He listened until he heard the front door close, then grabbed the John Vincent folder from the file room. He made copies of everything to take with him—something very definitely against the rules. Then he went to his cubicle to do some computer research. He needed information that he couldn’t access from his computer at home, and during office hours there was too much of a chance that someone would see what he was doing. He worked quickly, finding and printing out what he wanted.
As soon as he finished he drove back to the motel to check on Tara. He knocked on the door, at the same time calling to her. “Tara…it’s me.”
She looked through the peephole in the door, then opened it to let Brad in. “Did you get everything done that you wanted to?”
“Yes, I think so. How are you doing? Is everything okay? Is there anything you need?”
She glanced around the small room. A little sigh escaped her throat. “I can’t think of anything specific that I need.”
He heard it in her voice and saw it in her eyes…the anxiety, the apprehension and the loneliness. Her despair tugged at his senses and pulled at his emotions. She was obviously scared and trying to put up a brave front. He was responsible for her being stuck away in a small motel room, but if he hadn’t taken action when he did she would probably be dead by now. The thought helped lessen his guilt but didn’t calm his own anxieties. He desperately wanted to do something to try to comfort her and ease her mind.
“There’s a special on television tonight that I wanted to see, but it comes on in ten minutes and I can’t be home by then. If you don’t mind, I’d like to stay here for a while. I can watch the special and keep you company for a bit…” He offered his best confidence-inducing smile. “If that’s okay with you.” He took off his jacket and tossed it across the foot of the bed.
Her attention flew to the holster clipped to his belt, becoming fixated on the handgun. A shiver darted up her spine and anxiety churned in the pit of her stomach, confirming what she already knew—she was in serious danger. She closed her eyes. The sound of the explosion and the vivid image of the burning car assaulted her senses. She shook her head, trying to rid herself of the disturbing vision.
“Tara? Are you all right?”
His voice pulled her out of her thoughts. She opened her eyes, her attention again riveted on the weapon, her thoughts telling her of the danger it represented. “Do you…uh…always carry a gun?”
“Yes. We’re issued a .357 magnum, but I prefer this 9mm semiautomatic. I find it more comfortable to carry and to use.”
“To use?” A knot of anxiety pulled tight in her stomach. “Do you have to use it often?”
“Occasionally.” A twinge in his shoulder gave a sharp reminder of the last time he’d needed to use it.
She pulled her attention away from the weapon, glancing around the room as she composed herself and tried to project a positive manner. “I didn’t mean to get off the subject. What were you saying?”
“I was asking if you minded my staying to watch a program on television. Maybe keep you company for a little while until you’re feeling more comfortable?”
“Uh…no, I don’t mind if you want to watch something on television. Go ahead.”
Tara retreated to the corner of the room, curling her legs under her as she sank into the large chair. Try as she might, she simply couldn’t concentrate on his conversation. She kept hearing the explosion over and over, the horror of pieces of metal flying through the air. The churning in her stomach drove a sick feeling up her throat. She knew it was a memory that would continue to haunt her the rest of her life however long—or short—that life might be.
She watched Brad as he sat on the end of the bed staring at the television, although he didn’t seem to really be watching the program. He appeared casual enough, as if he didn’t have any concerns, but the tight set of his jaw belied that. She could almost feel the tension pulling his muscles into knots. But in spite of that he radiated a sense of confidence that surpassed his take-charge attitude. A quick dash of irritation flitted through her. Confidence or not, his was still a take-charge attitude in which he gave orders and expected to have them obeyed without question. Although it was something quite different from the way Danny Vincent had tried to control her life.
A little shiver darted across her skin. Things were too confusing…too many strange things had happened in the past few weeks, and her totally unexpected phone call from Danny after all this time was definitely one of them. Again the image of her bombed car popped into her mind followed by the way Brad had taken control without hesitation. He had taken charge, but it was not a domineering type of thing. He had known exactly what to do and how to properly handle the situation.
A warm feeling replaced the shiver as she thought of his arm around her shoulder while they talked to the policeman. She had felt safe, at least for that moment. She studied his handsome features. A ripple of excitement invaded her senses, a sensation that started with a tingle deep inside and quickly spread through her body. Her life was in danger and her world had been thrown into turmoil. The last thing she should be thinking about was an attraction to a very desirable man.
She straightened in her chair in an effort to pull herself together. She didn’t want to show the depth of her fears to this very together—and extremely handsome—man. She certainly didn’t want him thinking she was some silly little twit who fell apart at the first sign of an unpleasant situation. With everything she’d been through since agreeing to testify, she should be able to take this in stride without any problem.
Another sigh of despair tried to work its way into the open. Testifying at a trial was not the same thing as having someone try to kill you. Her brave intentions did nothing to calm her fears. She knew she was only lying to herself.
