Beholden

by Pat Warren

  “It’s not so bad,” Sara said, gazing at the stairs leading up.

  “I’ve never been in a so-called safe house,” Terry said, shivering in the chilly room. “Is this better than most?”

  “By far.” Sara unbuttoned her jacket. “I understand that the dealer who owned the place had a wife. She probably did the decorating. Definitely a woman’s touch in here.”

  “Can law enforcement do that, take a person’s property, furniture and all?”

  Sara stifled a yawn. “Sure. For nonpayment of taxes, for fines levied. In this case, I believe the owner’s in prison and the wife’s been deported.” She moved to the stairs. “Let’s go up and have a look. I think you need to get to bed.”

  Luke returned and preceded them with the bags, placing her small suitcase in the room he’d apparently decided would be hers. It was small, sparsely furnished, but done in soothing shades of blue and white, and directly across from a very masculine room with heavy pine furniture. Terry watched Luke set his leather case in there before carrying Sara’s plaid bag to the room at the end of the hallway. The closed door she assumed was to the bath.

  So he’d decided to keep an eye on her from across the hall, had he? She wouldn’t have been shocked if he’d have dragged out a sleeping bag and unrolled it next to her bed. A sneeze shook her and she reached for a tissue from a box on the nightstand. A man who took protecting very seriously, that was Luke Tanner.

  She should probably be grateful, Terry thought as she blew her nose. Not much would escape those cool, watchful gray eyes. However, the loss of her privacy bothered her greatly. Would he wait outside the bathroom door until she finished showering and taste her food before she took a bite?

  Fatigue settled over her like an enveloping fog, causing her unfair analysis, she was certain. She heard Luke and Sara having a muffled conversation down the hall and wasn’t even mildly interested. After a quick visit to the bathroom, she closed her bedroom door, toed off her sneakers, and pulled the scarf from her head. She’d heard the furnace go on, but it was too chilly to bother removing her sweats. Sighing, she slipped beneath the heavy quilt. The bedclothes smelled fresh and clean. She closed her eyes.

  She was just dropping off when she heard a brisk knock on the door, a pause, and then the sound of its swinging open. Raising her head, Terry saw Luke fill the doorway. “Did you want something?” she asked, her voice sounding sleepy.

  “You need to leave your door open. I’ll be just across the hall with mine ajar as well.”

  Her head came off the pillow as she scowled at him. “Aren’t you carrying things a bit far?”

  “No, ma’am.” Luke’s face was stern. “I need to be able to see you, to know where you are at all times.”

  She couldn’t muster up the energy to be angry. “Fine. Wake me when it’s time for our shower.” With that, she snuggled down again and closed her eyes.

  He almost smiled. Even with her hair chopped off and bandages on both sides of her face, she looked appealing, a small mound beneath the thick covers. A sense of humor might just help her get through the next couple of months.

  Pulling the door halfway to, he backed out into the hallway and found Sara studying him, a quizzical expression on her plain features. “Any instructions before I turn in?” she asked.

  “I’d like your door left open, too. Another set of ears won’t hurt.”

  Sara pushed away from the doorjamb. She, too, had had a good look around and wondered where Luke was coming from. “I’ve been in a lot of safe residences. This place is built like a brick shithouse. Do you still think something might go wrong?”

  Luke ran a hand over his hair, still surprised at finding it so short. “You’ve been around long enough to know that something can always go wrong.”

  “Not with you around, Tanner.” She gave him a quick wink and disappeared into her room.

  He hoped she was right.

  The morning sunshine was most welcome after the rainy drive up. Terry stood in the kitchen looking out the window and sipping strong black coffee. Actually, she preferred coffee with cream. Or, more correctly, she preferred flavored coffee, with a touch of hazelnut or amaretto. She supposed she should feel fortunate to have plain Maxwell House brew.

  As she’d guessed, Luke was already outside when she’d finally wandered down a few minutes ago. She’d even managed to shower and put on clean sweats with no one breathing down her neck. She’d wound a fresh scarf around her head and walked into the kitchen just as Sara was pouring. Taking another swallow, she squinted, trying to see through the mesh screen on the window and the ironwork. “What’s he doing out there?”

