“I’ll figure it out.”
She hung up the phone and tossed it on the sofa. She consulted her map once more before leaving the apartment. Her gaze moved to Crystal Grove again, which was nestled safely on the inside of the circle.
Her heart sank.
All her choices had just been reduced to one horrible solution.
It was a really, really bad idea. But the only one left.
Walking with purpose, she stepped onto the elevator, strode across the lobby, and out to the street without anyone noticing.
In a parking garage two blocks away, she used the remote to unlock the waiting SUV. Having an emergency vehicle nearby was another standard procedure for Phoenix ops. In addition to the full tank of gas, as a precaution there was also an extra ten-gallon can of fuel in the back. Stopping at a gas station meant risking being noticed or caught on surveillance. Thanks to Heath’s fame, the news story wouldn’t die down anytime soon. Making every stop even riskier.
She needed help. Even with all her precautions, she was still too visible. It wouldn’t take long for law enforcement to realize she’d been in the building the whole time they’d been looking for her.
She was officially on the run, hunted.
She needed a place no one would expect her to go. She needed someone no one would expect her to turn to.
One person kept popping into her mind as she wrestled with the decision.
A year ago, she’d left him without a word.
Would he help her now?
Or would he turn her in the first chance he got…?
Chapter Four
Crystal Grove, Oregon
Former DEA agent turned high school math teacher Colton Williamson’s headlights flashed across his modest home before he pulled into the one-car garage. He got out of his truck and went in through the mudroom, as he always did.
Except this time someone was waiting for him.
With a very guilty look on his face.
At the sight of brightly colored debris strewn all over the kitchen floor, Colton let out a soft curse. “Dammit, Pudge.”
The mammoth German shepherd let out a whine, not even trying to hide the destroyed tennis shoe at his paws.
“If you were going to chew up a pair of my shoes, why didn’t you go for those loafers with the tassels? They’re an abomination.”
Pudge looked away.
“Right. I understand. It would be too embarrassing to be caught chewing on them. How do you think it feels to have to wear them?”
Pudge trotted to the back door and gave Colton the look that meant he needed to go out.
“Fine. But we’re not done discussing this. I am not happy.” He opened the door and the dog rushed out. “And if you could go in the back corner like we talked about, that would be great. We’re not trying to create a minefield out there.”
Still grumbling under his breath, he closed the door and went to get a beer.
He talked to his dog way too much to be considered normal. He was just glad he had a dog so he wouldn’t have conversations with himself. Yeah, things were that bad.
When the hell were they going to track down Viktor Kulakov, arrest the bastard, and get his trial over with so Colton could get back to his real life?
He’d been in witness protection for a little over a year and it wasn’t getting any easier. He missed his old job in the DEA, and he missed his big, overbearing family even more.
At one time, he’d been annoyed by the constant phone calls from his brothers and their wives trying to fix him up on dates. He’d sometimes avoided calls from his mother when she checked in to see if he’d had a good dinner, not liking the guilt it caused when he had to tell her he’d had pizza for dinner, yet again.
What he wouldn’t give to pick up the phone and hear their voices now. He’d love to tell his mother he’d actually learned to cook. And he’d gladly go on a hundred boring dates just so he had someone to talk to.
Not that those dates would go anywhere long term. His heart was unavailable. Mainly due to the fact he hadn’t yet gathered up all the pieces after a certain U.S. deputy marshal blew it apart last year.
He shook his head and got a beer.
“Moving on. Moving on,” he repeated his mantra out loud. He needed to make a new life for himself here in Crystal Grove. Who knew how long it would take law enforcement to find and arrest Viktor Kulakov? Maybe they never would. Colton just needed to let go of the past and look toward the future. That’s what his WITSEC handler told him every time he checked in.
Tonight he had attended a retirement party for one of his fellow high school teachers. As with everything in Colton’s life now, it had been totally uneventful.
What kind of party was over by nine o’clock on a Friday night?
He shook his head and flipped on the television. He would spend the evening watching an action movie, and point out all the places where they’d messed up. He should know. Between his time in the military, and the eight years working undercover for the DEA, he knew how to carry a gun and bust in a door for real.
Unfortunately, the closest he’d come to seeing any action since being in WITSEC was his police interview last week about an egging a few houses down.
He was sorely tempted to egg his own home just so he could call them back and help them investigate.
He’d never been bored in his previous life.
In his old job at the DEA, there had never been a dull day. Okay, so his last day may have been a bit more action filled than he ever wanted to face again. But overall, he missed the excitement, and the sense of duty and purpose.
Sure, teaching also had a high level of respectability. Shaping future generations so they didn’t all turn out to be ignorant asshats was an important job. But it wasn’t one Colton was cut out for.
He needed adrenaline and action in his life. He’d been born into it. His cop father and brothers had pushed him to his limits both physically and mentally while growing up. There was no room for accountants or teachers in the Williamson family.
