Читать книгу The Marshal's Witness - Lena Diaz - Страница 9

A scream shattered the quiet of Jessica’s bedroom.

Startled awake, she jumped out of bed, slammed into the dresser and fell onto the floor. Cursing the dark, unfamiliar room, she scrambled to her feet.

The noise sounded again—a short, throaty moan that echoed through the room, making Jessica wince.

Sugar. What was that?

Frantically feeling along the wall for the light switch, she bumped something on top of the dresser. She grabbed it to use as a weapon, and her other hand brushed against the light switch. She flipped on the light and whirled around to face whoever was in the room.

The room was empty.

She glanced around in confusion and shoved her bangs out of her eyes. The noise echoed through the room again. She nearly collapsed in relief. The noise was coming from her window, outside the house.

She chewed her bottom lip and debated calling Ryan to investigate. But what if there was some logical explanation for the noise? Did she really want to endure more of Ryan’s teasing if he came over and found a feral cat or some other animal howling outside?

He’d get a real kick out of that, and Jessica’s pride had already taken about all she could of his city girl insults. More important, she was on her own now, or supposed to be. Ryan was leaving in a few weeks. She needed to learn not to panic or assume DeGaullo had found her every time something unexpected happened.

Her mind was made up, but her feet were still deciding. Blood rushed to her ears. She gathered her courage, and inched toward the window. With her back against the wall, she raised her weapon and slowly lifted the edge of the curtain.

Two round, black eyes surrounded by feathers and a beak stared back at her through the glass. Good grief, it was just a bird, sitting on her window ledge. It blinked and gave another throaty howl. As if it was satisfied that it had done its job by waking her up, it screeched again, flapped its wings and flew away.

Jessica let the curtain fall closed. She’d been scared witless by a stupid bird. Was this the kind of life she had to look forward to? Being awakened in the middle of the night by screeching birds?

The bright red numbers on the bedside clock read six-thirty. Okay, so it wasn’t the middle of the night. But since she hadn’t slept well as she tried to convince herself she was safe without a marshal in the next room, it might as well be the middle of the night. She was exhausted.

She was also keyed up, full of nervous energy, so going back to bed would be just as futile now as it had been last night. She raised her hand to brush her bangs out of her eyes and only then realized she was still clutching what she’d grabbed off the dresser to use as a weapon. She stared in disbelief at what she was holding.

A blow-dryer.

Sugar.

What was she going to do if she met up with one of De-Gaullo’s men? Offer to style his hair?

She pitched the dryer onto the bed and trudged through the short hallway into the bathroom. Her shoulders were knotted with tension from her unpleasant wake-up call. Right now nothing sounded better than a hot, steamy shower to relax her muscles.

While she waited for the shower to get hot, she went about her morning routine. Normally she’d carefully fold her clothes and put them in the hamper, but she didn’t have the energy for that right now. She discarded her clothes in a sloppy pile on the white tile floor and stepped over the side of the tub.

Icy water pricked her skin like hundreds of sharp needles. She shouted and hopped out of the tub, right onto the pile of clothes. They shot out from underneath her feet across the slippery tile. Her hands flailed in the air, futilely grabbing for the countertop. She fell hard, smacking her head against the side of the toilet.

She lay there, naked, her head throbbing, while she tried to decide whether to cry, scream, or break something. Above her, the shower curtain billowed out over the tub. Every one of the red and blue cartoon cats grinned down at her as if they were about to burst into laughter.

A strangled gurgle wheezed between her clenched teeth. She rolled over, wincing when she put pressure on her left hip. She grabbed the countertop and painfully pulled herself to her feet. When she caught sight of her face in the mirror, she let out a low groan. A dark bruise was already forming on the side of her temple.

Could this day get any worse?

All those months during the trial, she’d longed for the comforts of her apartment, her Jacuzzi tub, the fluffy down comforter she’d bought two Christmases ago during a shopping trip with Natalie. She’d hated the cheap motel rooms the government called safe houses. She’d longed for the day when she’d be in a place she could call home again.

