one entered.

He lowered his mouth to her ear. “I’m going to move toward the berths and you’re going
into the shower.”

She nodded and they repositioned. He quickly got to his back with his gun pointed toward the door.

Nothing.

“Could it have been someone who had the wrong compartment?” she whispered a minute later.

“Door was locked.”

She stared at the three-inch opening. “What does this mean?”

“Whoever’s trying to kill you…is on this train.”

Angi Morgan

Dangerous
Memories

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Angi Morgan had several jobs before taking the opportunity to stay home with her children and develop the writing career she always wanted. Volunteer work led to a houseful of visiting kids and an extended family.

When the house is quiet, Angi plots ways to intrigue her readers with complex story lines. She throws her characters into situations they’ll
never overcome…until they find the one person who can help.

With their three children out of the house, Angi and her husband live in North Texas with only the four-legged “kids” to interrupt her writing. For up-to-date news or to send Angi a note, visit her website,
www.angimorgan.com
.

Books by Angi Morgan

HARLEQUIN INTRIGUE

1232—HILL COUNTRY HOLDUP
1262—.38 CALIBER COVER-UP
1406—DANGEROUS MEMORIES

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Jolene Atkins, aka Emaline Frasier—
For as long as she can remember, she’s longed for a “normal” life, one free from lies. As the memories of her mother’s murder begin to resurface, she has two choices: don’t remember and look over her shoulder the rest of her life; or remember, enter the WitSec program living a lie and looking over her shoulder the rest of her
life. Is there a third option?

U.S. Marshal Levi Cooper—
He’s the “go to” guy in the Denver Division Witness Security Program. A classic workaholic, but the guy who always keeps his word. He made a promise to Jolene’s dad—and will die before breaking his word.

U.S. Marshal Sherry Peachtree—
Levi’s supervisor in the Denver office.

FBI Agent George Lanning—
An acquaintance who’s worked
with Levi in the Dallas office and who is prepared to help in the search for the murderer.

Elaine Frasier—
A Dallas defense attorney who discovered something so horrific she chose to turn federal witness but was murdered along with two U.S. Marshals twenty years ago.

Joseph Atkins, aka Robert Frasier—
Jolene’s father. A Dallas landscaper who entered the WitSec program to protect his daughter.
He was recently killed in a suspicious car accident after he began looking into his wife’s case.

The Client—
Represented by Elaine Frasier, they arranged for her brutal murder before she could hand over any evidence. Have they been lying in wait for the Frasiers to return?

First to my “sprint” buds: Thank goodness for “the magic room.”
I hope it doesn’t appear silly for me to dedicate my story to a couple of dogs.
But over the past thirteen years, I’ve spent more time with my (first ever) pets than human beings. Each reminded me to take a break and play. Each reminded me about unconditional love. And each will be remembered in my heart forever.
Without
Logan and Pepper, life wouldn’t have been as rich, or nearly as funny.
They can never be replaced, only remembered with tremendous love.

Chapter One

“Gun!”

U.S. Marshal Levi Cooper did a three-sixty search for the person shouting or confirmation of an actual gun. He couldn’t see anything, but he couldn’t take a chance with Jolene’s life. He moved. “Everybody down!” The few people attending the funeral heard the warning and scattered away from the casket.

All except the target.

So he ran. Slipping
and sliding downhill through the mud and sheets of pouring rain, he ran to save her life.

He watched Jolene Atkins continue to stand under the canopy erected by the funeral home. Next to her father’s casket, still suspended on the lowering system, her shoulders shook as if she were crying.

She didn’t take cover.

Levi hurdled a flower arrangement to get to her faster. He should have
listened to himself earlier and never left her side. He heard the shot. Choices? Either hit the dirt or run like those in his peripheral vision. He leapt in a flying tackle to take Jolene down with him.

He’d pushed hard off the slippery grass, heavily landing on top of her. He turned as much as he could to take the brunt of the fall. Their bodies slid off the fake-grass rug, into the mud.

Wreath stands fell onto the casket.

Roses and other flowers fell on their heads.

Rain pelted them like ice shards.

Levi rolled on top of her, keeping his weight on his elbows and knees, using the bulletproof vest he wore to shield her heart. If it were only that easy.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

Jolene shook her short dark hair and wiped the rain from her face.
Was the hitch in her breathing and wide-eyed confusion from falling or recognition he was there?

“You.”

Recognition. She twisted trying to free herself. “I should have known you’d stoop to dramatics to prove yourself right.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He eased his body the opposite direction he wanted her to roll.

“I’m not going anywhere with you.” She shoved him aside,
and a bloodred carnation fell to the puddle between them. On her stomach, she put her hands in the mud and curled her toes.

He’d knocked her right out of her shoes.

“Did you have to ruin his funeral?”

“We need cover.” Ignoring her accusations, he jerked her hand into his, forcing her close to his side. He pulled his weapon from its holster. Not a good situation. No backup. No idea
who had pulled that trigger.

