by Reus, Katie
“Once the cops had his picture, it didn’t take long for them to figure out who he was. It went to trial and he was convicted for her rape and murder. During the trial, someone tried to kill me—twice. Once, my brake lines were cut. And another time a masked man with a gun broke into my apartment. I got away just barely and the DA put me in protective custody. After the trial, they thought it best if I went into witness protection. I weighed my options and decided to do it. It was…difficult. My given name is not Autumn Perez. It’s Ana Diaz.”
He watched her, his eyes dilating slightly, but he was still silent.
“Did you have any questions?”
“You’re very brave,” he said in a soothing voice.
That wasn’t a question, but it made her smile. “I certainly don’t feel like it. The trial was…hard.” That being an understatement. “I was what the district attorney considered a ‘perfect witness’ if that makes sense.”
“I do, unfortunately. A lot of times witnesses or victims are treated as criminals, especially in cases involving rape. It’s disgusting.”
She shoved out a breath, glad he understood. “Apparently I did well under cross-examination. To be honest, I don’t remember all of it. I just tried to stay calm and answer questions factually. I saw what I saw and I reported that. I didn’t know who Coventry was, didn’t go to school with him so I had no axe to grind. It also helped that I was a scholarship kid who’d gotten a degree based on hard work and merit, and he was painted by the media as a rich kid whose father had bailed him out of tons of scrapes during college—including sexual assault accusations. That’s all true—it turned out he’d gotten into some trouble with the law but it had all been brushed under the rug. But my testimony is what really cinched things. I saw him dumping the body and he came after me. He never hurt me, but it’s pretty damn clear he hadn’t wanted to simply talk to me when he broke into the studio where I was hiding. So his statement that she’d died of an overdose and he panicked and dumped her might have gotten him less time, but the fact that he came after me is, what I think, swayed them to go after him hard. Plus his father was well known in the area so they couldn’t afford to look soft on crime.”
“Jesus,” he murmured. “You’re incredible.”
She cleared her throat. “Since going into WITSEC, I’ve moved around a couple times but I’m not moving again. The person you saw leaving when you got home not too long ago is my handler with the program. She just let me know that Coventry is very likely dead—killed in a prison transport.” There was no reason not to tell Lincoln the details when he could easily search for them at this point. “She’s not totally sure, but the marshals seem to think there’s a good chance he is. Something happened and it looks like he was killed as collateral damage. I don’t have that many details but the fact that she showed up here in person tells me she believes he’s dead. They’ve got a match with the dental records, but they’re waiting on a DNA match to confirm.”
“Is she trying to move you or let you out of the program?”
She blinked at his question, but of course he would know more about WITSEC than a civilian. He was a cop after all and probably dealt with the marshals occasionally. “She thinks I should stay in the program regardless. I never thought Rand was smart enough to have sent someone to kill me. If I had to guess, his father was behind everything. He was a state senator back then.”
Lincoln frowned slightly. “I don’t recognize the name.”
“You wouldn’t. It was in California, and his political career died a savage death after what his son did. It was a very long, drawn-out case, and after his son was found guilty, he had no chance of ever getting reelected for anything again. Honestly, even if his son had been let off, I don’t know that he would have been reelected regardless. He went into some kind of finance career. I have no idea what he does exactly, I certainly didn’t keep tabs on him.”
“That’s incredible. You’re incredible,” he added. “Thank you for telling me.”
He always knew the right thing to say, exactly how to make her feel stronger than she actually was. “After today, I felt like I needed to. I’ll never go back to being Ana, that girl died a long time ago. And I think this goes without saying, but what I’ve told you stays between us.” She couldn’t control if he told someone, but…she trusted him in a way she didn’t trust most people. “You can’t even tell your family.”
He nodded. “I would never.”
The tension bands around her chest eased even more. “Since I’m being so honest, I’m going to tell you more about my past. If you want to hear it? I’ve dropped so much on you the last couple days, so if you’ve met your quota for drama, I understand.”
