Witness in the Dark

by Allison B Hanson

  She glanced over at him. “Is that your birthday?”

  “In a way, I guess. It’s the day I walked away from my old life and started this one.”

  “Did they fake your death, too?”

  “No. They didn’t need to. The only family I had left was my grandfather, who was at death’s door.” He peeked at the wound on his bicep and pulled the towel tighter. It was still bleeding.

  “So, that’s why you didn’t change your name?”

  “Right. No one cared.”

  “Would you have done it all again if you could go back?”

  He nodded and rested his head back against the seat.

  “Garrett, please don’t fall asleep. I’m worried about you. I need you with me.”

  He nodded again, and reached out with his good hand to pat hers where it was clenching the gear shift. She released the knob and laced her fingers though his.

  The chill of her skin made him come alert. Was she going into shock? She wasn’t trained for this kind of thing. Although she had dealt with things fairly well so far, it had to be taking its toll. She had kept her shit together while she witnessed a murder, got chased by killers, had her team turn on her. And now this. She was made of some pretty tough stuff, but killing five men would make anyone go into shock.

  He rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand to reassure her, hoping she could draw strength from what little he had left to offer.

  As they drove on and she chattered and asked him question after question about nothing and everything, he did his best to stay awake. Every time he stopped talking, or started to drift off, she would squeeze his hand and ask another question to keep him talking.

  Night fell and he was feeling a little better, so he finally asked her about the shootout. He wanted to know exactly what had happened. How many of them there were. How many shots she had fired.

  He was extremely impressed by her clear-headedness during the attack. He had only lasted long enough for her to return because of his reinforced doors and bulletproof windows. It had taken them a while to infiltrate his stronghold. Still, he wouldn’t have lasted much longer without her.

  “You did a good job,” he mumbled.

  Other than the whole disobeying-his-orders part.

  After another hour, they came to a small gas station and convenience store. They needed to fill up. “Pull around the back and stay away from the lights,” he instructed, peering around for a security camera. Thankfully, he didn’t spot one. “Stay here.”

  He used his left hand to open his door and get out. The sunny yellow towel was now completely soaked with blood as he went to the edge of the parking lot and threw up.

  “Oh my God.” She jumped out of the Jeep and went to help, back to not listening.

  He braced himself up against a sign that said no parking at any time while he wiped his mouth. “Didn’t I tell you to stay in the Jeep?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “There are way too many buts with you, Sam.”

  This had gone on long enough. Being nice to her was going to get her killed. He hadn’t been firm enough with her. He’d made a huge mistake. Several huge mistakes. He’d allowed her to get under his skin.

  He remembered the way she’d looked at him and asked him not to ruin their moment. He hadn’t felt guilt then—still didn’t—but he did feel angry.

  Angry at himself because he’d let his emotions get in the way of his job.

  “Why are you allowed to take care of me, but I’m not allowed to take care of you?” she asked defiantly.

  “Because it’s my fucking job, Sam! Not yours!” Yelling made the sparkly stars appear in his vision again.

  “My job is to sell papers and serve people pizza, but I can’t do that anymore because I’m dead!” she screamed back at him. And then, to his horror, she covered her face with her hands and sobbed.

  Dammit! He’d known she was hanging on by a thread, and he’d gone and cut it.

  He pulled her to him and hugged her with his good arm. He couldn’t be cruel to this woman, even if it was for her own good.

  “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t mean to yell at you. I just—” He pressed his lips together and decided to go for honesty. Maybe if she knew how much he cared, she would start to care more about her own safety. “If anything had happened to you…”

  He shook his head, unable to think about that in detail. To his surprise, he was no longer concerned about the reaming out he would inevitably get from his boss. If she’d been injured, or worse, had died, the loss would have crushed Garrett completely.

  “They can’t fire you if it was my fault,” she said. “I didn’t follow your orders, so you can’t be held accountable.”

  She still didn’t understand.

  His anger flashed anew. “Do you think I give a damn about being fired?” He was yelling again, so he took a breath and reined it in. He took a mental step backward and nodded toward the store. “Pull back around front to the pumps. Take some money out of my wallet, put your hat on, and go inside to buy some orange juice. Pay cash for the gas, too. Keep your head down. Don’t look at any cameras.”

  “Okay.” She stopped after a few steps. “You’ll be here when I get back, right? You’re not going to ditch me, are you?”

  His heart squeezed. “No, I’m not going to ditch you.”

  It was a silly question. He’d never leave her. Although, truthfully, he was all over the map emotionally. Hell, maybe he did have a concussion.

  One thing was for sure, if he didn’t get this cut to stop bleeding, he wasn’t going to be much use to her. He pulled the towel tighter and went back to the Jeep to fill up…and to make a phone call.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Sam wondered if Garrett was faking. Would he drive off and leave her as soon as she went in the store?

  No. She was just being paranoid. She needed to trust him. But trust was not something she had much of anymore.

  Unfortunately, she had even fewer choices.

  She walked into the store and only then noticed the blood on her jacket and her hands. Too late. She turned her head away from the teenage boy at the counter who was chuckling and texting on his phone.

