by Dawn Ryder
His eyebrows rose, making her choke back a round of giggles. Honestly, she shouldn’t mess with him but he looked like he needed a good laugh. That thought sobered her because he really did deal with bad guys a lot, and she should be more focused on the fact that he was helping her stay alive.
“Kitten wanted a book, too.” Ginger told him in way of apology. “One signed by Heather Graham. I got it for her and I was taking it back to her. I told the doorman she was expecting me and … he let me through.”
She’d stunned him. For a moment, Saxon Hale, who had been a pillar of composure and trained precision, looked at her with his jaw open. The sight gave her a much-needed shot of confidence, helping to restore her balance. At least she wasn’t the only one being kicked in the nuts by the turn of events transpiring around her.
“Where.…” he actually stumbled over his words. “Is the book?”
“Umm…” She looked down at the cross-body bag. The side pocket was only about five inches deep and it was empty now. “I guess it fell out.”
Saxon had recovered his poise, his expression hardening as she gained a glimpse of what was likely his game face. It actually made her step back, the focus and intent chilling her blood. To be fair, she didn’t doubt that he needed to be just as hard and cold as the men he was trying to capture, but she didn’t care to be in the path of it. He’d said “crime boss” which sounded pretty intense. His eyes narrowed.
“The men in the room, you saw them?”
He was intent on her now, his blue eyes full of purpose. Ginger didn’t want to answer. Her insides felt like they were twisting, and she felt that fate was about to drop-kick her in a major way if she gave Saxon the information he wanted.
“I can’t protect you if I don’t know who might be looking for you.”
His tone was too knowledgeable. She cringed but leveled her chin. “Yes. It was Marc Grog and his son, Pulse, the music artist. Marc was the one who pulled the trigger.”
And her mind offered up a perfect memory of it, too. But she resisted the pull of that recollection.
“Marc Grog is dead.”
“I know,” she answered. “But I’m telling you, that’s who was in that room being called ‘the Raven.’ The dead guy called him the Raven, right before Marc shot him.”
“The guy looked like Marc Grog.” Saxon asked her.
Ginger shook her head. “I know faces. That’s what I do for a living, find people through blurry snapshots. It was Marc Grog. In fact, now that I’m thinking straight, he died right before a hearing was set to launch an investigation into his dealings with Conrad Mosston over that leak of military information.” She was thinking out loud but knew her facts. “Marc had a scar on his neck from a failed knife attack and that man I saw today had the same scar.” She pointed to her throat. “Details. It’s all in the details.”
Saxon’s jaw had tightened. She could see that he was recalling the case now, and the word he bit back looked a lot like “fuck.”
“Thank you for getting me out of there.” She dug her cell phone out, intent on calling Karen and being finished with the whole affair. It was certainly going to be far more enjoyable as a memory than a current circumstance.
Saxon plucked her phone from her fingers and killed the call.
“Excuse me?” she wished she sounded more confident than she did. “My roommate is going to be worried about me.”
“She should be.” Saxon confirmed in a deep tone that threatened what little composure she had left. “You’re in a lot of trouble.”
Her heart was starting to pound again. “Well, I’m sure the police can handle things.”
“Don’t be.” He cut through her stammering with deadly precision. “Marc Grog, if he really is still alive, has more of them on his side than not.”
She drew in a stiff breath, unwilling to be reduced to hopelessness. “Stop trying to scare me. I didn’t do anything wrong or illegal. I was just trying to deliver a book. Now if you don’t mind, I am going to check in with my friend.”
Saxon crossed his arms over his chest, her cell phone tucked into the breast pocket of his suit jacket. She looked at it longingly and it didn’t escape his notice. He moved faster than a normal person. One moment she was looking at that pocket and the next she was jumping back because he’d reached out and caught the little latch that held her cross-bodybag strap to the bag. It slithered off her when she recoiled and ended up in his possession as well.
“You’re under arrest,” he informed her far too casually for her comfort. The guy oozed control while she was left feeling like she was twisting in the wind.
“For what?” She demanded.
“I’m placing you in protective custody,” he said, his tone informing her that he was dammed sure of himself.
“Like hell you are.”
All she gained for her outburst was a raised eyebrow and a very confident smirk. He was so not impressed with her.
“Stay in here. Test me and I’ll put you in cuffs.” He reached for the door and opened it.
“I thought you were going to shove me in the trunk.” She’d lost it now and didn’t really care if her behavior was base. He was being a dick, and she wasn’t going to take it.
“That can happen, too. Be a good girl and I won’t be tempted.” A gleam entered his eyes and convinced her he’d enjoy it.
He pulled the door shut, and her growl of frustration ended up bouncing off its surface.
Dick …
* * *
Bram and Dare were waiting for him. That should have been enough to get him moving, but Saxon discovered himself hesitating. His witness was pissed at him. As in capitol P-I-S-S-E-D. It was hardly the first time someone hated his guts for being put into custody, but, damn it, it was the first time he found someone so adorable with her ire up. That little librarian wholesomeness shell cracked to expose a fireball like she’d spent most of her time in the erotic romance section.
