by Amelia Autin
Still...it hurt. Just as it had hurt when she’d shied away from his innocent gesture yesterday. He wanted—perhaps unreasonably—for Cate to trust him, the same way she trusted Alec. And where did that come from? he asked himself. He wasn’t sure he was ready for the answer, but he couldn’t pretend it wasn’t there. Couldn’t ignore how he felt.
“I’m not leaving you, Cate,” he explained, forcing himself to gentleness despite his anger and hurt. “Earlier this morning—before you woke up—D’Arcy was laying out his plan to stash you with Callahan. But that doesn’t mean I’m out of the picture. Not by a long shot.”
“I don’t understand.” She strove to shield her emotions from him—that was obvious—but Liam thought he saw something in her eyes. Those pale blue eyes looked almost gray—a trick of the light, he knew—and eventually she lost her internal struggle, her eyes beseeching him to explain.
His dreams of last night came unexpectedly to mind. Dreams of saving Cate, rescuing her from any and every danger that threatened. And all at once he knew it wasn’t just in his dreams he felt that way. He wanted to keep her safe. Needed to keep her safe. No matter what he had to do.
He’d already killed once for her—his protective instincts kicking in even before he knew her, because he couldn’t let anyone be murdered in front of his eyes, not if he could prevent it. But this wasn’t the same thing at all. Now he knew her. Now it was personal. Now he knew just how much she needed him, even though she thought she didn’t. Even though she didn’t believe she could count on his protection.
I’ll prove her wrong, he vowed to himself. She doesn’t know it yet, but she can trust me to keep her safe. Always.
Chapter 6
D’Arcy broke the silence when he said abruptly, “Callahan lives in Black Rock, Wyoming—that little town in the middle of nowhere I was telling you about—with his wife and three children. He’s the sheriff there. But he’s also done some covert work for me—nothing you need to know about, but I’ll tell you this—I’d trust him with my life. I can’t make the decision for you, though. I can’t force you to go there. I can only offer you some options, and Callahan is one of them.”
Cate’s gaze shifted away from Liam’s face, blankness descending again. “What are the other options?”
D’Arcy’s expression betrayed he didn’t much care for the other options, but he said, “The US Marshals Service is one option, but it’s not a choice I’d make. Not after what happened yesterday. Don’t get me wrong. Those men who were guarding you—”
“How are they doing?” she asked quickly.
“They’re going to make it.”
“Thank God,” Liam interjected, meaning it sincerely. As a bodyguard himself in the DSS, he knew the often thankless job the marshals performed, keeping witnesses alive.
“Yes,” D’Arcy agreed. “Thank God. But just because those men guarding you did their jobs doesn’t mean the Russian Mafia hasn’t infiltrated the US Marshals Service. Or the FBI. Or the US Attorney’s Office. We don’t know who, and we don’t know how. But somehow Vishenko’s men were able to get to the other witness and kill her. They made it look like an auto accident, but we know it was murder. Despite being guarded by marshals, same as you,” he said grimly. “And someone orchestrated the attack on you yesterday morning—not hard to figure out where you were going to be,” he said. “But it had to be an inside job because someone smuggled guns into the courthouse.”
“Uzis,” Liam clarified. “I could tell by the sound, and Alec confirmed it yesterday. The serial numbers were filed off, but he said the FBI is hopeful they can raise them.” When Cate’s expression betrayed her ignorance of the importance of this, he explained, “Serial numbers that have been filed down to hinder investigation can sometimes be restored by applying an acid solution to the metal. Then they can be tracked—guns with serial numbers leave a paper trail. And no one is better than the FBI at following a paper trail.” He glanced at D’Arcy. “Sorry, I know your agency’s pretty damn good at that, too.”
“True.” One corner of D’Arcy’s mouth twitched into a ghost of a smile. “We think we’re better, but perhaps you’re right.” He turned back to Cate. “As I started to say, you could return to the US Marshals Service. They’d do their best to keep you alive until the trial, but...”
“What are my other options?”
