Witness Pursuit

by Wadsworth, Joanne

  “I can’t look after you the way I need to from a distance. Not now.” He squeezed her hands.

  “Yes, you can. Nothing’s changed. I mean, apart from the stick.”

  Brigs moved toward the control panel and halted the elevator. “Okay, guys. What’s the stick?” And must I point out we can’t jeopardize Jenna’s re-identification, Tyler. The occasional visit on the down low will work, but speaking to Ronson won’t. He’s ex-Force. He’ll contact Gilchrist.”

  “Lydia’s pregnant.”

  Brigs’s eyes popped open at his abrupt comment, and then narrowed to slits. “That is not even remotely funny. She’s in The Program.”

  “I realize that, which means if I must, I’ll go under with her.”

  “You’d have to give up your family. Think, Tyler. Your brothers wouldn’t deal with that, and Nico’s only four.”

  Lydia shoved him away. “You are not giving up your family and your job and your friends for me. Not when you can hide out when you come.”

  “I’m staying with you, and you don’t have a choice in the matter.”

  “No. You. Aren’t.” Her glower was fierce, a firm reminder the woman he dealt with was strong. She had left him once before, and he shouldn’t forget.

  “I’m staying.”

  “Not a chance.”

  “We’re having a baby, and you’re going to have to deal with the decision I’ve made.”

  She dropped her head into her opened palms. “I am going to explode, or at the very least my head is.”

  He pulled her into his arms. “I’ll talk to Ronson and see if he’ll accept my presence without informing Gilchrist, but I don’t hold out much hope on that. Those who work for the Force are rigid in keeping to the rules.”

  “Right now, I really I hate you.”

  “But you understand?”

  “I understand I hate you.”

  Hell, she had his heart in her hands. “You’ll come around, Lee.”

  Brigs snorted. “I don’t know whether to congratulate you both, or bang your heads together.”

  “The banging of heads would be best,” she mumbled against his chest.

  Tyler chuckled, shocked to find her words actually soothed him, or it could be that she was burrowing closer, sliding her arms around his waist and gripping him. “Okay, do you have any idea why Drake was shot?”

  “No.”

  Brigs hit the release button on the stalled elevator. “Let’s get upstairs and start asking some questions. We need more than a no.”

  “Are there any police up there?” Lydia whirled and faced Brigs.

  “A detective’s on his way.”

  The doors opened on the surgical ward, depositing them right outside the waiting room. Two small children cried, one a boy with sandy blond hair who sat in the arms of his mother, the other an identical child who clung to his father. The children’s sobs wrenched at his heart.

  Lydia gasped and dashed past him toward the father who held one of the boys. The man must be Colt.

  “Jenna.” He jumped to his feet, holding out a hand to her. “I’ve been so worried. Ronson said I had to keep an eye on you, so I sent Slade to track you down.” Colt glanced at Brigs then him as they followed her. “Brigs there told me you’d met him and his friend in town, and when they saw you on the back of Slade’s bike, they thought they’d make sure you were okay.”

  “That’s right.” She stroked the child’s back he held. “Colt, this is Tyler. I was a bit upset and he stayed with me until I calmed. Sorry to take so long.”

  “You look all right now, and that’s what counts.” Colt extended his hand to Tyler. “Thanks for looking after Jenna.”

  “No problem.” Tyler shook his hand as he stepped closer to Lydia. He brushed up against her back, covering her from behind. Better. Much better.

  Then he checked out the others in the room. Two young boys, one Slade and the other who must be Tate, sat quietly talking. He scanned the remaining space, but all was clear.

  Brigs jabbed him in the arm. “A word please. Over there.”

  With a frown, he followed Brigs across the room, joined him and pressed his back against the wall. Lydia sat beside Colt’s wife and hugged her. “What’s up?”

  “You’re asking me? We have to maintain a low profile, and you plastered against Lydia’s back isn’t doing that.”

  “I wasn’t plastered. It’s called protection.”

