by Katie Knight
“Yep. Here we are,” Zeke said around a bit of food, his dark eyes twinkling with a hint of amusement. “You miss him now, huh?”
She sighed and sat back, reaching over to toy with one of Glory’s feet. They were just so cute. “I’d be lying if I said no.”
“Jack’s a good man. We were on the same SEAL team for a while—long enough that I got to know him and see how he worked.” Zeke bit off half a triangle of toast in one bite. “He loves you. Any fool could see that. I’m not saying things between you would be easy but seeing how you’ve been moping around since we left his place yesterday, I don’t think they could be any worse either.”
“We can’t be together, Deputy Marshal Taylor. You of all people should know that.”
“Call me Zeke. I think we’ve gotten to that point, yeah?”
“Yeah.” Sam took a deep breath, forcing her tense shoulders to relax. “And please, call me Sam.”
“Fine. Sam it is.” He raised his glass of orange juice to toast her. “You and Jack could be together, after you’re out of witness protection.”
“Out?” She frowned.
“If your father is convicted of murder, we’re expecting him to turn over the names of key players in his organization in order to lessen his own sentence. If that happens, the threat against you should be low enough that there shouldn’t be a need to keep you hidden anymore. With your father behind bars for a good long time and his organization defanged, you’ll be free to live your life however you want.”
It was a nice dream—really nice. Without the secrecy of witness protection looming over her, she could return to Rally, return to Jack—if he still wanted her. She shoved another piece of bacon in her mouth.
But it was just a dream. Her father wouldn’t name names—he’d consider it a sign of weakness. And as long as his organization stayed intact, she’d remain a target and a trophy: a way for the successor to prove himself. She wouldn’t be safe. Zeke didn’t seem to understand that—but he’d see the truth soon enough.
She shrugged and straightened Glory’s sock. “Maybe.”
Zeke snorted. “Yeah. Well, you best make up your mind soon whether you want Jack back or not.”
“Why’s that?” Sam glanced over at him, her pulse quickening. She didn’t think she could take much more bad news right now. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing wrong.” Zeke stood to clear away their empty plates. “Just that I talked to Jack last night after I got some new intel from my team. Turns out that rogue agent the first night, at the rest stop, planted a tracker in that diaper bag of yours. That’s how your father’s men have been able to track your whereabouts this whole time.”
Eyes wide, Sam stood and grabbed the handle of Glory’s carrier. “Oh my God! I’ve still got that bag. It’s in my room right now. You knew about this last night? Is that why we had to move to a different house? But why did you bring the tracker with us? Doesn’t that defeat the purpose of moving?”
“It would—if the tracker was still in the bag.” Zeke finished rinsing the dishes and shoving them in the dishwasher, then turned to face her. “We removed it and disposed of it yesterday, before coming here.”
Sam opened her mouth, closed it, then opened it again, stunned. “You went through my things.”
“Only the diaper bag, I swear.” Zeke held up his hand, palm out. “But I needed to make sure I was in control of this thing from now on. And I am. But I still called Jack to let him know since his property had been involved in the attacks. He was pissed, to say the least. That’s why he’s driving up here now to help ambush these guys.”
“Uh, what?” Sam blinked, still trying to take everything in. Her father had gotten a man to plant a tracker in Glory’s diaper bag. His own granddaughter. Sam had known her father didn’t give a crap about her, but she’d still held out hope he might love Glory. Guess that was one more wish gone up in smoke. Then there was the fact that Jack was coming here, to her new safe house. Fresh adrenaline swamped her already overtaxed system. She knew he cared for Glory. That didn’t mean he felt the same about Sam. They’d had sex, shared their bodies. Didn’t mean his heart was involved in the equation. Jack had never once mentioned wanting more with her after all this was over. But maybe he’d not been thinking that far ahead either…
The first rays of sunshine were streaming in through the window over the sink in the kitchen and Glory was starting to fuss, wanting her breakfast. On autopilot, Sam got out the can of formula and a bottle and started to mix, her mind still whirling at a million miles an hour with all this new information.