The shot had definitely come from the top of the hill behind them. On their knees, he awkwardly draped an arm over Jo, keeping her body low to the ground until they could sit with the coffin at their backs—the only cover he had.

“Did you stage this?” she asked, one hand in a fist, the other pointing toward the trees.

The coat she wore was thin and already
soaked through. She’d be frozen in a matter of minutes.

“Stage a guy trying to kill you at your father’s funeral?”

“I wouldn’t put it past a devious person to do anything to get what he wants.”

“I thought this site was a bad idea.” He didn’t blame her. He’d been against having the funeral in St. Louis from the start. She’d insisted on using the plot next to her mother’s.

“Four
years ago, you and my father assured me he was no longer in witness protection.”

Yeah, she was angry. Someone had just taken a shot at her and she was yelling at
him.

“One problem at a time. I can’t see a shooter.”

The trouble really began when Levi tried to explain why her father had convinced her he was no longer in the witness protection program. Explaining was difficult when
he didn’t understand why Joseph had lied, either.

“Jolene, I’m here against orders because I’m probably the only person left who believes your father.”
Believed.
A week had passed and it was still hard to think of Joseph as dead. “Why won’t you trust me?”

“You lied.” She drew her knees up to her chin and hid her face. “You both lied.”

Levi couldn’t respond. It was a truth he couldn’t
deny or justify at the moment. Helping her would keep his promise to her dad but it wouldn’t make her feel better. Wanting to comfort her was a part of attending the funeral. He knew how hard it was to say goodbye to a parent. Not exactly under these circumstances, but he knew. There wasn’t any time for comfort.

The sound of car engines faded and the whine of police sirens grew.

Mourners
were gone. Flower arrangements were destroyed. No sounds other than the tent canopy flapping in the wind and rain pelting the tarp. The chance to say goodbye with dignity was done. Jolene couldn’t hear his professionalism shattering within his mind.

“Is there any reason to continue sitting in the mud?” she asked, wiping rivulets of water from her face.

“Give me a minute to check things
out.” Making demands had never worked with Joseph Atkins’s daughter. Hadn’t worked with him, either.

She seemed to accept his statement, remaining still while he zigzagged from one headstone to the next, attempting to draw another attack. Nothing happened. No one in sight. Even the cemetery workers had fled.

“Let’s go, Jolene.” He raised his voice and ran back to the gravesite, swiping
at his wet face. “We need to leave before the cops haul us in for questioning.”

“Your big marshal badge won’t keep the police at bay?” She pushed back her hair and seemed to notice the strewn disorder around them. “I can’t leave things like this.” She immediately set flowers straight, scooped her heels from where she’d originally stood and stuffed them in her coat pockets.

His badge
wouldn’t give him any authority over Jolene and he had no official reason to be in Missouri. Jolene stopped short at a small headstone—the one placed to declare her death and escape into WITSEC.

“Jo...” He took her elbow and gently tugged her toward his car. “He’d want you safe.”

“But—”

“No buts. We’re going.”

They skirted the edge of the cemetery back to his rental car, exiting
through the gate opposite where the police entered. Joseph Atkins would rest in peace next to the wife he’d never stopped loving. Which was the reason Levi had finally agreed to bury him where friends thought he’d been buried for twenty years.

Five minutes down the road with the heater blasting on high, Jolene took a visible, deep breath. The tears seemed to be over for the moment. He needed
her calm. Thinking straight.

“What are you doing here, Levi? Or should I call you Marshal Cooper?”

“I came to say goodbye to a good friend.”

“Don’t you mean client? Or witness? I can’t believe Dad kept this from me. Why? What was the point? How could you have gone along with it?”

“I admit that being introduced to you as a family friend wasn’t my idea, but your dad did what
he thought was right. He was always thinking about your safety.”

“Come on, Levi. Does this really seem like the
best
thing to you?”

They were both soaked to the skin, making him wish he’d rented a car with warming seats. Her makeup was circling her emerald eyes from both tears and the rain. Did it look like the best thing? Not by a long shot, but she was alive.

“In the past week,
my father died in a car accident. The United States Marshals Service advised that burying him next to my mother may alert her murderers to my whereabouts, but because I wasn’t officially in the WITSEC program they couldn’t help me. And you show up yesterday with a letter supposedly from my father.”

“It’s real.”

“Stow it. He lied for four years, he’s lying now. I did not witness my mother’s
murder.” She shook her short hair so hard drops of water sailed across the car. “I’ve seen the best therapists WITSEC had to offer. Everyone believes I’m
not
a witness—except you.”

“And your father. And the person who tried to kill you a half hour ago.”

“If you hadn’t shouted ‘gun’ we would have finished his service. In all the rain, you probably saw a stick or something.”

“I didn’t
shout gun.” So who had shouted? Someone who wanted the crowd out of the way?

One warning. One shot. One attempt. And no one tailing them. Didn’t make sense. If they were tailed, he’d pull into one of the restaurants with rear street exits he’d found yesterday. Easier to elude a following car than attempt to outrun them.

“And I know the difference between a stick and gun. Even in the
rain.”

