In Need of Protection

by Jill Elizabeth Nelson

  A shot rang out from the forest, and Terry dropped from sight. Ethan sprang from the vehicle in a low crouch, weapon extended.

  “Go! Get out of here!” he hollered to the driver.

  The vehicle lunged forward in a hiss of spinning tires, and Lara threw herself across a howling Maisy. More gunshots rang out, though none pinged against the van’s sides. Ethan must be the target—and Terry, if he was still alive. The driver put the vehicle into a sliding one-eighty and then barreled up the narrow track. Lara’s breathing stuttered as she sat up and stared through the rear window.

  Terry lay in the clearing on the ground, unmoving, but Ethan stood tall, gun blazing—selflessly providing an opportunity for the driver to get Maisy and her away. Any second now, he would go down beside his partner. Her heart tore.

  * * *

  Something with the strength of a mule kicked Ethan in the chest and slammed him to the ground, driving every molecule of oxygen from his lungs. Pain splintered through his torso. His throat rasped as he struggled for air. Suddenly, his lungs filled, and he lay drinking in smoke-tinged air as if it were the elixir of life—which it was. The darkness edging his vision receded, and he forced himself to rise up on one elbow.

  Nothing except the wind stirred in the trees. No one emerged from the forest seeking to finish the deputies off. Had the gunman vacated the area after flushing Lara and the baby away from the supposedly secure house?

  His gaze flew to his partner, who barely stirred on the ground. Blood coated the man’s upper right arm. Ethan crawled toward Terry.

  “Hey, buddy,” Ethan said. His partner’s eyes squinted open. “You hit anywhere other than the arm?”

  Terry groaned. “Took one near the heart, but the vest under my shirt must have stopped it or we wouldn’t be having this conversation.” He groaned again. “Probably have a broken rib or two, but I’m not going to die anytime soon. You okay?”

  “Similar to you, but without the arm wound.”

  Ethan sat up and used a zip tie from his belt pouch to form a tourniquet on the profusely bleeding arm.

  “I need to call this in.” He whipped out his phone. “I hope those escort cars pick up the van before Drayton’s people do.”

  A gunshot blasted from the direction the van had disappeared. Ethan sprang to his feet, pistol at the ready.

  “I’ll call. You go!” Terry cried even as Ethan raced toward the sounds of distress.

  Ignoring the complaints from bruised or broken ribs, Ethan pelted up the narrow rutted track. If anything happened to Lara or Maisy, he’d never forgive himself. The US Marshals Service had been entrusted with their care. It was up to him to ensure such trust was not misplaced. Surely, duty was the only reason his heart was clogging his throat.

  From a short way ahead, just around a bend shielded by a thick stand of trees, a woman screamed. Ethan heard the baby crying and a masculine voice snarl a curse.

  “Just shoot her and let’s get out of here,” said another male.

  Ethan put on another burst of speed and rounded the tree line. A short burly man had Lara shoved up against the side of the van with one stiff arm. The other arm was lifting a gun toward her head. Ethan fired instantly, and the gunman dropped like a stone and lay moaning and rocking on the grass, clutching his knee. Lara shrieked the baby’s name and pointed toward a second man, who dangled Maisy’s car carrier from one hand and held a gun in the other.

  “Drop the weapon!” Ethan ordered as he took up a solid shooter’s stance. The man who held the fussing baby glanced toward him, then Lara, then back to Ethan again, mouth slightly agape.

  “I’m not inclined toward mercy at the moment.” Ethan’s tone emerged as a lethal growl.

  The man’s weapon thumped to the ground. With a cry, Lara charged forward, wrested the baby carrier from the gunman’s grip and retreated to the far side of the van.

  “Are you all right?” Ethan called to Lara.

  “I’m fine. Just shaken up.”

  He sent up a mental prayer of thanks. As he secured the would-be baby snatcher, Lara’s gentle murmurs to the child carried to his ears. Maisy’s crying receded and then stopped.