“The agency could keep you. My agency. It’s not our federal mandate—keeping witnesses safe. Temporarily, yes. Yesterday. Today. Not a problem. But at some point I’d have to justify the expense.” He smiled wryly. “My agency’s not exempt from government bureaucracy, much as I’d like it to be. The taxpayers expect oversight, and the GAO—the Government Accountability Office—can get downright nasty about the damnedest things,” he said, trying to interject a little humor into the situation. “Those are just about your only options,” he concluded.
“What about Liam’s agency?” she asked, displaying her ignorance about this, too.
“I work for the Diplomatic Security Service,” Liam explained. “The DSS. Yeah, some of us are bodyguards, but as I told you before, we guard diplomats, not federal witnesses.” He caught D’Arcy’s eye. “I’m officially on vacation, as D’Arcy knows.” His gaze returned to Cate’s face, willing her to trust him. “Which means I’m on my own time. Which means I can choose to stay with you until my vacation runs out—and I do. I will. Even if I have to extend my vacation indefinitely. I have no intention of leaving you, Cate,” he said softly. “Not until I know you’re safe.”
She sat there for a minute without saying anything. Without moving a muscle. So still. So quiet, Liam realized. Just as she’d been yesterday. “I need to think about this,” she said finally.
“Don’t think too long,” D’Arcy told her. “If you want marshals protecting you, I’ve got to let the FBI know where you are. Arrange to have the marshals pick you up. If you choose Callahan, I’ve got to arrange to get you there safely.”
“Who knows where I am now?”
“Besides you? Five people, four of whom are in this house. The other is Cody Walker, Keira Walker’s husband. The head of the Denver branch of the agency. Not even Alec Jones and his wife know where you are right now—all they know is that you’re safe.” He smiled again, another smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Need to know, Cate,” he reminded her. “Liam says he explained that concept to you. It’s crucial you understand just how serious it is.”
An expression flickered over Cate’s face that Liam couldn’t decipher...until she said, “I survived on my own for six years, Mr. D’Arcy, with a price on my head. Vishenko’s men didn’t find me until he raised the price to a million dollars. I think I understand how serious ‘need to know’ is.”
* * *
Cate wandered into the backyard. The flower beds were past their prime this late in the summer, but still retained enough color to draw her attention. She found a small wooden bench under a silver maple tree, and seated herself on it to consider her limited choices.
She wished she could speak with her cousin, Angelina, and her cousin’s husband, Alec, but she knew what they would say. Nothing that had happened yesterday changed anything—she still needed to testify. And to do that, she needed to survive long enough to make it possible. This meant either returning to the custody of the marshals...or putting herself in the hands of a stranger in Wyoming.
On the one hand she knew nothing about Ryan Callahan. Just because Nick D’Arcy trusted him didn’t mean she would...or should. On the other hand, was it possible the US Marshals Service had somehow been infiltrated by Vishenko, as D’Arcy had suggested? Or by another branch of the Bratva? She knew the various branches of the Russian Mafia traded favors with each other from time to time, so even if Vishenko himself didn’t have someone on the inside, that didn’t mean she hadn’t been set up by someone in the US Marshals Service. Or the FBI. Or the US A
ttorney’s Office.
She twisted her hands together in her lap, the thumb of her right hand absently brushing over the scar on her left wrist as she had a habit of doing when she was stressed. Who to trust? Who to trust?
Liam found her there. She hadn’t heard him approach, but suddenly he was standing there in front of her. So reassuringly protective. So much like his brother Alec...and so different at the same time.
“Have you decided?” he asked.
Cate shook her head. “Not yet.” Her eyes met his. “If it was you...what would you do?”
He went down on his haunches, holding her gaze. He looked as if he’d like to take her hands in his, but refrained...because he knew she didn’t like to be touched. “I can’t tell you what to do,” he told her. “All I can tell you is three people I trust with my life trust Nick D’Arcy’s judgment—my sister, Keira, her husband, Cody, and Trace McKinnon. If it was my decision, I’d go with D’Arcy’s recommendation.”
“So you think I should go to this Ryan Callahan in Wyoming?”
