Reclaim My Life (22 page)

“Sounds lonely.”

She snorted. “You don’t know what lonely is until you enter the Witness Security Program.”

A lot of the pieces of the puzzle matched up. Elizabeth’s penchant for nondescript clothes, her lack of roots and attachments. Her reluctance to date. “Tell me what happened seventeen or eighteen months ago.”

She clenched her hands in her lap and stared at them. “That’s when the nightmare began. I was called to Versailles Downs after a race to treat an injured filly. She’d been the favorite, but something went wrong during the last stretch. I didn’t watch the race, so I’m not sure, but she damaged her tendons in one leg.”

“Was this at night?”

“Yes, after the last race. Anyway, I guess no one could see me in the stall where I worked with her. I overheard voices and peeked out—curiosity killed the cat, you know.” She gave a humorless laugh.

“Did you recognize the people you overheard?”

“Doctor Frank Sullivan, a well respected physician in Lexington, was with a rough-looking goon I’d never seen. They were on either side of Ollie Breckinridge—”

“The Kentucky Derby-winning jockey who was murdered.” Wil nodded, recalling the news story. “I remember.”

“I gathered from their argument that he was supposed to lose a race he’d won. Ollie claimed he couldn’t hold back his horse without being obvious, probably something to do with the injury I was treating. Sullivan said he’d cost them more money than his life was worth. Then while the goon held Ollie, Sullivan injected him with something fatal.”

“You were the witness? Oh, shit!”

“Yes, ‘oh, shit’ sums it up. I didn’t realize you were familiar with the case.”

“I don’t remember the details, but wasn’t Sullivan charged with racketeering in a huge, multi-state illegal gambling ring?”

“Yes. I’ll have to testify against him in the murder trial, if I can stay alive. He’s rumored to have hired a contract killer to make sure I don’t. Or to make me pay later if I do.”

“So why didn’t you tell me this in the first place? I’m law enforcement—”

“I was instructed not to inform anyone, even you. Don’t tell me you think all law enforcement is above Sullivan’s reach.”

“So why tell me now?”

“Because I’m afraid. Not for me, but for my friends. What if Cathleen and now Kris were mistaken for Sofia Desalvo?”

“Why would they—”

“Because.” Angry red blotches mottled her face, and tears glistened in her eyes. “Sofia Desalvo was a thin, brown-eyed brunette who usually wore her hair in a single long braid. She majored in English, then in veterinary science. First a vet, now an English teacher—”

“Jesus.” Her distress must have been contagious, because anxiety grabbed his gut. “But how did you become—”

“Fat and dowdy?”

“That’s not what I was going to say.”

She plowed on as if he hadn’t spoken. “Deliberate gluttony, along with nerd glasses and clothes at odds with what I wore in my former life. I lost the long hair and lightened it. They even took away my engraved locket and anything else that might betray me. I’m afraid to do any of the things I would’ve done before entering WitSec.”

“Such as?”

“I love horseback riding and hiking. And dancing. Not only are those Sofia Desalvo’s pastimes, they’re physically active and could make me lose weight.”

She patted her abdomen, which by her standards might seem fat. All he saw was a womanly figure—an attractive, womanly figure. “How’d you land the job at the college?”

“I first relocated to Athens and studied for my masters in an accelerated program at the University of Georgia. Then my handler sent me here. He arranged the job. I didn’t ask how.”

Wil knew how—with a sizeable donation to the college —but he kept quiet.

“As long as I keep my end of the bargain, the government provides me with an identity, a job, and a little bit of cash to start over. Nothing extravagant, and nothing I can’t leave in a moment’s notice.”

His respect for her escalated. Many witnesses under protection couldn’t live by the rules. Sooner or later, they made a phone call or revisited an old haunt—something that betrayed their identity. Yet she’d shown amazing self-discipline. “Hell of a way to live,” he said.

“Well, ‘live’ is the operative word. I don’t want to die, Wilson, but I don’t want others to die because of me.”

Wil didn’t, either, but a professional hit man didn’t fit Ronda Lou’s profile. Now Elizabeth believed she’d brought murder to her friends. “Ah, darlin’, don’t do this to yourself.”

Her shoulders relaxed a fraction, and her fisted hands opened. “I thought you’d be angry with me.”