  The elevator doors pinged open and an older man strode in. The man surveyed the area, his gaze clashing with theirs between one step and the next. Uh-huh, this was Ronson Brown, his actions ringing of Force, or ex-Force as Lydia had said he now was.

  Ronson continued toward Lydia. She jumped to her feet and gave her supposed uncle a fierce hug. They appeared close. Tyler couldn’t halt his low growl.

  Then Ronson leaned in and whispered in her ear. She nodded and whispered back, her shoulders slumping a little.

  Damn it. Jealousy slapped him hard in the gut. He didn’t care to have his woman whisper to, and trust another man, in any way, and certainly not when it was him he wanted her to come to.

  “Hey, no.” Brigs’s slammed a hand over his chest, barring him from moving. “You’re so readable right now, and Ronson will come to us. You know he will. Wait it out.”

  Lydia. She looked so pale and shaken, as if she needed him ten-times over. Then she looked at him and her gaze softened. He itched for closer contact.

  Brigs lowered his hand. “They’re coming. Keep your cool.”

  They crossed the room, leaving the others behind. Her chest rose and fell with short breaths as she came to him. “Ronson.” Her tone was low. “As you guessed, this is Tyler. With him is Brigs.”

  Okay, good. Ronson somehow knew who he was.

  “I’ve heard plenty about you, Tyler.”

  “I’ve heard very little about you.” Still, he stuck his hand out and they shook.

  “We can’t talk here. Come up to the homestead later.”

  “We’ll bring our bags.”

  Ronson lifted a brow then placed his hand on Lydia’s elbow. “Like I said, we’ll talk later. Excuse us.” He drew her away.

  Tyler’s control snapped. Ronson was taking her from him. No one would ever do that again. Not on his watch.

  Brigs whipped around and blocked his way. “C’mon, snap out of it. She’s right here in this room. She’s not going anywhere. Although, you should. Go and walk it off.”

  He wanted to hold his girl the way he needed to and couldn’t, yet with no choice, he turned and walked away, because it was either that or expose Lydia.

  Down the hallway, he found a small room, one with a wooden cross on it marking it as a place to pray. He walked into the solitary space and chose the furthest of the four wooden pews where a small window above it overlooked the rooftops to the road.

  He dropped to the bench and scrubbed a hand along his thigh.

  What a mess.

  And another shooting, one far too close to Lydia for his comfort. Yeah, he had to get control of this situation, which meant– His cell phone vibrated in his pocket.

  He hauled it out and stared at the display. Ben. A call he couldn’t miss. “Hey.”

  “Brigs just sent me a message. It said you wanted to go under. Isn’t there another way?”

  “No. Lydia’s pregnant. I’m staying where she is.”

  “Look, you’ll always have our support, but I want you to consider all your options. We can keep any visits you make there on the down low. I’ve worked with Ronson in the past. It was a few years ago, but I could speak to him.”

  He’d never ask Ben to cross such a line. “It’s fine. Occasional visits with Lydia won’t cut it for me at this point.”

  “Right, then at least let me get you a day or two. I’ll tell Ronson you need to speak to your family. You certainly can’t go under and leave me with the Whitehall brothers breathing down my neck. There’s only so much I can handle.”

  “They will be pissed
.” He’d be lucky if his brothers allowed this to pass, except they’d have no choice. Once he was under, they’d never find him.

  “Yeah, I can just see the three of them taking me down, one after the other. And it won’t be pretty.” Ben whistled under his breath. “Okay, enough of that. Brigs told me about your flameout. I want a report, and I want it now.”

  “I’ll get it to you tonight.”

  “Good. I told Brigs about this, and I’ll update you too. I have news about the hacker who dropped the information about Lydia to the reporter. Our systems specialist has tracked the informant’s routed computer IP address to one M. Taita of Wellington.” He snarled. “Johnny was Mia Taita’s younger brother and she’s on the board of Taita Software, intending to take over once Taita Senior retires.”

