One Night More (6 page)

Agent Davis leaned forward in his chair. “What did you talk about?”

Oh, the usual. The weather, our favorite bands. And he hinted about the fact that he’d been wandering the path of immoral political slimeball.
“Like I said, our conversation was very short. I’ve been trying to get face time with him for months. I sort of waited in the garage for him.” No use hiding that shameful little tidbit. “When he showed up I pressed him about why he hadn’t met with the OLCV yet.”

Davis nodded his head as though he was following along, but Harper had the feeling he was giving her the rope he expected her to hang herself with. “Was Jason Meader with him when you approached him?”

She supposed Jason could be considered a suspect. Though anyone in the senator’s office surely would have vouched for the fact that he’d returned for Ellis’s phone. “No. I overheard the senator mention that he forgot his phone in his office. He sent Mr. Meader back for it.”

Davis nodded as though she’d passed his little test. What a douche. “And there’s nothing else you can think of? Every little detail matters, Miss Allen.”

“No.” Even now, the details blurred in her memory. Everything seemed to happen in double-time. “Wait. He did say something about a hazard. And maybe a blue lake?” Blue lake, was that right? Crap, her brain was
mush
.

“What do you think he meant by that?”

How was she supposed to know? Without a clear memory of what he’d said, not to mention any other information to link it to, Harper had nothing useful to offer. It could have been a string of nonsense words said in the throes of death for all she knew, which was a totally morbid thought. And without her voice recorder, she couldn’t even be sure that she’d heard him correctly, let alone offer anything that would have much bearing on their investigation. “I’m just really shaken up. Maybe if I get a good night’s sleep—”

A sharp knock at the door interrupted them, and a man with graying hair and bright green eyes poked his head in. “Hey, Curt, come on in,” Davis said, pushing out his chair and standing to shake the older man’s hand. “Miss Allen, this is Curt Monroe from the U.S. Marshals Service.”

Oh, super. All she wanted to do was go home and try to forget what she’d seen tonight and now she had to endure another round of questioning from yet another branch of law enforcement. What was next? CIA? NSA? DHS? There weren’t many more acronyms to get through.

“Hi, Harper,” Curt Monroe said as he took a seat at the table. Whereas Davis was severe, Curt seemed easygoing and friendly with a comforting, fatherly vibe. He sat back in the chair, seeming very relaxed, only his sharp gaze told her another story. Easygoing or not, he was still a seasoned pro. “Can I call you Harper?”

Anything was better than Miss Allen. It made her feel old. “Sure. But I’ve already told the PPB and the FBI everything I know. I doubt I’m going to magically remember something for the U.S. Marshals that I haven’t for anyone else.”

Curt chuckled and the sound put Harper at ease. He wasn’t trying to assert dominance over his territory like the Portland Police guys and he didn’t possess the crisp, intimidating manner of Davis. Rather, he came across as genuine and concerned. “I’m actually not here to question you, Harper. I think you’ve been through enough for one night.” He raised his brows, his gaze directed toward Davis, and Harper fought back a smile.

“Chief Deputy Monroe is in charge of protective services, Miss Allen.”

Curt rolled his eyes at Davis’s interjection. Davis was a real killjoy. Harper bet he was the type who ruined surprise parties and told people what was inside a box before they had an opportunity to open the present.
Here you go, happy birthday. It’s a watch
. “Well, there you have it.” Curt shifted in his seat, turned his back to Davis. “What the FBI lacks in subtlety, they make up for in the quality of their suits.” He winked at Harper and shot over his shoulder, “Hey, Davis, you mind grabbing me a cup of coffee? Black.”

Davis scowled and headed for the door. When he closed it behind him, Curt said, “So, Harper, this has been some hell of a night, huh?”

Understatement of the century. “I’ve never seen anyone die before.” Harper’s voice sounded foreign in her ears. Quiet and unsure.

“It’s an awful thing for anyone to have to go through. But, Harper, I’m sorry to tell you that this is going to get a lot worse before it gets better.”

Worse? A lump formed in Harper’s throat and she swallowed it down. That did not sound good. “Worse how?”

“Here’s the thing. If you got any kind of glimpse of Ellis’s murderer, chances are he got a decent look at you, too. This puts you at risk. Especially since we don’t have a motive. Whoever killed Ellis might think you know something. He might think you’re able to identify him. And that puts you in danger.”

