Woman On the Run (34 page)

“No one,” she said breathlessly. She reached down blindly and slammed the still-squawking phone back on the hook. It bounced and the receiver lay askew over the keys. “No one at all. It was…just a wrong number.” Her dressing gown was gaping open. It was crazy, she and Cooper had just made love, but she pulled the gown around her tightly. Cooper moved forward and Julia took an instinctive step backwards.

“Sally?” Cooper frowned. “What’s wrong?” He walked towards her as she backed away, until she hit the wall. Julia clutched the wall at her back, as if it could protect her. As if anything could protect her against Cooper.

He was so powerful it frightened her. She hadn’t often seen him naked in full light. He was fearsome. His shoulders and arms were heavily roped with muscle, massively powerful. It would be useless struggling against him if he chose to attack her. If he wanted to, Cooper could overpower her in one second, snap her neck the next and never break the rhythm of his breathing.

Julia could remember reading somewhere that the soldiers of Sparta had fought naked, to terrify the enemy.

Well, it worked. She was terrified.

Cooper stopped in front of her, arms braced on either side of her head. She was trapped.

She stared straight ahead at the black chest hairs, at the indentation where his pectorals met, then slowly brought her gaze up. His face was tight, expressionless. A stranger’s face. Her lover’s face.

Trust no one.

She brought a trembling hand to cup his cheek. She could feel his jaw muscles working under her fingers. He hadn’t shaved recently. His skin was warm, and his heavy beard rasped against her fingertips.

Trust no one.

“Cooper,” she whispered. A tear welled over and slipped down her face. She shook her head slowly, her eyes on his. “God help me, if I can’t trust you…I don’t want to live.”

Cooper didn’t answer. He just opened his arms. Julia rushed straight into them.

After holding her for several long minutes, Cooper carried her to the sofa and sat them down. Julia wound her arms around his neck and cried. It was totally unstoppable. She cried out her rage and despair and fear, holding on to him tightly. He didn’t say anything. He just sat and held her until she calmed down.

It occurred to Julia that this would be the last time she ever saw Cooper. She had such strong feelings for him, stronger than she’d ever had for any man, and now she’d lose him just when she’d found him.

In an hour, maybe two, U.S. Marshals would be coming for her and she would be relocated. Whisked away in the heart of the night.

It was clear to her that she had to cut off all ties to her previous life. Lives, at this point. So she’d leave Simpson forever and end up in North Dakota or Florida or New Mexico, with a new name and a new identity. Santana’s trial would probably be in the spring, Davis had been saying. Maybe later. And it could last for months. Afterwards, she had to stay in the program until all appeals ran out. It would be at least a year, probably two, before she was free to go where she wanted.

Would what she had found with Cooper last through maybe a couple of years’ absence? It was all so fresh, so new. They’d only been lovers for two weeks and he’d been gone for a week of that. They hadn’t really even talked that much. Most of their time alone was taken up with the sex. Maybe that’s all it was, sex.

Still, she’d be forever grateful to Cooper for the time they’d had together. He had kept her sane, especially during the nights. She had a sudden flash of herself in her new life. In some small, anonymous town somewhere, completely alone—and realized in a rush of warmth what Cooper meant to her.

She was sitting on his lap. He was still naked. She could feel his erection under her thighs, but he wasn’t pushing at her with it. Her face was buried against his neck and his chin rested on top of her head. She kissed his neck. It was strong and warm, wet with her tears.

“I have some things to tell you,” she said quietly, drying her eyes on his shoulder.

“Yeah.” She could feel Cooper’s nod. “I’m listening.”

“I’m not—I’m not what you think I am.” Julia sat up a little straighter, but kept her head on his shoulder. His broad, strong shoulder. She wouldn’t be able to lean on it for very much longer. She’d tell Cooper the truth, then she’d have to start packing. In a few hours’ time, she’d disappear from his life. Maybe forever. Julia closed her eyes for a moment.

Her heart was thudding. This was so hard.

