He touched her chin, urging her to meet his eyes again. “Nothing unexpected is going to happen. No one knows we’re here, and no one is going to know. Stay here. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” His finger trailed the curve of her jaw, skimming over silky flesh and soft strands of loose hair before he forced himself to turn away, to exit the vehicle, to walk toward the store as if he wanted to do it.
He was worried too.
He knew as well as she did that things could go wrong and often did. But he had to trust in his plan. He had to have faith that God was in it. He had to move forward with confidence and purpose. Hesitation could kill a man. He had seen that during his time overseas. Moving forward on any plan was better than sitting frozen with uncertainty.
He walked into the store and went straight to the electronics section. He didn’t waste time. He knew what he was looking for. He bought three phones and paid cash, ignoring the cashier’s curious look as he grabbed a few protein bars and packages of almonds onto the conveyor belt, adding several bottles of juice and water, and waited to be rung up. The cashier raised an eyebrow when Mac handed her twenties to pay. She checked one at a time, using a UV light to study each banknote. Finally satisfied, she bagged his purchases and handed him change.
Mac had the first phone ready for use as he walked out of the store, and he was dialing Seamus’s number as he slid into the SUV.
“Murphy here. What’s up?” Seamus said curtly.
Mac met Anna’s eyes and gave her a thumbs-up.
“Hey, Shay, it’s Mac.”
“Is it now?” he asked, his Irish accent barely noticeable. He’d spent the first fifteen years of his life with his mother’s family in Ireland. He’d never said much about the reasons why he had joined his father in the US, but Mac knew it wasn’t a happy story or a good one. “Then why don’t I recognize the number?”
“Because I’m in a bit of a...bind, and I can’t use a traceable phone.”
“You’re at the ranch?” he asked, his voice sharp.
“No. I’m in Abilene.”
“That’s a little over two hours from here.” He muttered something under his breath. “How much trouble? The kind that could get you arrested? Or the kind that could get you killed?”
“Both.”
“In that case, it’ll be best if you stay out of sight. I’ll come to you. Where are you?”
“In a Walmart parking lot on the western side of the city.”
“Not going to do you much good to sit there. The sun is going to be up in an hour. You’ll be clear pickings for whoever is after you. Hold on. I’m looking at a map. There’s a motel just off I-20. About seven miles east of your location. Looks like the kind of place a man can check in using cash. White House Inn is the name. Check in there. Call me with the room number. Other than that, no contact until I arrive. We’ll figure things out when I get there.” He disconnected, the silence the only indication that he was ending the call.
Mac tossed the phone onto the console and took the keys Anna was holding out to him.
“What now?” she asked, her skin pale, her eyes deeply shadowed. A couple of hours of sleep would do her good. He’d worry about rest for himself after Seamus arrived.
“We check into a motel until Shay arrives.”
“How long will that be?”
“A couple of hours. He drives fast when he has somewhere to be.” He pulled out of the parking lot and merged onto I-20. The city was beginning to wake, cars speeding along the road as people began commuting to work. He drove the speed limit, checking his rearview mirror as he spotted the White House Inn and exited the freeway. If they were being tailed, it wasn’t obvious. He did a slow trek around the area, driving from the hotel to a nearby fast food restaurant and ordering two cups of coffee. Black for him. Two creams for Anna.
He handed her the cup as he pulled away. “There are almonds and protein bars in the bag. Go ahead and eat something.”
She rifled through the bag and pulled out two protein bars, opening both. She took his coffee and placed it in the cup holder, then handed him a protein bar. “I’m not the only one who needs to eat.”
“I ate dinner last night.”
“I did...” Her voice trailed off. “Maybe I didn’t.”
“You didn’t.”
“How do you know? You weren’t there.”
“You never eat before you run.”
She frowned. “That’s true.”
“You grab some fruit and protein when you’re done and go to your cabin. I figured you ate there. Since you didn’t make it back last night, you’re probably hungry.”
“Now, that you mention it, I am.” She bit into the protein bar. “Do you think your friend will really be here in a couple of hours?”
“Yes.”
“So, he’ll just drop whatever he was doing and leave? No packed bags or getting ready? Just climb in a car and drive here?”
“Yes.”
“Wow.”
“Wow what?”
“That’s the kind of friend we all wish we had, I guess.”
“I’d do the same for him.”
“Then you are also the kind of friend we all wish we had.”
“Wouldn’t you do what you could for a friend?” he asked, pulling into the White House Inn parking lot. The place had seen better days, the white paint gray with age, the windows smudged and cracked.
“Well, yes. But not everyone is like that.” She shrugged, taking a sip of coffee and smiling. “That’s good coffee.”
“Or, you’re really desperate for caffeine,” he responded, returning her smile as she took another bite of protein bar. Color had returned to her cheeks, and she looked more energetic, her normal good humor replacing fatigue and fear.
