Travis guessed it was an act not unlike his own.
“Have a seat,” Travis said as he reached for his own chair.
Travis pulled out the chair, and he sat down.
So did Eric.
They did it almost in sync.
Travis watched the murderer with casual nonchalance. He didn’t slouch in his chair. But he didn’t sit up straight either. He did everything not to appear threatening. Now, facing the man who was accused of such horrendous things, he wondered what could have brought him to that while tamping down the feeling of outrage that Kiera had been so close to dying at this man’s hand.
He took a breath and focused on objectivity. This was his one chance. He’d read the file. Eric Solomon had had every dysfunctional trigger necessary through his childhood to raise him into the killer he’d become. He was a classic case. He’d come from a fragmented and dysfunctional family. He had a father who had disappeared before he was six, a stepfather who had been abusive and a mother who’d been mostly absent.
Travis knew that children could overcome those odds; many did. Not Eric. He’d run away from home at thirteen and disappeared off the authorities’ radar. Following that, there’d been a long period of silence, until now.
Although he’d seen the file picture, it didn’t reflect what Travis saw now—an open, friendly face. It was an illusion, he knew that. The initial assessment had indicated that the suspect was a sociopath. It was clear that Eric was giving him what he thought he wanted.
Eric silently watched with obvious reluctance and then slouched as he faced Travis with his arms folded. His face was tense, resistant. He barely looked at Travis. In fact, he didn’t look at anything at all except the top of the desk that separated them.
His well-toned frame made it clear that he spent a good deal of time working out. Travis wondered if he spent any time contemplating the lives he had taken. He guessed the opposite might be true, that he might think about taking more. Fortunately, he could no longer do that. The question remained, was there someone out there who could. Someone who would carry on where he’d left off? Was Kiera’s theory valid at all? Was what he and James speculated a reality?
“You killed a lot of people, Eric,” he said without inflection. He slouched back in his chair. He didn’t make eye contact but rather looked over the man’s shoulder. His words were designed to be exactly as they sounded, unimpressed.
“You been living under a rock?” Eric snarled. “That’s old news.”
“You’re right, it is,” Travis replied, deciding to go straight for the heart. “Bet you wish that traitor who rode along with you got some justice too.”
Silence met that comment.
Eric’s lips tightened. His eyes flicked right and then left and didn’t quite meet his. Travis pulled back in his chair as if putting as much distance as possible between them.
Seconds ticked by and Eric slouched further down in his seat as if by that he were proving his disinterest.
“You’ve been wronged. I can see that,” Travis said knowing that the sudden changes in mood were on the accused murderer’s file. He was extremely unpredictable.
Silence filled the room and seconds ticked by.
Eric shifted on the rock-hard metal chair. He glanced at the clock on the wall. Then he leaned forward, an ugly look on his face as if he were about to physically attack.
“Where is she? Where is the bitch that put me here?”
Travis didn’t say anything immediately. He didn’t want to give Eric Kiera’s name.
“If she’s not dead yet, she will be soon.” He shook his head and his next words put all doubts to rest. “I should have raped her when I had the chance.”
At that, it took everything Travis had not to lunge across the table and choke the life from this piece of crap. He’d dealt with a lot of slime in his time but never had it been so personal.
“Got under your skin, didn’t I? Tell me where she is and maybe I’ll tell you a bit more of what you want?”
He wouldn’t let Eric see how much the turn in conversation had gotten to him. Instead he flipped the interrogation back to where it belonged—on the killer.
“Would you have started killing without him, Eric?” He asked, taking charge of the interview. He didn’t wait for an answer. He held the killer’s eyes as if the truth might be hidden there. “You weren’t alone, were you?”
Eric cursed.
“Your partner was the reason that you got into this mess wasn’t he, Eric?”
He’d been winging it for the last few minutes, relying on the fact that there might be some hate on Eric’s part over what had happened to him. That was, if any of this had any validity, if the relationship existed at all, if there was another killer.
He met the accused serial killer’s insolent gaze with a “couldn’t care less” look of his own. Eyes told a lot about someone. In this case, the accused’s eyes were a dusty blue, innocent as a baby’s except there didn’t seem to be any depth to them. They reflected the overhead fluorescent light: flat, barren—emotionless. Travis sat back, stretching his legs out, keeping his arms free, his hands on the desk.
“So, now they’re free and you’re here. This isn’t what you deserve.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Travis ignored that. “What do you think? I think he has himself a new partner, someone else to enjoy his pursuits with.”
Silence was thick in the room. The dull clang of metal echoed down the hall. Eric’s mouth tightened. His arms folded across his chest as he leaned back. Whether on purpose or by accident, he was copying Travis’s pose.
Precious seconds ticked by; a minute passed. And then, just as he prepared to launch his attack from another angle, Eric sat up and leaned forward. His expressionless eyes, eyes that made Travis want to take a step back, met his.
“She deserves to die alongside me,” Eric muttered.
She.