Brad seemed to be alert to everything going on. Every time the sound of a car engine or car door invaded the room he was on his feet. He’d pretend he needed to stretch and would make his way to the window and peek out around the edge of the drapes. But in spite of his casual outer manner, it was obvious he was far from relaxed.
Then another memory flooded her consciousness—Brad’s body protectively covering hers when he had shoved her down behind the van in the restaurant parking lot. And then the tender kiss he had placed on her forehead. It was more than his having put his life on the line for her. A totally unexpected sensual rush had hit her like a ton of bricks. Brad Harrison was a very desirable man—handsome, confident and extremely sexy. He exuded the strong presence of someone who knew what he was doing and could be depended on in a crisis. There was something very reassuring about a man who had the ability to take control of a precarious situation.
Then another dark thought clouded her perception. Was his take-charge manner just one small step away from the controlling efforts of Danny and the domineering manipulations of her mother?
“I guess I’m a little too restless to stay with the television program.” Brad’s words drew her attention back to what he was doing. She watched as he stood and stretched his arms above his head, then behind his back.
He cocked his head and raised a questioning eyebrow. “How about you? You look comfortable enough, but your expression seems more worried than at ease…although I can certainly understand why.” He glanced down at the floor for a moment as if trying to collect his thoughts. “I know it’s of little use for me to tell you not to worry, but I’ll try it anyway. Please think positive, we’ll get through this and everything will turn out okay.”
Before she could respond, he grabbed the ice bucket from the table. “I noticed an ice maker and a vending machine a couple of doors down. I’ll get us some ice and a couple of soft drinks. Be right back. I’ll take the key so I can let myself in. Don’t answer the door if anyone knocks.” He opened the door and quickly scanned the parking lot before stepping outside.
The image of Tara curled up in the large chair had truly gotten to him. She looked too desirable. He wanted to pull her into his arms
and move the few steps over to the bed. The urge needed to be dealt with, and walking out the door into the cool night air seemed to be the most expedient way of doing it. He took in a deep breath, then another. It helped clear his head a bit, but did not chase away the feelings. He filled the ice bucket, bought two soft drinks from the machine and quickly returned to the room.
When he stepped inside, he found her exactly where he had left her. “I hope this is okay. I didn’t think to ask you what kind you preferred.” He set two cans on the table, put ice in two glasses and opened one of the cans for himself.
“This is fine. Thank you.” Tara took the other can, poured the contents into the glass, but left it on the table without taking a drink.
He seated himself at the small table, maintaining a view of the door and window. “Tell me, Tara Ford—” he ran his fingertip around the rim of his glass, trying to project an easygoing manner that he hoped would calm her nerves “—how did you get mixed up in all this?”
“Don’t you have all that in your files?”
“We have some information, but not that much.” He wanted to hear it from her, get an impression of what she was thinking and how she felt about things rather than go by some cold facts on a piece of paper in a file folder.
“Well…I, uh…” She swallowed the discomfort that welled inside her. His intentions were obvious, the uneasiness in his eyes saying far more than his words. “You really don’t need to do this.”
“Do what?” A hint of surprise darted through his eyes, followed by curiosity.
“You don’t need to sit here with me to ease my discomfort. I’m sure you have other things you’d prefer to be doing than this.”
He leveled a steady gaze at her as if trying to read her mind. “Actually, I don’t have anything else I’d rather be doing right now.” He creased his forehead in a moment of concentration, then flashed a mischievous grin. “Other than maybe sailing in the South Pacific or skiing in Switzerland.”
“You do those things? Sail and ski?”
“Yes, two of my favorite passions.”
“I’ve never participated in either of them.” She added somewhat tentatively, “although they look like they’d be a lot of fun.” Sailing, skiing…both were activities that she had wanted to try. She’d even had an opportunity to go on a school ski trip when she was a senior in high school, but her mother had refused to sign the permission slip, saying it was a foolish waste of money. It was but one of a long list of disappointments and regrets that had been part of her life, most of them caused by her mother. Then there was the time her mother had refused to allow her to go to the senior prom in high school and… She shoved the memories aside. She knew they would only make her angry and would serve no purpose.
“Never? I have a small sailboat, large enough to be sea-worthy but not so large that I can’t handle it by myself—” He abruptly jumped to his feet, staring at her for a long moment without saying anything.
“What? What’s wrong?”
“I’ve got it!”
“You’ve got what?” She looked around, but everything was just as it had been when he started talking. She didn’t hear any noises coming from outside.
“Damn…it’s nothing.” The optimistic expression that had been on his face just a moment before had disappeared. He dejectedly slumped back into the chair. “I thought I had a solution to where you could stay for a couple of days, but it was a bad idea—an impractical notion that wouldn’t work.”
“Stay where? What idea?”
“Well, I thought I could hide you on my boat for a day or two.” He shook his head and took a swallow from his glass. “It wouldn’t work. It was a stupid idea.”