Right now, right this instant, was the last second in her life in which she was Sally Anderson. Sam Cooper’s woman. Friend to Alice Pedersen, and Maisie and Beth and all the others. Mother to Fred. Maybe Cooper would keep Fred for her.

Maybe not.

Maybe Cooper would be so disgusted that she’d been living a lie, telling him lies, that he would just tip her out of his lap, out of his life, and walk out the door.

“My name—” Her voice wavered. She bit her lip and waited until she was sure her voice was steady. “My name isn’t Sally Anderson, Cooper. I’m not from Bend. I’m not a grade school teacher.” He didn’t move in any way, except to tighten his arms around her. “My real name is Julia Devaux and I live—used to live in Boston. I’m an editor. Or rather, I was. Now I don’t know what I am anymore. Except scared.”

Julia tilted her head on his shoulder so she could see his face. He was expressionless, as usual. His black eyes watched her steadily, patiently.

Now came the hard part.

“I—I saw something terrible,” she said finally. “In September. I was taking a photography course and was wandering around the docks in Boston on a photo shoot, looking for gritty realism. I came across this abandoned warehouse. The gate had been removed, so I walked in. I had one of those automatic cameras like fashion photographers have, and I just walked around, shooting picture after picture. Finally, I walked into this inner courtyard and—” She bit her lip and tried to control the deep tremors in her body as she remembered. She could see it all again—the gray industrial landscape, the small terrified man, the black gun to his head, the massively built killer with the cruel face, the death shot.

“I witnessed a murder, and it’s all on film,” she said simply and heard Cooper suck in a deep breath. All his muscles tightened. She stared at the place where his neck muscles met his shoulder. Even that part of his body was beautiful. “It was some gangland slaying. I—I was able to identify the murderer, a man named Dominic Santana, in a lineup. Apparently he’s some big mafia boss the FBI has been trying to get for years. I’m supposed to testify at the trial and I’m told he has put out a-a contract on me. A big one, apparently. A million dollars. In the meantime, pending the trial, I’ve been put into the Witness Security Program. Something’s gone wrong with the security—”

“Those fucking bastards!”

Cooper lifted her off his lap and surged to his feet. Julia stared up in astonishment at his face, suddenly not impassive and not impenetrable. Cooper was enraged, every line of his big body tense with anger. Julia felt a little flutter of something beneath her breastbone. Not fear, of course. She wasn’t afraid of him…not exactly.

But something was going to happen and it was out of her hands now. In some remote corner of her being she’d wanted to dump her problems into Cooper’s lap and now she had. Quite literally. But mixed with the relief was trepidation because Cooper suddenly seemed charged. A huge, terrifying figure of a man. An uncontrollable force of nature.

A warrior.

“Cooper?”

But he wasn’t listening. He strode to the telephone, pressed his finger on the hook, lifted it again and angrily punched *69.

When he heard someone say “Herbert Davis” on the other end of the line, he snarled, “Who the fuck are you, Davis?”

Cooper heard a sharp intake of breath, then a cautious voice asked, “Who is this speaking?”

Cooper tightened his grip on the phone, reminding himself to tighten his grip on his temper, too. “This is Sam Cooper. I’m speaking from Simpson, Idaho, from the phone of—” he shot a glance at Sally—no, Julia—curled up on the sofa. She was deathly pale, her wide turquoise eyes fixed on him. She looked as small and as vulnerable as a child. The tactile memory of her soft, delicate frame still lingered in his hands and the very thought of anyone hurting her made him half insane. He turned slightly, so he wouldn’t be distracted. “I’m speaking from Julia Devaux’s phone. Now I’m going to ask this just one more time—who the fuck are you?”

“I’m not authorized to disclose that information.” The man’s voice was distant, impersonal.

It was a wonder his hand wasn’t crushing the plastic receiver. “You listen to me, you son of a bitch. If you’re from the U.S. Marshal’s Office, then you guys running WitSec are worse bunglers than I thought. I’d heard the rumors about the Office going downhill, but this is beyond bungling. You can’t send an innocent woman with killers on her trail out here without even an agent to watch out for her. What the hell kind of protection is that?”

