Liam's Witness Protection (Man On A Mission 4) (3 page)

“Was that necessary?”

“Not unless I wanted to have a job tomorrow,” Cody said dryly.

“Sorry,” Liam apologized. “I guess I’m not thinking clearly at the moment.”

“D’Arcy can be trusted. There are only a few absolutely incorruptible people in the world, people I’d trust with my own life, and Nick D’Arcy is one of them. He’s also one of the most brilliant minds in the business, not to mention eerily omniscient. Didn’t I ever tell you his nickname is Baker Street?”

“Yeah, you mentioned it once or twice. Keira, too. Sherlock Holmes, right?”

“Right,” Cody said. “So do you want to hear the plan he came up with, or not?”

“Let’s have it.”

“The agency has a safe house in Fairfax, Virginia. Got a pen and paper?”

“Hold on a sec.” Liam pulled both from an inner jacket pocket, and balanced his cell phone as best he could on his shoulder. “Shoot.”

“Go to this address first.” Liam jotted down the address Cody gave him, then repeated it back. “Right. Someone from the agency will meet you there and exchange vehicles—just in case they know who you are, just in case they’ve got your license plate number and are tracking you that way.”

“Make it an SUV, okay? I’m more comfortable with that kind of versatility and power under the hood.”

“Sure thing. You won’t have any complaints. And he’ll have a new cell phone for you, too. Encrypted. Untraceable. At least I think it’ll be untraceable. Alec had to tell the FBI who you were, so of course they’ve got your cell phone number. They can locate you by triangulating on the cell towers your phone pings off.”

Liam hadn’t thought of that, hadn’t thought he needed to hide from law enforcement as well as from the men out to kill Cate, but apparently Cody had. “For now, make sure your cell phone is off unless you’re using it. Once you’ve got new wheels and a new phone, go to this safe house.” And Cody recited another address.

“Okay,” Liam said, after he’d confirmed he had the second address correct. “So we go to the agency’s safe house. Then what?” He looked at Cate as he said this, but her expression gave away nothing of what she was thinking.

“You stay there with our witness, at least for tonight, while the agency opens an investigation—or rather, reactivates the one we already had going with Trace McKinnon and Alec. You
did
know the agency had a hand in this case, didn’t you?”

“I didn’t, but I do now.”

“Talk to Alec, once you get to the safe house. He’ll bring you up to speed on everything you need to know. Tell him I said the agency trusts him to use his discretion.”

“Will do.”

“And, Liam? I know technically you’re on vacation, and maybe I shouldn’t even be asking, but...”

“But what?”

“D’Arcy wants to know if you’ll stay on this assignment...at least for the next few days.”

Puzzled, Liam said, “Sure thing. But why?”

“There was a case a few years back—before your time—when D’Arcy was working for the US Marshals Service. They were infiltrated by a domestic terrorist organization, and a witness D’Arcy was responsible for was almost killed. Later, your sister discovered the FBI had been infiltrated at the same time, by the same group. A group with ties to the Russian Mafia.”

“Holy crap.”

“Yeah. Information was leaked, and three people died when the terrorist organization tried to torture the whereabouts of the witness—a former cop who’d gone undercover for the FBI—out of his partner. The partner would have given the witness up if he’d known where he was—one of those killed was the man’s own baby son, and the other was his wife—but he honestly didn’t know where the witness was, so he was killed too, to send a message. That’s why D’Arcy doesn’t want to take any chances. He doesn’t want the FBI or the US Marshals Service to know where our witness is...at least for now.”

“He’s dead wrong, at least where those marshals are concerned,” Liam said hotly. “I saw them. They were covering her like a blanket, taking the bullets meant for her. If either of those men betrayed—”

Cody cut him off. “It wouldn’t necessarily have been one of them. It could have been anyone who knew where she would be, all the way up the line. In the US Marshals Service or the FBI. Hell, it could have been the US Attorney’s Office for all we know. But someone smuggled those guns into the courthouse. And until we know who, D’Arcy wants the agency to play it close to the vest. So are you in?”

