Wanted By The Marshal (American Armor Book 1)

by Ryshia Kennie

  A shot to his left took out a chunk of the doorframe. He ducked down as she jumped up and ran for the front door. He had a glimpse of her long black hair as she hunkered down. He didn’t have a clear shot and took out his own chunk of drywall. Hunched and still moving, she turned and fired at him again. Plaster rained down on him; his vision blurred from the bits that got in his eye. He shot anyway, trying to take her out before she escaped or at best cause an injury. But she was out the door and gone.

  He moved to the doorway; she was already in her van and taking off. He backtracked and checked the other two rooms of the house—empty.

  “Kiera,” he said, torn between chasing her kidnapper or making sure she was safe. There wasn’t a choice. He needed to get Kiera out of here. Hopefully, his reinforcements had arrived. And they could take care of the woman who’d abducted her. She was the woman who might well be an accomplice to multiple murders. She’d meet her own judge and jury once the feds had her. In the meantime, the feds had his location both from his phone call to James and even without, they could easily track his phone. The latter he knew they would do despite his call, in case something changed. He put in a quick call to James to let him that Kiera’s kidnapper had taken off in the white van he’d reported earlier. He didn’t wait for much of a response before disconnecting.

  He knelt down in front of Kiera. She looked at him with her heart in her eyes and fright in the trembling of her hands.

  “It’ll be okay—I’ll get you out of here.”

  She nodded and there wasn’t a trace of doubt in her demeanor.

  Within seconds he had the rope untied, the cloth out of her mouth.

  “Let’s go,” he said taking her arm. There was no time for explanation, no time for comfort. He needed her out of here and safe.

  “My legs won’t stop shaking,” she said with a quiver in her voice.

  His arm was around her waist as he helped her down a small flight of stairs and out the back door. He got her into the SUV. As he was walking around the vehicle he was on the phone, giving James more detail on what had occurred. He hung up after getting a promise that reinforcements were on the way. Seconds later, he shoved the phone in his pocket and was in the driver’s seat backing the SUV out and away.

  “Where are we going?” she asked.

  “FBI headquarters here in Denver,” he replied. “The man I report to, James, will meet us there.”

  She didn’t say anything. He took her silence as acceptance or shock. He might need to get her medical attention. Although she didn’t look like she’d been physically hurt.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Are you asking do I need a doctor?” she said in a soft voice that was unlike her. “If you are, I’m physically fine,” she said with a hint of steel in her voice. “I don’t need a doctor. I need this creep caught.”

  Silence fell between them, but he expected that. She’d been through hell and survived imminent death. He didn’t expect her to say much, not now when she was still in shock.

  He was only two blocks away from the house where she’d been held when he saw the white van. It was coming at them from the opposite direction. It was driving erratically, weaving and on the wrong side of the road.

  “Hell,” he muttered as he swung the vehicle around with a screech of tires. “Hang on,” he said as he took a corner too sharp and headed away from the van and toward where he knew there was an unpopulated area. A crash from behind and the impact sent the SUV flying. He had to manhandle the steering wheel to keep the vehicle on course.

  He cursed under his breath. And regretted it immediately as he glanced at Kiera. She didn’t seem to notice. It was almost like she had checked out. Considering everything she had gone through, that made sense. The van hit them again. There was no way he needed this nut job trying to drive her van up his rear in an area like this. He swung left heading for a more industrialized area. There, where litter and empty lots quickly began to replace housing, there was no danger to others. It was a few blocks north. He’d seen it coming in and soon he was there, in a run-down and seemingly abandoned industrial area. Rusted machinery replaced houses. He put his foot on the gas. With the residential housing behind him, he turned the steering wheel as hard as he could, swinging the SUV completely around before bringing it to a sudden halt.

  “Get down,” he said to Kiera. “And no matter what happens, stay down.”

  She nodded. Her face was pale, her lips were set. But she looked more determined than frightened.

  He was out of the SUV, his gun in hand as the white van screeched to a halt in front of them and the woman jumped out. This was the first time he’d gotten a close look at her. In the parking lot, it had been more distant. And her eyes had never met his. Now she met him head-on. There was evil in those eyes or maybe that was just fantasy. He was too far away to tell. He needed to focus on reality, on her and what he might need to do. After all, this was the woman who had threatened Kiera’s life not once but twice—and if Kiera’s story checked out, three times.

  “I’m a US marshal. Drop your weapon,” he ordered.

  She kept walking toward him.

  He had seconds to make the assessment. Seconds to take in the face of evil framed by long black hair streaked with gray. She looked like she’d been through hell and that had defined her face. He blew the thoughts off—this wasn’t the time.

  “Stop and drop your weapon or I’ll shoot.”

  She hesitated and kept coming. The thought ran through his mind that she wanted him to kill her. Was it possible? Was she deliberately defying his order so that he could take her out? Whatever her reasons, she was giving him no choice with her weapon still aimed at him.

  “Drop it!”