“So, like I said, you need to be thinking about how you’re going to handle things with Jack. Because by my estimation—” Zeke glanced at the clock over the stove then over to the front door of the tiny ranch-style house. A knock sounded, as if on cue. “That should be him now.”
Sam froze midstir of the bottle, eyes locked on the entrance as Zeke strolled across the living room, his grin wide, and opened the door to reveal Jack on the stoop. He looked rumpled and weary and more beautiful than anything Sam had ever seen in her life. Well, besides her daughter.
The guys exchanged a quick bro-hug and Jack dropped his black duffel by the door, then straightened, meeting her gaze across the room. Time slowed as Sam set the bottle aside with shaky hands.
“Uh, hi,” she managed to squeak out, more nervous now than she’d ever been. “You’re here.”
“I am.” Jack stepped closer, close enough for her to see the dark circles under his eyes, the slight lines of tension on either side of his mouth. “After all this is over, Sam. I think we should talk.”
27
Jack sat at the kitchen table in the safe house, staring at the security camera feeds on the laptop screen in front of him. It was now nearly 5 p.m. and he and Zeke and the rest of Zeke’s team had spent the day planning how to take down the attackers they were expecting.
It was only a matter of time now.
Sam was due to testify in the morning. Now or never.
He tapped his fingertips on the wooden tabletop to expel a bit of the nervous energy zinging around inside him. Sam’s father and whoever else was working for him had been tracking her for days. Even if they no longer had their tracker in place, it was certain that they knew she was here. The attack would happen tonight. The only question was when.
With Jack’s help, they’d devised a plan. They’d rigged the house with extra cameras and flood lights on the exterior and made the interior as fortress-like as possible, with the bedroom and bathroom windows boarded up. He and Zeke would cover the inside of the house. Agents from Zeke’s team were posted outside too, hidden, watching the streets and neighboring homes for signs of an impending attack.
The familiar buzz of adrenaline he always felt right before a big mission swelled to near unbearable levels inside Jack. Despite having participated in numerous important black ops missions all over the world, toppling regimes and taking out enemies of the state, none of them had ever felt as important as the one he was involved in tonight.
Sam and Glory’s lives were on the line. They meant more to him than anything else in this world.
He’d protect them. No matter what.
Any other option was unthinkable.
Squeezing his eyes shut, Jack pictured Sam as she’d looked when he’d first arrived here, all wide-eyed wonder and wary hope. That same hope had fizzed inside him, like champagne bubbles. Soon, they could have a real talk about the real possibility of a future between them. If it took giving up his life to enter witness protection with them, that was what he’d do. Just as soon as he took care of business.
“Incomings spotted. Looks like four guys,” one of the exterior marshal’s voices crackled through the Bluetooth device nestled in Jack’s ear, snapping him back to the present. “Mission a go?”
Jack stood and closed the laptop, then pulled out his Glock from the holster at his waist and checked the magazine before slapping it back into place. He’d expected
a larger attack from such a notorious crime boss, but maybe Engel’s popularity was waning. Or maybe this wasn’t the end of it. He glanced over at Zeke, who was covering the front windows in the living room. They’d contacted the local police and evacuated the homes surrounding the safe house to avoid as much collateral damage as possible. Given the local mob’s penchant for violence, things were bound to get messy. The fewer people at risk during the attack, the better.
He strode out of the kitchen and glanced down the hall to the bedroom door at the end. If he’d had his way, Sam and Glory would’ve been evacuated too, but there was no way to keep them safe without him and Zeke, since he trusted no one outside his circle here. They’d done the next best thing and barricaded the two of them inside the bedroom, windows boarded and with enough food, water, and weapons to survive a nuclear winter, if necessary. Engel’s men would have to get through the marshals outside, then Zeke and him, then Sam herself. And there was no fiercer foe on earth than a mother protecting her child. He’d bet good money Sam would happily imitate her mobster father and take out every last man to save Glory.
