by Cassie Miles
He ended the call and returned to the stove while she finished cleaning and checking her Beretta to make sure there was no damage. “Solving the crime isn’t our problem,” she said, “but I can’t stop thinking about it. The murder of that mother twenty-eight years ago has implications.”
“What was her name on the birth certificate? Elena?”
“Suppose Murano was the guy who got her pregnant. If she approached him for child support, would he have killed her?”
“The mother of his child?” Noah hated to think of such a vile act. “We don’t have enough evidence to make any kind of judgment.”
“So we’ll leave it to the FBI.”
Through the partly open window, he heard car tires on the gravel driveway. After he moved his bacon off the flame, he took his gun from the holster on the kitchen table. “Stay here,” he said to Gennie. “I’ll see who it is.”
“I’ve got your back,” she promised. “Just in case, does Doc have any weapons more accurate than our handguns, like rifles?”
“In a case in the den. There’s a combination lock.”
As she went down the hallway, she wiggled her nimble fingers. “For me, that’s not a problem.”
He heard the doorbell and peeked through a window before he opened the front door for Tony Vega. “Good to see you.”
“Anna Rose thought you could use a ride into town.” Tony craned his neck to look around him. “Is Gennie okay?”
Noah might have believed Tony if he hadn’t just gotten off the phone with Doc. Anna Rose would have sent a message if Tony was here at her request, which meant he’d lied about his reason for being here, lied smoothly without a hint of discomfort. Noah had a bad feeling about what Tony Vega really wanted.
His first priority was to protect Gennie. Still holding his Glock, he stepped onto the porch and closed the door behind him. “Gennie’s resting. She was injured today.”
“Sorry to hear it.”
Noah led the way as they went down the three stairs and walked toward Tony’s SUV. Without being obvious, Noah scanned the road, the boulders and the surrounding trees. “Are you here alone?”
He nodded. “Can I help you pack your stuff? We should get back to Denver.”
Tony was charming and handsome with his sleek black hair and his chiseled features. Noah hadn’t noticed the resemblance before, but now he saw it. Tony had chocolate eyes just like his father. “How old are you, Tony?”
“Twenty-eight.”
“And you’re adopted, right?”
“Yes.”
This was the final secret: Tony Vega was Mitch Murano’s son.
Before he was murdered, Dean Slocum had created a complicated mystery of twists and turns and clandestine information. He went from blackmail to property fraud with Baer and Murano. Then he uncovered the final secret about Tony’s birth.
Noah stared hard at the young man he’d worked with and said, “The FBI is tracking information on your birth mother. The name on your birth certificate was Elena. She had to change it twice.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He shrugged. “The only thing I know about my birth mother is that she gave me up for adoption. The Vegas were nice people, but I was destined for greater things.”
“Like Slocum’s murder?”
The direct accusation struck home. Tony drew his weapon. They stood only a few feet apart with their guns trained on each other.
“You figured it out,” Tony said. “Do you also understand that Slocum had it coming? He was an extortionist, a liar, a cheat.”
“So you and Warrick killed him. You were the inside man. How did you get into the library?”
“After I disabled the surveillance camera outside the library, I faked an emergency with a drunk at the front entrance. That gave me an excuse to change clothes after the murder. I hid in the library and appeared when Gennie opened the door.”
“Why now?” Noah asked. “It seems like Slocum has been blackmailing your father for a long time. Did he uncover something that was more of a threat?”
“Now that my father is running for office, his reputation is more important. Also, there’s the matter of the second birth certificate. That’s my daughter. I want her to have a better life than I did, and that means introducing her to her grandfather. He owes me.”
It didn’t sound like Tony was real fond of Murano, but Noah didn’t make the mistake of playing on his loyalties or friendship. “Why did you frame me?”
“I plan to take over your job, but that’s not the most important reason. After I start working for my father, I can pick whatever I want to do.”
“Why me?”
His eyes were cold, uncaring. “You were convenient.”
“I’m guessing that you were the witness who supposedly saw me shoot Loretta.”
“Right again, Noah. You aren’t as dumb as you look.” His whitened teeth flashed in a harsh smile. “Or maybe you are. Either way, you need to come with me.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Remember when I said I was alone? Well, buddy, I lied. I brought two guys from my father’s security team. After the hassle at the creek, they don’t like you or Gennie very much. If I give them any excuse at all, they’ll open fire.”
Noah figured a shootout wouldn’t end well for anybody. He needed a better plan, some kind of leverage. He took a calculated guess. “How much backup do you need?”
“What do you mean?”
Noah nodded toward the SUV. “Who’s in the car?”
A door to the back seat swung open, and Murano stepped out. His melodious voice contrasted his ruthless words. “Kill this man, Tony. We have a defense. According to evidence, Noah killed Slocum and shot Loretta. If he’s dead, the investigation will go away.”