His expression was solemn, earnest. “I don’t know him. I only know of him—from the same three people I trust with my life. But what I do know about him is reassuring. I think any other choice is a risk I wouldn’t take. Not if I were you.”
She decided in that instant. “Then I will go there.”
He stood up and automatically held his hand out to help her rise. The kind of gentlemanly gesture that came naturally to him, she could tell. Like yesterday, when he’d innocently tried to brush back her hair. Before she could stop herself, she placed her hand in his. Trusting Liam as she trusted his brother.
Even more than you trust Alec, she told herself silently. Be honest, at least.
And if she was honest—completely honest—she was also attracted to Liam...even more than she was attracted to Alec. For a long time after Alec had exploded into her life, she’d had something of a crush on him. Harmless, because not only did she know he was in love with Angelina, she didn’t want any kind of physical relationship with him...or any man. She just admired him tremendously. Tried to pattern herself after Alec’s moral strength and inner convictions, the same way she tried to pattern herself after her cousin.
But that’s not what she felt for Liam, and it disturbed her. Because what she felt wasn’t harmless. Or at least it wouldn’t be...if she was the kind of woman who could respond sexually to a man. If she could shed her past like a snake shedding its skin. If she didn’t cringe at a man’s touch.
Then she realized she was touching Liam...or he was touching her...and she wasn’t cringing. Wasn’t getting the choking, panicky feeling that usually overwhelmed her when a man got too close.
And why is that? she marveled. Liking the sensation of Liam’s hand holding hers. No, more than liking it. Enjoying it. Responding to the firm, yet gentle way his hand enveloped hers as he pulled her to her feet. A tiny shiver of awareness—good awareness—coursed through her body. How she knew it was good she had no idea. But it was...and it confused her.
To cover her confusion, she asked, “How will I get to Wyoming?”
“I’ll take you there.”
“You knew I would say yes?”
He shook his head. “No, but D’Arcy is a man who plans ahead. Whichever choice you made, he had plans in place. He’d already asked me if I would take you to Wyoming, and he had a backup plan ready in case I said no. He also had a plan to get you back in the care of the marshals, if that’s the route you preferred. We’ll fly to Aurora, Colorado, in a military plane out of Pope Air Force Base—it’s not that far from here—then drive up to Black Rock.”
“Why a military plane?”
“First, D’Arcy wants you in safekeeping as quickly as possible, which means driving is out. If we flew commercial, there’d be pictures of you at the airport that would end up in a government database. D’Arcy told me that’s how Keira found you in the first place. She matched your picture when ICE—Immigration and Customs Enforcement—arrested you to the picture on your expired work visa with face recognition software. And the FBI has the same software.
“Second, in order to carry my gun on board the aircraft I’d have to declare it and prove I was authorized to do so. While the agency has the pull to arrange something like that for the false identity they’ll be giving me, using it at the airport would leave a record, which would mean there’d be pictures of me in that database as well that someone might access—not a risk D’Arcy wants to run. And third, arranging things so I can be armed at all times even when I fly would take time, time D’Arcy doesn’t want us to waste. He wants us to vanish. Now.”
Liam paused for a second to give Cate a chance to speak, but when she didn’t he continued. “The US Air Force plane we’ll be taking isn’t flying to Colorado just for us—we’re hitching a ride, as it were. But D’Arcy pulled some strings to get us seats on the first plane heading in our direction, which is scheduled to take off just after three this afternoon.
“When we get to Colorado, the agency will provide us with a completely untraceable vehicle—like the one they gave us yesterday. It’s roughly six hours from Aurora to Black Rock by car. I don’t know about you, but I’m still recovering from yesterday and last night, so I thought we’d check into a hotel tonight and start driving north first thing in the morning. We’ll have plastic—credit cards,” he explained at her confused expression. “But D’Arcy doesn’t want us to use them, even though they’ll be in our fake names. He doesn’t want us to leave any kind of a paper trail, if possible. We’ll have enough cash for the trip...unless something disastrous happens. The credit cards will just be backup in case of emergencies.”