That one word seemed to vibrate between them. He couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. It was amazing that he’d revealed anything at all, Travis thought. He pushed that reaction back, concentrating on keeping his face emotionless.
“I can understand that feeling,” Travis said.
Eric said nothing.
“We’re close to making that happen, but we need your help to do it,” Travis said ignoring the animosity that felt alive between them. He stated the lie without a trace of guilt. If that was what it took to flush the truth out of this murderous piece of trash, that was what he would do. “She’s out having fun, living the life and you’re here...” He shook his head. “For how long?”
Eric remained silent.
“You’ve been wronged. I can see that,” Travis said.
“She started all this,” Eric said unexpectedly as he shook his head. “She’s the reason I’m here. It wasn’t my fault.”
He sat up straighter, drawing himself back, almost defensive.
“I believe you,” Travis encouraged.
“Do you?” he said with the original sulky edge that had lessened slightly as if he were feeling slightly more talkative. “She always said we’d be together forever, that she’d never leave me. And now I’m here and...” His face shut down, as if he knew that he’d said too much. He shoved back from the table.
“Eric,” Travis began. “I can help you.” In the back of his mind he could only thank whatever stars had aligned that Eric hadn’t demanded a lawyer be present. It was a possibility that might have deep-sixed this idea before it had even begun.
“Help me what?” he snarled. “I’m going to die in this hole and you know it.”
“You help me, and I can help you,” he said. “If you’re sentenced...”
“I don’t need your help,” he gritted through clenched teeth. Spittle fell on the table. “It’s over. I don’t need you or any of your twisted p
romises.” He stood up in a rush and the chair clattered backward. Behind him the door swung open. Before either of them could move farther, the guard was in the room. In seconds, he’d grabbed onto him.
Eric’s eyes met his.
It wasn’t the first time he’d faced evil and it wouldn’t be the last. Still, he was glad to walk out the gates of the prison and leave Eric Solomon far behind.
The trip hadn’t been as successful as he’d hoped. He’d proven only one thing. He had confirmation from the killer himself that he hadn’t acted alone. More amazingly, he’d also had confirmation that the other killer was female. But whether Eric would ever admit to that in court was another matter. They’d work on that when the time came. Most important, he knew that he needed to get Kiera into a safe house and they needed to do it faster than James had thought. They needed one now.
Travis was on the phone to James before he hit the road. He explained the situation and an hour later he was heading back to Cheyenne with orders to get Kiera packed and ready for her new life. He wasn’t sure how that would go over. What he did know was that there was an APB out on a woman who might be the second serial killer. A woman who might have only one goal in mind, making sure that her last victim died.
This time the little over two-hour drive that stretched out in front of him felt endless. As he left Rawlins’s city limits behind, he’d never felt more determined in his life. It was during the drive that he was able to contemplate, really think about how much Kiera had come to mean to him.
Even after this short time, he couldn’t imagine his life without her. Despite that, he knew they were too different, their lives too disparate to ever pursue a relationship. He didn’t know from one moment to the next where he might be or what he might be assigned to. And Kiera, she had her job, her love of her elderly patients and her passion for helping. He knew all that despite the little time he’d spent with her and he wanted so much more. He was blindly falling for her without knowing her like he should. And he didn’t know if she felt the same way or not. It was too early in the game and yet his mother had always said that it had been that way with his father. It had been that way with two aunts and uncles as well—it was the way his family worked. They were romantics. He pushed his what-ifs aside and only hoped that she’d give him the chance to get to know her, a chance outside the boundaries of this case.
It was when he was on the last leg home with fifteen minutes to go that he heard the news that made fear run through him like it never had before, even when he’d faced off against the most dangerous criminals. There’d been an attempted prison break at the Rawlins state prison. No further details were released.
“Damn it!” He slapped the steering wheel. He was still too far away. He ordered Siri to give James a call. She answered back in her usual precise tones with a hint of an electronic accent and told him that Jane wasn’t in his directory. He smacked his palm against the steering wheel again in frustration but gave the order again, this time slowing his voice down, and he had much better luck.
“No word yet on what happened,” James said. “I believe it was stopped in time.”
Believe wasn’t a word that gave him any comfort. Had the break been stopped? One name ran through his mind.
Eric Solomon.
Chapter Sixteen
Travis pulled into the FBI office in Cheyenne at exactly one o’clock in the afternoon. The journey between Rawlins and Cheyenne had seemed to last forever. Only five minutes ago, he’d spoken to Reece, the marshal taking the current shift with Kiera. Reece had assured him that everything was well, there was nothing out of the ordinary. Considering all that had happened in the recent past, he’d drawn in a relieved breath at the news. Reece, not unlike Devon, was good. Travis was surrounded by good men, the best. Only last year, Reece had been instrumental in taking down a terrorist group. He could rely on any number of colleagues, but Reece Blackburn, like Devon, stood out. Assured by the call, he headed for the FBI office to report what had occurred with his visit to Eric. Thirty minutes later, inside the FBI building, he bypassed the elevator, for even a minute wait would have been intolerable, and took the stairs two at a time.
