The Marshal's Witness (4 page)

BOOK: The Marshal's Witness
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Ryan’s
arm tensed around her shoulders. Or had she imagined that? He smiled at Mike and gave him a wave. Jessica followed Ryan’s lead, waving and smiling as the other man jogged back to the street.

As soon as Mike disappeared, Ryan grabbed Jessica’s hand and tugged her toward her house.

“Ryan, stop. Where are you going?”

He paused at her back door. “My coffee has to be cold by now. You
owe me a fresh, hot cup. Don’t I smell coffee inside?” He shoved the sliding glass door back and hauled her inside, closing and locking the door behind them.

“You’re acting kind of strange. What’s wrong?” Her earlier unease was reawakening as she followed him into the kitchen. “Did you recognize that man?”

Ryan frowned at the empty coffeepot on the coffeemaker beside the stove. He opened
the pantry and rummaged inside.

“Ryan?” Jessica repeated. “Did you recognize that man? Should I be worried?”

He turned around with a box of filters and a can of coffee and deposited them on the countertop. “Never seen him before.” He pulled out the drawer next to the stove. “Is there a measuring thing in here somewhere?”

Jessica shoved his hand aside and closed the drawer. “Let
me do it.” She’d unpacked only a handful of boxes last night, out of necessity. The silverware was in the drawer below the one Ryan had opened.

After setting a tablespoon on the counter, she grabbed some non-dairy creamer out of the pantry, grateful that whoever had stocked her first supply of groceries had thought to include coffee. Before the trial, she’d had a habit of stopping at Starbucks
every morning before work. She probably could have paid for a vacation in the Bahamas with all the money she’d spent on coffee.

“How do you take it?” she asked.

“Strong and black.” Ryan moved out of the kitchen and leaned against the countertop bar, resting his forearms on the worn butcher-block laminate.

Jessica spooned coffee grounds into the filter. “I appreciate you jumping
in on the conversation with Mike. I went totally blank, couldn’t remember anything. I almost introduced myself using my real name.”

Ryan didn’t seem as appalled by that admission as she was.

“You did fine. It’ll be easier next time.”

Her stomach jumped at the thought of
next time
. “I hope you’re right.”

After starting the coffeemaker, she leaned back, taking her first good
look at him since the fiasco with the stranger. Judging by the stubble darkening Ryan’s face, he hadn’t had a chance to shave yet this morning. His short, dark hair was slightly damp. He’d probably just finished taking a shower before he came over.

A
hot
shower, unlike hers.

“I don’t suppose you know how to fix a water heater?” she asked.

He raised a brow. “Yours isn’t working?”

“Nope. Unfortunately, I found that out the hard way.” She gave him a rueful grin and pulled her hair back to show him the bruise on the side of her head.

His brows drew down in concern. He rushed around the countertop, stopping in front of her. His fingers gently brushed back her hair as he examined her bruise. “What happened?”

Shivering beneath his touch, she stepped back before
she did something stupid, like wrap her arms around his waist and pull him closer. She shook her head at her absurd thoughts. This was
Ryan
. Maybe she’d bumped her head harder than she thought.

She rubbed her hands up and down her arms, hoping he would think she’d shivered because she was chilled. “When the cold water hit me, I jumped out of the tub and slipped. Bumped my head on the side
of the toilet.”

The corner of Ryan’s mouth twitched and he coughed behind his hand. “Ah, well, we can’t have that. I’ll see if I can solve your hot water problem.”

He headed into the family room toward the foyer. Jessica realized the shower curtain was clearly visible lying on the bathroom floor. If Ryan happened to glance that way, he’d know his little practical joke had paid off. He’d
know how much that ridiculous shower curtain annoyed her.

Eager to turn his attention, she blurted out, “Have you had breakfast yet?”

He looked over at her, just as she’d hoped. “Are you offering to cook?” His deep voice held a note of surprise as he paused in front of the door that led into the garage.