“Angry? Why?”

“Why? I lied to you—”

“You followed instructions necessary to keep you alive.”

She gave her head a slow shake. “I withheld information that may help your investigation into Cathleen’s murder.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

“You don’t know me—not the real me. Everything I’ve done since entering the program has been like playing a role in one of those student theater plays. I’m acting a part but with little training.”

“Lots of people play roles. The difference is you know you’re pretending.”

She stared at him for a moment. “Gee, that’s deep.”

Too philosophical for a sheriff in a small rural county? “I’m not a total hick, Elizabeth.”

“See, that isn’t my name and yet we have to use it.”

“I can live with that. And you can, too.”

“And I don’t think you’re a hick. In fact, you’re probably the first man I’ve trusted in a very long time.”

Her admission reached deep within him and squeezed his heart. How he’d hoped she would open up to him, and now she had. “That means a lot to me to have your trust. Because I intend to keep you safe.”

He meant every word. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing Elizabeth, not that he’d tell her. Not yet. She might be spooked into running for sure if she knew he’d fallen in love with her.

Elizabeth looked into his green eyes and shivered, although the heat from his gaze should’ve melted her like a Florida snow. She’d expected his wrath, not his support. No, more than support, he regarded her with affection … strong affection. How could he?

She broke eye contact. “I’m not asking you to keep
me
safe—just keep my secret. That’s a lot to ask of a county sheriff, but I’m asking.”

“I keep my promises.”

Like she hadn’t heard that before. Her cynicism after Brendan’s treachery had lost some of its muscle, however, and she chose to believe Wilson. “Thank you.”

“Now that I know what’s going on, I can help you. I know you don’t like guns, but do you—”

“No! Don’t ask me to keep a gun.” She shivered again, this time from the image of her father slumped over his desk with a bullet in the brain. Not that she’d seen it. The police had spared her and her family that scene, thank God. But she’d pictured it over and over in her mind until it had become a memory as real as if she had witnessed it. “I can’t.”

“I can teach you how to use one safely—”

“No.”

He recoiled at her outburst. “All right. Then let’s talk about a security system for your house.”

“Yes, I can do that. Whatever you think. Just … no guns, please.”

“Someday you’re gonna have to tell me what happened to make you so terrified of firearms.” He stood abruptly and stalked to the front window. “We need sensors on all the windows. And doors. I know a good security guy, a former Columbia County SWAT team member.”

Thankfully, he’d dropped the subject of guns. “That’d be great. I wouldn’t know who to call.”

He nodded. “I’ll handle it. Meanwhile, there are other self-defense measures we can discuss.”

“You mean like carrying my car keys like a weapon when I walk to my car, and staying aware of my surroundings?” Her handler had drilled her on personal safety and sensible behavior.

“For starters. There are several moves I can show you—”

“Like Sandra Bullock demonstrated on Benjamin Bratt in
Miss Congeniality?”

Wilson shrugged. “Haven’t seen that one. Do you have it?”

“Yes, I do.” She refrained from mentioning Benjamin Bratt a second time or offering the accompanying eye-batting. “We could watch it tonight.”

She braced herself for a stern look and a rebuke. After all, they were discussing how to safeguard her life. But Wilson grinned and wiggled his eyebrows, saying, “Does the movie come with popcorn?”

She returned his smile. “Buttered.”

“Then I think in the interest of learning self-defense moves, we should pop in that DVD.” He turned toward her stack of DVDs. “May I?”

He asked permission. She liked that he didn’t take over like other men—especially Brendan, her evil ex. “Be my guest. It’s near the bottom of the stack. I haven’t watched it for a while.”

While Wilson searched for
Miss Congeniality
, Elizabeth headed for the kitchen. After three large pieces of a supreme pizza, she wasn’t sure she had room in her stomach for anything else. But sharing a bowl of buttered popcorn with Wilson appealed far more than she expected. The closer she grew to him, the more she’d suffer when WitSec yanked her from Drake Springs to relocate, but that thought did little to deter her growing affection for him.

Although danger remained a constant in her life, the burden on her shoulders seemed lighter tonight. Unloading hadn’t lifted her spirits as much as Wilson’s reaction had. Instead of anger, he’d given her support. Under normal circumstances, she’d have him in her bed before the movie ended.
Normal
. Now, there was a concept.