Right. Time to get into position. After a nod to Zeke, who had his weapon drawn as well and was peering through the curtains at the street beyond, Jack took up position on the other side of the room from his friend and hit the lights. He slid his night vision goggles into place while Zach did the same.
Jack pressed his body into the corner between the window and the adjoining wall and whispered, “Mission is a go. It’s showtime.”
Things went down pretty fast after that. Jack couldn’t say which was louder, the gunfire that erupted outside or the words barked through his Bluetooth earpiece from the marshals in the line of fire.
He twisted just in time as the window beside him shattered. A bullet whizzed past his shoulder and lodged in the wall across the living room, sending chunks of drywall flying. On its heels came the report of a second shot and more debris exploding through the air in the living room as more windows were destroyed. Through the shadows, Jack spotted Zeke pressed to the wall beside the other window, a streak of red blooming on the white shirt over his friend’s right shoulder.
“Zeke, buddy!” Jack called over the chaos. “You okay, man?”
“Yeah,” Zeke called back, cursing. “Just a flesh wound.”
“Right.” Jack did some cursing of his own as he saw Zeke hunch over, clasping his injured arm. His first instinct was to rush over to provide first aid to his friend, but there wasn’t time. Jack ducked as more gunfire rained inside, a bullet narrowly missing his head. Through the gauzy curtains billowing inside from the breeze, he saw the outlines of several black-clad henchmen approaching the house. Jack yelled over to Zeke, who’d straightened and held his weapon ready once more, “Shoot to kill!”
Zeke gave a curt nod as the front door slammed open and two large men busted inside. Jack fired at the intruders. His shot jolted one henchman’s upper body, sending the guy tumbling to the floor. Rushing forward to make sure his target was out for good, Jack knelt on top of the guy, a knee to the thug’s back and a forearm across his shoulder blades, but not before the man managed to get his left arm free and with it, his gun. Despite the awkward grip, the henchman moved to lift his arm and Jack pressed his elbow into the dude’s wounded shoulder, causing the raised shot to go wide and useless.
Across the room, Zeke landed a hard blow to the side of his attacker’s head and the second thug collapsed to the ground, out cold. Outside, the rest of their team seemed to have the situation under control as the gunfire died away.
“Get this guy’s weapon,” Jack yelled to Zeke.
His friend walked over and slammed a booted foot down on the thug’s forearm, knocking the weapon loose from his hand. He kicked it out of reach then radioed in to the rest of the team before looking down at Jack. “Clear.”
Jack levered up, grabbing the henchman’s injured arm and yanking it behind him. The guy struggled and howled in pain, but Jack didn’t relent. The thought of this asshole harming Sam or Glory was untenable. Jack slammed the guy up against the wall while Zeke hit the lights. He snarled in the guy’s face, “How could you work for that monster? You were really willing to take out an unarmed woman and a tiny baby?”
“I’m not saying a word. I want an attorney,” the henchman gritted out between clenched teeth.
“I’ve got your attorney right here, asshole,” Jack said, closing a hand around the guy’s windpipe and squeezing slightly. “Is this it? Does Stefan plan another attack on his daughter?”
The thug’s lips remained sealed even as Jack pressed harder against the guy’s bullet wound near his left pec. The wet stain on the larger man’s black T-shirt shirt spread wider and the agent’s face turned ghostly pale. The coppery smell of blood filled the air.
Still no answer.
Jack pressed harder.
The guy finally gasped. “Fine. No. This was it. I was supposed to take care of it. Had a whole team of guys set up, but then they deserted me. Said they’re striking out on their own, claiming territory.” The thug’s eyes grew increasing hazy as the effects of blood loss hit hard. “I failed Mr. Engel. I thought I could handle it, but…”
“What about Sam? Is she safe?” He tightened his grip on the guy’s arm, eliciting a cry of pain. “I swear to God if anyone tries to come after her or the baby again, I will splatter their brains from here to kingdom come. Got it? She’s out of it. She was never in it to begin with. Understand me?”