  His head swam with the new feed of intel. “I know the Taita family wants answers on Johnny’s death, but to place the only eyewitness in a vulnerable position is not the way to do it.”

  “I agree. No matter how desperate, giving the killer easy access to Lydia’s name through that article has only placed her life on the line. I’ll deal with Mia Taita personally, but first I need to sort Saria’s re-identification now her finals are done. I’ll catch a flight to Wellington in a couple of days once she’s gone under. Until then, both you and Brigs need to stay alert.”

  “Will do.” Tyler ended the call and rubbed his shoulder. The tension within him had his back knotted tight. Hell, he’d have to leave Lydia for a short time to see his brothers, and he would, but only because Brigs was here. That conversation with his brothers wasn’t one he looked forward to.

  14

  They’d all been given two minutes with Drake after he’d stirred, but he’d been so drowsy, his mumbled words made little sense. The nurse had sent them out, assuring them he’d be more lucid in the morning.

  That evening at the homestead, Lydia fidgeted with the dining table’s lace runner trailing into her lap. Her nerves were shot.

  Lifting her head, she focused on the conversation around the table. Between Tyler and Brigs, they’d both outlined to Ronson the depth of their involvement in her case.

  Ronson listened, his arms crossed in front of him. “I understand you two men have Jenna’s best interests at heart, but Drake’s shooting had nothing to do with her. I’m responsible for her safety, and for adhering to The Program’s strict re-identification guidelines.”

  “Someone got shot on your property,” Tyler argued. “Her environment is not safe. We need to stay. Have you spoken to Ben Hammers yet?”

  “He called.” Ronson tapped along his arms. “Look, the best I can do is request you aid me in safeguarding this station until I can call Gilchrist. I have to do that within twenty-four hours or risk my standing.”

  “I appreciate the offer. I’ll take it.”

  Damn. So, she had a single day to come up with a plan to ensure Tyler didn’t give up his family for her. It wasn’t nearly enough time.

  “Hey.” He caught her hand and gave it a squeeze. “I’ll sort things with my brothers.”

  “Great. You do that.” She was so not on board.

  Ronson scraped his chair back as he rose. “Lydia will show you to your rooms, and if there’s anything you need, my door is always open.” To her, he said, “I’m taking a quick trip to the crossing. I know the area better than any detective, and I want to make sure nothing was missed in their preliminary search.”

  “I’ll come with you if you don’t mind.” Brigs joined him.

  “Not a problem.”

  They left and Tyler tugged her to her feet. “I need a laptop to compile my report for Ben.”

  “It’s in the office at the back of the house.”

  “C’mon, I need to bring it out here where you’ll be. Show me the way.”

  “I’m going upstairs to make the spare beds.” She put emphasis on the word “beds.”

  “You’re angry at me?”

  “I won’t take you away from your family. I can’t do it.”

  “I’m not happy about leaving them either, but I’ve tried living without you, and it’s not working for me.”

  As she backed up, her shoulders hit the wall. “I know how much you love your brothers. Think of Nico. I can’t let him go through the pain of losing another family member. He’s just a boy.”

  He prowled after her. “You’re pregnant, and I won’t allow my child to be raised without me.”

  “That’s several months away. Hold off on your decision. You have to see that’s possible.”

  “No.”

  “You’re not being practical. No matter what happens, I’ll call you and we’ll work out how to meet without you losing your family. You have to consider what I ask.”

  “What kind of life is that? I might have my family, but I get slim pickings with you.” He slid his hand over her belly. “We’re not going to argue about this anymore. Point the way to the office so I can grab the laptop and get some work done. I’d like to use the dining table. It’s central. I can see the back door, the kitchen and the living room from here.”

  She turned on her heel and strode down the hallway. At Ronson’s chunky desk, she jabbed a finger at the laptop. “Right there.”

  “Thank you.” He took it and followed her back to the dining room. He set it on the table and fired it up. “Is there an exit or entry point from the upstairs floor?” He dragged a chair out and sat.

  “No. The only way to leave the second level is by the stairs behind you.”