He frowned at her. “It’s not drama. Don’t downplay this. It’s your life, and yes, I want to know anything you’re willing to share.”
He really was incredible. She swallowed as she tried to get to this next part, to just rip off the rest of the band aid. “Going into the program wasn’t easy, but it was made easier by the fact that I didn’t have any blood family left. My mother was murdered, by her boyfriend at the time.” She cleared her throat and glanced away as she drew a breath. It didn’t matter that so much time had passed, the ache in her chest spread, pressing down on her as if a tiny elephant sat there. “He was a cop.”
Lincoln sucked in a breath.
“She always had terrible taste in men. I have no idea who my father was, and I don’t think she did either. She was a giving woman who simply wanted someone to love her and take care of her. She had such a big heart but she always seemed to find the losers—leeches who just sucked her dry of joy.” Autumn reached down and petted Shadow, who was whining softly beside her. Shadow really was good at understanding the shifts in her moods. Just stroking her fingers through her fur was soothing. She would definitely give her sweet girl extra treats later. “So I just want you to understand that while I know you and I are having a baby together, we can never be together. I won’t deny my attraction to you, but there are just too many complications for us to make any sense.”
“Because of what happened to your mom?”
“Look, my mom was killed in violence, my whole life was taken because of violence, and you’re a cop. I don’t think you’re anything like him—I wouldn’t have slept with you or told you about my past if I did. You’ve shown me that time and again. But your job is dangerous, and you go out on bad calls more often than I’m sure I want to think about. I’m not going to lose someone else to violence.” She simply couldn’t take it.
“Anything could happen to me, even while driving home from work.” His words were spoken calmly, logically.
And she knew them to be true. But her heart didn’t care. “Maybe so, but that’s how I feel.” She wondered if she was lying to herself, throwing up reasons so she didn’t have to open up her heart. Her life.
He watched her for a long moment, his eyes searching hers. “I appreciate you telling me all of this. Truly, I know this had to be a lot,” he said as she heard his phone buzz in his pocket again.
It had gone off at least five times. “That’s buzzed quite a lot. Do you need to get it?”
“No…damn it, yes,” he said as he glanced at it, his jaw going tight.
“If you’ve got to work, I totally get it.” And she did. She needed some time to mentally decompress after everything she’d just unloaded on him. She felt…free. Not completely, because fear always lingered in the back of her subconscious that Rand would find her, kill her.
But she’d been able to be honest with one person for the first time in ten years. It was definitely freeing, especially because it was Lincoln and she trusted him.
“Autumn, I hate to do this—”
“Go, I promise it’s okay. I’m sort of drained after telling you all that anyway.”
His body language was stiff as he stood, so she rounded the island and gave him an impulsive hug. He was going off on a call that she guessed was likely dangerous—or she didn’t
think he’d be leaving right now.
His embrace was tight, his whole body loosening from that awkward stance as he hugged her back. She leaned into him, burying her face against his chest—against her better judgement. He smelled so damn good and was so solid. He’d been so steady and wonderful.
“We’re talking more about this later,” he murmured against the top of her head, holding her longer than was necessary.
She didn’t care, craved it even. Which flew in the face of everything she’d just told him, but being in his arms made it difficult to think clearly.
When he stepped back, he said, “Make sure you lock your door and set your alarm when I leave.”
Maybe she should be a little annoyed at his brusque tone, but she knew he cared and it was clear he hated leaving. And okay, his protectiveness was sweet. He wanted her to be safe. It was foreign to have someone so invested in her. “I will, promise.”
He paused, his big body vibrating with energy, but he eventually turned and hurried out.
As soon as he left—and she’d secured her house—she headed straight for bed. Today had been exhausting and now she felt as if she could sleep for an eternity.
She didn’t even remember her head hitting the pillow.
