Wanted By The Marshal (American Armor Book 1)

by Ryshia Kennie

  “Starved,” she replied.

  Guilt ran through him that he hadn’t stopped and grabbed snacks for them while they’d been on the road. “There’s a restaurant beside the hotel.”

  “Let’s go,” she said as she headed to the door. He guessed when she said she was hungry, she’d meant it.

  “You said you grew up in Wyoming, or did I get that wrong?” she asked fifteen minutes later. They’d been seated at a table in a restaurant that also had a large bar, where televisions were set up overhead for prime sports viewing. They placed their orders before getting back to the conversation.

  “Except for a brief time in North Dakota.”

  “What was that like?”

  He didn’t want to tell her a single thing. They’d already spoken of their childhoods and while there was a lot more that could be said, he’d said enough for now. He only wanted to look at her. He was fascinated by everything about her. From how she picked up her napkin and rearranged it so that her cutlery was neatly laid over it, to how she seemed to take everything in—enjoying it all, despite their reasons for being here, despite the trip to get here.

  Their food arrived and they chatted amicably, like friends, clearly skirting all the reasons they were in Denver. It was a nice break.

  An hour later they were back at their hotel room. He held the door open for her and she walked by leaving a light scent of cinnamon behind her. He followed and tried to keep his eyes off the easy swing of her body. Her arms were well-toned, and he guessed that was a result of working out. It was something else they had in common. His job dictated that he be fit but truthfully, he’d work out despite it. The gym was a place that invigorated him, and a week didn’t go by without at least two visits to it.

  In their room, she looked at her watch. “It’s only eight o’clock. Do you want to watch a movie?”

  “Sure,” he replied. He’d sat down on the edge of the bed nearest the door and the cat immediately curled up in a ball on his lap. He wasn’t sure how that had happened. Tentatively, he stroked the top of its head. The animal purred and cuddled closer to his belly.

  “How did you end up with the cat?”

  “Lucy? One of our new residents rescued her. Two months later she had a stroke and ended up in the care home. So, I took Lucy. It works out well. I can bring her to work occasionally and Margaret can see her pet.”

  “They don’t allow animals?”

  She shook her head. “Visiting is fine but not living there. Many of the residents love animals but can’t take care of them. Having them visit is the next best thing. They bring in cats and dogs usually, but...” She smiled. “I’ve seen the occasional rabbit come in. As far as Margaret and Lucy, I bring her in at least once a week. It’s not just Margaret who loves seeing her. She brings so many smiles. You can’t imagine.” She took Lucy from him and plunked down on one of two queen-size beds closest to the window. The cat batted her chin and she chuckled. “Margaret and Lucy are handling the arrangement fine and I think Lucy has truly settled in.”

  She put the cat down. “We need snacks,” she said, changing the subject. “For the movie,” she finished when he didn’t answer. “Should I go and get...”

  “No,” he said abruptly and knew from the way that the smile had left her lips, that he had been too harsh. “I’m sorry. I meant that I will get them.”

  Five minutes later he was back with drinks, chips and a chocolate bar to share. She’d admitted earlier that she loved chocolate but couldn’t eat a whole bar. She found it too sweet.

  “To share,” he said when he saw her frown at the bar.

  “You remembered,” she said, and the frown was replaced by a smile.

  He settled down on the bed closest to the door. The movie was a comedy. She’d picked it and it was perfect considering the state of her life. They laughed and shared the junk food. It was strange for he felt like they were a team as darkness collected outside.

  The credits were rolling when he turned off the television.

  Kiera had yawned numerous times in the last hour.

  “Time for bed,” he said. The words were more of a fact than a question. It had been a long day for both of them.

  She nodded. “Definitely.”

  She’d already claimed the bed nearest the window and that suited him perfectly. They were on the fifth floor—there was no chance of danger coming from the window. He preferred to be closest to the door. In case of intrusion or disaster, that was both the danger point and the escape route. It was easier for him to ensure her safety if he had control of the exit.

  Fifteen minutes later, she was sleeping, and Travis was staring at the ceiling. Knowing she was a few feet away only awakened desires that he was struggling to keep under control. A shared room had been a bad idea. He’d be glad to be settled in the safe house and put some space between them.

  He closed his eyes. But it was impossible to sleep. He wondered how long they would have to keep her hidden. He hoped that it would be a short time. He hoped that they could catch the killer soon. But he knew the odds were slim. They had no new intelligence. They had no idea who she was and only the assumption that the person who had attacked him was also a serial killer. If that was the case, they had Kiera’s sketchy description to go on. James had indicated that based on his interview, the FBI would interrogate Eric again. But he had his doubts on whether the killer would give any more information.

  An hour later, he was dozing off when a scream woke him. He turned on the light. Kiera was thrashing around. Sweat gleamed on her skin.

  “No,” she said. “No, please.” The covers twisted around her and her hair streamed over the pillow.

  He got up and went over to her.

  “Kiera.”

  “No!” She clawed at the covers.

  He took her hands in his. She didn’t wake up, but the touch seemed to calm her. She stopped struggling.

