Читать книгу Straight to the Heart - Samantha Hunter - Страница 7

“YOU THINK HE’S COVERING FOR someone?” U.S. Marshal Joanna Wyatt set the file down on her boss’s desk, meeting Don’s eyes squarely. She had no idea why he was asking her about his case—the murder of a rodeo official by an organized-crime thug—but maybe he needed to brainstorm ideas. The cowboy who had witnessed the murder wasn’t cooperating, but that wasn’t her problem. She was impatient, wanting to know about her own status and her next assignment.

“That or he’s being threatened. Someone might have gotten to him, scared him. That would explain why he refused to come into protective custody, didn’t want to leave his family exposed. But he also rejected the idea of a protective detail. Said he could handle it himself,” Don responded, sounding tired.

Joanna pursed her lips, grabbing the report and scanning it again. Former navy SEAL, covert ops, cowboy. She knew the type. She’d been raised by two men with similar backgrounds, her father and brother, both Texans, both Texas Rangers. Ben Callahan’s response to protective custody didn’t shock her; a man like that tended to face his trouble head-on.

“I imagine he’s probably not afraid of much, and he probably could handle it himself,” she acknowledged. “This guy must have some serious skills, and friends who might back him up.”

Don scowled. “That may be, but he doesn’t have the jurisdiction nor the blessing of the U.S. government to do so. He’s a civilian now.”

“Why refuse a personal detail?” Joanna mused aloud.

“He said having bodyguards would draw more attention to him, that strangers would stand out like sore thumbs, raise flags.”

“He’s probably right. Texas towns are tight-knit communities. Everyone knows everyone, no exceptions.”

Don glared. Joanna shrugged. She couldn’t help it if Callahan was right.

“So what are you going to do? More importantly, when will I be clear to work? My shoulder is healed up well enough, and I’m ready.”

“The investigation into your last assignment hasn’t been closed. You won’t be back in fugitive apprehension until the assessment is complete.”

Joanna gripped the edges of the chair. “I’m on desk?”

Don smiled slightly. “Not quite that bad. You’re going undercover for WITSEC.”

“Witness security?” she echoed faintly. “But I don’t do witness protection. I chase bad guys, remember?”

Joanna lived for the chase. Always on the move, she’d taken down some of the worst of the worst. WITSEC, in her opinion, was nothing more than glorified babysitting. It was too slow and didn’t have nearly the excitement hunting down a fugitive offered.

“No way, I—”

“Listen, I know what you think of witness protection, but you go undercover to protect Ben Callahan or your backside is warming one of those chairs out there until the investigation into your last assignment is complete.”

“This sucks. I made one mistake, one small error in judgment—”

“You nearly got yourself killed and almost lost out on the apprehension of a dangerous suspect in the process. You pushed too hard, put yourself and the case at risk, and it’s not the first time. You need to dial things down a notch. Just for a while.”

“You don’t get the guys we’re after by backing off.”

“I know, and you’re one of the best we’ve got. But right now, you need to do this. Believe me, it took some wrangling for me to even get you this assignment, and that’s only because WITSEC is stretched to capacity. They need you.”

Suddenly it became clear to her why she’d been brought into this conversation.

“The cowboy? I thought he’d refused any protection,” she said.

“He did. And you seem to agree that a stranger would stick out like a sore thumb, but I think you could fit right in. He runs a roadhouse on his family ranch near Midland, and it just so happens they’re looking for help.”

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

He didn’t so much as crack a smile.

Joanna took a deep breath, settling back in the chair, trying to accept her fate. Undercover might not be too bad. At least it was out of the office, in the field, and if this is what it took to get the shrinks and administrators off her back, then fine.

“How long?”

“Three weeks. Keep him safe, let us know if there’s anything else going on—if you think he’s hiding something, if there’s a threat he’s not telling us about, some other reason he would refuse protection, anything. He can’t find out who you are—this is our only shot. If he makes you, we could lose him altogether. Don’t downplay this, Jo. And if things get messy, you call for backup—not like the last time.”

“Of course,” she said, crossing her arms. “But for the record, I did call for backup. It’s in the report. It’s not my fault they took forever to show up and I had to try to handle things myself.”

“Got it. But what happens next in your career rests on making this assignment work. I don’t want to lose you, so, like I said, make it work.”

Joanna could only nod. She was a professional, and an assignment was an assignment, but God help her, the next three weeks couldn’t pass quickly enough.

On her last case, she’d made a mistake. She’d decided not to wait for backup during a takedown—there wasn’t time, in her assessment, if they didn’t want a serial rapist to get away—and she’d taken a bullet for her trouble.

It was the only time she’d ever been shot, and it had almost been the last time. Missed a major coronary artery by an inch. She would have bled out so quickly she wouldn’t even have known what happened. The guy had been apprehended a little later, but it hadn’t been by her. That stung almost more than the gunshot.

Now, there was penance to be paid, and hers was babysitting Ben Callahan.