“Here’s the deal,” Noah said. “I’ll go with you, but you have to leave Gennie alone.”
“No can do,” Murano replied. “Gennie has to die. She’s your alibi for last night.”
“Not really,” he said. “I had time to get into town and back to the cabin without her knowing. We didn’t sleep in the same bed last night.”
Tony laughed. “You’re pathetic.”
“Let me tell Gennie to stay here, and we’ll be on our way.” Noah doubted this plan would work. Tony clearly didn’t have a problem lying to him, but he had to try something. He loved this woman and would do anything to give her a fighting chance. He placed his Glock on the ground. “I’ll come quietly.”
“Sure, why not?”
“Don’t fall for this,” Murano said. “Shoot them both. Do it now.”
A look of disgust flashed across Tony’s face. He turned away from his father and raised his voice. “Hey, Gennie, it’s Tony. Come out here.”
She stepped through the front door. In the pink sweatshirt, she seemed young and vulnerable. Her hand raised and she waved. “Hi, Tony. Dr. Murano.”
Without letting him respond, Noah said, “Gennie, you need to stay here. No matter what happens, stay in the house. Don’t ask me why. You have to do it.”
“That’s unreasonable.” She arched an eyebrow. “What if I want to go into town? You can’t just tell me it’s all for the best and I should trust you.”
“This isn’t about trust.” His plan to rescue her at any cost wasn’t about promises he might have made. Sacrificing himself for her safety was about something bigger and more important. “It’s about love.”
She eased toward the open door. “They say the greatest love is between a mother and child. Do you agree with that, Tony?”
He raised his gun and pointed it at her. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Her name was Elena. Do you remember her at all, the woman who gave birth to you? She tried to protect you, but she was no match for Murano. Your father killed her, Tony. Strangled her
and watched as she died.”
Tony cried out. He pivoted and aimed his weapon at his father.
Noah saw Gennie dive through the door into the safety of the house. This was his chance to bring this danger to an end.
* * *
GENNIE DASHED THROUGH the house with a clear plan. Noah loved her, and she’d be damned if she let that go. In an upstairs window, she’d set up a sniper’s nest with two rifles she’d taken from Doc’s gun cabinet. Her training as a sharpshooter was about to pay off.
Below her, she saw Tony fire a shot at Murano who went down. Noah used the distraction to attack Tony. They wrestled for the gun. No way could she risk a shot at Tony without putting Noah in danger. Besides, there was another threat.
She’d listened to every word that passed between Tony and Noah. She knew that two of Murano’s men were hiding in the area. Using the long-distance scope on the rifle, she spotted two shooters in the trees at the edge of Doc’s property. They were careless, didn’t expect to take fire. In minutes, she managed clean shots on both of them. Then she came around to Tony. That little snake, how could he betray Noah? At least, he’d reacted like a decent person when he heard that his father had strangled his mother.
Before she could get off a shot, Noah had him down on the ground with his hands zip-tied behind his back. She picked up the landline and called nine-one-one before she flew down the staircase into the front yard.
When she threw herself into Noah’s arms, her bruise ached. She felt the pain and accepted it. Some things in life were going to hurt. Others were pure pleasure.
She heard police sirens in the distance. “I love you, Noah.”
He kissed her. “And yet, you disobeyed my order to go back in the house and sit tight.”
“Well, excuse me for saving you.”
“Good point.” He kissed her again. “I want to offer you a permanent position.”
“With ARC?”
“With me,” he said. “I want to wake up with you every morning, and tuck you into bed every night. Let me love you twenty-four-seven.”
“I accept.”
She couldn’t think of anywhere else she’d rather be.
* * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from Witness Protection Widow by Debra Webb.
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Witness Protection Widow
by Debra Webb
Chapter One
Four days until trial
Sunday, February 2
Winchester, Tennessee
It was colder now.
The meteorologist had warned that it might snow on Monday. The temperature was already dropping. She didn’t mind. She had no appointments, no deadlines and no place to be—except here.
Four days.
Four more days until the day.
If she lived that long.
She stopped and surveyed the thick woods around her, making a full three-sixty turn. Nothing but trees and this one trail for as far as the eye could see. The fading sun trickled through the bare limbs. This place had taken her through the last weeks of summer and then fall, and now the end of winter was only weeks away. In all that time, she had only seen one other living human. It was best, they said. For her protection, they insisted.
It was true. But she had never felt more alone in her life. Not since her father died, anyway. That first year after his death, she had to come to terms with being only twenty-four and an orphan. No siblings. No known distant relatives. Just alone.
Bob nudged her. She pushed aside the troubling thoughts and looked down at her black Labrador. “I know, boy. I should get moving. It’s cold out here.”