  In the seconds that followed everything seemed eerily silent. She was still walking toward him. The distance between them quickly diminished from a hundred feet to fifty. He could give no more chances considering the fact that she hadn’t even lowered her gun. He fired. And she fell. It seemed too simple, too easy. Just like that, it was over.

  He heard a car door slam and next thing he knew Kiera was in his arms. He held her as if he would never let her go. And in his mind, he knew that if she agreed that’s exactly what would happen.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Three days later

  “If I could imagine hell, that would be it,” James said as they left the state prison.

  Travis couldn’t agree more. He knew that James wasn’t referring to the prison but to the life Eric had been subjected to during his teenage years. Except it was hard to feel any sympathy. For one, they both agreed that what Eric had admitted was more of an attempt to shift blame and gain sympathy. If they didn’t know who Eric was and what he’d become, it might have worked. As it was, the charming smile that he offered them only added a creepy feel to the end of a sordid tale. Eric was smart enough to end his tale of woe at the point in the story where he was still the victim. For they all knew that there was a point beyond that when the victim became the perpetrator. At first, charming Eric would admit to none of that. He stuck to his younger years, his own nightmare years. There was no better word to describe the environment that had shaped Eric Solomon. What he’d done to dozens of women was a different matter. When he spoke of the murders, it was always Susan’s fault. He claimed that Susan had led the way. He wouldn’t have done it, if Susan hadn’t made him.

  “That relationship was so twisted I don’t think anyone could have made it up,” James said. “It’ll be one for the history books. A murderous woman prepping a teenage boy to be her partner for her future killing spree.” He shook his head. “Unbelievable. Thank goodness these cases are rare. Hope we never have another.”

  “I’m with you on that,” Travis said. “They both gave me the creeps.”

  In the end, despite a rough start, they’d gotten a full confession from Eric Solomon. On hearing that his
partner, Susan Berker, was dead, his entire demeanor had changed. The tough-as-nails killer turned soft and frightened in seconds. In a way, he’d almost retreated to a juvenile phase. More important, he’d been willing to talk.

  “He was her boy toy,” Travis said referring to the killer behind bars and the now-dead woman. “And then he was so much more than that. I think given time, Eric could have become like her, maybe recruited his own team of killers.”

  “If she’d let him, that would mean stealing some of her power,” James said practically. “In the end, he was every bit as guilty as she. They were in it together. What matters is he gave a full confession and neither of them will harm another woman again.”

  Travis nodded. It was a tragic, haunting story and it was also an ugly story. It began with the tragedy and the teenage runaway, and it ended ugly when a woman took him in and taught him her own dark cravings. Susan had raised him from a teenager to a man and escalated their crimes as he matured. But she’d always led the show. She’d been who they should have been after from the beginning. But she’d fooled them all by putting Eric out in front, and literally brainwashing him to believe that he was leading the show. It had all been a lie. He’d been positioned, just in case she needed someone to take the fall.

  * * *

  THEY’D BEEN BACK in Cheyenne for a week. In that time Kiera hadn’t been alone. Neither of them had wanted that. Travis wanted her with him, at his side. He wanted to wake up in the morning and know that she was there, safe. Most of all he wanted her, just flat out wanted her. So, he stayed at her condo.

  It was late. But they’d been up watching a movie. He had a break between assignments and she hadn’t returned to work yet. Without work the next morning, they’d lost track of time. He’d treated her with kid gloves since the rescue, holding her until she fell asleep, being by her side—watching out for her. It was all he could do to help her get over the nightmare.

  “I’m going back to work next week. Don’t try and convince me otherwise,” she said abruptly.

  “Actually, I was wondering what took you so long,” he said with a serious edge to his voice.

  “Really?”

  “Let’s say that I’m not surprised,” he said with a laugh. “And I’m not about to dissuade you. Just one ground rule, I’ll drive you or you take a cab if I’m not available.”

  “Alright,” she said.

  He looked at her, surprised. That wasn’t like Kiera. “What’s up?”

  “You’ll see,” she said with a laugh and rolled over and gave him a kiss that became a hot exploration before he pulled away.

  “No,” she said as she brought him back, her hand sliding down his belly and farther. He could feel himself get hard. He couldn’t help it. Even a light touch, even a hint of what was to come had him hard and ready. Their clothes were gone in seconds. That’s the way it always was—kid gloves didn’t seem to make it to the bedroom. He put a hand over hers and with his other hand he began to run erotic patterns around her nipple, first one and then the other.

  “Travis.”

  He silenced her with a kiss. They had all the time in the world and he was going to use that to his advantage. He ran his hand down, over her flat stomach, to the juncture of her thighs.

  She inhaled sharply.

  But her hands were soon working some magic of their own.

  “Kiera,” he began.

  “I’m with you,” she said hoarsely. “Let’s do this.”

  He smiled. In another situation, he would have outright laughed. But that was Kiera’s language of love. Or at least that was the way he thought of it. She had an odd way of expressing herself in the bedroom. He’d discovered that the first time he’d made love to her. And she’d repeated the odd phrase let’s do this every time since. Now, he just considered it part of the norm. Life with Kiera would be challenging and passionate. Those thoughts disappeared as he focused on one thing and one woman.