“Sure, but for how long? I’ve only got three weeks.”

“Hopefully not that long, but the agency will clear things with the DSS either way—you’d better believe D’Arcy has that kind of pull. That’s one of the reasons I wanted him involved. He’ll call in a favor if that’s what it takes—and just about every federal agency owes him one...or a dozen.”

“Okay. Then I’m in.” He almost disconnected then, but Cody stopped him.

“One more thing.” Liam could sense Cody’s hesitation before he said, “Do what you need to do to keep Caterina Mateja safe.” Liam glanced at Cate, but again her expression conveyed nothing that gave him a clue to her inner thoughts. “We had another witness in her case,” Cody continued, “one who could corroborate much of her testimony, but she’s dead. It happened over the weekend. Caterina doesn’t know it yet—the prosecutors didn’t want to frighten her, but I got the report last night. It was made to look like a traffic accident, but—and keep this to yourself—she was murdered. Despite the fact she was being guarded by US Marshals, too, same as Caterina.”

Liam carefully schooled his face so Cate—who was watching him intently—wouldn’t be able to read anything from his expression, and Cody continued with barely a pause. “The FBI is still trying to piece together exactly where the protection on the other witness broke down. The agency was politely told to butt out. But they did confirm it was murder. Just like whoever killed her tried to murder Caterina this morning. Only with Caterina, they weren’t trying to hide anything—and they were willing to take out anyone to get to her.”

Liam swore under his breath. Just when he thought things couldn’t get worse...they did. “I get it,” he told his brother-in-law.
Alec knew the other witness was dead
—
he had to,
Liam thought. “After it all went down Alec said, ‘She dies, this case dies, too.’ That’s pretty much it, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. In a nutshell. We’ve got other evidence against Vishenko and the conspirators, but nothing like what Caterina has to say. And some of the physical evidence needs Caterina to validate where it came from—it’s useless without her.

“D’Arcy told me the death of the other witness was the main reason the trial was delayed a day. The prosecution made a motion first thing this morning to use this other witness’s grand jury testimony and her deposition, since she’s no longer alive to testify in person. The defense, of course, fought that tooth and nail, citing the defendants’ rights under the Sixth Amendment to confront the witnesses against them. No one knows how the judge will rule—the motion is still pending—but I wouldn’t make book on the ruling going our way unless the prosecution can prove the defendants are the ones who killed the witness. Of course, everything’s on hold for now, with one prosecutor dead and another in intensive care. The judge granted the prosecution a one-month continuance.”

“What about the marshals who were wounded?” Liam asked. “Alec said he thought they’d make it. Do you know anything more?”

“Holding their own, that’s the last I heard.”

“Better than nothing. Thanks for checking. Keep me posted if you hear anything.”

“Sure thing. And, Liam...be careful, okay? I don’t want to be the one to tell my wife her brother’s dead and I knew it might happen.”

Liam smiled to himself. “Don’t worry. I’m a big boy. And you should talk. You and Keira both. There’s no bullet out there with
my
name on it.”

After Cody hung up Liam sat staring into space for a few seconds. Thinking about what Cody had said...and what he hadn’t. Then he glanced over at Cate, who was watching him with blue eyes so pale they looked gray inside the SUV’s shadowed interior. Who was sitting still as a statue in the seat next to him—he’d never known a woman who could be as still and silent as she. And he wondered exactly what—out of all the things Cody had said—he was going to tell her.

But that wasn’t all he was wondering.
Be honest,
he told himself.
You’re wondering what the hell Alec knows that she doesn’t want you to know. You’re wondering how a woman like her—good background, intelligent, obviously educated—ever ended up as a prostitute. And knowing that about her, you’re wondering why she acts as if she can’t bear being touched by a man. By you.

The last one hurt. He didn’t know why, but it did. Badly.

Chapter 3

A
nondescript SUV was waiting for them in the church parking lot Cody had directed Liam to, and it took only a few minutes to make the swap. “So what will you do with my SUV?” he asked the agent as he moved his GPS and emergency overnight case into the agency’s vehicle and they exchanged keys.