“Ah…er…” Cooper could hear the indecision in the man’s voice. “We’ve been having some budget cuts and our Boise office—”

“The hell with budget cuts!” Cooper roared. “What’s the matter with you people? You can’t just dump a witness and hope she’ll be safe. She’s got a contract out on her head. She needs the protection you’re not providing. Starting now.”

“Well, starting now, she’s no concern of yours. We’ve got a leak in our security and we’re pulling her out.”

“The hell you are,” Cooper said, his voice suddenly soft with menace. “You just try it.”

“Cooper?” Julia’s voice was faint as she touched his elbow. Cooper turned. “Cooper, what’s he saying?”

A muscle tightened in Cooper’s jaw.

“Cooper?”

He placed his palm over the receiver. “He says they want to pull you out.”

“Yes, I know. When are they coming?” She rested her forehead against his shoulder for a moment, swiping at the tears with the heel of her hand. She looked small and frightened and confused. Cooper felt that harsh squeezing in his chest again. He clutched the receiver until the dark skin of his knuckles turned white.

“You’re not leaving here,” he said bluntly.

“What? I don’t understand—”

He hated the sound of her voice like this—lost and dazed. “You’re not going anywhere. You’re staying here. With me.”

This shouldn’t be happening to her. This shouldn’t be happening to them. Right now, they should be in her bedroom, still fucking. He was always so frantic the first time, but he hadn’t worried too much about it. He knew he’d settle down some, in time. He thought they’d have all the time in the world.

And now their time was up.

“Cooper?”

He looked down at her upturned face, pale and confused, and in it saw the future he’d only dared start hoping for begin to recede. With Sally—no, Julia, dammit!—he felt more alive than he’d ever remembered feeling. Before she had arrived he had been losing himself, sinking more and more often into his bleak thoughts, as if he were on an ice floe that had broken off from the continent, drifting slowly away from the mainland.

She had changed all that, her very presence had been a lifeline thrown to him at the last minute before he disappeared over the horizon. She had brought him back to life. She was bringing Simpson back to life.

Damned if he’d let her go!

“Cooper, they’re coming for me. I have to get ready, pack—”

“Honey, listen to me. You’re not going anywhere. You’re staying right here, where I can protect you.”

“But—” Julia looked around, as if the men from the U.S. Marshal’s office were coming any minute. “They want to pull me out. It’s over, Cooper.”

“No, it’s not over.” Only the fear underlying the stubbornness in her pale, pretty face kept him from shaking her. “It’s not over at all, honey. Don’t you see? The Marshal’s Office is just going to give you another identity and put you somewhere else. But their security has been compromised. If that happens once, it can happen again. So hush. Let me deal with this.”

He lifted his hand from the receiver. “Talk to me,” he growled.

“Well, Mr.—ah, Cooper,” Herbert Davis began.

“That’s Senior Chief Cooper.”

“Oh.” There was a long silence at the other end of the line. “Navy.”

“BUDS.” Cooper never tried to impress anyone with the fact that he’d been a SEAL. But right now he needed Herbert Davis’ attention and the best way to do that was to let Davis know who he was dealing with. “And for the record, you’re not taking Julia Devaux anywhere. She’s staying here. She’ll be under the care and protection of the Sheriff, Charles Pedersen. And me.”

There was a small shocked sound. “Absolutely not! Why I’ve never heard anything as outrageous as that in my entire—”

Cooper made his voice soft and deadly. “There’s no way in hell I’m letting you take her out of here. Not with the kind of protection you’ve been offering. So let the sheriff and me take care of it.”

“I’m afraid that’s impos—”

“You’d damned well better do it or I’m taking this straight to the Justice Department. Right after I contact my very good friend Rob Manson at the
Washington Post
. You’ve read his byline. He’s the one who wrote the series of articles on how the Marshals botched the Warren affair. He’ll love this one. Federal witnesses with no protection put out as bait. I can see the headlines now.”