She stopped her pity party in its tracks and focused on making popcorn. Since she owned very little cookware, she decided to use the microwave variety of popcorn. Pulling apart the plastic wrapper on the bag, she didn’t hear Wilson’s approach behind her. But his woodsy cologne announced his presence.

“Need help?” He crowded her without a touch. His body heat pressed into her back and enveloped her, filling her with a deep, needy longing.

She swallowed. “Not with the popcorn.”

His hands settled on her shoulders, and his lips brushed her ear. “Darlin’.”

The warmth of his breath heated the delicate skin behind her ear. She leaned back, sinking into the seductive caress. He slid his hands down her arms, then drew her against him. She’d missed physical contact with a man, but more than that she’d missed having a confidant. Now that she’d crossed the line and revealed her secret to Wilson, she allowed herself to take pleasure in his embrace. Closing her eyes, she sighed.

Wilson must have sensed her acquiescence, because he nuzzled her neck. Then he kissed a trail along her throat and jaw until his lips found her mouth. Turning her body to face his, he pushed her against the counter’s edge, his mouth hungrily kissing her. His tongue sought entrance and she opened to him, angling her face to allow him total access. She gave; he took. Then she assumed the role of aggressor, her hands holding either side of his face while her tongue and lips touched and tasted. His hands massaged their way up either side of her body until they found her breasts. With his thumb, he rubbed a tantalizing circle around her nipple. Sweet, hot desire shot through her, and she moaned.

He tore his mouth free. “God, I want you.”

“Yes.” She opened her eyes and gazed into his, the green irises darkened with desire. “I want you, too.”

He covered her face with rapid kisses. “Are you sure—”

“I’m sure.” Later, she’d deal with the consequences of her weakening resolve. For now, she’d enjoy the pleasure of making love with Wilson and pretend there was no threat against her life. Pretend no Witness Security Program would whisk her away to a new location at the first hint of trouble. Pretend she and Wilson would have tomorrow. “But if you’re going to get me naked, cowboy, first you’ll have to lose the gun.”

A deep chuckle erupted from his throat. “Fair enough. But let’s move this to your bedroom.”

Years had elapsed since she’d been intimate with a man. Suddenly self-conscious, she hesitated. Would Wilson think her attractive? She had let her body go to hell. Darkness was at least another hour away, so he’d see every inch of flab. She trusted him with her life, but could she risk her heart?

“Second thoughts?” Wilson asked.

“Just nerves. It’s been a while—”

“Hey, it’s been a long time for me, too. We’ll take—” Whatever he’d meant to say was cut off by the ringing of his cell phone. He answered it immediately, then frowned. “Where?”

Instead of walking away for privacy, he pulled her to him and placed a light kiss on her forehead. Squeezed close to him, she could hear much of what was being said on the other end of the connection. Something about “origin of the fire,” then “cover up.” The last word chilled her: “Corpse.”

He ended the call and looked at her with regret-filled eyes. “Bad timing, but I’ve got to go.”

“It’s Kris, isn’t it?”

He touched his mouth briefly to her lips—still tender from his earlier kisses—then released her. “I’m not keeping anything from you, darlin’. They found a body in the Sticky Swamp fire, but it’s burned beyond recognition. It could be anybody—”

“How many missing person cases are you working?”

“Just one, but this could be some other department’s missing person.” Stepping back from her, he hurried to the front door. “Lock up behind me, and promise you’ll stay inside.”

“I promise.” No way she’d open her door to anyone she didn’t know, especially after dark. “Looks like our movie dates are doomed.”

“Just postponed. Maybe we can watch one tomorrow night.”

“I have rehearsals tomorrow.”

He froze, his hand on the doorknob. “Till what time?”

“Probably seven or seven thirty.”

Wilson frowned. “Can you miss it?”

“No, I can’t. The Shakespeare plays are my responsibility.”

“I’ll be there to follow you home. No argument.” He gave her one last swift but commanding kiss, then left.

She bolted the door. “No argument at all, Sheriff,” she whispered into the darkness.

Elizabeth would take all the protection Wilson offered. She shivered, picturing a burned corpse, unable to shake the premonition that it was Kris.