Like a puzzle piece snapping into place, Harper made the connection as to why Curt Monroe had been brought in to talk to her. “Protective services.” She rolled her head back on her shoulders. Yep, things had just gotten worse. “You’re here because the feds are putting me in the witness protection program, right?” No. Hell, no. “They can’t do that. I’ve got a job. And a life. And friends and family and—”

“Calm down, Harper.” Curt’s expression reflected enough sympathy that she knew she wasn’t going to get much choice in the matter. Tears sprang to her eyes, but Harper willed them to stay put. No way was she going to cry. “Not witness protection. We’re not to that point yet. While you won’t technically be in the Witness Security Program, we are going to assign a twenty-four-hour protective detail to you. Just until the FBI concludes their investigation.”

Harper nodded. Allowed herself to breathe. “And then what?”

“After that, we’ll reevaluate.”

Okay. She could live with that. For now. “So, when does it start?”

“Immediately. You’ll be keeping me and a few deputies company for the next few days, then we’ll assign you a more permanent protective detail.”

Harper quirked a brow. “Permanent?”

“Well.” Curt smiled. “Semi-permanent. For now.”

“Okay, Curt,” Harper said on a sigh. “First things first, can we get out of here? Davis gives me the creeps.”

“FBI,” Curt agreed. “They’re all creepy. Come on, Harper. I’ll buy you dinner.”

Chapter Seven

“Did you even get any sleep before they put you to work? Or was Monroe too anxious to have Galen Kelly, marshal golden boy and SOG hotshot back in the field?”

Galen looked up from his desk, feeling a little like he’d stepped into a time warp. Landon hovered over him, a sarcastic smile plastered on his smart-assed face. This exact scenario could have taken place a year ago. It was almost too easy to slip back into the familiarity of his old life.

“
Va te faire foutre
.”

Landon snorted. “Fancy. What the hell does that mean?”

“Basically?” Galen shrugged. “Fuck off.”

Landon rocked back on his heels and gave a low whistle, clearly impressed. “You really learned how to utilize the local dialect while you were over there.”

“Yeah, well, I tried.” Galen couldn’t help the yawn that crept up on him. Damn, he was seriously jet-lagged.

“Monroe should have let you get adjusted before calling you in,” Landon remarked. “But we’re sort of understaffed right now and he’s been covering. Did he brief you yet?”

Galen stretched, eyed his empty Starbucks cup. It didn’t hold a candle to Corrine’s coffee. He’d need a caffeine IV before he’d be awake enough to think in a straight line. “Protective detail. What else?”

It was too early in the morning for Landon’s mocking laughter. “Well, after tagging along with dignitaries for a year, you probably consider babysitting a civilian a piece of cake.”

“Not necessarily. Though to tell you the truth, my protective detail in Paris wasn’t exactly action-packed.”

“Well, PR-wise, Monroe knew what he was doing when he assigned this detail to you.” Landon parked his ass on Galen’s desk. “This is a high-profile case. The witness was standing about six inches from Senator Ellis when he was shot. According to the security guards who found her, she was hiding under a car, scared half to death, with the shooter about to tie up his loose ends. It’s been plastered all over the local news for the past two days. A total media shit storm.”

Besides feeling like he was in a time warp, Galen was also way out of the loop with local—or national—news. Since touching down two days ago he’d done two things: first, check in on Michelle. Second, sleep. Followed up with more sleep. And he still felt like a goddamned zombie this morning. Transatlantic travel sucked. “I’m supposed to be meeting Monroe and the witness at nine. Hopefully the FBI won’t trip on their own feet trying to wrap this investigation up.”

The FBI/U.S. Marshals rivalry was legendary and not relegated to the Oregon District. The Marshals had been
the
elite government law enforcement agency before the FBI took the reins away. Needless to say, the bitter feelings had been passed down through the generations.

“Sean Davis is running point,” Landon said. “So you know it’s going to be a total cluster fuck.”

Galen rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair. Special Agent Sean Davis was an ex-Army Ranger and had all the people skills of a rabid dog. He didn’t work well with others, and likewise, never considered any theories or options but his own. Galen had met a few brick walls less stubborn than Davis. No doubt the investigation would drag out forever. People didn’t often respond well to dickish attitudes. Which didn’t bode well for their witness. “Great.”

“Hey.” Landon bucked his chin toward the wall clock on the far side of the room. “Didn’t you say you were meeting Monroe at nine? It’s almost nine thirty.”

“Shit!” Galen shot up out of his chair and took off toward Monroe’s office.

“Good luck, golden boy!” Landon called after him.

Galen didn’t look back, but he did give Landon the finger.