  Lucy mewed from her carrier.

  “Travis,” Kiera murmured but her eyes didn’t open.

  “I’m here, sweetheart,” he said and lay down on the bed beside her. He didn’t know if she heard him, for she wasn’t awake. He put an arm around her and she snuggled close to him. Finally, she settled and seemed to go into a deeper sleep. He lay there as seconds ticked into minutes. The cat mewed again. He dropped one hand down and stuck a finger into the carrier, stroking the soft fur. The mewing stopped. The cat purred and then dropped into silence. Finally, he reached over and turned off the bedside lamp. Both Kiera and her cat were asleep as he lay awake listening in the darkness. With Kiera warm and trusting in his arms, he knew that his life had just drastically and irrevocably changed. For the first time in his life, he’d given his heart away.

  * * *

  OVER BREAKFAST, as they wasted time until the safe house would be ready at ten o’clock, they bantered like they never had with each other before. He wasn’t sure how they got there, but somehow or other, one of them had taken them back to stories of childhood. It was an easier conversation compared to others they had had. The intensity of the last week, the horror that she’d escaped—all of it was put aside as memories of bucolic childhoods and crazy kid antics drew them closer to each other. The stories had him appreciating the child who had made the strongest woman he knew. He wondered what her aunt had been like to have raised a woman like Kiera.

  He’d learned that she’d been a video game fanatic as a ten-year-old. In turn he’d shared that, as a boy, he’d been a baseball addict, watching as many televised games as he could. Except, as he’d said earlier, what he’d been good at was golf. He’d even admitted to her that golf wasn’t something the other kids admired, not like being the star pitcher or quarterback. So, he’d become competent at the sports the girls admired—baseball and football, but he’d never been the best player.

  She’d smiled at that.

  They’d exchanged stories—stup
id childhood acts that now only made them laugh. While her childhood had been more difficult than his, it seemed her aunt had been dedicated to making it the best it could be.

  “She was amazing,” Kiera said softly. “Aunt Nan loved nothing better than having fun. I couldn’t have asked for a better childhood.” She laughed. “Did you ever make homemade ice pops?”

  He smiled, enjoying this side of her. She could easily hop from one story to another. She wove laughter through her stories and asked him questions when he didn’t immediately provide a story of his own.

  “As a matter of fact, yes. With fruit juice.”

  She made a face. “Ours too. But at the time—they were good. I think my aunt thought they were healthy.” She smiled. “Despite losing my mom, I can’t complain about my childhood.”

  Silence followed after that.

  When he thought of it later, he knew that it had been a strange conversation to have. Two adults drifting back into childhood memories not once but twice—he remembered the conversation on the road, passing the time as they got here—to this place, this time. Both conversations had served the sole purpose of taking them away for a few minutes from a situation that was too dire to contemplate. But the conversation also made him far too aware that there was little he didn’t like about her. He just wished that it all boiled down to like. But he feared that it was building to more than that and he had nowhere to go, nowhere to run from an emotion that threatened to bring him to his knees.

  He mentally pulled his emotions from the abyss. She depended on him to protect her. Seducing her, thinking of seducing her, none of that was part of the protection he was expected to offer. He needed to play this one by the book. And the book said no romance on an assignment. His intentions were good, but he made the mistake of looking at her, meeting her eyes. And he knew that whatever the rules were, she was in charge of the game. If she chose to break the rules, there was nothing he could do to stop her.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Later that morning, Travis pulled up to the low-rise beige apartment building where the safe house was located. It was one of eight apartment units in a lower-middle-class area that was built decades ago. It was the kind of area that was in need of a loving touch. It was a part of town that was occupied by people too busy making a living to give much consideration to looks. Or to notice strangers, thankfully.

  “This is it?” Kiera asked but it was more statement than question.

  He glanced over. She seemed tense, worried even.

  He put a hand over both of hers.

  “It will be alright,” he said.

  She looked at him. “It had better be, hadn’t it?” She took in an audible breath before finishing her thought. “There isn’t any other choice.”

  He squeezed her hand and let it go. There was nothing he could say that would change any of this. James had said that the apartment would be set up for them first thing in the morning and he’d confirmed that that was completed over an hour ago. Everything was ready to go. There was no room for doubt. This was the only choice they had to keep her safe.

  Although, he thought that the FBI couldn’t have picked a better area of the city. He realized that the choice was intentional. But, in his mind, he wanted the best for Kiera. Even in a situation like this. But this wasn’t the best, not in comfort or status. What it was, was the best place to hide. It was in areas like this where nothing and no one seemed to stand out. It was the type of area that seemed to exist in every city. The housing was a jumble of beige and brown cheaply built mass housing units. It was a place in the city that had no real appeal. It was a place where it was easy to get lost, to disappear amidst neighbors only concerned with keeping their heads above water.

  He unlocked the door to the second-floor apartment and ushered Kiera inside. She had a large bag and he carried another bag for the cat, along with the cat itself, in its carrier. He had a knapsack that he’d slung over his shoulder. He’d learned over the years to travel light. It didn’t matter how long he’d be here, he could wash or buy more things if necessary.