  “Travis,” she said hoarsely. There was a pleading tone to her voice. He knew what she wanted. He knew what he wanted. They both wanted the same thing.

  His other hand was still on her nipple as soon he had her body convulsing toward him. When he reached for a condom and entered her long minutes later it was only to the murmur of her voice and her promises of never-ending love. A man couldn’t ask for more.

  Epilogue

  Cheyenne, Wyoming

  Four months later

  “I can’t believe it’s over,” Kiera said.

  Travis nodded. It had only been a week since Kiera had given her testimony and considering the atrocity of the crimes and their extent, the trial had gone quickly. While Eric Solomon had never repeated the admissions of guilt he’d revealed while awaiting trial, what they had was enough. He was now awaiting sentencing.

  “Do you think it would have been different for Eric if he hadn’t met Susan?” Kiera looked at him with a frown. “Was he flawed from the beginning, always meant to become a twisted killer?”

  “I don’t know. What I do know is that in the end, he was a grown man who had allowed himself to be molded into a sadistic killer. The boy was long gone,” Travis said. The man would pay for what he had done, he thought.

  In the last month, he’d insisted that Kiera take a self-defense class. His work made him well aware that anything could happen. When she’d completed that she’d informed him that she was setting up a safe-ride program so that the workers in care homes throughout the city would be safe going home late at night or early in the morning. And she was thinking ahead, thinking that something might be set up through the city for other women who worked late or early hours and might not be able to afford a cab, but needed a worry-free ride home.

  Some things had changed but some had stayed the same. Despite all her plans, Kiera still insisted that she had time to volunteer at the shelter. He’d been hesitant about that and as a result he found himself volunteering right beside her. He’d soon discovered that it wasn’t dangerous, that the people there were disadvantaged, exactly as she’d told him. The saying she’d tossed at him had held true—you couldn’t paint everyone with the same brush.

  “What are you thinking about?” Travis asked. “About the trial?”

  She looked up at him. “No,” she said. “I’m done with that.”

  This time, he believed her. For they’d already talked about everything. They didn’t need to talk about it again. It was over and eventually she’d be able to put the experience on a shelf labeled Nightmare. That’s what it was, a nightmare that was over. A nightmare that would never happen again, not to her—and if he could help it, not to any other woman.

  Travis’s arm was over her shoulders and her skin was soft against his lips as he kissed her neck and whispered in her ear. “What do you have planned for tonight?”

  She looked up at him with the hint of the smile. “I heard a certain sexy marshal was going to cook me supper and woo me over dessert.”

  “Woo?” he said with a laugh. “Where did you dig that word up?”

  A meow from the carrier had her smiling up at him. “Lucy was a hit,” she said.

  He smiled. This week she’d not just taken Lucy to the care home but she’d stopped at the local animal shelter and taken two other cats from there for their first visit. It was impossible to keep up with her. He’d never met a woman more motivated to help others, or a woman more able to do it.

  “How’d it go?”

  “There were half a dozen residents who love cats and each had had more than one in their lifetime. Lucy had more than her share of attention. And the other two cats turned out to be perfectly behaved. They’ll definitely be back.” She looked at him. “There’s something else...”

  His smile dropped. Something else he’d learned in the weeks that they’d dated, in the weeks since he’d asked her to marry him and since she’d said yes and made him happier than he’d ever
been in his life—that when she said there was something else, he should run for cover.

  The most recent time she’d said that phrase meant that she thought that Lucy needed company. Fortunately, she’d solved that by taking the cat to work more frequently. The time before that she’d thought that she should meet his family.

  That had meant him spending an afternoon grilling and entertaining his folks and assorted relatives. Not that he didn’t love seeing them, it was just that Kiera didn’t believe in waiting on anything. He had forty-eight hours’ notice. And it had been a pile of work—worth it in the end. Still, he cringed when she began with something that meant she had an idea, usually something she was passionate about. He’d learned that there was a lot she was passionate about. Some of it he appreciated, like how she kept their bed and their sex life imaginatively hot. Although, he admitted, it wasn’t as if he didn’t do his share. Their bedroom was on fire most nights.

  He waited wondering what it was this time.

  “I’d like to add to the guest list.”

  He nodded. That seemed fairly straightforward. He’d asked her to marry him in a traditional way—he’d gotten down on one knee, ring in hand. Now they’d agreed on a small wedding in the backyard of the condo they’d bought only a month ago. The wedding was in three weeks and invitations to the fifty invited guests had just gone out; another would be no problem at all.

  “Ann, one of the seniors at the home, would like to come. We could get a disabled bus for them.”

  “Them?” he asked wondering when Ann had become plural.

  “Well, if Ann wants to go, I know there’ll be others. I thought it would only be fair to invite them all.”

  “Twenty,” he said.

  “And the workers.”

  He did the mental math. Forty people, as the numbers of staff when you factored shifts equaled the residents.

  She smiled, as if sensing where his thoughts were going. “They won’t all come.”