by Laura Scott
When they’d gotten into the very small, unincorporated town of Moose, Wyoming, Duncan lightly stroked Chelsey’s back. “You can sit up now.”
She slowly unfurled herself, looking around at the various small cabins with a look of unfettered relief. “We made it.”
“Yeah.” Duncan longed to pull her into his arms. “Paul, do you have a motel nearby?”
“Yes, we’re taking you there now.” The ranger glanced at them over his shoulder. “Looks like you all could use food and clothing, too.”
“A shower, clothes including soft shoes that fit and food...in that order,” Chelsey said with a sigh.
“Soon,” Duncan promised.
The park rangers pulled up to a small, ten-unit motel. Duncan glanced at Slade. “I have cash. It wouldn’t be smart to leave a paper trail.”
“Agreed, I have cash too, and can get more if needed.” Slade waved a hand. “Stay here, I’ll get the rooms.”
Fifteen minutes later, they were settled in two rooms located right next to each other. Duncan would have preferred connecting rooms, but Moose was too small to offer those accommodations.
“They have a two-bedroom cabin that will be available starting tomorrow,” Slade said as he unlocked the door to Chelsey’s room. “I’ve asked them to hold it for us.”
“Great.” Duncan followed Chelsey into her motel room as Slade moved on to open the next door. It looked like every other hotel room across the country, except maybe for the view of the Grand Tetons. “I’ll pick up what you need, just give me a list.”
Chelsey blushed and shook her head. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d like to pick out what I need.”
He hesitated, wishing he could wrap her in bulletproof clothing and keep her hidden from view. But she likely needed personal items, so he gave in. “Okay.”
Thankfully, there was a general shop located directly across from the motel. He picked out a few things for himself, then waited for Chelsey to finish before paying for everything in cash.
“I have money at home,” Chelsey told him. She clutched the bag of clothing and personal items to her chest as if it were filled with gold.
“Don’t worry about it.” He didn’t have the heart to tell her she wasn’t going to be returning home anytime soon.
If ever.
“Do you smell that?” She sniffed the air appreciatively. “Smells like roasted corn and barbequed ribs.”
That made him smile. “We’ll eat as soon as we clean up.” He kept his gaze out for anything suspicious as they crossed the street to the motel.
“I’ll be ready in twenty minutes,” Chelsey promised as she unlocked her door. “I’m too hungry to wait any longer.”
“Sounds good.”
He waited until Chelsey closed and locked her door, before entering his own room. Slade glanced up at him. “Reinforcements should be on their way soon.”
“More US marshals?” He dropped his bag of clothes and shoes on the bed closest to the bathroom.
Slade nodded. “A couple of guys I trust with my life, Colt Nelson and Tanner Wilcox.”
He forced a nod, inwardly wincing at the idea of more people being brought into this. If he had his way, he’d contact his brother-in-law, Mike Callahan, and the soldiers he’d fought alongside in Afghanistan, Hawk Jacobson and Ryker Tillman, for help. Those were the men he trusted with his life.
And Chelsey’s.
But very soon, he wouldn’t be in the picture at all. This was a case involving the US marshals and evidence Brett had uncovered while working at Coyote Creek Construction. It was only a matter of time before the US marshals whisked Chelsey away and stashed her someplace safe.
Leaving him behind.
* * *
A hot shower with soap and shampoo had never felt so good.
Dressing in plain clothes that actually fit was wonderful. Chelsey never wanted to wear another wedding dress ever again. She placed various Band-Aids on her open blisters, then gingerly drew on cotton socks and slipped her feet into the running shoes she’d gotten from the store. Brushing her damp, curly shoulder-length hair, she used a couple of bobby pins to keep it out of her face, then let it air dry.
Exactly twenty minutes later, there was a light rap on her door. Smoothing the cotton top over the waistband of her jeans, she crossed over and opened it. Duncan, showered and shaved, looked handsome dressed in black jeans and a black T-shirt.