“I don’t understand. Why is that impractical?”
“No one lives on my boat, so having somebody suddenly staying there would attract unwanted attention at the marina. And it certainly wouldn’t be a secure location.” He didn’t want to upset Tara any more than she already was, but he knew that whoever was involved in this could easily have seen him with her at the restaurant and traced his car license to discover his identity, if they hadn’t already. He was fully conversant with how simple it was to gather information on someone. Anyone with a computer, a modem and decent computer skills could find out that he owned a sailboat and where he kept it.
“Oh.” She looked as dejected as he felt.
He moved to the bed, seating himself on the edge next to her chair. The tone of his voice provided a comforting level of intimacy. “You understand how important it is for you to stay out of sight and avoid all contact with everyone, don’t you? It’s the same concept as when you were under the marshals’ protection before and during the trial…only for the time being it’s just you and me until I straighten out a few things.”
A few things, such as who killed five out of six witnesses, with two of those witnesses having been in the Witness Security Program. A few things, such as figuring out how someone had obtained the new identities of protected and relocated witnesses…whether there was someone inside the Marshals Service selling those identities. A few things, such as a motive for the killings. He reached out, took her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. Her muscles tensed beneath his touch, telling him just how distraught she really was despite the brave facade she had been trying to display.
A few things—such as who this woman hiding inside the beautiful package labeled Tara Ford was and how she got mixed up in this mess. He continued to hold on to her hand. Warning bells sounded off inside his head telling him he had overstepped the line, but he chose to ignore them. He liked the way her hand felt in his.
“Weren’t you starting to answer my question about how you became involved in this situation when I interrupted you?” He had to have information, but didn’t want her to feel as if she was being subjected to an interrogation.
“It’s not a very interesting story.” The warmth of his touch produced a sensual flow of energy that started with her hand, ran up her arm, then quickly spread through her body. The sensation did more than excite her. It also provided an odd feeling of security that she hadn’t known before. Even during the trial when she was under the direct protection on the U.S. Marshals Service she never really felt safe. For the first time since agreeing to testify against John Vincent she felt that something positive was finally being done to ease her anxieties. Did she dare to trust those feelings?
“I’d like to hear it. I need to know everything I can. Some little bit of information might not seem important to you, but it could mean a great deal to me. So, if you could start at the beginning…”
Tara shifted her weight in the chair, but allowed the comforting sensation of his hand to remain on hers. She didn’t like talking about herself, certainly not to a stranger and especially not to someone like this very disconcerting man who made her heart beat a little faster and her pulse race.
“Well…I guess it started when I answered a help wanted ad in the newspaper. Green Valley Construction was looking for a secretary. I had just graduated from college with a degree in something practical that would guarantee me a secure future…something my mother had insisted on.”
She knew that bitterness had crept into her voice, but she had not been able to control it. It was an old wound and at the same time a fresh one that still hurt. From the time her father had deserted her until the time she’d made the decision to testify against John Vincent, her mother had made every attempt to control her life. All during her school years her mother had denied her permission to participate in extracurricular activities.
Her mother’s excuses fell into two categories—either it was a waste of money or else her mother suddenly developed an illness and Tara had to stay home to take care of her. She knew her mother wasn’t really sick, but there wasn’t anything she could do about it. Things had gotten better when she had been able to get her own apartment after graduating from college and getting a full-time job, but she hadn’t been able to escape her mother’s continuous attempts
to dominate her and the constant meddling.
“I got the job and eventually was promoted to the position of John Vincent’s administrative assistant and finally the company office manager. As his assistant I had access to more company information than when I was a secretary. As the office manager I had access to all the company records including the books. That’s when I came across the irregularities in his accounting.”
“What did you do then?” Her tone of voice told him as much as her facial expression when she mentioned her mother’s connection with her choice of educational pursuits and career. Part of his job was to read people quickly and make judgments based on that assessment. She obviously had a very strained relationship with the woman. How deep did the problem go and how much of her life had been affected by it? Questions he would have to put aside until some other time.
“I wasn’t sure if I was interpreting the information correctly, so I finally went to the company’s outside CPA with what I’d found. Phil Winthrope and I—”
“Phil Winthrope was the fifth witness killed. I didn’t realize you knew him before the trial. Did you know any of the others?”
She glanced at the floor, then back at Brad. A sadness covered her face as she spoke. “I didn’t know Phil well, we only had the occasional business contact. He seemed like a nice man. Did he…uh…leave any family? A wife or children?”
“No, no immediate family.”
“I didn’t know any of the other witnesses before the trial.” She shifted her weight as if trying to find a more comfortable position before continuing. “Phil looked over what I brought him and agreed with my conclusions. John Vincent had been systematically looting the pension fund and was also keeping a double set of books as far as taxes were concerned.”
In His Safekeeping Page 5