  “Chopping wood.” Sara joined her at the sink. “We’ve got the heat on in here and he’s chopping firewood wearing only a T-shirt and sweatpants in forty-degree weather. Serve him right if he catches a cold.”

  “A germ wouldn’t dare set up residence in Luke Tanner.” Terry slid her glance to Sara and caught the smile. “You’ve worked with him before?”

  Sara watched Luke’s steady swing, saw the block of wood split and fall from the stump. Patiently, he placed another chunk in position and raised the ax. “Oh, yes. He’s interesting, to say the least.” Sara jotted another item on the pad in front of her.

  “Interesting and about as sensitive as a drill sergeant.”

  The big woman smiled. “Don’t let Luke hear you say that. All agents are required to take sensitivity training.”

  “You’re kidding!”

  “Not at all. Cops, too, in most cities. The thing is, you’ve got to know the book, but also when to set it aside.”

  Terry finished her coffee. “I think Agent Tanner may have been absent the day they taught that class.”

  Sara stuffed her list into her pocket. “I’m off to stock up on groceries. Anything special you’d like me to get?”

  Cigarettes, Terry thought immediately, then decided to tough it out another day. “I like ice cream,” she said, feeling childish at the request.

  “Already on the list. Luke likes chocolate. That okay?”

  “Sure. Could you pick up a newspaper? I haven’t read one in ages.” As a political cartoonist, the first thing she’d done each morning was to pore through the Times, the Post, the Tribune and several local papers to get an overview of what was happening around the country in order to get ideas and plan her drawings. “I feel out of touch.”

  “No problem. In the meantime, there’s a TV in the living room.”

  Terry wasn’t a television watcher, but maybe she’d have to resort to viewing to pass the time. She gazed out the window again, wishing she could go for a long walk.

  “Did you take your pills?” Sara asked. When Terry nodded, she picked up her purse and the keys to the van. “Luke’s already talked with the doctor we use up this way. He’ll be paying you a visit this afternoon. The bandages should be coming off soon.”

  The thought sent shivers of alarm through Terry. Would there be scarring? Would she look like her old self, even if she no longer felt like that person? Setting down her empty mug, she hugged herself, closing her eyes and wishing she could be back home in her own kitchen, getting ready to set out for a day at the Gazette.

  Sara frowned as she studied her young charge. “Are you all right, Terry? Anything you want to talk about?” Physically, she was healing, but Sara had been a nurse long enough to know that the mental anguish of what Terry had gone through would take far longer to overcome.

  “I’ve been better.” She hated the quivery sound of her voice.

  Sara touched her shoulder. “Give it time, honey. In a way, you’re like a rape victim. Your life was forever changed by an act of violence. It takes time to recover. However, you can look at yourself as a victim, or as a survivor. Survivors heal more quickly.”

  Terry glanced up. “How long are we going to be here, Sara? How long before I can go home?”

  “I wish I could answer that, honey. Not one day longer than necessary, I promise you.” She gave Ter
ry’s arm a quick squeeze. “I’ll be back.”

  Terry watched her leave, promising herself she wouldn’t cry. Tears won’t solve your problems, Dad had always told her. It’s a tough world out there, he’d warned. She was finding out just how tough.

  Moving back to the window, she looked out and found Luke leaning on the ax handle as his eyes scanned the yard. His shirt was stained with sweat, and the pile of split logs was impressive, but he wasn’t even breathing hard. Strong, disciplined, always in control.

  And attractive. Instinctively, her hand touched the scarf covering the half inch of hair on her head. She couldn’t believe how slowly it was growing out. Impatience is your worst fault, Theresa Anne, her father had often said. Right again, Dad.

