Dangerous Testimony

by Dana Mentink

  Tracy twirled a strand of hair around her finger. “Are you scared, Mommy?”

  “A little bit.”

  “Are you going to testify, anyway?”

  “Yes.”

  Tracy nodded. “Good. I’m glad you’re going to be brave...” She trotted toward the bedroom. “Like Unco.”

  Like Marco? She was supposed to say like her dad, like Rick.

  Marco saw the discomfort on Candace’s face and quickly looked away. What had he done to cause this? He didn’t know, he wasn’t sure, but now Candace was walking toward the kitchen.

  “I’ll see you in the morning,” she said, voice strained.

  “I...” I’m sorry? I will fix it, somehow? I’ll leave you two alone? None of those things seemed like the right thing to say, especially since he had no intention of taking his eyes off them until the Jay Rico threat was neutralized.

  Though he ached to walk to Candace and run his hands along her bowed shoulders, he was pretty sure that would make matters worse.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he mumbled. “Gonna be in the truck, and I’ll set your alarm as I exit.”

  He did not hear her reply. A shadow outside caught his eye, moving quickly. Pulling back the partially opened curtain, he saw a figure sprint across the lawn, arm raised in a posture he’d seen before. He had only a moment to react before the kitchen window shattered with a thunderous crack.

  FIVE

  The explosion was so loud it paralyzed Candace, imprisoning her in a fetal position on the floor. Glass rained down but didn’t touch her. Projectiles volleyed throughout the room. Bullets? She couldn’t tell. She realized Marco had hurled himself over her, a shield against the glass that landed in jagged pieces all over, and whatever it was that was thunking around her, striking the floor so hard the vibrations jarred the tile. Marco’s body jerked when the projectiles hit him, but he did not cry out or loosen his hold on her. There was a faint smell of smoke.

  Tracy, was all she could think. Run to Tracy. Get her out.

  But her body was still immobilized by fear and the echo of the deafening bang. Even if Marco wasn’t holding her there she doubted she could move at all.

  When the rain of debris subsided, Marco scooped her up and ran from the room. He carried her easily, making it to Tracy’s door in moments. He shoved it open and brought her in, putting her on the bed next to Tracy, who sat bolt upright, eyes like round saucers.

  “Mommy,” she screamed.

  “She’s okay,” Marco told Tracy. “Quiet now, half pint.” He bent to look in Candace’s face, smoothing the hair from her brow. His eyes took inventory, searching hers, gentle fingers skimming over her cheeks and neck. “Hurt?”

  She shook her head, heart thundering, ears ringing. “You?”

  “No.” But she could see a welt forming on his forehead, and another on his biceps where it showed through his torn sleeve. Dribbles of blood oozed from cuts on his forearms. “What...what was it?”

  “Grenade.” Marco looked at Tracy. “Take care of your mom. I’ll be back.”

  “Where are you going? Stay here,” Tracy said, the plea in her voice cutting into Candace as she threw her arms around her daughter.

  Marco knelt next to the bed, his deep baritone soft as he took Tracy’s hand, her small fist dwarfed in his. “Listen up, half pint.” He smiled at her. “That was a lot of noise and fuss, but everything’s okay and your mama isn’t hurt. I’ve got to go check on the cop and make sure he’s okay, too. Do you understand?”

  Tracy clutched his fingers. “I don’t want you to go. Please stay here with us.”

  “I will come back. I promise.”

  “But what if you don’t?” Tracy said.

  He looked at her gravely. “Do I keep my promises or not?”

  “But...”

  “No buts. Yes or no?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “That’s right. I always keep my promises.”

  “’Cuz you’re a SEAL?”

  He grinned. “No, ’cuz that’s the way God wants me to be. Being a SEAL just makes me extra cool.”

  It worked. Tracy offered a wobbly grin. He pressed a kiss to her head. “Lock the door behind me and sit tight.”

  Candace squeezed Tracy close after she’d clicked the flimsy door lock.

  “What happened, Mommy?”

  She strove for calm, matter-of-fact truth telling. “Someone threw something through our kitchen window.”

  “Why would they do that?”

  “To scare me, I think.” It was very effective. Her heart was hammering away at the speed of light.

  “Because of the trial?”

  “Yes.”

  “But you could have been hurt, or Unco,” Tracy said, lips quivering again. Candace saw the beginnings of hysteria building there.

  “No. No one is hurt, just like Marco said.” She pulled her daughter into her lap. But Marco was right, she thought. She’d lambasted him for overreacting, for bringing in his SEAL friends, but he’d been absolutely correct. The Pack wasn’t done terrorizing her, not by a long shot. They’d learned where she lived, and more importantly, where her daughter lived.

  Candace went ice-cold. She tried to still the shaking in her hands as they waited minute by painful minute. It was taking far longer than she would have thought. What if the people who’d thrown the grenade were still there? Waiting for Marco to emerge? What if they’d taken out the cop?

  No more death, she pleaded to God. No more death to innocent people at the hands of these gangsters.

  The terror began to spread from her stomach into her limbs, icing her veins, inch by excruciating inch. She strained to hear something, but the silence continued and the minutes dragged on. Finally, she detected the wail of approaching sirens.