“Yes, but
you
are a liar.”

“That does it.” He quickly switched lanes, pulling into an empty fast-food lot and headed toward the Dumpster.

Stomping on the brakes, the rental skidded to a stop. He had it under control, but Jolene still held onto the dashboard. It took her a minute before she relaxed into the seat.

The rain continued. Hail pinged the roof a couple of times
or he would have stood outside. He shook off his coat in the cramped space, pulled at the straps holding the vest in place and yanked it over his head, tossing both into the backseat.

“Would you take me to my hotel on Paige near Highway 270? Aren’t you worried they’re following us?” She shook her hands in the air. “Whoever
they
are.”

“Yes, as a matter of fact I am.” He shifted in the
seat and hooked his arm over the steering wheel. “But let’s get one thing straight. I did not willingly lie to you. I respected your father’s wishes. For some reason he wanted you away from him. He said it was important for you to have a life outside of witness protection after you graduated. So I helped with that by keeping the fact I was his WITSEC handler to myself. I have to protect others every
day. It’s part of my job. But I am
not
a liar.”

She didn’t respond. He put the car in gear, checking the mirror often, turning suddenly a couple of times without using his indicator. Just in case the gunman was following. He couldn’t see much with the rain pelting the car. The back window was foggy, obscuring his ability to watch for cars that may have followed.

“My mother’s murder was
a long time ago, Levi. And I honestly don’t remember anything about it. I was hiding. It’s in every report. Hiding in my toy box.”

Jolene’s resolve was straightforward, confident. The same person he’d grown to admire during his visits with her father. Okay, he could admit that all the visits hadn’t been just to see a man well settled in the life WITSEC had provided. Maybe a few of the visits
had ulterior motives. Extra Sunday dinners or even Monday leftovers. Extra visits with both the Atkinses.

“The triple homicide involving your mother is an ongoing investigation. They never caught or identified all the men your father saw. The man he put away was killed shortly after arriving in prison.” Time to be honest about everything. “One of the guns was used in three other murders as
recently as six months ago.”

“Why did he keep this from me?”

“I can’t answer that, Jo. What I can do is get you back to WITSEC and to someone who will help you remember.”

“I can’t do that.”

The confidence was gone. Even the idea of trying to remember seemed to frighten her.

“With the proper help—”

“Let me say it a different way. I
won’t
remember. Why would anyone
try to remember their mother being slashed to death?”

“To stay alive.”

The sincerity Jolene saw as Levi said the simple words scared her to her marrow. He meant it. And she believed him.

The words resonated, bouncing around in her head.
Stay alive.
An echo of something. But her father had said those words her entire life. Everything they’d done was in order to stay safe...to stay
alive.

“You really think they want me dead? I was only five when it...when Mama...”

“Hey,” he said with a comforting sigh. He watched the road, but his hand slid across hers, covering her shaking fingers, warming the chill away. “There’s time to talk later. Right now we should pick up your suitcase and change into dry clothes.”

So much, so fast. Too fast.

She removed her hand
from under his, deliberately meshing her fingers together and tucking them under her chin. He was a U.S. Marshal. Not a confidant. Not her father’s colleague. And never her true friend.

She may trust Levi Cooper with her life, but not any part of her heart.

Been there. Done that. Saved the hurt.

Waiting to discuss the details was fine. She was cold, wet, emotionally overwhelmed
and at the moment, easily swept up into the idea of danger she’d been cautioned about her entire life. She didn’t know if she believed Levi’s gun sighting, but she wanted to see the letter her father had written.

Her father’s precautions had kept her safe for twenty years. But she had no intention of traveling to wherever the marshal wanted her to talk with more experts. Nothing would bring
back the memories.

Nightmares were just nightmares.

Speeding through the first couple of yellow lights seemed normal. He was on edge and she’d been lost in thought. But when Levi gripped the wheel tighter, slowed for the yellow, then sped up through the red, she knew there was a problem.

“You could give a girl some warning.” Her bare feet were pressing hard on the floorboard, trying
to stop the car, then just keeping her in her seat.

“How did they find us? Nobody followed from the cemetery.” He slammed his palm on the steering wheel.

“Honestly, if you think I’m going to fall for—”

She turned around to see a black car run the light, causing a chain reaction crash with crossing traffic that tried to avoid a collision. She verified her seat belt was tight and
clenched the dash again. “I don’t believe this is happening.”

“Believe it.”

Levi drove like a professional racer, darting in and out and around the cars in their way. Skidding around corners in the rain. The black car stayed right with them—never gaining, never falling behind.

“You can’t keep driving like this. You aren’t that lucky. They won’t have to kill us because you will.”

There was no difference in Levi’s expression. No recognition that his thoughts may have gone to her father’s death in a car accident. He seemed to concentrate on his driving too much to look at her, but she could stare nowhere else except at him. If she watched the cars or the road or paid too much attention to the close calls, she’d begin to panic. She couldn’t control the helplessness building
in her throat. It was buried deep inside somewhere and bubbled to the surface every time there was a near miss with a car.

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