Now that she was, she realized how good she’d had it all along. At least the cheap motels had hot water. And she certainly didn’t have wild animals perched outside her window, screaming louder than Mrs. Bailey’s grandchildren when they ran up and down the hallway outside her apartment.

She shut the shower off and stood in front of the mirror, finger-combing her hair over her bruise. The tiny red scars that ran along her hairline made her pause. There were dozens of them all over her body, reminders of the explosion. Self-loathing filled her. How pathetically shallow to worry about downy comforters and jetted tubs when four men had given their lives for her.

They’d made the ultimate sacrifice, simply because it was their job, because they’d vowed to keep her safe. She was in awe of men like that, men with courage who did what was right, not what was easy. She’d worked for DeGaullo for years, too afraid to do what was right. Even the night Natalie had died, Jessica had been too scared to do anything more than cower beneath her desk. She’d done nothing to save her friend.

Her fingers tightened around the edge of the countertop. If Natalie’s family, or the families of those dead marshals, could give up their modern conveniences to have their loved ones back, Jessica was certain they’d make that trade without hesitation.

So would she.

Resolved to appreciate what she had and not to complain, even to herself, she ran a sink full of cold water. She shivered through an old-fashioned washcloth bath. As she was about to leave the bathroom, the shower curtain caught her eye again.

The cats stared back at her, mocking her. Unable to resist a childish impulse, Jessica grabbed the curtain and gave it a tremendous yank. The shower rod popped off the tile and landed on the floor with a satisfying metallic clang. Jessica stomped on the curtain, ridiculously pleased to hear the plastic crinkle beneath her feet.

Feeling buoyed by her tiny victory, she dressed in a pair of jeans and a plain, blue T-shirt. The sun was up now, turning the brown curtains in her bedroom a light muddy color. Not yet ready to face the roosters marching across her kitchen walls, she decided instead to check out the view behind her house. She hurried through the living room to the breakfast nook.

No telling what was hiding behind the curtains covering the sliding glass door. Knowing Ryan, there was something awful in her backyard.

Like the city dump.

She straightened her shoulders, reached up, and slid the curtains back. Her mouth fell open at the dazzling view. The Smoky Mountains spread out before her for miles, dressed in the golds and reds of early autumn. Jessica couldn’t begin to imagine how spectacular the colors might become in a few weeks when fall was in full swing. For the first time since Ryan had announced he was relocating her here, she was excited. Yes, she was a city girl, but she could still appreciate the incredible beauty in front of her.

Yesterday, hemmed in between two marshals, she hadn’t had much of a chance to notice her surroundings. Today, she would take everything in and face her new life with enthusiasm. It was almost like she was eighteen again. Alone, without any family, she’d still been hopeful as she left her latest foster home to find her place in the world. This time, she wasn’t that naive young woman desperate to fit in and be accepted. Her blinders were off. She would never again give her trust so easily, only to find the people she’d thought were her friends were really her enemies.

JESSICA STOOD AT the ridge-line where her backyard ended and the mountain dropped away. It wasn’t nearly as steep as it had looked from her back deck. A well-worn path angled down the mountainside until it reached Ryan’s house, then it angled down and disappeared into the trees below.

Those trees were so thick they blocked out the sunlight, forming a dark haven for anyone who might want to hide. Jessica rubbed her chilled arms and chided herself for worrying. She hadn’t broken any of the program’s precious rules. No one knew where she was. She was perfectly safe.

The sound of shoes crunching on the gravel road out front had her turning around. A large man with short, dark hair was jogging past her house. He reminded her of Ryan, but where Ryan was all muscle and brawn, this man was carrying a few extra pounds, as if he was a little too fond of his Friday-night beers.

“Morning,” he called out, his voice friendly as he waved.

“Morning,” Jessica automatically called back, but she was already heading toward her house to go inside. She needed to learn to face the world again, without her bodyguards, but today wasn’t that day. She wasn’t ready.

When the stranger saw her heading back to her house, he must have thought she was heading toward the street to meet him. He swerved into her side yard and jogged toward her.