  Slipping into the bathroom, she took off her jacket and tied it around her waist. With her hands clean and her hair looking a bit more normal, she went back into the store.

  Two men stood at the counter as she went to the cooler to get the orange juice. Their distorted reflections in the mirror above her head provided a better look. Jeans, leather coats, crew cuts. They looked awfully similar to the guys at the house. Shit.

  She crept silently to another aisle and picked up a candy bar.

  When the two men left, she went to the counter and paid for her purchases and a tank of gas, keeping her head down and not making eye contact with the boy.

  “Have a nice night,” he said.

  She mumbled something back, and practically ran out of the store with her hand on the gun in the back of her pants. The men drove away in a silver sedan, without a glance in her direction.

  She half expected to be standing in an empty parking lot with a pint of orange juice and seventeen dollars and twenty-three cents to her name. But Garrett was still there, sitting in the passenger side of the Jeep waiting for her. She returned the gas nozzle to the pump and put the gas cap back on, then got in behind the wheel.

  He reached for the juice as she put the change in the drink holder between the seats. “Any trouble?” he asked.

  “I didn’t have to shoot anyone.”

  “Let’s get out of here.”

  With a nod she watched as he opened the juice and drank it straight from the bottle. She remembered the one time she had donated blood they had given her juice when it was over because she was lightheaded.

  She swallowed and started the Jeep. Garrett didn’t move as she pulled out onto the back road they’d been traveling on, and followed the directions on the GPS.

  “Sam?”

  “
Yeah?”

  “If something happens before we get to where we’re heading, keep going. There’s another car waiting there with everything you’ll need. You’ll be okay.”

  Alarm buzzed through her. “Something happens, like what?”

  “I’m losing a lot of blood from this cut in my arm.”

  “First of all, it’s not a cut. It is a bullet wound, and it’s really, really big,” she pointed out.

  “Whatever.” He sounded exhausted.

  “Second of all, please don’t say stuff like that. You are freaking me out. I should take you to a hospital.”

  “If you take me to a hospital, we’re both dead.”

  “Then drink more juice,” she suggested.

  “It’s juice. Not a magic potion.”

  She couldn’t believe he was making jokes at a time like this. While setting up alternate plans for her if he didn’t make it. “Isn’t there anyone we can call to come help us? Someone you trust?”

  “No.”

  She let out a breath. “Garrett?”

  “Yeah?”

  “What happens if I die?”

  He shot her a frown. “You’re not going to die.”

  “But what happens if I do? Since I’m already officially dead. There wouldn’t be another funeral.”

  “No. No funeral.”

  She thought about the girl’s body that was in her car when it blew up. “Would they use my body to cover up someone else’s escape?”

  “I don’t know, Sam. And I don’t want to talk about it. It’s not going to happen.” He sounded very sure.

  She hoped he was right.

  She managed to keep him talking for the next hour and forty-five minutes until they reached a small town. The cheery lady on the GPS directed her off the main street and to turn left into an alley. Great. Another alley.

  The GPS lady then said they’d reached their destination.

  Sam looked around. There was nothing here. Just a dirty garage.

  Garrett dug a remote out of the glove compartment and pressed the button on it. In front of them, a two-car garage door opened. He nodded, and she pulled the Jeep next to the midsize sedan parked in the other bay.

  He hit the remote again, and tried to get out of the Jeep. She hurried around the vehicle to assist him and put her arm around his waist.

  He directed her over to a workbench against one wall, where he flipped a switch. Fluorescent lights on the ceiling hummed to life.

  She took in the musty space. The windows were all blacked out. The cement floor was spotted with oil stains and dirt, but the rest of the space was relatively clean and tidy. The other car looked completely nondescript—not new, not old, not big, not small.

  Garrett sat down on a stool by the workbench and tugged at a cord. An extremely bright light came on above him, and she could feel the faint heat in the otherwise cool room as she came closer.

  He’d pulled the first aid kit from his duffel and was already giving himself a shot in his right arm. He tossed the empty syringe in the trash next to the workbench and grabbed another, which he stabbed into his leg through his jeans.

  “Sam, I’m going to need your help. I’m sorry.” He winced.

  “Of course. What do you need me to do?”

  “Stitch this up.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Sam stared at Garret in horror. “Oh, God. Seriously?”

  “Have you ever sewed anything?” he asked with a small smile.

  She bit her bottom lip nervously. “I once made a pillow that was supposed to look like a pencil, but everyone thought it was a school bus.”

  He chuckled. “So, not too bad, then.” He positioned the work light directly on the wound, which didn’t help her queasiness, at all. Her hands shook as she held them out to accept a bottle of antiseptic and a large pack of gauze.

  “Clean it out. Dry it off.”

  She nodded and went to her happy place, which was far, far away from here.

  The bloody peroxide made a foamy, sizzling puddle on the floor by her feet, but she kept going. Even when he moaned in pain, she kept going.

  He would keep bleeding if she didn’t close the bullet hole. It may not have been a fatal wound, but if she didn’t stitch it up so he could heal, he would most likely end up dead.