  By contrast, she imagined that Luke Tanner was as patient as a monk in a monastery. She could see that he hadn’t shaved this morning, and found herself picturing him with a beard. It would add a hint of mystery to a face that was already difficult to read. It was a strong face and he had such a solid body. He scared her to death. She didn’t want to react to him as a woman, yet as she watched him toss the split logs into a box as easily as if they were toothpicks, she felt an unexpected sensual tug.

  Ridiculous, Terry told herself.

  What she needed was to breathe in some brisk, cold air. She walked to the kitchen door, shoved it open and stepped outside.

  Luke swung around at the sound of the door opening. Instantly, his face registered a fierce scowl. “Get back inside,” he snarled. “Now!”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Luke closed the kitchen door behind him, then turned to Terry. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell, but you have to understand that you can’t be outside. Not yet.” He saw her hands trembling and wished he hadn’t had to frighten her. “The men who might be searching for you know what you look like, your height and build, that you’ve got bandages on your face, that your head’s been shaved. Looking as you do, you’re a dead giveaway to any passerby.”

  Terry jammed her hands into her pockets. “How could anyone see through those thick shrubs alongside the fence? Besides, who knows we’re here?”

  “No one, I hope. But it’s possible. An innocent tourist may be a paid informant.”

  Her heart was still pounding. “That sounds like paranoia. Surely you don’t suspect everyone.”

  “To those of us in law enforcement, everyone is a suspect. Someone with a high-powered rifle up on that hillside could pick you off from quite a distance.”

  Terry felt a shiver take her. “Thank you for sharing that. Do you have to scare the hell out of me?” Crossing her arms over her chest defensively, she glared at him, struggling with a mixture of anger and fear.

  Luke drew in a deep breath. He usually laid it on the line early in the program to the witnesses he was assigned to protect. The people hunting his charges were cunning, crafty, and unencumbered with a conscience. Follow orders or risk getting killed; it was as simple as that. He was unused to softening his approach, yet he could tell he’d shocked Terry. That’s what he’d meant to do, to scare her just enough so she’d follow directions that just might save her life. But he couldn’t afford to have her fall apart on him.

  He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Look, I should have explained last night that we can’t have you outside just yet. The possibility that our location has been discovered is remote, but we can’t take any unnecessary chances.”

  Every time he changed tactics and became nice, tears welled up in her eyes. Damn, but she was getting weary of this seesaw of emotions. “I know you’re just doing your job.” She tightened her grip on her arms. “I want to cooperate, but it’s so hard to know what to do, what not to do. I… I feel so damn confused.” With a shaky hand, she indicated the room, the building. “This, all of this, being here, being so monitored—it’s all so overwhelming. I’m trying, but I’m just not used to things yet.”

  “I understand.”

  Her eyes met his. “Please don’t say that again.”

  How had she managed to put him on the defensive? Luke wondered. He decided to take refuge in the familiar, to outline what usually took place in the first phase of the protection program, hers in particular. If she hadn’t been so tired last night, he’d have told her then, and wished now that he had. “Let me explain a few things. A new doctor’s coming this afternoon. When he okays the removal of your bandages, if you feel well enough, we can go shopping. We’ll get you fitted with a wig, dark glasses or contacts to change the color of your eyes. Maybe both, and clothes that you can pick out. Maybe things you choose will make you feel more like yourself.”

  Herself. It was difficult to hang on to a sense of self under the circumstances.

  She wasn’t responding, but rather staring at her hands as they shredded a tissue. “How’s that sound, Terry?” he asked.

  “Yes, that’s fine.” Her voice was low, trembly. “I think I’ll go lie down for a while.” She turned to leave.

  “Sara will be back shortly with groceries. She’ll fix something to eat, I’m sure.” He stumbled on, hoping she’d cheer up. “That woman sure loves to eat. She chows down more than some truck drivers I know.”

  The effort was lost on Terry at the moment. “I’ll be down later.”

  He thought she looked pale and fragile. “If I said anything to upset you…”

  “It isn’t you.” She had to leave before she lost it in front of him. “It’s me.” Hurriedly, she ran toward the stairs.

  Luke let out a whoosh of air. Fervently, he wished the witness in this assignment was a man.