“I was definitely desperate for caffeine. It’s just the way I like it, by the way. How’d you know?”
“You have a cup of coffee every Sunday after church. Always with two creams.”
“I do?”
“You also eat exactly half a glazed doughnut. You always give the other half to Stacey.”
“That’s probably true. I do like glazed doughnuts, but not enough to eat the whole thing.” She frowned. “You’ve spent a lot of time studying what I do, Mac.”
“You’ve spent six months on the ranch. You’ve attended church every Sunday. I didn’t have to study you to notice those things. I just had to pay attention.”
“Ha! Tell my ex that. We dated for four years and were married for three, and he still always brought me coffee with sugar and no cream.” She pressed her lips together and turned her attention to the motel. “I guess we should see if they have a room.”
“Seeing as how the parking lot is nearly empty, I’d say it’s a good possibility they do.” He wanted to ask more about her marriage and her ex, but it wasn’t his business. He was there to keep her safe and to get her to trial, not to dig into her life and her past.
But he was curious.
He had been curious since the day she’d arrived at the ranch. He could admit that. What he couldn’t do was allow himself to be distracted by it. He had to stay focused on the mission and the goal. He couldn’t allow anything or anyone to get in the way of that.
Not even himself.
But looking into Anna’s eyes, seeing the concern and fear in her face, he had a feeling that might be a bigger challenge than he imagined.
“Are we going to sit here staring at each other all day or go check into the motel?” she asked, turning away and opening the door.
He took several twenties from the lockbox before stepping out of the SUV and surveying the parking lot. He had pulled around to the back of the building, parking near bushes and the dumpster. They partially blocked the view of the street.
She climbed out before he had a clear visual of the surrounding area.
&n
bsp; “Get back in the car,” he said. “We don’t know if we were followed.”
“You spent most of the drive looking in the rearview mirror. If we were followed, you’d know it,” she said confidently.
She was right and he wasn’t going to waste time arguing about whether she was in the vehicle or out of it. He grabbed the lockbox and took her hand. She didn’t resist as he crossed the parking lot and entered the back door.
They could have been any couple checking into a hotel after a long night driving. Their fingers entwined, their steps synced, they walked through a dingy hall and made their way to a small lobby. An elderly man sat in a leather chair behind a dusty counter, his hair sticking out in gray tufts around his thin face. He looked up from a book he was reading as they approached, his gaze jumping from Mac to Anna.
“Forty dollars a night. You pay the same amount whether you stay an hour or six weeks,” he said gruffly, grabbing a key from a drawer in the desk.
Mac handed him two twenties.
“You paying by the night?” the man asked as he shoved the cash into another drawer. “Because if you’re staying more than one, you gotta pay up front.”
“Just one night,” Mac responded.
“Room 105 is at the end of the hall.” He gestured to the left. “Place is quiet. I like to keep it that way.”
“No problem.”
“No security cameras, and I don’t talk. You pay your tab and keep quiet, I don’t care why you’re here.” He thrust the key in Mac’s direction and turned his attention back to the book.
“Thanks,” Mac said, his hand tightening around Anna’s as he walked through the narrow hall. It smelled of stale smoke and vomit, the carpet so threadbare, plywood was visible beneath it. Room 105 was the last door to the left, next to an emergency exit that Mac was happy to see. The more escape routes, the better.
He unlocked the door and pulled Anna into the room with him. They had been running for hours, and he wanted to stop, to think through plans and to make certain he had everything in place to do what needed to be done: head back to the ranch, find the person who had betrayed him, and stop him before he could do any more damage.
Anna’s life depended on his ability to do that.
He wouldn’t forget that. He couldn’t forget it. He certainly wouldn’t let his anger and hurt cloud his judgment. Once Seamus arrived, he’d discuss the plan with him. If Seamus agreed it was sound, they would move forward. If not, they would come up with a new one.
Whatever they decided, Anna’s wellbeing had to be a priority. Not just because she was an assignment he had agreed to take, but because she was a person that he was beginning to care about. Someone he wanted to get to know better.
After this was over.
After they were safe.
After he made sure she could live the life she wanted. The one she had left behind in Boston.
He shoved the thought away.
He would worry about that later.
For now, he needed to focus on keeping them both out of the line of fire.
NINE
She’d been in worse places.
But not recently.
Anna paced the small room, skirting a rickety table and two small chairs, ignoring the coffee maker that sat on a stand near a window that looked out onto the parking lot. Mac had closed the curtains and turned on the lights, then left her in the room while he did what he called a perimeter check. She opened the door to the bathroom, glancing into the clean and sparse room. White tile. Two thin towels hanging from a rack. No soap or shampoo. She closed it again and crossed to another door. Like the door into the hall, it had an interior lock and a bolt. She pulled it open and found herself staring at another door. She tried the knob. It was locked. She assumed it opened into another guest room. She closed the door, locked it and threw the bolt home.