She was surprised, too. Cooking for Ryan wasn’t something she’d ever expected
to do. She barely cooked for herself, let alone someone else. What was the point of cooking when she could pop a frozen pizza in the oven? Still, the idea of doing something as normal as cooking someone else a meal sounded appealing. It had been far too long since she’d done anything that remotely resembled normal.

“I was going to fix myself breakfast, anyway,” she said. Ryan didn’t need
to know that her version of fixing breakfast was to toast a piece of bread. “If you fix my water heater, I suppose I could make enough for two.”

“Biscuits, bacon, eggs?” His expression turned hopeful.

She groaned. What had she gotten herself into? “All right, but I’m not a good cook. I only know how to make eggs one way, well done.”

“I don’t mind.” He gave her a smug look as if
it had been his plan all along to get her to cook him breakfast. Then he went into the garage.

Jessica ran to the bathroom and quickly rehung the curtain rod. Then she hurried back to the kitchen, hoping she could figure out how to fry an egg without burning it.

* * *

R
YAN
SHUT
THE
door and dug his cell phone out of his pocket. Jessica’s offer to cook breakfast had certainly surprised
him. He didn’t know why she’d made that offer, but he was grateful to have her busy doing something else so he could do what he needed to do—find out who Mike Higgins really was. Something about that man was making all the hairs stand up on the back of Ryan’s neck.

Ryan pressed his boss’s number on his phone and weaved around the car and the stacks of boxes to the far corner of the garage.
As he’d suspected, the thermostat on the water heater was turned on the lowest setting. The team that had set up the house for Jessica’s use had forgotten to turn the thermostat up. He turned the dial. The water heater clicked and hissed as it started heating the water.

“Alex Trask,” his boss’s voice sounded over the phone.

“It’s Ryan.” He leaned back against Jessica’s car and crossed
his legs at the ankles. “We might have a problem.”

“What kind of problem?”

“A supposed tourist jogged up the street and introduced himself to Jessica. He said his name is Mike Higgins. He’s from Little Rock on vacation. Runs a mom and pop auto insurance business called
Solid Rock Insurance
. I want to know if he’s legit.”

“On it.” Keys tapped on a computer keyboard as Alex began
his search.

Ryan drummed his fingers on the hood of the car. Hopefully, Higgins would check out. When Ryan had heard voices out his back door earlier, he’d gone out on his deck, pretending not to notice Jessica and the man in the jogging suit. He’d hoped Jessica could push through her nervousness and have her first real conversation with someone other than law enforcement since she’d joined
WitSec. But when she’d waved him over, he’d realized she was too nervous to face the stranger without him.

“All right, here’s what I have so far,” Alex said. “The insurance company appears to be real. They’re listed in the phone book and have a standard-looking website with customer comments going back several years on the feedback page. The website also mentions that even though the owner
is on vacation, the office is still open and serving customers. Does that sound right?”

“Yeah, that fits what he said.”

“You aren’t convinced?”

“Not sure. Anyone can fake a website. Something about him seemed...off. He didn’t strike me as an insurance salesman. He’s a big guy, my size, and he didn’t look the type to sit behind a desk eating donuts all day.”

“Hey, my uncle sells
insurance. He doesn’t sit around eating junk food all day, either.”

“My point is that he makes me nervous. As he was leaving, he made a comment about going fishing, hoping to catch something big. There was something in his eyes, his voice. Sounded more like a threat.”

“Where is he now?”

Ryan crossed to the end of the garage and peered out one of the rectangular glass panes in the
top of the garage door. “If we can believe his story, he jogged back down the mountain to his cabin.”

“I’ll dig some more, call the phone numbers on the website, see if I can get a picture of the owner to email to you. But as of now, I don’t see any red flags, no reason to pull the witness out.”

Irritation flashed through Ryan, but he tamped it down. His boss had field experience working
with witnesses. Ryan didn’t. Before following the family tradition of going into law enforcement, he’d spent over a decade in covert operations as an army ranger. Everyone he’d met was either trying to kill him or was willing to sell information to someone else who wanted to kill him. Trust didn’t come easily to Ryan, especially after the way his last mission had ended. His boss might be right,
but Ryan wasn’t taking any chances.