“We’ll take good care of it, don’t worry,” the man assured Liam. “It’ll be ready and waiting for you the minute you need it.
And
we’ll deliver it to your doorstep, no charge.”

Liam eyed the replacement SUV dubiously, wondering about its roadworthiness given the exterior, and the man said, “It looks a little worse for wear on purpose. The agency doesn’t like its vehicles to attract attention. But it’s got brand-new tires and everything under the hood is new, too, so don’t worry about that. And the plates are untraceable.”

“Good deal,” Liam said. He handed over his cell phone and took the replacement offered. After he’d tucked it in his pocket, the agent handed him something else—a zippered case. “What’s this?”

“Maintenance kit and ammo clips. Fully loaded. SIG SAUER P229R, right?”

Liam hadn’t been expecting it—
but maybe I should have,
he thought. The agency was damned efficient, and he might need the additional firepower—he was already operating on his spare clip after the firefight this morning. And his own maintenance kit had been left with his luggage in his hotel room. He took the case in his left hand and shook the other man’s hand with his right. “Thanks.”

“No problem. Good luck,” the agent added sincerely.

* * *

They’d driven for ten minutes, following the automated voice of the GPS, when Cate suddenly said, “I have nothing with me. No clothes other than the ones I’m wearing. No purse. I don’t even have a toothbrush.”

Liam glanced over at her for a second, realizing she was right. She didn’t have her purse with her. She must have dropped it in the courthouse, and of course he hadn’t been worrying about that then. He returned his gaze to the road and said, “I doubt that will be a problem. If I know Cody, everything we need will be at the safe house, including clothes.”

“How will they know my size?”

Liam laughed abruptly, thinking about the ammo clips the agency had provided him with at the same time he’d been given the SUV and new cell phone. Ammo clips that were a perfect match for his SIG SAUER. “You’d be surprised what the agency knows.”

A long silence followed. All of a sudden, Cate said, “She’s dead, isn’t she?”

Liam was instantly on alert. Cody had told him not to mention it. “Who?”

“The other witness.” Her voice was soft, and he caught the faintest trace of an accent that reminded him of Princess Mara of Zakhar, whose bodyguard he’d been for six months in Colorado. But Cate’s English was less formal than the princess’s, more idiomatic. Maybe because she’d spent eight of the past nine years in the US. And despite the softness, there was a layer of steel beneath it, just like the princess. This woman was no pushover, either.

When Liam didn’t answer, she explained, “The woman who was going to back up my testimony. She’s dead. That’s why the trial was delayed. That’s why the prosecutors were so insistent this morning I needed to come in for another prep session with them this afternoon, even though we’d already spent so many hours preparing last week I was sick of it. That’s why your brother said, ‘She dies, this case dies, too.’ So the other witness must be dead.”

It was the longest speech Liam had heard Cate make to date. He made a judgment call, then admitted, “Yeah. Cody told me a little while ago.”

“Vishenko murdered her.” A flat, cold statement.

“Maybe. There’s no proof of that. Not yet.”

“There may never be proof. But I know.” She tapped a hand against her breastbone. “I know it here. Just as I know he’s the one who tried to have me killed. He is ruthless. Amoral. An animal. He’ll do anything to prevent me from testifying.”

“But you’re going to testify anyway. Why?” he asked, curious to understand what drove her to take the risk when so many men had refused to flip on Vishenko in the past.

“Because Alec and Angelina are right. He is evil, and he must be stopped. No matter the cost.” Her voice dropped to a whisper as if she was reciting an oft-repeated mantra, so that Liam had to strain to hear her next words. “‘I am only one, but I am one. I cannot do everything, but I can do something. And I will not let what I cannot do interfere with what I can do.’”

He recognized the quotation with a sense of shock, mentally adding the last sentence,
“And by the grace of God, I will.”
The entire thing was carved in wood over the fireplace mantel at home, a maxim his parents had instilled in all their children from an early age. It was the driving force that had led him and all his siblings into the US Marine Corps and then into public service. “Edward Everett Hale,” he said blankly. “How do you know that quotation?”