Next week, the school year would be over and he’d have the entire summer to do…absolutely nothing. While the other teachers looked forward to summer vacation, Colton wondered how he was going to survive.
He flipped through the TV channels, stopping with a gasp at a familiar face on the screen.
“Holy shit,” he said, turning up the volume.
“Aubrey Daniels is wanted for the murder of technology mogul Heath Zeller. The coroner has reported the victim’s throat was cut, and Mr. Zeller was stabbed multiple times in his sleep. Please be aware this woman is armed and extremely dangerous.”
“The hell she is,” Colton said to the reporter on the screen. “If she killed that man, I’ll eat those loafers myself. Tassels and all.”
Still, just because he knew with all certainty she hadn’t killed Heath Zeller, it didn’t mean she wasn’t dangerous. She’d hurt Colton, bad.
He knew her all too well. And her name wasn’t Aubrey Daniels. It was U.S. Deputy Marshal Angel Larson.
She’d been the one assigned to protect him as he prepared for Kulakov’s trial a year ago in Philadelphia. They’d spent months together in a safe house. There were only so many board games to play, or movies to watch, so eventually they started talking.
She’d shared very little, but the things she’d shared were true. He could tell—or at least he’d thought so. Then one night they got a bit too close. When they ended up in bed the second time, she was adamant it couldn’t happen again.
He’d agreed. It couldn’t go anywhere, anyway. But as they gave in to their urges again and again, Colton realized it was more than just lust. The itch had been scratched, but he still wanted her. Then, Kulakov escaped custody and the trial was postponed indefinitely, so Colton was told he had to leave Philadelphia and disappear into WITSEC.
With only days left before he would move away to start a new life with a new home and a new name, he’d taken a giant leap.
An
d fallen flat on his face.
He’d asked Angel to come with him. She’d told him she would think about it. But the next morning she was gone. No note, not a word. There was another agent protecting him, and he never saw Angel again.
Not until her photo popped up on his television tonight.
Maybe he didn’t know her as well as he thought.
He considered the possibility of the woman he knew murdering someone in their sleep. He shook his head. Nope. Not remotely possible. Angel might have some major commitment issues, but she was no killer.
Pudge barked at the back door to be let in.
Colton got up and opened the door wide, but his dog stayed sitting on the porch, tail wagging.
“What are you waiting for, an invitation?” he asked in annoyance.
“Actually, that might be nice,” came the soft, feminine answer.
His world turned upside down as Angel Larson stepped out of the shadows and his memories, and back into his life.
Chapter Five
Angel hadn’t been sure what kind of reception to expect from Colton. Having a gun pulled on her had not been outside the realm of possibility. Still, seeing a Glock 19 pistol instantly appear in his hand made her pulse jump and her own hands reach for the sky.
She only hoped she’d be able to explain before he pulled the trigger.
“You broke my guard dog,” he said.
A cautious spurt of relief went through her. “I didn’t break him. He works fine. He just loves me. I think he knows I picked him when you said he was scrawny.”
When Colton had found out he was destined for WITSEC, he’d decided he wanted a companion. She’d suggested a puppy. Later, when he asked her to go into the program with him, she’d realized he wanted more in a companion than long walks and playing catch.
He’d wanted to spend the rest of his life with someone, and okay, she’d panicked.
“Not only did you eat my shoes, but you picked a girl over me?” He frowned at the dog, who didn’t look the slightest bit remorseful.
Colton’s Glock was still leveled on her, so she stayed still with her hands in the air. “I seem to remember telling you not to purchase a firearm.”
He looked down at the pistol and shrugged. “Old habits.”
“Your new identification is good, but an overzealous background check could turn up inconsistencies,” she reminded him.
“And then what? I’d have to move somewhere else? Get a new identity? What could WITSEC do to me that would be worse than being a math teacher in Crystal Grove, Oregon?”
She’d guessed right away his new identity wouldn’t sit well with him. She’d even spoken to his handler about it. The man needed constant action. He would say it was because he didn’t like being bored, but that was BS.
She knew the real reason why he lived for danger.
“Are you going to let me in, or should I leave?” she asked, no longer alarmed by the gun. He might be really angry at her, but he wouldn’t shoot her. At least, she didn’t think so.
He’d probably been pissed after she’d left without a word in the middle of the night, but, surely, he was over that by now. No doubt, she was the only one still wondering what might have happened if she’d stayed…
“That depends,” he said. “Are you going to kill me, too?”
He knew her better than that. They’d spent months together, and she’d let him in behind her walls, where no one else was permitted. Granted, she hadn’t told him about her past—she didn’t talk about that, ever—but she’d told him enough for him to know that she would have gladly put herself in front of that knife to stop someone from killing the person she was protecting.
There had been a time when she wasn’t sure she was cut out for that level of duty, but it had been tested, and she’d proven she would always do the right thing when it came right down to it.
“Seriously?” She made a sound of annoyance and rolled her eyes.