“Send me that picture as soon as you get it. But if that guy comes back before you can confirm his identity, I’m pulling the witness.”

* * *

R
YAN
LEANED
FORWARD
under the showerhead, both hands braced against the tiles, as hot water sluiced over his head and down his back. After Jessica had cooked, or more accurately,
burned
breakfast, Ryan had
spent the rest of the day hauling boxes from her garage to various parts of her house and helping her unpack. She’d seemed wary of his offer to help at first, as if she couldn’t believe he was actually being nice to her.

A twinge of guilt shot through him. Jessica had every right to be wary. He’d never been especially friendly to her. And she was right to suspect he had an ulterior motive.
He’d helped her unpack so he could stay with her in case Higgins returned. But he didn’t want her to know that. He’d explained his actions by saying that he wanted to hurry and get her settled so he could return to New York.

She’d had no trouble believing that.

Higgins hadn’t returned. And Alex had verified the insurance company’s phone numbers. He’d spoken to the receptionist who verified
the owner was vacationing in Providence. So far Ryan hadn’t received the picture his boss had promised to email him, but the general description the receptionist had given matched the jogger from this morning.

Maybe Ryan’s internal radar was screwed up. He’d been out of the military for over six months, and he usually worked behind the scenes for the marshals, planning security details. Not
having to dodge bullets or be on guard every day must have dulled his instincts. All the facts pointed to Mike Higgins being exactly who he’d said he was, a businessman getting away for a few weeks of fishing and relaxation.

Ryan shook his head. Higgins wasn’t the problem at the moment.

Jessica was.

Ryan had spent hours watching her curvy little bottom bending over boxes. He’d watched
her pink tongue dart out to moisten her equally pink lips. He’d accidentally brushed against her when he helped her make sandwiches for lunch. And later, when she’d reached up high to put something on a shelf, he’d watched in agony as her T-shirt tightened over her generous breasts. He was in his own private little torture chamber, lusting after a woman he had no intention of sleeping with.

Ever.

Even though he desperately wanted to.

His irrational attraction for her was something he’d just have to deal with. Unfortunately, it looked like he’d be dealing with that a lot longer than he’d originally planned. When he’d asked Alex this afternoon how much longer he’d have to stay in Tennessee, his boss had dropped a bombshell.

Instead of watching over Jessica for a few
weeks, which by itself was unusual in WitSec, Ryan was assigned to watch over her indefinitely.

That didn’t make sense. Jessica was settled in her new location. She didn’t need a marshal hanging around. That certainly wasn’t standard procedure. So why did Alex insist that he stay? Something wasn’t right. From the moment Ryan’s boss had yanked him off another case and ordered him to deliver
papers to the courthouse the day of the explosion, nothing had felt right.

Ryan closed his eyes and rinsed his face under the spray of water. He froze when the cold muzzle of a gun pressed against the side of his head.

His eyes flew open and the shower curtain jerked back to reveal two men. Ryan didn’t recognize the first man, but he definitely recognized the grinning face of the man
holding the gun.

Mike Higgins.

“Hey,
Marshal
.” Mike’s grin broadened. “Remember me?”

Chapter Five

Jessica put her toothbrush away, flipped off the bathroom light, and padded in her favorite New York Yankees nightshirt to her bedroom. Hopefully, she wouldn’t have any visits from noisy birds outside her window tonight. She was worn out from unpacking boxes all day. She hadn’t planned on unpacking the entire garage all at once, but Ryan had insisted. Since he’d done
all the heavy lifting, she couldn’t exactly complain.

She was still puzzled by his behavior. Prior to today, she couldn’t remember one time when he’d spent more than fifteen minutes with her at any one stretch, not unless he had to, anyway. Other than stepping outside to take some phone calls several times today, he’d stayed near her every minute. He didn’t seem to want to leave. If she hadn’t
started yawning, he’d probably still be here.