Her heart gave a betraying thump in her chest. She tried to ignore it. This attraction she felt toward Duncan had to stop. She’d mistaken her feelings toward Brett for something more than friendship. No way was she going to make the same mistake again.
“Ready to go?” Duncan held out his hand.
She didn’t hesitate to place her palm in his. “Yes.” Belatedly she noticed Slade standing behind him. “I’m famished, those protein bars disappeared a long time ago.”
Slade smiled wryly. “I’m sure they did.”
She clutched Duncan’s hand tightly as they walked to the restaurant attached to the motel. Tantalizing scents wafted toward her, making her mouth water. For one brief moment it was as if all the madness of the past forty-eight hours hadn’t happened. This could be a nice dinner out with a friend.
Slade’s phone rang as they were escorted to a table in the corner of the restaurant. “Colt? What’s your ETA?”
Chelsey glanced at Duncan with confusion. He avoided her gaze and pulled out a chair for her, taking a seat beside her.
“What’s going on?” she asked in a low voice. “Who’s Colt?”
“Another US marshal.” Duncan’s serious expression gave her a twinge of concern.
Slade disconnected from the call and slid the phone in his pocket beneath the five-point silver star on his chest. “Colt will be here by tomorrow afternoon. Tanner has a conflict. We’ll make a game plan once Colt arrives.”
“What kind of game plan?” Chelsey glanced between the two men. “Are both Colt and Tanner US marshals?”
“Yes, they are.”
She wrinkled her brow. “I still don’t understand.”
“Can I get you all something to drink?” Their female server was dressed in skintight denim jeans, cowboy boots and a short-sleeved Western-style shirt.
“Actually, I’m ready to order my meal,” Chelsey said, glancing at the men. “Just water to drink, and I’d love some barbecued ribs and grilled corn, with a side salad, please.”
“I’ll have the same,” Duncan chimed in.
“Make that three,” Slade said. “Thanks.”
“I’ll be back shortly with your water.”
“Let’s eat first,” Duncan said with a pointed look at Slade. “We can talk freely back at the motel.”
“Good idea,” Slade agreed.
Chelsey felt as if there was something she was missing. When their server returned with a tall glass of water for each of them, she took a long, grateful drink.
Never again would she take food, water and shelter for granted.
“I need a phone so I can call my assistant manager at the hotel,” she said to Duncan. “I’m sure Trish is frantic by now.”
“Trish—your maid of honor, right?” Duncan asked.
She nodded. “I need to let her know I’m okay, and that I’ll be back soon.”
There was a long silence as the two men studiously avoided looking at her. A chill rippled down her back. “What? Are you saying I won’t be back soon?”
“Chelsey, we need to keep you safe.” Duncan’s tone was gentle. “Let’s just take things one step at a time, okay?”
She didn’t like the sound of that.
“Chelsey, I want you to think about what Brett said to you over the past couple of weeks.” Slade gazed at her over the rim of his glass. “We can’t discuss it here, but think about it. Even the slightest detail mi
ght help.”
Help what? She wasn’t sure.
Their meals arrived a few minutes later, and Chelsey made time to offer a quick prayer to God before diving in. The tangy barbecue sauce was incredible, and she savored every bite.
They finished eating thirty minutes later. Chelsey had saved half her food and insisted on a to-go bag. The men walked on either side of her as they returned to the motel.
After putting her leftovers in the mini fridge in her room, she joined the guys next door. “I’m sorry, but I don’t remember Brett talking about anything recently except for the wedding.”
Slade pinned her with a narrow look. “Nothing about his work with Coyote Creek Construction?”
She frowned. “The company headquarters are in Cheyenne, but they also have a small branch in Jackson. We planned on adding a wing at the Teton Valley Hotel, using Coyote Creek Construction, but nothing else.”
“Nothing about the man he worked for? Anthony Nettles?”
Chelsey slowly shook her head. “Never heard of him. Brett mentioned Kenny Martin—I thought he was the boss.”