Heart pounding, Autumn jerked up in bed at the sound of glass breaking—and her alarm piercing the air.
Shadow barked wildly, jumping to the floor, her tail sticking straight up.
Disoriented, blood rushing in her ears, Autumn rolled out of bed, reaching for her cell phone. This wasn’t a dream.
My God, someone had broken into her house. She hurried to her bedroom door, shut and locked it with trembling fingers. It took two tries to dial 911 as she tugged Shadow with her to the bathroom. She did the same thing with this door, shutting it and locking it behind them. She tried to get her heart rate under control as the phone rang, but it was useless. All she could think was that he’d found her after all these years.
“911 operator, how may I help you?”
Hearing those familiar words brought back a flood of memories, but she managed to speak even over the blaring sound of her security alarm. “Someone has broken into my house. My alarm system is going off and I’m hiding in the bathroom.” Her words sounded calm when inside she was screaming, desperate for help. She hoped the alarm had scared off the intruder—and that the cops got here fast.
She had to protect more than just herself now.
Chapter 20
With his back against the wall by the rear door, Lincoln held up his fingers, indicating he and his deputy were going to storm the house.
Normally he negotiated with people, especially in any sort of domestic situation. He wanted everyone walking away from this unharmed, but Ryan Miller had been screaming obscenities at them for half an hour, refusing to come out or release his wife, June. At least he’d let his six-year-old daughter, Jennie, go.
That was a good sign—but June had screamed two minutes ago for a brief moment before the sound was abruptly cut off.
Two minutes felt like an eternity but it had taken them that long to surround the house and get into place at the back door. They weren’t waiting any longer, and Miller wasn’t responding to phone calls or the bullhorn.
Lincoln looked at his deputy, Andre Hill, then quickly picked the lock. Normally he’d kick a door in, but they wanted some element of surprise if possible. Two of his men were still out front using the bullhorn every fifteen seconds.
As he popped the door open, with Hill right behind him, they both swept inside, weapons up.
According to Jennie, her father had been keeping them cooped up in the main bedroom near the front of the house.
“I’m not leaving my house!” Miller screamed, presumably at Lincoln’s guy who’d just used the bullhorn, his voice carrying from deeper in the house.
Lincoln followed it, sweeping the kitchen as he passed. The room was trashed, the small round table turned upside down, plates broken on the tile floor and splatters of blood on the white-washed cabinet by the sink.
They kept going, following more splatters of blood along the honey wood hallway.
Behind him, Hill was silent, and Lincoln had no doubt his deputy had his back. Hill had worked in Miami for a couple years and had been in the Army, so he was well-trained with weapons and knew how to remain calm in a volatile situation.
Instead of calling out, trying to negotiate again, Lincoln took a small, round mirror and eased it around the corner of the wall separating them from the hallway, trying to get a good view of what was going on without getting his head blown off. Small towns didn’t have a SWAT team or the kind of equipment often found in larger cities, so he had to make do with what he had.
The bedroom door was three-quarters of the way open and Lincoln watched as Miller muttered to himself, pacing back and forth at the end of the bed, pistol in his hand. He hit the butt of the pistol against his own head as he made nonsensical sounds.
Lincoln could see June’s dark hair splayed out on the floor near the foot of the bed. Her head was turned away and he couldn’t tell if she was breathing or what kind of injury she had. But she wasn’t moving. Damn it.
When Miller stepped out of sight, Lincoln motioned for Hill to follow. They hurried down the hall, weapons facing the open door. Adrenaline surging through him, he made it down the hallway in moments.
Together they burst into the bedroom. “Drop it now!” Lincoln shouted.
Miller jerked and turned, raising his pistol.
Lincoln fired, hitting him in the forearm. Miller’s weapon clattered to the floor as he screamed.
“Check on the woman,” he ordered his deputy as he raced at Miller, tackling him onto the bed.