She was just sliding into bed when a bright orange light flashed outside the window, followed by a dull roar. Even without lifting the heavy curtains, she could see the flames flickering on the other side of the glass.

A bubble of panic swept through her. Jumping out of bed, she ran through the house to the front door. When she grabbed the
doorknob, she yelped and yanked her hand back from the searing heat. With more caution, she held her palm a few inches from the door. Heat radiated toward her in waves. The front porch must be on fire too!

A sick feeling flashed through her stomach. Unable to suppress a whimper of fear, she ran to the set of sliding glass doors by the breakfast nook just as a wall of flames shot up from the
deck.

Trapped!

No.
She was not going to burn to death. There had to be a way out. She ran to the garage entry door, but it was already warping from the heat, bulging in toward the foyer.

Someone was trying to burn her alive.

Frantic, she sprinted toward the spare bedroom.

Please, please, let the windows be clear.

As she raced into the room, the window exploded, raining
glass down on the floor and shooting flames onto the comforter. Searing heat blasted at her as the fire greedily consumed the bedding and spilled over onto the carpet. Her eyes stinging from the smoke, she ran into the hallway, slamming the bedroom door behind her.

The air in the house was already thick and hot, turning black. Coughing, gasping for air, she crouched down beneath the heavy
curtain of smoke. Tears streamed down her face from her stinging eyes as she crawled on her hands and knees to the middle of the family room.

Had she really survived everything she’d been through to die like this? There had to be a way out. If she filled the bathtub with water could she survive the flames? She didn’t see how she could, but it was the only thing she could think to try. When
the flames got too hot, she’d sink beneath the water. Better to drown than to burn.

She started to crawl back toward the bathroom when the sliding glass doors exploded. She ducked, expecting to feel shards of glass raining down on her.

“Jessica, where are you?” Ryan’s voice yelled.

Ryan? He was here? How had he gotten inside past the flames? “Ryan.” She tried to yell, but she choked
on the lungful of smoke she’d just inhaled. She coughed and tried to clear her throat.

Ryan appeared in front of her. She could barely see him as he pulled her to her feet and wrapped a soggy blanket around her.

“We have to run through the flames.” His deep voice was as calm as if they were about to go on a sightseeing trip. He grabbed her around the waist and guided her toward the breakfast
nook.

She balked when she realized he was pulling her toward the sliding glass doors, or where the doors used to be. Now there was a gaping hole of shattered glass. A curtain of flames danced across the deck in front of the opening. The only thing keeping the flames from racing into the room was the tile floor.

He grabbed a placemat from her table and used it to rake the broken glass
away from the doorway. “Come on. This is the only way out.”

“No, I can’t.” She shook her head and tried to tug away from him. The flames were so hot she felt like she was already burning.

He reached down and flipped the end of her blanket over her head, completely covering her. Her breath left her in a whoosh when he threw her over his shoulder, crushing her against him. He seemed to
back away from the heat, toward the family room. Then he was running, and the heat seared Jessica even through the blanket. She screamed but the wet blanket muffled her cries. Ryan twisted violently beneath her.

They hit something solid with a bone-crunching thud. Then they were rolling, over and over until they finally came to a stop. Everything hurt, but she wasn’t on fire. Ryan flipped
the blanket back from her head. She gasped as she realized they were both lying on the grass twenty feet from the inferno that used to be her back deck.

Ryan must have jumped with her through the flames where the sliding glass doors had been. He’d hurtled both of them over the railing.

A section of the roof caved in, sending up a shower of sparks as part of the back of the house imploded.

“Hurry, we’ve only got a few minutes,” Ryan said.

A few minutes until what?

He peeled the wet blanket off her. As Ryan stood, Jessica realized he was wearing a blanket, too. He shucked it off and Jessica drew in a sharp breath at the sight of his golden skin reflected in the firelight. His lack of clothing didn’t seem to bother him. Then she noticed his hair, short and spiked. Singed.