“He’s the general manager working under Anthony Nettles,” Slade said. “Have you met Kenny Martin?”
She frowned. “I went to the Jackson office to meet Brett once. He was talking to some guy, and when I asked who he was, Brett said he was Kenny Martin. He was a slender guy, about the same height as Brett, but with thinning dirty blond hair.”
Slade let out a heavy sigh. “Brett never mentioned Anthony Nettles, or anything about being in witness protection?”
“Not a word.” She pushed aside the useless anger. “Is that why you have more marshals coming? To find out who Brett spoke to? He obviously can’t be a witness for you anymore.”
There was a long pause.
“Tell her,” Duncan said in a curt tone.
“We lost a witness in Brett, that’s true. But the problem is that the men who silenced your fiancé are now after you. There’s no easy way to say this, Chelsey, but you’ll be placed in witness protection as soon as possible. For your own safety.”
“I’m—what?” She glanced at Duncan, then back at Slade. “No, that’s not happening.”
“Chelsey, please...” Duncan began, but she shot out of her chair.
“No. I can’t leave my life behind to become someone else!” She yanked the motel door open and headed to her room. Duncan was hot on her heels, and she abruptly swung around to face him.
“Leave me alone. I can’t talk to you right now.”
“Chelsey, please. I understand you’re upset...”
“Upset?” A harsh laugh erupted from her throat. “You have no idea.”
Hot tears sprang to her eyes and she swiped at them impatiently. She should have known this was coming. Should have realized that the gunmen wouldn’t rest until she was dead.
Literally or figuratively.
Duncan’s arms came around her, pulling her into his warm embrace. She wanted to rant and scream and kick, but found herself melting against him. She took several deep breaths, trying to pull herself together.
“I’m sorry,” Duncan whispered.
She shook her head. “It’s not your fault.”
He continued to hold her, smoothing a hand down her back as if she were a child needing comfort. After what seemed like forever, she lifted her head and looked up at him.
Their gazes locked—the world around them grinding to an abrupt halt.
He gently lowered his head to press a chaste kiss on her cheek. But that wasn’t what she wanted. When he lifted his head, she went up on her tiptoes to capture his mouth in a sweet kiss.
This. This was what she’d wanted from the moment Duncan had arrived in Wyoming.
Not to kiss Brett, but Duncan.
EIGHT
Chelsey’s kiss caught Duncan off guard, but that didn’t stop him from deepening the kiss. A tiny voice in the back of his mind warned him that this wasn’t real, that Chelsey’s kiss was a reaction to everything she was dealing with, but another part of him didn’t care.
He’d liked and admired Chelsey when they were younger, but had kept his feelings firmly in the friendship bucket. Then Brett had announced their engagement, which made her off-limits.
Brett was gone, but Chelsey wasn’t ready for this.
And neither was he, although at the moment Amanda’s memory was fading fast.
She broke off from their kiss, her breathing just as erratic as his. He tucked her head beneath his chin and simply held her, without saying anything. His heart ached for what she was facing, through no fault of her own.
After several long moments, he asked, “Are you okay?”
She drew in a deep, ragged breath and nodded. She lifted her head to look up at him. “I have to be.”
“You have every right to fall apart, Chelsey. We can’t be strong all the time.”
Her smile was sad. “God will get me through this. I just have to place my faith in Him. And in the US Marshals Service. It’s just...” her voice trailed off.
“I know.” He understood that giving up the life she’d built wasn’t easy. In fact, he thought this would be the most difficult thing she’d face.
Well, other than running away from bad guys with guns.
“Would you like me to stay with you for a while?” He felt helpless, unable to do anything that might ease her distress over giving up everything to enter WITSEC.
“No, I’ll be okay.” She offered a weary smile. “After all the hiking and lack of sleep over the past few days, I’m looking forward to being in a real bed again.”
He forced himself to loosen his grip and step back. “All right, but if anything changes I’m right next door. Don’t hesitate to come get me.”