  Sara came through the kitchen door carrying two bulging paper bags. “I hope you’re all hungry, ’cause I’ve got enough here to fill you to the brim.” Setting her bundles on the counter, she glanced around. “Where’s Terry?”

  “She went up to lie down.” He didn’t meet her eyes. “She’s a little on the touchy side, wouldn’t you say?”

  Sara brushed back a lock of brown hair. “Did you upset her, Tanner?”

  For the second time today he felt defensive. “I told her she couldn’t go out until I said so. She didn’t take it well.”

  Probably because he’d made it sound like an order instead of a request. “She’s got a lot to deal with. You might try going easy on her.”

  His version of easy apparently wasn’t good enough. “You coddle her, if you want. I’m here to see that she stays alive.” He picked up the keys from where she’d put them on the counter. “I’ll be back in an hour. You got your piece with you?”

  Sara patted her shoulder holster beneath her jacket. “Right here.”

  “Lock up after me.”

  “Don’t you want to eat first?”

  “I’m not hungry.” With that, Luke left.

  Men, Sara thought, especially men in law enforcement. She’d known her share of them. Too much macho pride and too little sensitivity, most of them. Shrugging out of her jacket, she decided to fry some bacon. Perhaps a BLT would awaken Terry’s taste buds. The poor thing didn’t eat enough to keep a bird alive.

  Humming to herself, she unpacked the groceries.

  Nick Russo watched his brother walk over to the cubicle in the prison visitors’ room. Sam’s tan had begun to fade; his face appeared sallow. He’d lost weight, too. Nick could only imagine how a sharp dresser like Sam must feel having to wear the prison issue blue cotton shirts and pants. He pasted on a smile as his brother sat down and picked up the phone on the other side of the glass.

  “What do you know, Nickie?” Sam asked, his dark eyes intense.

  “You were right, Sam.” Nick kept his voice low. “There’s been no body turned over to the family. I’ve got a feeling the Feds are hiding something.”

  Sam nodded. “I knew it. I’m telling you, that girl’s not dead. My gut’s never wrong.”

  The guard by the door shuffled his big feet. Nick shifted uneasily in his chair. “What do you think we should do?”

  “You heard from Ozzie?”

  “
Not a word.”

  Sam’s eyes narrowed. “Why not? You got plenty of money. Why can’t you find him?”

  Nick hated these visits, hated not having the right answers. “Take it easy, Sam. I got two guys looking. Ozzie’s dug in deep somewhere. He’ll surface, honest.”

  Sam leaned forward. “Easy for you to say. You’re out there and I’m the one in here.”

  Nick ran a finger around the collar of his silk Pierre Cardin shirt. They kept it too damn hot in here. “I know it’s rough…”

  “No, little brother. You don’t know. I don’t ever want you to know. You gotta get me out of here.” Sam swiped at his damp forehead. “That girl’s alive. Find her, take her out, and their witness will be gone. And so will their case.”

  “Our snitch at Central tells me the Feds are in on it. They probably got her tucked away somewhere out of state. She could be anywhere—New Mexico, Colorado, California.”

  “It’s up to you to find out where. Watch the old man. He could know more than he lets on. Get pretty boy to help. He owes us. You tell him I’m going to sing if something doesn’t happen soon.”

  “Right, Sam. I’ll tell him.” Nick could feel the guard’s eyes on him, and he wondered if the guy could read lips. Beads of nervous sweat rolled down his back. He wanted out of here. “Anything else?”

  Sam shook his head and was about to hang up when he remembered something. “The Feds. You remember that agent you almost took out awhile back? What was his name?”

  “Tanner,” Nick answered, savoring the memory. The knife had gone in, slick and clean. Trouble was that Tanner had rolled, throwing off Nick’s aim. Otherwise, the tough agent would’ve bought the farm.

  “Yeah, right. Check it out. I heard he’s on leave somewhere in Arizona. If he’s involved, you better get backup. He’s mean as shit and he’s got a score to settle with you.”