  Ethan assessed the scene. The man he’d shot—the one who’d been about to shoot Lara—was still groaning on the ground. Ethan quickly secured him, also. The guy would need to get to a hospital, but he wasn’t bleeding out. A spike strip lay across the track directly behind the van, indicating why the vehicle had stopped with four flat tires. The windshield sported a starred bullet hole, and the driver lay slumped against the steering wheel.

  Ethan sucked in a breath. He shoved his uninjured prisoner into the back seat of the van, then opened the front door and felt for a pulse in the driver’s neck. It was there, faint but steady. Thank You, Lord. Heat bubbled in his gut. A vest didn’t protect anyone from a headshot, but the bullet must have only grazed the driver, knocking her out. They were going to need emergency services pronto, though. Terry should have already called for those.

  Ethan leaned in toward the man in the back seat. “Any more of you near here?”

  “Just you wait.” The guy sneered at him. “An army is on the way.”

  “How did you know about this safe house?”

  His captive shrugged. “Got a phone call telling us where to go, what to do. Apparently, me and Bill were the closest assets to the location.”

  Ethan snorted. “You talk like you’re employed by some sort of legitimate intelligence outfit rather than a thug working for cockroach weapons dealers. What did you do with the county sheriff’s deputies who were supposed to be waiting for us inside the house?”

  “We’re here,” said a woman’s voice behind him.

  Ethan turned to find a pair of uniforms walking toward him—a male and a female. A pale-faced Terry trailed in their wake. Lara came around the van and stood beside Ethan. Her strained features and the white-knuckled grip she maintained on the car carrier told him fear still wrapped her in its fist. Sensible person. The danger was far from over. He resisted the impulse to put an arm around her shoulders and pull her close.

  “How did you survive?” Lara gazed up at him with wide eyes.

  He offered her a smile, hoping the gesture held more assurance than he felt about their situation. “I’m wearing a concealable bulletproof vest. It’s protocol to wear one when on protection detail.”

  Her lips trembled into a faint smile. “Good protocol.”

  “We were ambushed,” said the male deputy as the trio reached Ethan and Lara. “Knocked out cold, tied up and locked in a storage shed out back. Your partner found and freed us.” The man jerked a nod toward Terry, who stood swaying on his feet.

  “I need to get Lara and the baby out of here,” Ethan said to his partner. “The suspect in custody says more of his people are on the way.”

  “For sure.” Terry nodded. “But I just got off the phone with headquarters. Our prior escorts have reported in. Their vehicles met with a similar fate as the van. They’re out of commission.”

  “Then I need to take Lara and Maisy in whatever vehicle these goons arrived in. It’s got to be around here someplace. I’ll disable the GPS to ensure we can’t be tracked.”

  “I think it’s right there.” Lara pointed toward a shadowy opening in the trees a dozen or so feet up the track, where a large object was covered by camouflaging branches.

  From this location, it was just possible to make out the slightly unnatural lines of the object beneath the branches. From the direction of the road the small clearing was all but invisible.

  “Sharp eye.” Ethan gave her a nod and turned toward his partner and the two sheriff’s deputies. “Between possible concussions and a gunshot wound, all of you need medical attention. Help should be coming soon, but Lara, Maisy and I can’t wait around to see who arrives first—the good guys or the bad guys.”

  “We�
�ve got this,” said the female sheriff’s deputy. “Leave the suspects in our custody.”

  “And we’ll give any crooks who arrive before the cavalry a warm welcome.” The male marshal patted his sidearm.

  “What they said.” Terry’s grin wobbled, and he staggered slightly where he stood.

  Ethan stepped forward and helped his partner to a seat on the ground, leaning him against the side of the crippled van. The intensity in Terry’s dark eyes snagged Ethan’s attention.

  “There’s something you ought to know, buddy,” his partner said. “I talked to Marshal Teague himself. The service is compromised.”

  Ethan’s heart lurched. “A mole?”

  Terry shook his head. “One of our top computer techs, Alex Bingham, has been kidnapped. They think the Draytons have him and they’re squeezing him for every bit of knowledge that will help them snatch the baby.”