“You’re burned,” she exclaimed. She reached up to check his scalp but he ducked away, grabbing her hand and hauling her to her feet.

“Come on.” His voice was an urgent whisper. He tugged her behind him and took off in a jog toward the line of trees at the back edge of her property.

The darkness swallowed them up, and Ryan hugged the tree line with her in tow, running toward his house.
He didn’t stop until they were standing in his bedroom. Jessica coughed, trying to clear her lungs from the smoke she’d inhaled. Ryan, seemingly unaffected, dropped to his knees in front of a closet and began shoving things into a large backpack that was already stuffed half-full, as if he made a habit of being packed for an emergency.

There were no lights on in the house, but Jessica could
easily see everything in his bedroom because of the light from the flames next door reflected in the windows.

She looked back at him. “Shouldn’t you put some clothes on?” she blurted out.

He tossed the backpack onto the floor beside the bed and rushed across the room to what she assumed must be his master bath.

For a moment, the horror of what she’d just gone through faded as she
gaped at the raw, male beauty displayed so boldly in front of her. Toned muscles rippled beneath Ryan’s tanned skin. Like Adonis, he was sheer perfection.

In every way.

She swallowed hard and forced herself to look at his face. “What are you doing? Shouldn’t we call the fire department or something?” She stepped to the doorway, shivering in her wet nightshirt. She gasped. Two men were
lying on the floor, their faces turned away from her. Rivulets of blood seeped across the tile. Jessica jerked back onto the carpet and stood next to Ryan’s bed, her chest heaving, desperately trying to make sense of what she’d just seen.

Ryan grabbed some more items from a drawer in the bathroom and shoved them into a small leather case. He moved past her, threw the case in the backpack
and zipped it closed. He yanked a pair of jeans off a hanger in his closet and pulled them on. Then he grabbed a thick wad of cash out of his top drawer and shoved it into his front jeans pocket. Three small rectangular boxes went into his backpack. Seeming to reconsider, he grabbed a fourth box and put that in as well.

Jessica swallowed hard. The word “ammunition” had been written on those
boxes.

“Are...are those men...dead?” Jessica whispered. She clutched her throat, fighting a wave of nausea.

“It was them or me.” Ryan shoved his feet into a pair of boots. He thrust his arms into a long-sleeved black shirt and yanked it down over his head. As he pulled on his coat, he frowned at Jessica.

He yanked another drawer open and pulled out some clothes. After tossing them
on the bed, he reached down and grabbed the hem of Jessica’s wet nightshirt. By the time she realized his intentions, he’d already whisked her shirt off. She frantically tried to shield herself, but Ryan impatiently pushed her arms out of the way and yanked a dry, long-sleeved sweatshirt over her head. Jessica froze, shocked at what had just happened, but Ryan was already reaching for a pair of
sweatpants on the bed beside her.

“I’ll do it.” She grabbed the pants from him.

“The wet underwear has to come off, too.”

“Then turn around.”

Ryan’s mouth quirked up in a half grin. He turned around and dug back into the closet.

Jessica quickly shucked off her wet panties and shoved them under one of the pillows on the bed. Her face flaming, she tugged on the pants, rolling
the waist down several times to get a better fit. They were far too big and she had to hold them up to keep them from falling off, but they were dry, and warm.

Ryan turned around, pitching a pair of socks on the bed. He frowned at the sweatpants and bent down, rolling up the pant legs to reveal her feet.

“Put these on.” He dropped a pair of tennis shoes on the floor in front of her and
grabbed another coat from the closet.

Jessica stared dumbly at the socks and shoes. The indignity of Ryan stripping her clothes faded as the image of the two dead bodies on the bathroom floor crept back into her mind. There was so much blood. She twisted her fingers in the soft sweatshirt that hung to her knees and glanced back toward the bathroom.