“Where’d you park the white Bronco?” he continued with his comedy routine.
“Ha ha. The silver Explorer is in a storage unit down the street.”
She’d pinned everything on his willingness to help her. Her Plan B was to look for an abandoned property and hide out until things died down. But with the level of media coverage the story was getting, that could take months. Or longer.
Besides, abandoned properties usually contained things like rats and spiders. No thanks. She’d go up against a bad guy any day, but a spider? Hell, no.
She needed Colton. In more ways than one. But she was determined to keep things professional this time.
She let out a breath when he lowered the Glock.
“Get in here,” he muttered.
Whether he meant her or the dog she wasn’t sure, but both of them hightailed it into the house.
Chapter Six
Colton couldn’t believe Angel was here, in person, standing in his kitchen.
“How did you even know where I lived? You left before I was assigned,” he said as he tucked his weapon back in his pants. How many times had he thought of her since moving here?
Most of the time his thoughts still contained a certain level of irritation. He’d gotten over his anger—mostly. Some thoughts were of a sexual nature—that part of their relationship had been amazing. A few thoughts were just normal ones about where she might be, and if she was happy.
Her hair was dyed black instead of the white-blond it normally was. This color suited her better. It made those icy blue eyes seem a little softer.
“I may or may not have hacked into your file to see where they were moving you,” she admitted.
“And why would you have done such a thing?” A hint of a smile played at his lips. Had she looked him up back then so she could find him for more than just a place to hide?
When she didn’t answer right away, he didn’t push. Pushing her would just make her defensive. Besides, he preferred to keep his fantasy alive—the one where she comes to him and begs for his forgiveness, and admits she made a terrible mistake in leaving him.
“This is the perfect place for me to hide,” she explained, “because no one knows I know where you were moved. This is the last place anyone would look for me.”
So much for fantasies.
“How long do you plan to stay?” He didn’t mind her being here, but it might become inconvenient if she couldn’t ever leave the house because she was a wanted criminal.
And it would be nice to know how long he had with her this time.
“Not that long. I just need to figure out who set me up, get the prototype back, and clear my name.”
He chuckled. “Sounds like a piece of cake.” Fortunately he was still allowed to have sarcasm in WITSEC. “Any leads?”
The familiar surge of excitement rushed through his veins. A puzzle to be solved. Someone to help. He felt alive again. Useful.
“No. Not yet. Can I use your computer?”
He knew from the months she spent with him she was happiest when her fingers were on a keyboard with information scrolling on the screen in front of her. He was surprised she didn’t have one with her, or had already fabricated one from a transistor radio and a coconut.
But computers definitely weren’t his thing.
“Don’t worry, no one will track me back to your IP address,” she assured him.
Not that he had a clue what that meant.
He pointed down the hall. “It’s in the spare room. First door on the left.”
She hurried into the room, Pudge following behind her like a love-struck puppy. Which was exactly what he was.
“What the hell is this?” she said, stopping dead in her tracks.
“What?” he asked, stepping in behind her.
She stared at his computer in disgust, her nose scrunched up in a way that made her look adorable instead of fierce. “This is a desktop.”
“Um…yeah?” He’d heard that term before. They had desktops in the computer lab at the high school.
It had been so long since anyone had called him by his real name, he physically flinched. As if someone would overhear and find out who he really was.
“What’s wrong with gray?”
“Gray means it’s old.” She sat down at his desk and turned it on. The computer hummed to life.
Sort of.
Normally when he used it, he turned it on before he went to make dinner so it would be up and running by the time he was finished eating.
“Thirty-two bit?” she squeaked after clicking on a few things. “Are you messing with me?”
“I only use it to keep track of my students’ grades. I have a spreadsheet I fill out.” He’d thought he was a regular tech genius when he’d figured out how to create a formula so it calculated the grade point average automatically.
She picked up the phone line where it connected into the back of the big square thing and her shoulders fell. “Dial-up? You have dial-up?” Her blue eyes begged him to tell her he had some other alternative.
Unfortunately he didn’t. He wasn’t 100 percent sure what other alternatives there even were.
He frowned and crossed his arms. He hadn’t used computers when he was a DEA agent. At six feet four inches, he’d almost always been assigned undercover gigs as a bodyguard or a fighter. Criminals didn’t hire someone his size for their computer skills.
“I’m sorry it’s not up to your standards,” he said as she popped the case off his computer and pulled out something that looked pretty important. He hadn’t had a computer in the safe house they’d shared. Not that she would have needed it, since she’d brought three laptops with her.
Back then, she’d told him about some of her assignments where she’d taken a temp job at a company and downloaded evidence off their own computers. Half the time, he didn’t know what the hell she was talking about. But intelligent women turned him on and Angel was whip smart.
“I have a chain of IP addresses linking back to an untraceable proxy server,” she said, “but I need to be on a net—”
Wanted for Life Page 2