  “That’s how they knew about this safe house. Bingham would have been able to access those location records.”

  “You got it. Marshal Teague says we’ve revoked our guy’s server access, but we’re still scrambling to discover how much damage has already been done. We don’t know what the Draytons might know about our safe sites and protocols.”

  Ethan’s jaw muscles went rigid. “I have to take our charges completely off-grid, then. Away from any known marshals service connections.”

  The man nodded, face waxing a deeper gray. “You’re on your own, but if anyone can navigate a safe way out in the cold, you’re the guy. We’ll work on catching the Draytons.” Terry’s left hand closed around Ethan’s right. “You keep Lara and Maisy safe.”

  Ethan squeezed his friend’s hand and then released it. He rose and faced Lara. She gazed back at him. If he’d ever seen grave determination on a human face, he was seeing it now.

  “I heard.” She lifted her chin. “Maisy can count on us—you and me.”

  Ethan nodded, his respect for Lara climbing another notch. “Let’s go.”

  The sheriff’s deputies cleared the camouflage from the gunmen’s midsize sedan while Ethan and Lara collected their bags and Maisy’s belongings from the van. The keys had been left in the sedan’s ignition—a typical precaution for someone who might need to make a quick getaway.

  Since their enemies had a skilled computer technician in their possession, Ethan took a few moments to disable the GPS on the car so the system couldn’t be accessed and their location couldn’t be revealed. He also removed the battery from his cell phone. Since the agency’s database had been hacked, their enemies could have his private government number and use his phone to find them. They might not have his number, but it wasn’t a risk he was prepared to take.

  Soon, he had the vehicle out on the highway, moving westward at a pace just under the speed limit. He and his charges were now cut off from any help from the marshals service. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t accept aid from another branch of law enforcement. Ethan knew just the place they could go to ground—provided they could get there before their pursuers caught up with them.

  FOUR

  Lara gnawed the inside of her cheek as she held a hastily prepared bottle in Maisy’s mouth with one hand and gripped the armrest on the car door with the other. Sparsely forested scenery flew past her back-seat window as they sped south at a westerly angle. The terrain had begun to climb steadily in elevation. Evidently, they were returning to the mountains.

  “Where are you taking us?” she asked Ethan.

  “I have a friend with a ranch nestled in the Wind River Range.”

  “How are they going to feel about us bringing trouble in their direction?”

  Ethan’s broad shoulders rippled in a shrug. “Rogan’s a DEA agent, so danger is no stranger in his line of work. Trina’s a veterinarian, real gutsy woman. If they were home, they’d stand shoulder to shoulder with us against anything the Draytons could throw our way. But Rogan and Trina left five days ago for a veterinary convention in Minnesota. After that, they’re taking a summer vacation canoeing the legendary Boundary Waters along the Canadian border. The couple is incommunicado by now, deep in the wilderness, but Rogan and I have a mi casa es su casa friendship. They’d be the first to say come on over and make yourselves at home, so we will.”

  An involuntary sigh slipped between Lara’s lips. How had life suddenly blown up into such a mess that they were reduced to lying low like squatters in someone else’s home? But their options were severely limited, and if Mr. Competence deemed this place safe and their welcome assured, she’d go along with the plan. For Maisy’s sake more than her own.

  The baby had finished the bottle, and her eyes were drifting closed. At least someone was relaxed and content. The child had no concept of the danger that crept around them, waiting to pounce, or that her mother was missing.

  Where was Izzy? How was she faring? Was she even alive? Lara’s stomach turned and she shifted in her seat.

  “Try to get comfortable, maybe even grab a nap.” Ethan’s tone was gentle—soothing, even. “It will be a long drive.”

  “Let me know if I can spell you behind the wheel,” she answered.

  He chuckled. “And potentially leave me helpless in the face of baby tears?”

  “You’d figure it out.” She smirked at the back of his head.

  “I appreciate the vote of confidence, but I don’t yet have a wife and kids I’m clueless.”