  “That’s good.” He waved a hand in a rolling motion. “You go do whatever you need to. I’ll be able to keep an eye on you from here. I’ll be two hours, tops.”

  That had been three hours ago.

  Shivering in bed, she squinted through the dark at the alarm clock on her bedside table. The red light flickered the midnight hour.

  Moonlight traced into the room through the sheer white nets, playing the lacy pattern over her cream bedcovers and the plain-papered walls bordered with tiny yellow flowers.

  Where was he?

  Even Brigs and Ronson had returned from the crossing and popped in to check on her before heading to bed. They’d told her they’d found size twelve shoe imprints three-hundred yards from the expected location of where the shot was fired. Evidence missed, so they were going back tomorrow to widen their search. They believed the shooter had dashed through the trees a little ways on foot.

  Ah, finally, heavy footsteps on the landing outside her bedroom.

  The door creaked open, and a sliver of light from the hallway beamed in.

  She turned on the side lamp then pulled her knees to her chest as she sat up. “Did you get your report done?”

  He yawned and shut the door. “Yeah. I had to finish it since I need to see my brothers first thing. I’ve booked a round trip to Auckland, but I’ll be back by five tomorrow night. Brigs will watch you like a hawk until I get back.” Muscles rippled across his chest as he raised the hem of his white shirt over his head. Yum. She wanted to lick his wicked bare skin.

  “So, you’re still going ahead with this?”

  “Yes.” He shucked off his pants and crawled in beside her. Flopped on his back, he stared at the ceiling. “You’re not changing my mind.”

  She rolled onto her side and touched a finger to the shadows under his eyes. Today had certainly taken a physical toll on him. “You are so stubborn. You could have your brothers and me. I hate you can’t see that.”

  “I’m glad you’re not tossing me out of your bed.” He grasped her hand and tucked it over his chest then with another yawn, he shut his eyes.

  “Ha. You wouldn’t go if I tried.”

  He smiled. “Finally, you understand me.”

  “Go to sleep. You look exhausted.”

  “It was difficult to put my lost images into order, but now it’s done. I’ll be fine come morning.”

  “Can I see your report?”

  “Tomorrow.” With another wide yawn, he rolled to his side.


  She waited as his breathing evened out.

  Slowly, she slid her fingers from his and slunk out of bed. She wanted to see his report, and it wouldn’t wait until morning.

  On tiptoes, she snuck down the stairs.

  The laptop sat on the dining table and she opened the last working document. Bingo.

  Reading the report, she covered each detailed account, from the moment Tyler had arrived at Jeffrey Lawntree’s to the time of his shooting. There were discussions of interest he’d had with Lawntree, ones held late at night after she’d gone to bed.

  Also, personal thoughts and opinions, although none of them surprised her. Lawntree was a politician, one whose career was his life. There was nothing she hadn’t already alluded to in her own reports to both the police and those in The Program.

  Damn. She’d hoped something within Tyler’s report might mean something to her, perhaps even trigger a misplaced thought, but nothing.

  She closed the lid and rubbed her forehead. She needed some space and clear air, somewhere quiet where she could consider her options, ones Tyler was eliminating one by one. Glancing up the stairwell, all was still clear.

  She padded barefoot to the mudroom, grabbed a jacket from the hook, and pulled it over her pink camisole and sleep shorts. It wasn’t cold out, but the wind was brisk as she followed the pebbled path highlighted by the moon’s glow. It led around the side of the homestead. She scaled the wooden stile over the wire fence and hopped into the back field. All was dark, but in the light of day, long blades of green grass would ripple in the breeze.

  This was the most beautiful spot on the station. A majestic maple tree spread its wide branches in the center of the meadow, and she lay beneath it. She linked her hands behind her head and stared at the thick blanket of midnight sky. Millions of diamond-like stars twinkled.

  Her sister loved the night sky, just as she did. If Saria were here, she’d be outside with her, but instead she was hundreds of miles away, preparing for her own re-identification now her finals were done.