Nothing like making your boss wait on the first day back to work
. Jesus, he was exhausted. And his brain didn’t seem to want to get with the program. If it wouldn’t have drawn attention, he would’ve given himself a good, hard slap across the face. Sure, ass hats like Davis made jokes about witness protection and the marshals being nothing more than glorified babysitters, but truth be told, Galen considered it the single most important duty the USMS had. The responsibility of having someone’s life and safety in his care was something he took very seriously. And he wasn’t about to step into that office less than one hundred percent.

When he got to the chief deputy’s office, Galen paused for a moment to collect himself so he wouldn’t appear rushed or out of control. Witnesses generally liked to know the people protecting them had their shit together. Muted voices permeated the door: Monroe and the soft laughter of a woman. Well, he’d known the witness was female, but something about her laughter struck him as familiar. And why did that cause his gut to curl up into a tight knot? Had to be the jet lag. Considering the circumstances, the witness sounded cheery this morning, but Galen was willing to bet Monroe wasn’t quite as jovial. The man was obsessed with punctuality.

Galen rapped his knuckles twice on the door before letting himself in. “’Morning, everyone. Sorry I’m late. My internal clock is a little . . .” The words choked and died somewhere between his sternum and tongue. When he first walked through the threshold, all he could see of her was her slim back and lush auburn hair. But then she turned around to face him, and all logical thought took a permanent vacation from Galen’s mind. He’d died. It was the only explanation. His plane had gone down somewhere over the Atlantic and for some reason he’d gone straight to hell.

Because only hell could have devised such a sweet, beautiful torment.

Monroe stepped from behind his desk. “Harper Allen, I’d like you to meet Deputy Marshal Galen Kelly. He’ll be the deputy in charge of your protective detail for the remainder of the FBI’s investigation.”

The look of shock that settled on her face couldn’t have mirrored his own reaction to the situation any better. She stared for a moment too long, her jaw slack. After the initial shock passed, a smile lit her face, and the sun couldn’t have been brighter in its brilliance. She took a step forward, the recognition obvious in her expression. Son of a bitch. Snap decisions were part of his job, essential to his training. And yet, this decision was one of the hardest Galen had ever had to make. Too much rested on his reaction. He forced his expression into a passive representation of professionalism.

“Nice to meet you, Miss Allen.”

She stopped dead in her tracks and Galen’s stomach bottomed out. His lungs seized up. The hurt that marred her soft features was enough to make him want to kick himself in the ass. And at the same time, with the way they’d parted, how did she expect him to react? He didn’t have time to process what he was thinking or feeling right now. If Monroe had even an inkling that Galen knew Harper, he’d be jerked off this detail faster than he could say desk jockey. No way was he going to spend his first weeks back on the job shuffling papers.

Harper’s gaze hardened and her lips thinned. The fire in those hazel eyes was enough to make Galen sweat. She bucked her chin up, squared her shoulders, and said, her tone detached and formal, “Nice to meet you, Deputy.”

Monroe motioned to one of the empty chairs in front of his desk. “Well, now that you’re introduced, let’s get you up to speed, Galen. Sean Davis is going to want to talk to you, as will the Portland Police Bureau. But as far as I’m concerned, you don’t need to meet with them. A phone call ought to do fine.”

Galen’s steps were mechanical, each one precisely placed as he moved to the empty chair and sat his ass down. He was pretty sure Monroe was saying something important, but he couldn’t seem to focus on the words. Perched not two feet away from him—within touching distance—was the woman he’d spent an entire year trying to forget. Life sure had a way of kicking a guy in the nuts.

“. . . doesn’t have any leads, but it’s only been a couple of days . . .”

God, his memory of her hadn’t done her beauty justice, the thumbnail of her image on his computer screen a pale representation of her exotic features.

“. . . I expect you to cooperate with their investigation. . .”

She’d recognized him right away and damn, if that didn’t make him feel like crowing.

“. . . Harper knows what’s expected of her in this situation, and though we understand the inconvenience this is causing her, she’s agreed to work from home for the time being . . .”

Don’t forget, as far as you know, she still has a boyfriend, dumbass
. Aaaaand, just like that, the spell was broken. Jesus, what was wrong with him? He needed to speak up, right now. Tell Monroe that he couldn’t work this detail because he knew the witness. Get his ass out of this office and the hell away from her.