She drew a deep breath, then exhaled slowly. “Your brother said that to me. I was afraid—so terribly afraid I ran and hid for six years. Then Alec found me. He is
such
a good man, your brother—I could not let him down. He made me realize I have a duty to do whatever I can do to stop Vishenko. ‘I am only one.’ But if all the ones band together, we can defeat him.”

Liam was shaken. Cate had divined the kernel of wisdom out of the quotation, had pinpointed his own
raison d’être
—his reason for being. Yes, he was only one. But sometimes one person
could
make a difference.

Right and wrong. Good and evil. He couldn’t remember a time when the differences between these things weren’t important to him, same as they were for Alec. For all his siblings. Maybe it was old-fashioned nowadays. Maybe the dividing lines had become blurred for many. Not for him. But that didn’t mean he saw the world only in black-and-white. It didn’t mean he didn’t recognize and accept that a thing could be both right and wrong.

He’d killed a man today. Some would say that killing was
always
wrong. Not in his book. There was a higher
right
—saving lives—that trumped the
wrong
. Did he regret killing that man? Liam glanced away from the road for a second toward Cate sitting so still and quiet, looking even younger in repose...until one looked in her eyes.

No, Cate was alive now because the men who’d tried to kill her were dead. The only thing he regretted was that he and Alec hadn’t somehow prevented the entire incident from occurring. So that no one had died. So that no one had been wounded. Impossible, of course. But otherwise he didn’t have any regrets.

Except the way Cate had shied away from him. From his touch. That still bothered him.
And while you’re at it, might as well admit something else is bothering you,
his inner voice nudged into his consciousness.

He so didn’t want to go there. Didn’t
want to examine his reaction too closely, but...
It is what it is,
he admitted to himself. He’d never been jealous of Alec—not since the day he turned eighteen and joined the Marine Corps anyway, which Alec had done the year before him. From that point on their friendship had been untainted by anything as destructive as jealousy on either side. Each was the other’s cheerleader, and the accomplishments of one were a source of pride to the other. Liam had even followed his brother into the DSS.
Not
because he was jealous of what Alec was doing, but because he believed wholeheartedly the DSS was his true calling, same as it was for Alec.

But that’s exactly what he was feeling right now. Jealousy. Hot, harsh, unreasoning. He didn’t like it one bit, but he couldn’t refuse to acknowledge it. He was
jealous
—of the admiring way Cate spoke Alec’s name. As if...

“At the end of the road, turn right,” said the GPS. And when Liam had dutifully done so, the GPS said, “You have reached your destination.”

* * *

Twilight covered the earth, and there was a delicious smell of roast chicken wafting through the house. The agents who ran the safe house—a husband and wife team in their fifties, but who continued to instill confidence in their abilities—had told them dinner would be ready in thirty minutes. Lunch had been so delicious Cate was looking forward to dinner with an appetite she hadn’t had since Alec had found her. Since he’d convinced her to testify against Vishenko.

In addition to feeding them, the agents had made sure Cate and Liam had everything they needed—from clothes, to toiletries, to bedrooms, to information. What little information they had, anyway, which wasn’t much. Cate remembered how the first question Liam had asked was the status of the marshals who’d been wounded in the attack on her, and the other prosecutor, too. As if he really cared about men he didn’t know. As if it
mattered
to him.

She’d wanted to know, too, of course. She hadn’t had a lot to do with the prosecutors other than prepping for trial, but the two marshals were part of a team guarding her for the past month since she’d returned to the US from Zakhar, and she’d gotten to know them. Both men were married. One had two young boys already and his wife was expecting their third child in a couple of months. The other had just become a father for the first time six months ago. If Cate still believed in a just and merciful God, she would have prayed for the men, prayed they would recover completely and their families would get through this terrible time in their lives without too much grief.

But Cate didn’t believe. Not anymore. Vishenko had killed her faith in God as surely as he’d killed her faith in the goodness of mankind. So she no longer prayed. Not for herself. Not for others.