“I see.” And she did. Wasn’t that what she’d always done since she’d escaped from Vishenko seven years ago? Disappear into thin air? Travel as secretly as she could, insisting on being paid in cash and paying cash for everything so as not to leave a record someone could trace?
“D’Arcy will be glad you took his recommendation.”
“Not his,” she said quickly. “Yours.”
Liam drew a sharp breath. “Does that mean you trust me...a little?” he asked in his deep voice. “That you know I won’t just abandon you, after all?” The expression on his face was a dead giveaway she’d hurt him earlier with her assumption that she was on her own...again.
“I’m sorry,” Cate said, contrition in her tone as they walked toward the back door. “I shouldn’t have assumed the worst. I should have known you wouldn’t do that to me...any more than Alec would.”
Liam stiffened beside her. It was almost imperceptible, but Cate—who’d learned the hard way to read body language and react to it—could tell. And she wondered what she’d said that would have caused a negative response in Liam. I apologized. I told him I was wrong for not trusting him. What is negative in that?
Then it came to her out of the blue as Liam opened the back door into the house and held it for her, and the realization startled her. He didn’t like you mentioning Alec’s name. His own brother. His own brother whom he loves. He didn’t like it, and that means...
She told herself she was imagining things. But deep down she knew she wasn’t. Liam was attracted to her. No, it was beyond that. He was becoming territorial where she was concerned.
Vishenko had been territorial, keeping her for his exclusive use for two nightmare years. Putting her on display in his Long Island mansion for certain of his associates who came there to meet with him. Glorying in his power over her. Knowing she was frighteningly aware of the punishment he would inflict once they were alone if she repulsed him in front of his men. However she fought him in private, he didn’t care. In fact, he enjoyed it. But she was not to cause him to lose face.
Cate had learned that lesson the hard way. And to her shame, she’d eventually complied. Letting him control her with threats instead of beatings after the
first few months when she’d literally been his prisoner. Letting him control her...in front of others. Conceding him the power he insisted on...in public.
Then...pretending to concede even in private after the first year. She’d fought that battle with her self-respect, but Vishenko had broken her resistance enough so that she knew the only way to escape was to pretend. To loosen the stranglehold he had on her. To lull him into a false sense of security where she was concerned. Hating him, despising him—and herself—she’d submitted. Then she’d escaped. She would never submit again. Not just to Vishenko, but to any man.
Liam wasn’t like Vishenko. She knew that. In her heart she knew that, but...she didn’t want him to think she belonged to him, either. She would never be a man’s possession ever again. Even if she died for it.
* * *
After they found D’Arcy in the living room and told him Cate’s decision, Liam watched Cate walk away from them without another word, up the stairs to her bedroom, quietly but firmly closing the door behind her.
“Did she take much convincing?” D’Arcy asked him.
Liam dragged his thoughts away from Cate and turned to the other man, shaking his head. “Not really. She’s smart enough to know what’s best for her. It’s just been a lot for her to take in. Including everything that happened yesterday.”
D’Arcy’s face reflected his regret...and his frustration with himself. “I should have expected something like that...and have been prepared for it. Especially after the other witness was killed. But I’ll be honest. I thought she was safe in the courthouse. Which just proves I can make mistakes—bad ones—like every other man out there. I just don’t happen to like it.”
One corner of Liam’s mouth curved upward in a half smile. “Baker Street. Isn’t that what Keira and Cody call you? And McKinnon, too? Because you’re so omniscient?”
“Yeah, I have that reputation,” D’Arcy said, returning Liam’s partial smile. “But maintaining it takes constant vigilance. And this proves I’m not really omniscient—otherwise Vishenko would never have been able to get this close to taking her out.” He sighed, looking his age for once, before his face hardened. “Don’t let anything happen to her, Jones. I know I don’t have to tell you that—you and your brother did a damned fine job in the courthouse yesterday, and you got her safely all the way here. But this case now rests on the slimmest of threads. Without Cate...forget it. Vishenko and his cohorts walk free. Again.”
