by Cate Nolan
“Do you want to talk about it, the dream?”
“Not really.”
“It might help to talk. Get it out of your system.” He winced. “Sorry, not a good choice of words.”
“I understand.” And she did. She just wasn’t anxious to relive the experience a second time tonight. “Maybe some other time.”
“Do you have these dreams often?”
“No.” She paused. “I haven’t had one in weeks. Not since I settled in New York. I felt safe there, I guess.” She could hear the defeat in her own voice. Safety was an illusion. “We should probably get going again, right?”
He didn’t answer. She could tell he wasn’t going to let it drop, but she couldn’t deal with any more of it tonight. She had to change the subject.
“I fell asleep before I could ask you about Ben.”
“That’s okay—you were exhausted.” And angry.
“How is he?”
“Fortunate to be alive. The knife missed anything vital. He’s just weak from blood loss.”
“Thank you, Lord.” Callie fiddled with the latch on her seat belt. “Did he explain what happened?” And would Jackson tell her if he had? Callie hadn’t forgotten the snippet of conversation she’d overheard. Did he really think she was involved in yesterday’s attack?
“Just that as he walked out of the building with the assistant US attorney and the DEA agent, one person knifed him while another tried to snatch Christine. Quint managed to hold on to her.”
“But someone identified the car?”
“Apparently there was a security camera on the building. They got a still from that. It matched the car they found outside the hotel, but no one was inside.”
Callie collapsed back into the seat. “If they attempted to grab the attorney, why does everyone think they’re after me?”
The silence stretched so long Callie began to fear Jackson wouldn’t answer. She watched his fingers on the wheel, reading the tension in his grip. Finally he eased up. “Ben thinks they mistook her for you, you both being tall and blonde.”
Callie wanted to be offended that the woman who’d been so harsh could be mistaken for her, but she could see Ben’s point. They had similarities, especially in heavy winter clothing. With a sinking heart, she mouthed the words she feared. “Do they want me dead or alive?”
She watched Jackson take a deep breath, then let it out slowly. He glanced over at her before answering. “I can’t honestly say.” He took his hand from the wheel and reached over to cover hers. “But I can promise I’ll do everything in my power to keep them from getting to you.”
She swallowed around the sudden lump in her throat. “Thank you.”
The silence was broken only by the hum of the tires on the highway. Callie chewed on her lip. “So we assume they’re still after me.”
“Apparently so.”
She sagged against the seat, trying to absorb the implications. “Then what do we do now?”
He jerked his head toward the road. “For the time being, we keep driving.”
“Doesn’t really sound like much of a solution,” she muttered.
“Ms. Martin—”
“Call me Callie, please. With all the time we’re spending together, Ms. Martin seems too weird. That’s what my students call me.”
He chuckled. “Wouldn’t want to be mistaken for a five-year-old.”
Callie didn’t even crack a smile. “Why would they go to all this trouble if not to kill me?”
Jackson shrugged again. “They could have been trying to send you a message. Let you know they could find you.”
Callie shuddered. “They sure made their point.”
Jackson turned the car on and pulled back onto the highway. “Ms. Martin, Callie, it really would help me to protect you if you could tell me about your dream, tell me what happened.”
“I thought it was all in my file.”
“The facts are there. I need to understand you, know how you feel.”
“What, to see if I was involved?” Callie tossed that out just to see how he reacted. It seemed everyone’s first impression was to think she was a part of this.
“You seem pretty calm about such an accusation.”
Callie bit her lip to fight back tears. “I’ve had lots of practice.” She swallowed hard. “It’s everyone’s first reaction. Apparently no one can believe that someone could be completely in the dark about what her boyfriend was up to.”
“But you were.”
“I was.”
“Tell me.”
So finally, she did. Maybe because she desperately wanted him to believe her, she told him each harrowing detail. About how she’d been lonely so she kept dating Rick long after she’d known better. How she’d gone along to gigs with his band, helping out as a backup singer whenever needed. How despite everything, they’d drifted apart because they wanted different things from life. How she’d finally broken up with him—even before she learned about his lies and deceptions.
And then there was that final night. Rick had begged her to sing with them. Said he needed her, and the kids who would benefit from the fund-raiser needed her. She’d always been a soft touch for a child in need and he’d known it.
She recalled how they’d performed a first set, and then the guys had taken a break to go outside for some air.
Callie stopped there. She buried her head in her hands and prayed for the strength to get through this retelling, for the wisdom to find the words that Jackson needed to hear, for the courage to continue her fight for justice.
“I was chatting with one of the families from my school. They’d come into the cantina for dinner. The family had twin girls who’d been in my class several years ago. I sat with them, catching up about everything the girls were doing.
“After a while, it hit me that the guys had been gone a really long time. It was getting awkward to still sit there because the family was ready to leave. So I decided to go find Rick.”