  Lara scolded her rebellious heart for doing a little skip at the confirmation this man was single and, even better, the word “yet” indicated openness to the possibility of changing that situation. Neither his marital status nor his hopes for a future family had anything to do with her, and she needed to keep that assertion in the forefront of her mind.

  “Plus, I’m an only child,” he went on, “so I never had any experience looking after siblings or even the possibility of infant nieces or nephews.”

  “Ditto,” Lara said. “And my part-time high school job was photographer’s helper in a neighborhood shop, so I never babysat. My first exposure to infant care was this morning. Izzy left written instructions, I followed them and voilà, Maisy gets fed and changed.”

  “Photographer’s helper. Is that how your interest in photography began?”

  “Without that job, I might never have known I have a knack.”

  “Funny how life goes sometimes. You said you’re a nature vlogger? How does a Chicago native get connected with the great outdoors?”

  “That part happened my freshman year in college.” Lara smiled. Those memories were precious. “My boyfriend at the time was an avid wilderness hiker and started dragging me along to state and federal parks to traipse through the woods, up hill and down dale. I brought my camera along and found out I loved the outdoors and taking pictures of nature and wildlife. That interest outlasted the boyfriend. Pretty soon, I was casually vlogging my adventures, and it turned out, much to my pleasant surprise, people liked my photos and my little essays and poems about them.”

  “A creative career was born.” Ethan chuckled.

  Was she mistaken or did Ethan’s tone hold a note of admiration? Warmth spread through her chest. Why did she care what the deputy marshal thought about her or her occupation? But apparently, she did care, and the unwelcome fact raised red flags in her head.

  Desire for approval had tangled her up in a disastrous relationship once before. Caution, girlfriend, caution. There was no room for personal feelings under direly dangerous circumstances. Too bad the guy was terminally cute and not such a tyrant once one caught on that his take-charge personality was well-intentioned rather than scheming and manipulative as Matt’s had been.

  “Shall I turn on the radio?” Ethan asked. “What kind of music do you like?”

  “Contemporary Christian.”

  “Another thing we have in common.” He began flipping stations.

  “You�
��re a believer?”

  “A follower of Jesus? That’s a resounding yes. What I do exposes me to a lot of the darkness in people, and things don’t always turn out for the best. I can’t see how anyone—especially someone in my line of work—can get through life without faith that God is real and justice will ultimately be served.”

  Lara’s heart leaped. Everything he said resonated with her, especially that thing about ultimate justice. She opened her mouth to tell him so, but the words froze on her tongue as Ethan’s station surfing brought up a news broadcast.

  “The hunt for escaped felon Ronald Drayton has come to Wyoming,” said the male commentator, “since the discovery this afternoon of his badly injured, estranged wife in a Cheyenne motel room. Undisclosed evidence indicates that people answering to Drayton are responsible for her injuries and that the convict himself may even be in state. Isabelle Drayton was taken to Cheyenne Regional Hospital, but Drayton remains at large.”

  A deep moan escaped Lara’s chest. Poor Isabelle. What a wrenching situation for her to be hurt and hospitalized, as well as separated from her child.

  “At least Izzy’s alive,” she said to Ethan. “I’ll be praying for her full recovery.”

  Lara glanced down at the sleeping baby. The child’s feathery eyelashes cast small shadows on plump cheeks, and the little bow of a mouth made tiny sucking motions as she slept. Lara’s heart wobbled. Yes, she dearly wanted her friend to survive and regain her health, but that meant she’d have to give Maisy back to her mother. Of course, that was the best thing all around, wasn’t it?

  Lara’s head said yes but her heart ached. She might see little or nothing of the child once Izzy took Maisy and went back to her life in Chicago. Lara’s livelihood depended on easy access to wilderness locations, so returning to city life was out of the question, even if she wanted to resume urban living—which she didn’t. From any angle Lara looked at it, the parting would be bitterly hard, so she might as well start preparing herself for it. But how did one carve a child out of one’s heart once she was embedded there? The answer was simple. One didn’t.