Angelina still believes. And Alec,
she told herself wistfully as she sat on the bed in the bedroom assigned to her—a delightfully feminine room she would have loved when she was sixteen. Now it did nothing for her. Cate had spent more than six of the past seven years running. Hiding. Living off the grid. Taking temporary jobs where they’d pay her in cash. Living hand-to-mouth at times, barely able to scrape up enough money to rent a room in a halfway decent boardinghouse. Skipping meals on occasion, when her money wouldn’t stretch to cover a roof over her head
and
food. Always looking over her shoulder. Always terrified. Always moving on to somewhere new after a few months, somewhere Vishenko’s men couldn’t find her.

No friends. She couldn’t afford friends, and not just because they might accidentally betray her. She couldn’t take the chance—if Vishenko’s men finally ran her to ground—that one of her friends would get caught in the cross fire. She knew Vishenko’s men wouldn’t care who else was killed so long as she was. She was almost more terrified of causing someone else’s death than she was of dying.

Like the prosecutor today. Dead because of her. One minute he’d been alive and she’d been arguing with him, the next minute he was dead at her feet and her bodyguards were plastered over her, taking those bullets meant for her. Vishenko’s revenge for her daring to oppose him. For daring to escape. For daring to testify. The prosecutor wasn’t a friend, but she’d still caused his death. And if anyone else who was shot this morning died, that was her fault, too.

Don’t think that way,
the rational part of her brain told her.
It’s not your fault, it’s Vishenko’s.
But her conscience didn’t want to listen. If she’d stayed in Zakhar all those years ago, if she’d listened to Angelina...none of this would have happened.
You would probably be married by now,
she thought,
to a strong man of good character.
A man who would treat her with respect. A man with high moral standards—like the ones she’d had herself when she was sixteen. A man like...

She shied away from that thought, the same way she’d shied away when he’d tried to touch her hair. Liam. He hadn’t meant anything by it. Hadn’t intended to give her cause for alarm. And he certainly hadn’t been going to strike her. Abuse her. Terrify her. She knew that. Her brain knew that. But her body had reacted without thinking. Would it always?

She would never marry. Not now. What respectable man would want her? And even if—miracle of miracles—she found one who did, could she ever bear to be touched...
that
way? If she couldn’t even let an obviously decent man like Liam brush her hair out of her eyes—an innocent gesture—how was she ever going to let a man touch her in more intimate ways?

She sighed, suddenly so worn-out she could barely sit up. She laid down on top of the bedspread and pulled a corner of it over her.
Fifteen minutes,
she promised herself as she closed her eyes.
Just fifteen minutes.
She shivered a little in the air-conditioned room and clutched the bedspread closer, huddling beneath it. She wasn’t used to air-conditioning. And she was too thin.

Does Liam think you’re too thin?
The question came at her out of nowhere, and it surprised her. Even more surprising was the answer.
No, he doesn’t. Remember the way he looked at you? The way his eyes said he found you attractive?

Such a good man, despite the fact he’d already judged her. She didn’t fault him for that—his opinion of her was no worse than her opinion of herself. It made no difference in the way he treated her, though, and that touched a secret place inside her. Even thinking the worst, Liam was so protective, like Alec. But Alec was Angelina’s, heart and soul.

Hovering between waking and sleeping, Cate’s thoughts winged back to Angelina. Sometimes it seemed as if her memories of long ago, her memories of her cousin were the only things that still belonged to her. Angelina, who’d treated Cate like a little sister...spoiling her a bit, making much of her. Calling her
dernya
, which meant
little treasure
in Zakharan. Never making her feel unwanted the way her parents had made her feel unwanted because she wasn’t a boy.

Cate smiled sadly, remembering happier times with her cousin...when they were both determined to succeed in their own way. When they both believed in the power of prayer the way they believed in hard work. Back when she’d idolized Angelina and wanted to be exactly like her—even though she’d known she couldn’t be. She’d known she’d never excel academically, the way her cousin did. She’d been twelve to Angelina’s seventeen, but she’d known even then that if she excelled it would have to be in a different arena.