  She had to do this…to save both their lives.

  She patted the wound off with the gauze and it looked only slightly less intimidating. “Tell me what to do next,” she prompted.

  He took another swig of juice from the bottle, then pulled out a small curved needle and a pair of pliers. Thankfully, he threaded the needle. His hands were actually steadier than hers. The man must have nerves of steel.

  After rinsing off with the peroxide, she took the needle and turned toward his arm. “Are you numb?” She hoped it would make it feel less real. If he couldn’t feel it, maybe she wouldn’t, either.

  “Just pull it together and stitch it up.”

  “Is there some special stitch?”

  “Just do your best.”

  He closed his eyes and leaned back against the workbench. His skin was pale and clammy. She needed to hurry.

  The next fifteen minutes were the second most horrible in her life. The best she could say was that Garrett wasn’t bleeding anymore. The job she’d done on his arm was awful.

  She apologized profusely for her inept medical skills.

  “Sam, you did better than could be expected under the circumstances. You shouldn’t have to deal with any of this shit. You are so strong. I can’t believe how brave you are. I don’t know many people who would’ve been able to handle any of this.”

  Whatever had been in those shots had turned him into a relaxed teddy bear. Too bad she didn’t have a ready supply of that stuff.

  He went back to the Jeep and pulled out the manila envelope and the GPS. As she put away the supplies in the first aid kit, she noticed a bottle of Vicodin. Good to know.

  “Since it appears I’m going to live, we need to get moving.” He tugged open the envelope with his teeth and dumped out the contents on the workbench.

  Two passports, driver’s licenses, and a few other papers fell out. But what really caught her attention was a small bag that contained two gold circles, glistening in the bright light.

  Holy crap. Wedding rings.

  He handed the smaller of the two rings to her, then unceremoniously slipped the other one on his left ring finger.

  She stared at the ring on her palm, and looked up at him questioningly.

  “They’ll be looking for you alone. Not a couple. It’s our cover.”

  She picked up the driver’s licenses. One was for a Carter Bingham. It had Garrett’s picture on it. The other was in the name of Jenna Bingham with the same address as Carter’s. The photo was one of her from an old driver’s license, but it had been changed to show her new haircut, and the height had also been changed.

  With a frown, she slid the ring on her finger, not surprised when it fit perfectly.

  “Get your bag and load it in the other car,” he said as he punched a new destination into the GPS. “Are you still all right to drive?”

  “Yes.” She nodded, but she wasn’t really sure. Not at all.

  He went to the trunk of the car and opened it with the key fob. Inside was a small carry-on bag containing men’s clothes. She helped him out of his bloody shirt and into a black button-down shirt, taking a moment to appreciate his muscles. Her hand drifted and moved across his skin as if it had a mind of its own.

  Was it only a few hours ago they’d had sex? It felt like years.

  Probably because he’d become a completely different person. She understood this hardcore marshal was here to keep her alive, but at the moment, she could use a hug from the other guy he’d been earlier. No such luck.

  As if reading her mind, he grasped her wrist and shook his head. “I didn’t say it before, but we both know the countertop thing was a bad idea. Proven by the fact that you completely disregarded
my instructions because of your emotions. That won’t happen again. I’m being paid to keep you safe. Nothing more. Got it?”

  Hard not to.

  Without answering, she walked off and put her backpack in the trunk next to his bag.

  “Hold on,” she said before he could shut the trunk. She went to the Jeep and got the chain from the back.

  His brow raised. “Seriously?”

  She wasn’t about to argue. Where she went, so did the chain. “My good-luck charm.”

  He rolled his eyes and hit the button to open the garage door. “Ready now?”

  “Yes.”

  “Follow the directions. I’m going to get some rest. Wake me if anything happens.” He slouched down in the seat and used a sweatshirt as a pillow.

  “Okay.” She wasn’t sure if it was safe for him to sleep yet, but she decided she wasn’t going to be able to stop him.

  She focused on the road and the radio. The time on the clock showed after eleven and she was exhausted, but she kept going. According to the GPS they would be arriving at twelve eighteen. That seemed so far away.

  Garrett slept the whole time. Occasionally, she would reach over and check his pulse, happy to feel it throbbing against her fingertips. Then she would let her fingers trace the edge of his jaw. Once, she touched his lips.

  She understood the rules, and had even seen firsthand why they were so important. Unfortunately, it was difficult to get on board with a plan that meant she was no longer allowed to touch him. Or kiss him. Or…more.

  Letting out a breath, she forced herself to focus on driving.

  A car behind theirs was gaining on her quickly. She clenched the steering wheel and sped up slightly. It didn’t help. The other car was soon right on her bumper.

  She adjusted the side mirrors and could make out the vehicle.

  A black sedan.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Just as she was reaching across the seat to wake Garrett, the car ripped out into the other lane and passed her in a flash.

  Her mind was busy calculating a strategy. She’d slow down to put more distance between them. But she expected to see their brake lights any second, and then the men inside would jump out and shoot her.