  He set Kiera’s bags and the cat carrier down. He would let Kiera arrange the cat’s things. He thought that putting her and her pet’s things in place would help her feel more at home or at least settle in more quickly.

  “I hope we won’t be here for too long,” she worried. “The shelter at home needs volunteers. We provide meals for disadvantaged and homeless. Come summer, many of the volunteers go on vacation. I usually give extra hours then.” She looked up at him. “We won’t be here that long, will we?”

  “I hope not,” he replied.

  “Ann must be wondering where I am,” she said, and he knew that she was referring to one of the seniors in the care home where she worked. “And Margaret, I hope she’s not missing Lucy too much.”

  He didn’t reply. She didn’t seem to expect one as she walked away. He watched as she opened the fridge. He knew it would be well-stocked. That was standard in any situation like this.

  “Lasagna sound good for supper?” she asked.

  “Supper? How about lunch?”

  She laughed. “Thinking ahead. There’s lasagna in the fridge and a whole lot more—milk, cheese, some cold cuts and a stack of microwavable dinners.” She opened a cupboard door and shut it. “And cereal and coffee too. We won’t starve.”

  “I’ll get some coffee started.”

  “Sounds good to me.” She closed the fridge.

  “This isn’t a bad setup,” she said a few minutes later. She’d scoured the place checking out each room. It didn’t take her long. The place was small—five hundred square feet at most.

  He glanced at his watch. It was eleven o’clock and his stomach rumbled.

  “I’ll make sandwiches later, for lunch. That is if they’ve left us any bread,” he offered.

  She didn’t answer. He watched her, unable to drag his eyes away from hips that were more generous than one would expect with her small frame. Despite that, in his mind, they were perfect. Everything about her was perfect.

  * * *

  SUSAN BERKER COULDN’T get the last victim out of her mind. Kiera Connell was the one who had changed everything. It was because of her that Eric was in jail. It was because of her that her best friend and lover had been taken from her. She needed to not only finish what they’d started, but to get revenge. She could have none of that unless she found their last victim. But she’d disappeared. There was no sign of her. She’d guessed that she was in witness protection and the odds of finding her were remote. But she wasn’t ready to give up. Even though Kiera Connell was in the hands of a US marshal and he’d taken her underground, it wasn’t over. A crumb, that was all she needed. She cruised the only thing that might give her that crumb, social media. For days there was nothing on Kiera’s social media, but she hadn’t given up and her patience had paid off. Only an hour ago she’d hacked her account to see a brief conversation Kiera had had with her supervisor. She’d included a picture of a cat, to be given to one of the residents. And in that picture was the answer to where the feds had her hidden.

  “One of the stupidest moves you’ve ever made. Your heart won over your brain,” Susan said and felt happiness bubble up within her for the first time since she’d lost Eric. This was finally going to end well. Not exactly as she planned. But she’d adapt, write her own ending rather than one imposed by the authorities.

  She could hardly wait. She looked at her watch. Denver, Colorado, that was less than two hours away. She clutched the wheel of the old white camper van with both hands. They were hands that were suntanned from too much time on the road, too much time behind the wheel. But for the last few years, she’d driven coast-to-coast, stopping only for the excitement of the hunt and of the sex that followed. It was what she lived for, that and Eric.

  Past tense and all because...

  She’d kill her. She put her foot on the
gas. The thought turned her on almost as much as sex. Almost.

  She had all the time in the world and she wouldn’t let this one go. Kiera reminded her too much of the first young woman she’d ever kidnapped. The irony of it was that her runaway victim had returned to Denver, the place where Susan had grown up. It was also the place she’d escaped from all those years ago. She still knew the city’s secrets and she knew where to find the victim. No one could hide from her there. For Denver was where it had all begun and where, if things worked out like she hoped, it would all end.

  Chapter Twenty

  Travis heard water running in the bathroom.

  She was in the shower—naked. Washing her thick dark hair—caressing her skin with soapy fingers...

  The thought broke off with a huge effort on his part. He had to divorce himself from them, for they only created an imagined image. It was an image that took him to a place there was no recovery, no going back from. If he went to that place, he’d be turned on every time he looked at her. He wondered how much of this he could stand. He needed to keep his distance and yet there was no distance to be had. The safe house wasn’t meant for two people. While it was the best that could be done on short notice, it wasn’t the best for them. But it was all they had and if it was to keep her safe then he’d fight the attraction that had no place between them. For, he’d rather be here, fighting his own desires than fearing for her life in Cheyenne.

  But thin walls did little to mute the steady beat of the water and the sound did nothing for his hyped imagination. He needed to get out of here, get away. But there was nowhere to go. He was here to keep her safe. He needed to be with her and he wanted to be with her. In the shower—naked.

  He couldn’t stand another minute. He went to the door and opened it, and then he remembered the damn cat. He closed the door. It didn’t matter, the hallway was stuffy, and outside the night air was too warm anyway to cool him down at all.