A wave of heat rolled slowly through him in response to that idea. Hell, he should be ashamed of himself, but the truth was that he was downright fascinated by the idea of her reading a steamy novel as the rest of the world viewed her as straightlaced.
He needed to check himself. Fast.
Her face had been red as she paced around the room. Damned if he didn’t enjoy the way she moved. She took him into territory he wasn’t going to go to. She was cute and had a body that stirred more than fascination in him, which was why he left the room and moved toward his men. Focusing on the case would sterilize his emotions, allowing him to get back down to business. Ms. Ginger Boyce was helping to crack his case. That was what he needed to dwell on.
Not how damned cute her ass was.
“A fucking book?” Dare Servant said the moment Saxon was close enough to hear. “I’ve been chasing the Raven for months and she gets through his security net with a fucking book?”
“It wouldn’t have worked for you.” Bram Magnus replied with a twist of his lips. “You don’t have the legs for it.”
Dare grunted, his fingers opening and closing like he was fighting back the urge to flip his fellow agent off.
“Marc Grog is a mighty big fish. If it’s really him, sure explains a lot about how the Raven has been able to operate under the radar.” Bram voiced what was on all their minds. “He’ll squish her like a little ladybug that made the mistake of landing on the windshield of his Ferrari for blowing his cover.”
“Not on my watch,” Saxon answered. He wasn’t a stranger to dedication but he felt something tighten inside him, something more intense than normal. It gave him a moment of pause, thinking about whether or not it was a good idea to continue on the case. But that thought only led him to a wave of rejection that swept aside all of his misgivings.
He wasn’t going anywhere. Ms. Ginger Boyce would just have to get used to him.
“I’ll touch base with Kagan. Get background on her and Kitten. See if she really saw what she thinks she did.”
His section leader was going to
like having an identification on the Raven and an eyewitness to murder at long last, but Saxon knew without a doubt that Kagan would also see the information as the volatile substance it was. There were going to be a lot of people, important ones, who wouldn’t want Marc Grog to go down in flames because a fire like that was going to spread to his close business partners.
“We’ve got to get her into a facility for certified testimony, asap.” Bram said. “There were a few political families who wouldn’t want Marc Grog back from the dead.”
“I know.” Saxon answered.
It was a mess, a fucking big one. Ginger was sitting on the pressure plate of it all. One wrong move and it was going to explode. His insides clenched in response. She wasn’t the first innocent he’d encountered, not by a long shot, but damn it, she was the kind of woman he would work hard for, to make sure she could go on with a normal life. He didn’t want to see her rolling with the punches, didn’t want to watch her disillusionment.
He just didn’t have a choice today.
Kagan answered on the second ring, making a low sound under his breath as Saxon dropped Marc Grog’s name. There was a moment when all Saxon heard was the soft tapping of his section leader’s fingers on a keyboard.
“My witness needs to testify immediately.”
“If not sooner,” Kagan said, confirming just how dire the situation was.
“I need someone to take the stripper.”
“Has the stripper seen his face?”
“She’s not talking,” Saxon informed Kagan. “And I’ve got my hands full with the witness.”
“You do. Marc Grog complicates the case in ways I haven’t finished adding up.”
Saxon heard the warning in his boss’s tone. He stiffened his resolve. “I didn’t come down here to quit when the case got challenging. I knew what I was taking on.”
Kagan drew in a deep breath. “You know what you’re biting off, true enough. Any sign of Tyler Martin?”
“No,” Saxon admitted. “How soon can you get me an evac plan?”
“Our first living eyewitness,” Kagan answered. There was the sound of typing again. “It’s a sure bet the airport is being watched better now since you managed to get Damascus Ryland out under the Raven’s nose.”
“Why do you think I’m here?” Saxon said with a fair amount of sarcasm. “I’d already have her in the air if I didn’t think it would mean there would be a wet-work team waiting for us when we landed because our flight plan got hacked.”
Kagan made a soft whistling sound. Saxon recognized it as his boss’s method of debating an issue. “I’m going to have to call in a favor because I can’t go through official channels on this one. Sit tight.”
The line went dead. Saxon drew in a deep breath before turning back to his team. Dare and Bram faced him with every bit of courage and determination he expected, but there was something else—a glimmer of hope that none of them had felt that morning. It was the stuff they lived on when cases remained cold for months on end. A break that helped them all remember why they dug in and persevered against what were so often insurmountable odds.
Sometimes, the good guys won.
Now he had a witness, that thing teams like his worked damned hard to pull in. The tricky part was going to be keeping her alive.
“I’m taking first position,” Saxon informed them as he started toward the bedroom.
Hard, wasn’t impossible.
Not on his watch.
* * *
Good Girl …
Those two words were bouncing around inside her skull, rubbing her temper when the bedroom door opened. Saxon Hale came right in without a word.
There is no personal space in safety …
Those words didn’t make her as mad. No, quite the opposite. They were forcing her to look at the sharp teeth of her circumstances.
“We’re in a holding pattern,” he informed her. “Better grab some rest while you can.”