But the physical exercise didn’t take the anxiety away. He didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want to be away from Kiera another minute. But there was no choice. There were things that needed to be done and things that he needed to speak to James about. They were specifics that needed to be put in place, and a plan that had to be put in motion to keep Kiera safe.
“James,” he said as he stood in the doorway.
James nodded but his eyes remained on the laptop.
Travis took a seat as James contemplated the screen before looking up.
Travis told James the details of what had happened.
“Interesting,” James said thoughtfully. He looked at the file on his laptop. “So, here’s the new arrangement effective almost immediately. A safe house in Denver. Memorize the address and I’ll be in touch,” he said. “With the new information, well, this isn’t a safe situation. Especially with the admission from Solomon. You and Kiera are officially a couple until this is over. Unfortunately, the place won’t be ready until tomorrow morning. I’d suggest a hotel room in Denver. Have her use your last name, pose as a married couple. Maybe flip to her second name for good measure. I don’t think you need any more than that—at least for now.”
“Thanks, man,” he said. “For getting this done so quickly.”
James nodded. “Good luck,” he said. But the look he gave him held something else that looked suspiciously like regret.
Travis didn’t have time to consider what any of that might mean. He wasted no time in getting out of the office and heading to where he needed to be—with Kiera. No matter how good Reece was, he needed to be there by her side.
Fifteen minutes later and two blocks from Kiera’s house and it seemed like the distance between the FBI office and her home had increased dramatically. It was taking forever to get there. His mind was awash with thoughts, with what needed to be done.
It was two o’clock in the afternoon. He promised himself that he’d have Kiera away from here and on the road by three.
But minutes after Reece had left Kiera’s condo, Travis walked over to Kiera and sat down on the sofa beside her. It was time to lay out for her the drastic shift in plans. It wasn’t a job he relished for he didn’t know how she would take it. He wasn’t sure if she would cooperate and if she didn’t, he didn’t know if he could convince her to change her mind.
There was no way to preface this, so he met it head-on. “Kiera, it’s not safe for you here.”
She frowned, her eyes narrowing. “I don’t like where this is going.” She looked him in the eye as she stroked Lucy and the cat purred. “This is our home. I...”
He looked down. Damn, he hadn’t thought about the cat or factored in its importance to her. An error right out of the gate wasn’t good.
“After what happened, Kiera, we can’t take the chance that it might happen again. We have to move to a safe house.”
“What do you mean?” she asked. “You and the other marshals are protecting me until the trial. I’m safe.”
“You weren’t safe yesterday afternoon.”
“But I’m safe now,” she insisted. “You make me safe.”
He met the look in her eyes, saw apprehension and something else—fear. He took her hands in both of his, ignored the cat and pulled her close. The cat meowed. The damn cat could complain all she wanted, he thought. His lips brushed Kiera’s and then he was pulling her against him. He kissed her deeper as her soft yet firm figure pressed against him. And he only wanted her closer, tighter.
When he let her go, she gave him a befuddled look.
“I’m starting work next Monday,” she said after more than a minute had passed, as if that somehow changed what had happened. She shifted a few inches away from h
im, her lips still heightened in color, prettily blushed from his kiss.
“They’re expecting me. They need me.” It was as if she believed he would argue and she had her defenses in place.
She wasn’t wrong. It wouldn’t happen, it couldn’t.
“Kiera, you can’t stay here. They can get a temp in—I’ve already spoken to your supervisor.”
“You what?” her voice went up in volume. “How dare you.” She stood up. “I can’t—I don’t need...” She shook her head as if there were no words to say how upset she was. She walked a few feet away, her back to him. What was clear was that she was dodging the idea of a move altogether.
He followed her. He put his hands on her shoulders. He turned her around to look at him. No matter what she thought—this was happening. He wasn’t taking any chances, not with her life—ever.
Her eyes never left his. They sparked with passion, with denial and with all the life he loved so much about her.
“You had no right.”
“I’m responsible for your life,” he said. It was true, for it was what it all came down to.
“You’re nothing more than a bodyguard,” she said as if downplaying his work might help her win the argument. “And I don’t need one. I’m fine on my own. I’m armed.” She looked over her shoulder and he followed her gaze to where the vintage Colt .45 sat on the coffee table.
“You didn’t think so yesterday or the day before that,” he said with strained patience. There were other arguments he could draw on like where and where she could not take the gun. All he wanted to do was check the time and hit the road. He drew on every ounce of patience he had. “What’s changed? I’ve got that you have the gun, but don’t think I don’t know how you feel about using it. Odds are you couldn’t shoot anyone if you tried. In fact, the last time around you scared the intruder off but I’m guessing that wasn’t what you meant to do.”
She looked at him with denial in her eyes.
He leaned over and kissed her again. And in the seconds after that kiss, everything changed between them.
Wanted By The Marshal (American Armor Book 1) Page 12