  The doorknob rattled and Tracy screamed. “They got in the house. Mommy, they’re coming to get us.” Candace pushed Tracy behind her.

  “It’s Marco,” called the loud voice from the other side. “Open up.”

  Candace’s legs were shaking so badly she was grateful that Tracy leaped from the bed to let Marco in. She grabbed him around the waist.

  “They didn’t get you,” Tracy sobbed.

  “’Course not,” he said, wiping her tears with the heel of his hand. “Came back, just like I promised.”

  Tracy sniffled.

  He looked at her with mock severity. “Don’t tell me you were worried?”

  Tracy shrugged. “Just a little.”

  “I guess a little is okay. Pack two bags with whatever you’ll need for a couple days,” he said over her head to Candace. “We’re leaving.”

  It was almost a relief. This was her home, but she did not want to cower every time someone drove past, the thunder of the grenade blast ringing in her memory. “Where are we going?”

  “To talk to the cops, and then out of town.”

  Where? How? When will we be back? All the questions jammed up in her mind, stuck fast behind the fear. Pack. Get your daughter out of here.

  The action of choosing several outfits, Tracy’s markers and a drawing pad, and some basic toiletries calmed her. In a few more moments she’d packed her own tote, and Marco led them to the front of the house.

  The officer they’d waved to on the way in was talking on the phone, while two others took pictures of the house and questioned the neighbors. Officer Ridley guided Tracy and Candace into the back of an ambulance, where a paramedic checked them over.

  She tried to answer Ridley’s questions, but knew ridiculously little about what had happened until Marco explained.

  “It was a nonlethal grenade. They’re used for crowd control, mostly. It detonates and shoots out rubber pellets that hit the target with blunt force.”

  Candace realized in t
hat moment that thanks to Marco’s quick thinking, he’d become the target instead of her. She could see now the purpling bruises forming on his arms and temple.

  He waved away the paramedic’s attention. “I’m fine.” He turned to Ridley. “Don’t like them being out in the open. If your questions are done, we’re ready to go.”

  “Go where?” Ridley said.

  Marco remained expressionless. “Somewhere safe.”

  “You need to tell us where that is. We’re the police. We can protect them.

  Marco shook his head. “You tried that. Rico’s Pack is organized. They knew Candace would be at the college, and they know where JeanBeth lives and now Candace. This time we’re doing it my way.”

  “No, we aren’t,” Ridley snapped. “You’re a civilian. It’s our job to protect them, not yours.”

  “You’re right. I’m not bound by cop rules, so I can do whatever it takes.”

  “Sounds like you’re talking about going vigilante, breaking the law.”

  Marco shook his head. “No, no law breaking unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

  “That doesn’t reassure me.”

  “And this doesn’t reassure me,” Marco said, waving an arm toward the broken kitchen window. “This could have gone very bad if that was a fragmentation grenade.”

  A fragmentation grenade? Candace didn’t even want to know what sort of damage that might have done. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled. The two men were eyeing each other like angry bears.

  “We’d like to go with Marco,” she said to Ridley. “For now, I think that would be best.”

  Ridley was shaking his head, still staring Marco down. “We’ll step it up. You do your part by staying out of the way.”

  He folded his arms across his muscled torso, his expression stone cold. “Sorry, but I’m not answering to you when it comes to the safety of my girls.”

  My girls? Was that how Marco saw them? Her initial flush of pleasure at the thought surprised her and awakened guilt right alongside. She and Tracy were Rick’s girls. Always. She would not let any man take that away, not even Marco.

  No time to worry about that now. There were more pressing matters at hand.

  “We’d like to go now,” Marco was saying.

  Ridley started to answer when they heard a phone ringing from inside the house. Through the broken window they heard the answering machine pick up.

  “Four rings,” said the voice, before it cut off.

  The breath was squeezed right out of her. Four more rings to go and she would be dead at Rico’s hands.

  Marco snaked an arm around her shoulders and gripped her tight.

  “Like I said, they’re on my watch now,” he said, firing the challenge at Ridley.

  She allowed the feel of Marco’s strong palm to keep her from flying away into panic. She didn’t want to rely on him, especially since his presence sent her feelings into a confusing spiral, but right at that moment she didn’t see how she would make it without him.

  My girls?

  Later, she vowed. Later she would straighten out her relationship with Marco. Right now, she would do what was necessary to keep her daughter safe from Jay Rico and his gang of murderers.

  SIX

  Marco finally got Candace and Tracy into his truck and on the road. Tracy fell asleep almost immediately with her arm curled around Bear in the backseat. He rewound the tape in his memory.

  My girls. He’d actually said that and noticed the startled flicker in Candace’s eyes.

  It’s a mission, he reminded himself, like all the others. During the course of his career, he’d gone on too many missions to count, from counter narcotics operations in South America to dismantling enemy compounds in the Hamrin Mountains in Iraq. He’d stood side by side with brave men in sniper squadrons and assault teams, and his resolve to succeed and keep his military family safe had never wavered. The same determination flooded him now. That was it—resolve, nothing more.

  He blinked back to the present at Candace’s question.