She was always keenly aware of the temperature and the time. When it was this cold, the idea of an accidental fall leading to a serious injury haunted her. Other times, when she couldn’t bear the walls around her a minute longer, no matter that it was late in the day, she was careful not to stay gone too long. Allowing herself to get caught out in the woods in the dark—no matter that she knew the way back to the cabin by heart—was a bad idea. She started forward once more. Her hiking shoes crunched the rocks and the few frozen leaves scattered across the trail. Bob trotted beside her, his tail wagging happily. She’d never had a dog before coming to this place. When she was growing up, her mother’s allergies wouldn’t allow pets. Later, when she was out on her own, the apartment building didn’t permit pets.
Even after she married and moved into one of Atlanta’s megamansions, she couldn’t have a dog. Her husband had hated dogs, cats, any sort of pet. How had she not recognized the evil in him then? Anyone who hated animals so much couldn’t be good inside. Whatever good he possessed was only skin-deep and primarily for show.
She hugged herself, rubbed her arms. Thinking of him, even in such simple terms, unsettled her. Soon, she hoped, she would be able to put that part of her life behind her and never look back again.
Never, ever.
“Not soon enough,” she muttered.
Most widows grieved the loss of their spouses. She did not. No matter the circumstances, she had never wished him dead, though she had wished many, many times that she had never met him.
But she had met him, and there was no taking back the five years they were married. At first, she had believed the illusion he presented to her. Harrison had been older, very handsome and extremely charming. She had grown up in small-town Georgia on a farm to parents who taught her that fairy tales and dreams weren’t real. There was only reality and the lessons that came from hard work and forging forward even when the worst happened. Suddenly, at twenty-six, she was convinced her parents had been wrong. Harrison had swooped into her life like Prince Charming poised to rescue a damsel in distress.
Except she hadn’t been in distress, really. But she had been so very hopeful that the future would be bright. Desperately hopeful that good things would one day come her way. Perhaps that was why she didn’t see through him for so long. He filled her life with trips to places she’d only dreamed of visiting, like Paris and London. He’d lavished her with gifts: exquisite clothing, endless jewels. Even when she tried to tell him it was too much, more came.
He gave her anything she wanted...except children. He had been married once before and had two college-aged children. Though he was estranged from those adult children, he had no desire to go down that path again. No wish for a chance to have a different outcome. She had been devastated at first. But she had been in love, so she learned to live within that disappointing restriction. Soon after this revelation, she discovered a way to satisfy her mothering needs. She volunteered at Atlanta’s rescue mission for at-risk kids. Several months after she began helping out part-time, she was faced with the first unpleasantness about her husband. To her dismay, there were those who believed he and his family were exceptionally bad people.
The shock and horror on the other woman’s face when she’d asked, “You’re married to Harrison Armone?”
Alice—of course, that wasn’t her name then—had smiled, a bit confused, and said, “I am.”
The woman had never spoken to her again. In fact, she had done all within her power to avoid her. At least twice she had seen the shocked woman whisper something to another volunteer, who subsequently avoided her, as well. Arriving at the center on her scheduled volunteer days had become something she dreaded rather than looked forward to. From that moment she understood there was something wrong with who she was—the wife of Harrison Armone.
If only she had realized then the level of evil the Armone family represented. Perhaps she would have escaped before the real nightmare that came later. Too bad she had
n’t been smart enough to escape before it was too late.
She stared up at the sky, visible only by virtue of the fact that the trees remained bare for the winter. She closed her eyes and tried to force away the images that always followed on the heels of memories even remotely related to him. Those first couple of years had been so blissful. So perfect. For the most part, she had been kept away from the rest of the family. Their estate had been well away from his father’s. Her husband went to work each day at a beautiful, upscale building on the most distinguished street in the city. Her life was protected from all things bad and painful.
Until her covolunteer had asked her that damning question.
The worry had grown and swelled inside her like a tidal wave rushing to shore to destroy all in its path. But the trouble didn’t begin until a few weeks later. Until she could no longer bear the building pressure inside her.
Her first real mistake was when she asked him—point-blank—if there was anything he’d failed to disclose before they married.
The question had obviously startled him. He wanted to know where she had gotten such a ridiculous idea. His voice had been calm and kind, as always, tinged with only the tiniest bit of concern. But something about the look in his eyes when he asked the question terrified her. She hadn’t wanted to answer his question. He had been far too strangely calm and yet wild-eyed. An unreasonable fear that he would track down her fellow volunteers and give them a hard time had horrified her. After much prodding and far too much pretending at how devastated he was, he had let it go. But she understood that deep down something fundamental had changed.
Whether it was the idea that the bond of trust had been fractured, or that she finally just woke up, she could not look at him the same way again.