A sob escaped her lips as she got to the next part. “I stopped in the ladies’ room first.” She looked up at him through tear-drenched eyes. “Do you know how many times I’ve wondered what would have happened if I hadn’t stopped in there first?”
Jackson reached back across the seat and squeezed her hand. Callie realized he had pulled off the road again and was sitting, facing her, giving her his undivided attention.
“I was almost to the patio door when the first shot sounded. I didn’t realize what it was at first, fireworks or something. I wasn’t expecting gunfire. But when I pulled back the door, I was suddenly face-to-face with a man holding a gun. He turned and waved it at me, then blasted it off at Rick.” She twisted the scarf in her hands, wringing it, wrapping it around her hand, over and over. “He fell at my feet.”
Such simple words. He fell at my feet. They didn’t begin to capture how it felt to watch the life flow out of him, to watch as the recognition in his eyes faded away into a blank stare. Chaos had erupted around her, with federal agents bursting in and capturing the gunmen. That was all a hazy memory. She’d had eyes only for Rick. She’d stood there like petrified wood as his blood pooled around the pointy toes of her favorite boots.
Callie ripped the scarf off her hands and yanked the car door open. She had to get out, get away from the memory. She paced along the deserted highway, only vaguely aware of Jackson trailing behind her.
“Callie.”
She turned around. His arms were open, and she fell into them. He wrapped his coat around her and held her close while she cried.
When the sobs finally lessened, she lifted her head. “That’s why I didn’t want to tell you the story tonight. This happens every time. They keep telling me it will get better with time, but it never does.”
FOUR
Jackson awoke to a sound at the door.
He bolted from the bed and grabbed his gun. The sound came again, a soft knock, and he relaxed, realizing it was coming from the connecting door.
After he’d gotten Callie back in the car early this morning, they’d driven another hour before stopping for food and then finally settling into adjoining hotel rooms.
He’d lain awake long hours, replaying the scene she’d described, trying to see through the emotion to the truth. Had it happened as she said, or was she a stellar actress?
The taste of doubt was bitter on his tongue, but Jackson knew the price of false belief was much worse. He wanted to believe her, but if he was going to keep her safe, he had to be completely sure he understood every angle, every dynamic.
He’d finally dozed into a fitful sleep, but based on the slant of sunlight coming through the window, it hadn’t been for very long. He shrugged into his shirt before opening the door.
“What’s up, Callie?”
“Hope I didn’t wake you.”
Her distrust from yesterday appeared to have given way to a reluctant acceptance and friendliness. He supposed he could go along with that. If they were going to spend a week in close quarters, they might as well be friendly.
He yawned. “I wasn’t really sleeping well anyway.”
“Yeah, that was quite the bedtime story I told you.”
Jackson laughed, but the look they shared said they both knew it had kept him awake. “Let’s not talk about that now.” He could offer her that much anyway. “I’ll grab a shower and then we can go get some lunch, okay?”
“Can we walk through the Christmas Fair?”
“The what?”
“While you were sleeping, I read the local paper. Today is their Christmas Fair. It started with a parade earlier this morning, but there are activities all day—caroling, ornament making.” Her head dipped in resignation. “I know we can’t really do any of those things. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t even be thinking about it after what happened yesterday.”
She was right. They’d come a long distance with no sign of a tail, but that didn’t make it playtime.
“I feel like I’ve been either sleeping or running for the past twenty-four hours. The past three months really. It would be so nice to do something normal.”
The shadows under her eyes reminded him of how hard this had been on her. Not as hard as being dead, though.
They’d run in so many circles and switched transportation so many times, it should have been impossible for anyone to have followed them. Jackson wasn’t taking any chances on should haves. Still, her sad eyes tugged at him.
He was known for being overly cautious, but maybe there was no real cause for concern since they’d gotten cleanly away.
“Let me check in with the office. If there’s no indication anyone followed us, then we’ll see. We have to eat.”
“Really?” Callie beamed at him and something inside him lifted. “I know you don’t like it, but...I just really need something normal today, you know?”
He didn’t know. Not really. There wasn’t much about his life that was normal—ever—but he did understand her need. Her life had just been turned on its head a second time. Normalcy was necessary, even if it was an illusion.
Jackson grabbed some fresh clothes and headed into the shower. He needed some time alone to rebuild the professional wall he’d breached when he’d held her in his arms last night. The embrace had been natural, an offer of solace to a fellow human in need. He hadn’t expected to be the one feeling comforted.
An hour later, with the car packed and ready to move at a moment’s notice, Jackson drove them into town. It was his concession to her desire to walk. He’d drive to town, then they could walk and catch a bite to eat. His office said there was no indication of trouble, no evidence they’d been trailed. He guessed they could handle an hour in one small town at Christmas.