Indecision froze Jessica in place. The safety of her house was too far away, and the stranger was almost right on top of her. She rushed backward several steps. The stranger ran forward, making a grab for her.

“No.” She twisted away and kept backing up.

The man lunged for her and grabbed her arm. “Whoa, there, miss,” he said. “If you back up any more you’re going to fall right off the mountain.” His brow wrinkled with concern.

“What?” Jessica glanced back. Her stomach dropped as she realized just how close she was to the edge. She scrambled forward and to the side, forcing the stranger to drop his hold on her arm.

“Thank you.” She gritted her teeth with embarrassment. This man probably thought she was an idiot.

He raised his hands as if to reassure her and stepped back, putting several feet of space between them. “I shouldn’t have run over here like that. Didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“No, no, you didn’t do anything wrong. I’m still half-asleep. Haven’t had my morning coffee yet,” she joked. She glanced back toward the drop-off and shivered, wrapping her arms around her waist. A fall like that could have broken some bones, or worse. That would have been pathetic—living through a year-long trial, surviving a bombing, then falling to her death in her backyard.

A sound from next door had them both turning to see Ryan stepping outside onto his deck. He didn’t seem to notice them as he leaned against the railing with a coffee cup in his hand. He stared out over the mountains, enjoying the same view Jessica had been enjoying a few minutes earlier.

“Morning, Ryan.” Jessica gave an enthusiastic wave to get his attention.

He straightened, as if surprised, and returned her wave. He set his cup down on the railing and hurried across the yard toward her. His face bore an expression of polite interest when he stood next to her and looked at the stranger. “Aren’t you going to introduce us, Jessica?”

“Oh, of course. Um, actually, we haven’t met yet.”

The man smiled at Ryan and held out his hand. “Hope I’m not intruding. I was jogging out front and saw this beautiful young lady. Just had to say hello. Mike Higgins. I’m renting a cabin down the road, about halfway up the mountain. Don’t have nearly the view you two have up this high.”

“Good to meet you, Mike. Ryan Jackson.”

The men shook hands and Ryan gave Jessica a pointed look, clearly expecting her to introduce herself.

“Oh, I’m Jessica…ah…Benedict.” She shook Mike’s hand, hoping he hadn’t noticed her hesitation. She’d almost said Delaney. She chewed her bottom lip and glanced up at Ryan.

He stepped closer as if to lend her his support. “You said you’re staying down the road?”

“I come up here every fall, been here almost two weeks.” He glanced back and forth between Jessica and Ryan. “Are you two permanent residents, or tourists like me?”

Jessica’s mind went blank, all her memorized lies flying away as easily as that bird had flown away this morning. Ryan smoothed over her silence and picked up the conversation. With a straight face, he told Mike he was a seasonal tour guide for hikers following the Appalachian trail through the Smokies. He rattled off names of landmarks like Cade’s Cove and something called Clingman’s Dome.

Then he turned the conversation back on Mike. Apparently Mike owned a small insurance company in Little Rock, and he was anxious to get some fishing action here in the mountains. Ryan made suggestions on where Mike could catch the biggest fish this time of year.

Jessica didn’t know if anything Ryan said about the area was true, but he sounded like he knew what he was talking about. If she hadn’t known who he was, she would absolutely believe he’d grown up around here and that he was a professional trail guide.

As he spoke he lifted his arm and put it around her shoulders, pulling her into his side. Only then did she realize how badly she was shaking. With Ryan’s warm strength supporting her, she began to relax.

It felt good being held by him—too good. It made her wish they could have met under different circumstances, before her life had gone so horribly wrong. Would he have liked her if they had? Would he have gifted her with that sexy smile that gave him a boyish, youthful look? Unfortunately, she’d never know.

“Thanks for the tips.” Mike shook Ryan’s hand again. “I’m going fishing real soon. Hopefully I’ll catch something big.” He gave Jessica a broad wink.

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.

RYAN 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.”

RYAN 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?”