“I won’t.” She watched as he turned toward the door.
He glanced over his shoulder. “Lock up.”
She nodded and he stood outside her door, satisfied to hear the click as she shot the dead bolt home.
For a moment he pressed his palm against her door, then chided himself for being foolish. When he entered the room he shared with Slade, he found the guy on the phone again.
“I need a computer, any chance you can get one?”
Duncan listened to the one-sided conversation as a way to distance himself from how he’d been rocked by Chelsey’s kiss. Slade’s frustration was apparent as he scowled.
“Okay, fine. Tomorrow will have to do.” Slade disconnected from the call and scrubbed his hands over his face. “There’s a lot to be done, but I don’t have the tools I need.”
Duncan dropped onto the edge of the bed. “Like what?”
“We had an identity picked out for Brett and Chelsey, but now she needs something entirely new. I can’t trust that Brett didn’t blab to someone about what was going on.”
Duncan nodded slowly, his pulse kicking up at the possibility of having Chelsey nearby for a while longer. “What about the guy Brett was planning to testify against? Shouldn’t we continue that investigation as well?”
Slade shot him a glare. “We? There is no we here, Duncan. I appreciate everything you’ve done, but this is a US Marshals case. A cop from Milwaukee doesn’t have any jurisdiction here.”
Duncan frowned. “I’m aware of that, but you should use my expertise to your advantage. Brett told me a wild story about being hired on to provide security for a wealthy rancher.”
Slade looked interested. “Did he say who?”
“No, and when I mentioned this to Chelsey, she said the only rancher nearby was a guy by the name of Elroy Lansing. Only he’s not wealthy at all, has been apparently selling off parcels of land to stay afloat.”
“Elroy Lansing,” Slade repeated. “That sounds familiar.”
“His property is apparently right next to the land owned by Chelsey’s hotel.”
> “But if Lansing doesn’t have any money, how could that have anything to do with Brett Thompson?” Slade argued.
“I’m not sure,” he admitted. “But Chelsey mentioned Coyote Creek Construction was being hired by the hotel to expand, and their property line meets up with Lansing’s.” He shrugged. “Maybe it’s time to follow the money, see who purchased parcels of land from Lansing in the past year or so. See if there are any ties to Coyote Creek Construction.”
“Not a bad idea,” Slade said grudgingly. “Once I get my hands on a computer, I’ll get on that.”
“I can help,” Duncan said quietly. He’d borrowed Slade’s phone cord to recharge his battery. The two men had exchanged numbers, too. “No reason we can’t investigate this thing while we’re waiting for everything to be put in place for Chelsey.”
Slade didn’t comment for a long moment. “You’re right. I appreciate having you here, Duncan. I feel better knowing there are two of us keeping her safe.”
The tension in Duncan’s shoulders eased. “Good.” He yawned, exhaustion catching up to him. “Let’s discuss strategy in the morning.”
Slade nodded and shut off the lights, plunging the room into darkness. Duncan stretched out on the bed fully clothed and closed his eyes.
His last conscious thought was that if they could find the evidence needed to bring the bad guys to justice, it was entirely possible Chelsey wouldn’t have to give up her life to enter witness protection.
And he secretly promised to do whatever was necessary to make that happen.
* * *
Chelsey awoke at dawn, feeling well rested for the first time in what seemed like forever. At least, until she began to think about the ramifications of giving up her life.
Panic clawed its way up into her throat, robbing her of the ability to breathe. A passage of scripture flashed into her mind from the book of Psalms. “He shall call upon me, and I will answer him: I will be with him in trouble; I will deliver him, and honour him. With long life will I satisfy him, and shew him my salvation.”
Her emotional turmoil eased and she immediately felt reassured and calm. Leaving Wyoming wouldn’t be the worst thing that could happen to her. She would miss her friends; the hotel her parents, grandparents and great-grandparents had worked so hard for; the guests who came to stay on a regular basis.