The henchman swallowed hard and gave a small nod.
“What was that?” Jack hissed, getting nose to nose with the guy, teeth bared. “Say it!”
“She’s safe,” the man said.
Jack held the barrel of his gun to the thug’s temple. “Swear to me you’ll spread the word to the rest of your goons to back off. Swear it, or I’ll pull this trigger. You don’t want to get on my bad side. I’m an ex-SEAL and I’ve got contacts all over the world. You think Engel’s bad, you haven’t seen anything yet. Understand?”
“I swear,” the guy said, eyes closed.
With a curse, Jack pulled the guy off the wall and shoved him toward Zeke. “Get this filth out of here.”
Through the open front door, the wail of sirens grew louder as local law enforcement arrived along with several ambulances. Jack hiked his chin at his buddy. “Have the cops arrest their asses and anyone else they find out there lurking. Lock ’em all up and throw away the key. I’m done with this. And have the EMTs take care of your shoulder wound while you’re at it, bro. I’ll finish cleaning up here.”
One gunshot, then a second. Or was that an echo of the first? Windows shattering. Jack’s shouting. The sounds of a struggle, followed by more gunshots and a jumble of muffled grunts and indistinguishable voices. Then, silence followed by the wail of sirens.
Sam clutched her daughter tighter to her chest and squeezed her eyes shut. She’d vowed to stay put, to stay locked in here and safe, but the thought of Jack lying out there, possibly hurt or worse, pulled at her. She was still struggling to decide what was best when there was a familiar, prearranged knock at the door.
When she opened it to find Jack there, her knees went weak. Sam steadied herself with a hand against the wall. “Thank God, you’re okay.”
Maybe it was the fear. Maybe it was the adrenaline. Maybe it was just that she needed this man more than she needed her next breath.
Whatever it was, Sam threw herself into Jack’s arms and kissed him to within an inch of her life.
They shared a short, sweet kiss before she pulled away to bury her face against his shoulder and hide her tears.
“Is it over?” Sam asked, blinking away the sting in her eyes. She wasn’t crying out of sadness now, but out of relief. “This part anyway? I don’t want to run anymore. I don’t want to hide. I just want to be with you.”
“I know, darling. I know. Me too.” He kissed her forehead and held her close, the steady drum of his heartbeat soothing her as nothing else cou
ld. “After tomorrow, we’ll leave all this behind, I promise. Just one more day.”
“One more day,” she whispered against his chest. For him, for Glory, for herself, she’d be strong.
28
Later that night, she and Jack were in a luxury hotel in downtown Chicago, known for its five-star service and its discretion, all courtesy of the US Marshals’ office. After getting Glory calmed down and fed, then bathed and put to bed, Sam had spent the past hour soaking in the oversized marble tub in the master bathroom of their presidential suite. At first, she’d balked at the idea of staying in the hotel, considering what had taken place earlier that night with the attack, but Zeke had insisted. Seemed it did pay to have friends in the right places. Through the doorway across from her, the California king bed called her name, but she couldn’t bring herself to leave the swirling lukewarm bathwater just yet.
The past few days had been hell. Honestly, the past year had been hell, with Glory being the only bright spot until Jack had reappeared in her life. Since then, Sam had begun to hope. Hope that maybe this connection she had with Jack could be more. Then reality had crashed back in tonight, reminding them of everything that was on the line and everything they stood to lose.
Jack hadn’t said much too her since she’d kissed him in the safe house and she wondered now if she’d made a mistake, read his signal wrong. Perhaps he’d wanted to talk to her after all this to tell her that things between them were over. Done. Kaput.
Ugh.
She sank further beneath the waters of the churning whirlpool tub. This soak was long overdue—sleepless nights, the race from the farm, the cabin fire—all of it had worn Sam down. Still, even though her fingertips and toes were shriveled from the water, she wasn’t any closer to relaxed. She raised her arm out of the water to grab the washcloth laying nearby when the lights in the room went out.