  “Where are we headed?”

  “To a beach house. Buddy of mine owns it.”

  “A beach house where?”

  “Angel Vista, a village up the coast. North of Long Beach. Angela’s coming, too, to help with Tracy. Brent and Donna are staying with your mom to run the office and keep an eye on her, since the first threat was delivered there.”

  “And how many SEALs will be joining us?”

  He cocked an eyebrow at her. “How many would you guess?”

  “I don’t know, twenty?”

  “Doesn’t take twenty SEALs to get a job done.”

  “Oh, right,” she said. “I forgot you are all invincible.”

  “I prefer to think of it as well trained and outrageously skilled.”

  She laughed and he was thrilled to hear it. It’s what they needed to do, keep the conversation casual, light, away from his earlier remark in front of Ridley.

  “Lon will stay and protect my mom?”

  “Yes, and he’s going to eat well, for sure.”

  Candace nodded thoughtfully, peeking behind her to check on the sleeping Tracy. “Marco,” she said.

  He knew what was coming and kept his gaze riveted out the front window. “Yes?”

  “We love you, Tracy and I—you know that, don’t you? I mean,” she added quickly, “you’ve been amazing to us, through Dad’s death and with my mom and sisters. All of the Gallaghers love you.”

  He nodded, breath held.

  “But I need Tracy to remember Rick as her father and I need...” She twisted a finger in the hem of her shirt. “Well, that’s just the way it is. Do you understand? I don’t want her to be confused.”

  He nodded. “I did not mean to overstep. I’m going to take care of you, that’s all I meant.”

  She seemed to relax a fraction. “Thank you.”

  Since he didn’t want to deal with the pang of embarrassment, he focused on the road. They aren’t your girls, Quidel. Don’t get it confused. Candace was a spirited, stubborn, intelligent woman who needed him only for protection and nothing more.

  So why did his skin prickle when her arm brushed against his? And what was the reason he wanted to run his fingers through her curly hair and feel the weight of it?

  He blinked. You had that once, remember? Marco believed marriage was a forever commitment, and he’d had his one chance with the love of his life. It ended in disaster because he had failed Gwen.

  But he wasn’t going to fail Candace.

  Checking the rearview for the dozenth time, he reassured himself that Rico’s men had not followed them. There had been a car some three miles back, but nothing further.

  His Bluetooth signaled a call.

  “Chief.”

  “Retired, Dev. You can call me Marco.”

  “Once a chief, always a chief.”

  Marco smiled. “Got something for me?”

  “Yes, sir. Waiting at the Party Palace to brief you.”

  “See you in ten.”

  “The Party Palace?” Candace said, when he disconnected. “Isn’t it more like a safe house?”

  “Dev has a keen wit.”

  “Keener than yours?”

  “You always say I have no sense of humor whatsoever.”

  “Could be I’m wrong about you.”

  “Could be.” He was pleased that she could still smile, even after the grenade incident. Candace Gallagher was an incredible woman.

  They rolled up the steep drive and he noted the beach house was all but hidden from the road by a grove of enormous trees that had been left to grow without the benefit of trimming. It was a two-story structure, with a basement, and a covered garage so full of his buddy Pete’s boats and
Jet Skis that there was no way to get Marco’s truck inside. He didn’t see any sign of Dev’s vehicle, but that did not surprise him. Dev rode a fast motorcycle and it was undoubtedly concealed somewhere nearby.

  Tracy had awakened and she and Bear catapulted from the car.

  “Where’s the beach? Can we go find shells?”

  He laughed. “Let’s get you settled in right now, okay? We’ll talk about the beach tomorrow when it’s daylight.”

  Tracy raced Bear to the front door and Dev let them in. Marco introduced them. Tracy went wide-eyed at the sight of Dev, a tall African American with a monstrous beard and a set of shoulders almost as wide as Marco’s.

  He greeted them with hearty handshakes. “Nice to meet you, Ms. Gallagher and other Ms. Gallagher.”

  Tracy giggled.

  Candace smiled. “You can call me Candace.”

  “Sure thing, Ms. Gallagher,” he said, still grinning.

  “I haven’t had any luck, either,” Angela said. “I’ve talked him down from Captain. Now he calls me Captain Ma’am.”

  Dev nodded, eyes shifting to Marco. “Chief, message from Ms. Donna Gallagher at the detective office.”

  “What is it?”

  “DA needs to go over Ms. Gallagher’s testimony Monday at ten. He’ll be at the county courthouse in Long Beach.”

  “All right,” Marco said. “Thoughts?”

  “You lead, I’ll follow and check for tails.”

  “Recon?”

  “Conference room is on the ground floor, six exits. Metal detectors and security checkpoint in the lobby.”

  “Got all that already?”

  He shrugged. “I’m good. What can I say?”

  “Don’t let it go to your head. Tracy?”

  “Will stay put with Captain Ma’am. Coastie’s arriving soon. Can he handle himself?”

  Marco recalled how Brent had survived a beating and a hostile surf that would have killed most men, long enough to save his sister’s life and probably Donna’s. “Yeah, he can handle himself.”

  “I’ll put him on a radio.”