There was a huge lunch smorgasbord at the Church Hall and Callie talked him into eating there. Up until yesterday she’d roamed freely around New York City, she reminded him. As Jackson watched her chat with the locals and drink in the festive atmosphere, he decided the change was good for her. She had a knack for making friends and fitting herself in, which would suit her well in witness protection. Whereas he would have stayed back, grabbed a burger at the corner diner and been on his way, she’d jumped right into the thick of the celebration. After the harrowing past twenty-four hours, it was nice to see her relax.
An hour became two, and Jackson was more than ready to move on. “Callie.”
She grinned at him, and it was such a contrast to her frightened, shell-shocked expression of yesterday that he found himself grinning back. But they were still leaving.
As they walked out to the car, she touched his arm to stop him. “Can you give me just five more minutes? There’s something I need to buy. The pastor’s wife told me I can get it in that little shop on the corner.”
“Callie, we really need to get moving.”
Her face fell. Jackson kicked himself. Maybe it was female things she needed.
“Five minutes.”
She ran off, promising to be back in four.
Jackson leaned back against the car and stared at the small shop she’d entered. No female things in there. What could she possibly need from a trinket shop like that?
Whatever it was, she was true to her word. He’d watched the numbers on his phone advance only three minutes when she came dancing out the door.
Jackson grinned looking at her. Ben was right. She was charming when she was happy. He watched her come down the steps of the gift shop, her cheeks rosy from the cold, her lips curved in a smile that hinted of happy secrets.
She started to cross. Instinct had him on alert, so he sensed the car almost before he saw it. He yelled a warning as a dark vehicle came barreling around the corner. Too late he realized it was coming directly between him and Callie. The wheels screeched as the driver skidded to a halt and two men jumped out.
Jackson charged across the street, yelling for help. He pulled his gun and tried to take aim, but he couldn’t get a clear shot. There were too many families to risk shooting. He ran faster, but it felt like concrete blocks were dragging at his feet. Everything moved in slow motion as one man grabbed Callie around the waist and the other one shoved her toward the open car door.
There was no way he could reach her in time.
* * *
Callie heard Jackson’s yell a split second before a black SUV cut to the curb in front of her. Tinted windows made it impossible to see inside. She had no time to react as men jumped from the car and grabbed her.
No! She hadn’t gotten this far just to let them take her now. At least not willingly. She screamed and kicked as hard as she could.
She may as well have been kicking cement for all the good it did. One man had his hands around her wrists like manacles while the other held everyone off with his gun.
Callie stopped struggling. There were too many children on the street. She couldn’t risk one of them being hurt. She heard Jackson yelling as they shoved her into the SUV. The door slammed behind her, the engine raced and the car leaped forward.
Facedown on the seat, Callie couldn’t see anything, but she felt the car gathering speed. Her heart sank. It was over. Despite all the precautions. She should have listened to Jackson, should have stayed in the hotel room. Now, because she’d wanted to celebrate Christmas, there would be no one to testify against the killers, no one to see justice done for Rick.
No. She wasn’t giving up. As long as she was breathing, there was still a chance. Rick may have made poor choices, but he hadn’t deserved to die for them and she wasn’t going to make it easy for his killers to dispose of her. Hopefully there would be time for regrets later, time to tell Jackson she’d do whatever
he asked. First she had to figure a way out of here.
Callie held herself very still, not an easy feat as the car careened down the road. She tried to get her bearings, evaluate the predicament. There were three men—the driver, the one she thought of as the gunman and the one who had grabbed her. None of them was saying a word, but the tension in the car was intense. Was someone—possibly Jackson—following them?
The gunman fired a shot out the window, and Callie’s heart seized. Please, Lord, don’t let him hurt Jackson. None of this is his fault.
“Can you see who’s following us?”
Based on the direction of the sound, Callie attributed the question to the driver. She couldn’t make out the reply. Without moving her head, Callie eased an eye open. She couldn’t see anyone so she waited. When there was no reaction, she slowly turned, moving her head in minute increments until she could see ahead. Unbelievably, no one seemed to be paying attention to her. Maybe they thought she’d been stunned when they threw her in the car. The driver was concentrating on the road and the gunman held his head just inside the open window, his gun outside and aimed at the car in pursuit. The man who had grabbed her, and who was probably supposed to be watching her, had turned his back to play lookout. “Speed it up. He’s gaining on us.”
Sirens crowded the air and filled Callie’s heart with relief. The feeling lasted only an instant; it was replaced by fear as the driver hit the gas harder and the lookout pulled out his weapon and began firing. She was going to have to do something to improve her odds if she wanted to survive.
Callie took a minute to consider the possibilities. It would have helped to know the rules. Was she supposed to be taken alive, or didn’t it matter if they only delivered her body? Knowing that answer would improve her chances of making the right choice of who in the SUV to attack.
Because she didn’t know, she’d go with the one thing that was clear in her mind. Being taken—dead or alive—was not an option she was willing to consider.
The driver seemed the best choice. She had little chance against a man with a gun, but if she could take the driver by surprise maybe she could crash the car.