Even though he’d been shot, Miller flailed at him, grazing his fist against Lincoln’s temple.
He jerked back, grabbing Miller’s arm and twisting him over onto his stomach.
As he did, he saw a flash of a blade before he felt it skim against his side—right below his vest.
Grunting, he elbowed Miller across the face before slamming him down against the bed and yanking his arms back, cuffing his wrists.
The guy cried out, writhing against the covers as the others rushed in.
“Shut the hell up,” he growled as he jerked Miller to his feet and marched the now sobbing man outside. The guy was going on and on about how sorry he was. Too little too late, asshole.
Lincoln ignored him as one of the EMTs staunched the bleeding on Miller’s arm—and the guy would still not shut the hell up. The EMT also gave Lincoln a bundle of gauze pads to stop his own bleeding so he shoved them under his shirt, wincing as they made contact with the slice.
He wasn’t sure if June would make it, and though he hadn’t confirmed it with Hill yet, he could tell she’d been stabbed at least once, given the amount of blood on the front of her shirt.
Hill rushed out with the other two EMTs who were rolling June across the front yard on a gurney.
“June!” Miller cried out, but Lincoln kept him firmly in place when he tried to get up and run to her.
“I told you to shut up.” Lincoln turned the guy around so he couldn’t even look at his wife. There were a few neighbors across the street watching, and even though they hadn’t put up a barrier, no one was crossing over into the crime scene area.
“The other ambulance is on the way,” one of his guys said to him. “They’ll get him to the hospital.”
As the ambulance tore off with June, its sirens blaring, Lincoln passed Miller off to one of his deputies and got a SITREP with Hill. June had been stabbed three times and they weren’t sure if she was going to make it. Jennie had been taken back to the station so she wouldn’t have to see any of this and would be meeting with a social worker. Thankfully, June had a sister who was going to take Jennie in for a while. Lincoln knew the sister, she was a good sort, so he was glad she’d be in a safe environment.
He hated this whole situation, but Miller wasn’t getting out of it th
is time. In the past, June had refused to press charges—refused to admit that her husband had been abusing her at all. They’d had no way to prove it either if she wouldn’t cooperate. Now he’d be charged with attempted murder.
When Lincoln heard the sound of the other ambulance approaching, he breathed out a sigh of relief. Good. He wanted to get Miller to the hospital, patched up, then processed. Because screw this guy. He could be sorry all he wanted—he’d terrorized his family and stabbed the woman he was supposed to love three times. There was a special place in hell for people like him.
“You bleeding, Sheriff?” Aaliyah asked as she jumped out of the passenger seat, frowning as she took in the blood trailing down onto his tan pants.
“It’s just a nick.”
Her frown grew. “We’re going to need to look at that.”
“I’m the one who’s been shot!” Miller shouted.
“Take care of him first. I’m following you guys in my car.”
It was clear she didn’t like that, but she and her partner worked quickly and efficiently, not bothering to respond to Miller’s ramblings as they got him into the back of the ambulance.
As Lincoln got into his cruiser, he lifted his shirt and peeled back the gauze. Two inches and still bleeding, but it was shallow. A great Friday night. At least it wasn’t too bad, but he did need to get it patched up.
His adrenaline was dropping by the time he made it to the hospital. Instead of following them into the ER, he radioed Hill to stick with Miller. And even though he would have preferred to stay with Miller until he was fully processed, Lincoln knew he had to follow protocol. He’d been injured during an arrest, and acting like a jackass and refusing to get it taken care of wasn’t a good look for the sheriff.
By the time he’d finished getting patched up, Hill strode into the room, his expression neutral. “Your neighbor, Autumn Perez, had a break-in at her house.”
Stomach dropping, he jumped off the hospital bed, winced at the pull on the Steri-Strips. “Is she—”
“She’s fine. Completely unharmed. Her alarm must have scared the guy off. The responding officer documented large boot footprints in her flower bed, but that’s it.”