Despite the fact that he tried to keep his eyes forward, they seemed to move on their own and he caught a glimpse of her from the corner of his eye. The past year melted away, rocketing him back to that night. Her wit, her smile, her scent, her warmth. He should say something. Do something. Put as much distance between them as possible. But when he thought about walking out the door, walking away from her, something inside of him locked down. Maybe it was curiosity. Or maybe, deep down, he was a sadist. Either way, he knew that there was no fucking way he was going to tuck tail and run out like he was guilty of anything. She’d used him. Not the other way around. This was his assignment. Period. And if she had a problem with that, then too damn bad.

“Excuse me, Curt.” Galen leaned back, crossed his arms over his chest. “But, with the high-profile nature of this investigation, and Miss Allen’s visibility, wouldn’t it be better to move her to a safe house outside of Portland. Temporarily, of course.” Harper stiffened beside him and took a deep breath. He had a feeling she was about to object so he cut her off before she could speak. “We’re dealing with a highly sensitive case. One that’s going to be in the media spotlight for a while. Not to mention the fact that the FBI will be under pressure to produce a suspect. If Senator Ellis’s murderer has an ounce of sense, he’ll want to eliminate the witness sooner rather than later. Don’t you agree?” Damn, he’d pulled that out of his ass. As it was, Galen found it too damned hard to focus with Harper so close. But seriously, since when did protocol allow for a witness to remain in her home? Especially when her face was plastered all over the evening news.

“First of all,” Harper jumped in, “I have a name. It’s not Miss Allen, and it sure as hell isn’t ‘the witness.’ I’m not a cup you guys can pass around from one location to the next. I have a job, responsibilities. I’ve already told Curt and I’ll tell you, Deputy Kelly. I’m not going
anywhere
.”

Funny, she forgot to mention the boyfriend in that short list of excuses.

“Harper, I think what Galen is trying to say—”

“Is that you have no choice in the matter,” Galen spoke over Monroe. Jesus, had no one explained to her the danger she was in? “It’s my job to protect you in any way I see fit. If that means moving you out of the city, that’s what I’m going to do.”

“Curt, did you or did you not tell me that until the FBI concluded its investigation, witness protection was off the table?” Though the question was directed at his superior officer, Harper’s gaze landed on Galen, challenging him to disagree.

Monroe cleared his throat. “Well, yes—”

“And Chief Deputy Monroe has put me in charge of your protective detail, making you
my
responsibility now. By all rights, you should have been relocated the night of Senator Ellis’s murder. Curt, she should be placed in WITSEC and we should be in the process of assigning her a new identity, setting her up in a new town. Since when do we let witnesses make the rules?”

“I told you, my name is not ‘
the witness
.’ And I didn’t ask for the Marshals Service to insert itself into my life. I don’t need a babysitter.”

Galen snorted.
Debatable
. “Why don’t you let me decide—”

“Okay, okay. I think everyone needs to settle down.” Monroe looked from Galen to Harper as though they’d both lost their minds. “Deputy Kelly is coming off a long flight home, and I know that this situation isn’t ideal for you either, Harper.” He eyed Galen and frowned. “But like we discussed, your situation has become a little more complicated over the past few days and we have to be more cautious than I’d originally assumed.”

Galen’s ears perked at Monroe’s words. “Complicated how?”

Harper sighed and Monroe shot her a chiding look before he continued. “Harper was using a digital recorder to interview Senator Ellis before he was shot and his murderer managed to get his hands on it before he took off. In the past couple of days, we’ve been tracking a potential threat.”

Was Monroe purposely trying to drive him crazy? “What do you mean by ‘potential’? It’s either a threat or it’s not.”

Harper opened her mouth to speak, but Monroe pointed a finger at her and she slumped back in her seat. “A couple of days ago, someone left a voice mail on Miss Allen’s office phone. It was a playback of Harper calling for help after Ellis was shot. The FBI is looking into it.”

Potential,
his ass. “Sounds like a threat to me.”

“We don’t know that it’s Ellis’s killer,” Harper argued. Why was she arguing? “For all we know, the guy could have chucked my recorder into a Dumpster and some kid is playing a prank on me. Nothing else has happened, and you promised—”

Dear God, was he the only person left in the world with an ounce of common sense? “She should be moved. Period. Her identity is compromised and she’s at risk.”

A series of spluttering sounds escaped Harper’s lips, and Curt made a calming motion with his hands as though he sensed Harper was about to go off the deep end. “I know, I know, Harper. So far, we don’t think Ellis’s murderer knows anything about Harper other than where she works. But we also discussed that that could change at any moment and we won’t hesitate to move her if we need to. For now, we’re letting her stay in her apartment. Our office has assured her that our intrusion into her life will be minimal unless we deem it necessary to change that fact. Is that going to be a problem for you, Deputy?”