She wanted to feel safe.
She didn’t.
Despite what the front desk help had said, the motel seemed like the kind of place that had seen its share of criminal activity and police raids. If the police showed up and found her there, would they recognize her? She had no doubt River was looking for them, but would he have gone so far as to contact other counties? They weren’t criminals. They’d had every right to leave the sheriff’s department. She was familiar enough with the law to know that.
Mac seemed to think River would call in the county and state police for help. He knew the sheriff better than she did, and she had to assume he was correct. Which made being in the motel feel more like being a lone duck in the middle of a pond during hunting season than being a protected witness waiting to testify at a federal trial.
She frowned, making another quick circuit of the room.
Moreno played for keeps.
He had a multimillion-dollar business motivating him, and he wasn’t going to give it up without a fight. He had proven that many times over. His adversaries died or they disappeared. People who stood in his way didn’t stand there for long. He knew how to make things happen, and he knew how to keep his hands clean. He ran several high-end restaurants in Boston that served as a front for his illegal activities. At least, that is what law enforcement had suspected. Up until the courthouse shooting, they hadn’t been able to prove it. Moreno was careful. He didn’t make mistakes. If any of his associates did, they disappeared before it could affect him.
Now, one of his close associates, his hired gun, had made a colossal error, and it could ruin everything Moreno had built. He wasn’t going to accept that. He would make every effort to change it. That meant getting rid of the only witness who could link his hired hit man to the shooting. Annalise had been aware of that before she had entered Witness Protection. The likelihood of her death if she had stayed in Boston had been explained to her, and she had been given a choice. Stay and be under twenty-four-hour protection or go into hiding.
It hadn’t been a real choice.
She had watched two men be gunned down while armed police officers stood inches away. She had known her safety depended on going into hiding and staying there. She had played by all the rules she had been given. She had done everything she had been told.
She had still been found.
She needed to call her emergency contact. She had to at least touch base with the Justice Department. If Marshal Avery got wind of her disappearance, he would send people out looking for her. She didn’t want to be found. Not until she knew who had leaked her location to Moreno.
She frowned, crossing the room and checking the lock on the door. She was tempted to pull back the curtain and look outside. She wasn’t sure what she thought she would see. The nearly empty parking lot? The city beyond, modern buildings jutting up across a flat landscape? A few hills capped with a hint of white from the storm that had blown through?
She certainly wasn’t expecting to see one of Moreno’s men slinking toward the motel. She didn’t think she would see police officers either. Mac had been careful. She’d seen the way he’d watched the rearview mirror. She knew he hadn’t taken chances.
It still seemed too good to be true that they had escaped.
Moreno was smart.
He was cunning.
And he didn’t like to lose. He hired people who could get jobs done. Not people who messed up.
A rotary phone sat on the bedside table. She lifted the receiver, listening to the hum of the dial tone. She could make the call to her emergency contact, explain the situation, ask for an armed escort to Boston, but she had no idea who she could trust. That was hard. It was even harder to realize that there wasn’t one person in Boston she was tempted to call. She had plenty of work associates she was certain she could trust but none of them were close friends. She didn’t have numbers memorized. Even if she did, she wouldn’t have called to unload all her bottled-up terror and anxiety. She couldn’t have asked the FBI to step into a case being
handled by the Justice Department. There were too many rules and too much protocol that would have to be broken.
She placed the receiver back in the cradle, her head pounding with fatigue, her mouth dry with fear. Being alone had never bothered her. She enjoyed her solitude.
Right now, she wanted company.
She wanted a friend who would pat her on the back and tell her everything was going to be okay. She wanted a familiar voice on the other end of the phone line, reminding her that God had everything under control, that she was not alone and that there were people praying for her and anxiously awaiting her return.
She couldn’t think of one person who could do that for her.
That was sad.
It was more than sad, it was discouraging and heartbreaking and horrible that she had put so much time and energy and passion into a job rather than her relationships.
“I want a do-over, Lord,” she whispered, her voice raspy and raw with fatigue. She and Mac had been going all night, running and then driving. He had fled his home and everything he knew and loved to help her. She knew he was being paid, but there were plenty of people who wouldn’t have been willing to risk their lives for a job.
A door opened, the soft creak of old hinges making the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. She walked to the door and looked out the peephole. There was no one in her field of vision. No shadow on the wall across the hall. The soft thud of a door closing made her jump back. Someone had been in the hall and had gone into the room next door. Another guest?
She wanted to believe that.
The place was old and run-down, but it was inexpensive. There were probably plenty of people who would want to stay there. Still, with so many empty rooms, why put guests so close together?
She tiptoed to the door that separated adjacent rooms, pressing her ear to it, her thundering heartbeat making it nearly impossible to hear anything.
The knob wiggled, and she jumped back.
Hidden Witness Page 12