Saxon pulled a chair from where it was sitting at a desk and dropped it right next to the bed. It was against the wall, with the door and the windows in clear sight. He’d taken off his jacket, giving her a look at the shoulder harness strapped around his chest.
“You really want to take the chance to sleep,” he advised her when she didn’t move.
Maybe she should, but there was sort of no way in hell she could make her feet budge. Somehow, the carpet had a death grip on them as she stared at Saxon settling into the chair, clearly there to protect her. A scent of fresh coffee teased her nose as one of the other men came through the bedroom door with a mug.
“Captain Bram Magnus.” Saxon pointed at the man and offered the introduction.
Bram handed over the coffee and turned to give her a nod.
“I could go for some of that,” the words were sort of past her lips before she really thought about it. But it was something to do. Ginger started for the door, intent on escaping.
Bram stepped right into her path. “I’ll get it.”
“You don’t need to wait on me,” Ginger replied, but she should have saved her breath because he was gone before she finished speaking.
“We’re controlling your location,” Saxon said. She turned and watched him set the mug down. For a second, he looked like he was finished with his explanation. The clueless look on her face made him open his mouth again. “You’ll get used to it.”
“I sure hope not.” Ginger sank down on the bed, but she perched on the side away from Saxon and then realized it was because his persona was just so big.
Bram came back but what he handed her was a cup of tea, herbal.
“You don’t need the caffeine,” he offered before he left the room.
Which left Ginger with no one to glare at except Saxon. He offered her no sympathy, just a sort of bored expression that told her he’d done this before and she was the one who would be adjusting to the circumstances.
Great …
Ginger looked back down at the mug and realized just how many pieces her life was smashed into. On one hand, it was sort of good to realize how much she had. Friends to check up on via social media. Hell, her family’s incessant text messaging was suddenly so dear, she felt tears actually prickling her eyes because she was cut off from it now.
Man, she’d been taking things for granted. Sure, she’d enjoyed her life, but she hadn’t really been as thankful as she should have been for all the little things it was full of. Like the ability to choose her beverage or bedtime.
Or anything.
* * *
He hated witness detail.
The damned chair felt like it was burning him as Saxon tried not to stare at Ginger. She was looking at the tea, clearly feeling the weight of her circumstances. He was doing what needed to be done, and she hated it. Maybe not him, but the situation nonetheless.
Fuck.
He couldn’t ease her transition. Didn’t dare, because that would take them both someplace she didn’t need to go. He’d seen it too many times to count, the way a witness formed an attachment to her team. She’d think it was love, because it was the best way to make her world stop spinning.
He’d know it was just taking advantage of her on the worst day of her life.
He had to be better than that.
* * *
“Can you give me more details, Sir?”
Tyler shook his head. He was watching his new team poring over surveillance footage from the local airfields. It was slow, tedious work, and they were coming up dry.
Good.
Tyler looked at the team Carl Davis had delivered. In two short hours, he’d been inserted into the Secret Service ranks and had a team assigned to him. They didn’t know the details, but to the Secret Service, it didn’t matter. They were men who believed in justice and thought they were defending the United States with their tight-lipped dedication.
Tyler intended to let them keep their illusions. For the moment, it supported his cause and in the end, it would keep Carl Davis on his p
ath to the White House. Just not in the way any of the men in the room suspected.
Tyler started combing through the resource list, looking for the type of rabbit hole Saxon would select. Shadow opps teams liked to use houses recently vacated by deaths that had left property vacant while wills went through probate. Hotels had security cameras that might be hacked into. Shadow opps teams would stick to residential homes and townhouses where they could bunker down until their section leaders had time to move more resources into position.
One caught his eye. It was a listing for a traffic fatality. Two victims, recently moved into the area to take a job. That meant no family to be combing through their belongings just yet. Not when the bodies were still at the morgue and unclaimed.
It wasn’t much to go on, but Tyler had a gut feeling, one he wasn’t going to ignore. It was a perfect place to go to ground while calling in to a section leader and getting orders.
“Let’s go.”
The team of Secret Service personel didn’t hesitate. They closed up their computer cases and filed out of the makeshift command center they’d set up within moments of their arrival. Tyler enjoyed being in command again. He strode out among their ranks, slipping into the role of superior once again.
He was going to enjoy being in charge of Carl Davis. The man understood it took a team to get into the White House and that there wouldn’t be any forgetting that fact once he was sworn into office. Carl Davis would share the meat and Tyler was planning on getting the lion’s share of it.
Of course it wouldn’t come free. Nothing worth having ever did. Tyler slipped his shades on, tightening his resolve because loose ends needed tying up, and it was his task to see it done.
But if Saxon Hale was involved, well, that was going to be a perk because Carl Davis had a personal score to settle with the Hale brothers. It would be Tyler’s pleasure to help him achieve that goal.
It was sure worth something important, and Tyler never worked for free.
* * *
Okay, point for Bram Magnus, Ginger didn’t need caffeine.
Nope. Her thoughts were churning like a river with Class V rapids. At some point, she’d decided that maybe lying down would make her feel less awkward, but that had failed miserably. All it did was make her think he was noticing her butt.