Swearing, Ryan grabbed her around the
waist and roughly set her on the bed as if she were a child. He tugged the socks onto her feet then shoved her feet into the tennis shoes and tightened the laces.

Jessica watched him put a jacket on her and roll the sleeves up to expose her hands, as if she was seeing him through a long tunnel, as if this was happening to someone else. The far-off whine of a siren had her looking back toward
the window.

Ryan lifted her off the bed and set her on her feet. “Let’s go.”

He tugged her arm and she stumbled after him, holding up her pants, trying not to trip as the oversize shoes flopped on her feet. Ryan didn’t release her hand until they were in the garage next to a motorcycle. He shoved his backpack into the leather holder on the left side and put a smaller bag in the holder
on the other side of the bike. Saddlebags, that’s what they were called, right? Jessica couldn’t concentrate, couldn’t focus. Why were they even in Ryan’s garage? The sirens were much louder now. Shouldn’t she and Ryan be outside waiting for the firemen?

Ryan hopped on the motorcycle and leaned over and shoved a helmet onto her head. He tightened the strap beneath her chin. Jessica slapped
at his hands when he reached for her.

“What are you doing? We have to wait for the firemen, and the police.” The thought of going outside again, being so exposed, had her throat tightening. She couldn’t do it.

“Jessica, we can’t stay here. We have to leave. Now.”

“No. I’m not going anywhere.”

“If you stay here, you’re dead.”

She swallowed hard. “The police—”

“Won’t
protect you from assassins.”

“Assassins? But, those men in your bathroom, weren’t they the ones who started the fire?” Her heart pounded and her fingers twisted the fabric of her jacket.

His dark eyes stared intently into hers. “No, they weren’t. There were two more gunmen in front of your house when I went to get you. That’s why we hugged the tree line at the back of your yard when
I brought you over here, so they wouldn’t see us. Do you know why they were waiting in front of your house?”

“I...I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do. They were waiting to make sure you didn’t come out of your house alive. When they go around back and see our tracks, they’ll come here looking for you. We need to get out of here. Now.”

She shook her head again. “No, it’s not possible. I
didn’t tell anyone. Don’t you see? I didn’t break the rules. They couldn’t have found me. You have to be mistaken.” Her voice broke on the last word. She knew she was being irrational, but she couldn’t seem to stop blubbering.

The urgency left Ryan’s face and his expression smoothed out. His mouth curved into a reassuring smile. He calmly held out his hand, palm up, and waited as if he had
all the time in the world. “You’re right. It’s not your fault. You did exactly what you were supposed to do. You didn’t break the rules. I’m still here. And I’m going to keep protecting you.” His voice was soothing, cajoling.

Hot tears ran down Jessica’s face. “I don’t know what to do,” she whispered.

“I do. Take my hand. Trust me.”

Jessica looked into his eyes, so intent, so certain.
The paralyzing fear began to loosen its hold. This was Ryan. He’d realized the danger at the courthouse before anyone else. He’d saved her from her burning house. A peaceful calm swept through her. She stopped shaking.

“I trust you, Ryan.” She placed her hand in his.

His brows drew down in a frown. He stared at her as if he was trying to figure something out, as if he was trying to figure
her
out.

The sirens had stopped. Lights flashed red and yellow through the garage windows, spurring Ryan into action. He lifted Jessica onto the bike behind him and pulled her arms around his waist.

“Ryan, wait. Where’s your helmet?”

“On your head. Now, hold on tight.”

He started the engine. It was nearly deafening in the enclosed space. The bike jerked forward. Jessica gasped
and clutched Ryan to keep from falling off. He rode through the house, through the open back door, heading toward the back deck stairs. Jessica’s eyes widened and she grasped him even tighter. The bike bumped down the steps and shot across the yard.

Jessica risked a glance back and saw a fire engine and a tanker truck on the road in front of her house. The firemen didn’t even glance their
way. The roar of the fire must have masked the sound of the motorcycle.

BOOK: The Marshal's Witness
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