He had a hard time not reaching for her to give her comfort. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m fine.” She sighed. “I’m alive, and that’s better than Agent Huff or Agent Petrov have it.”
“I told you to try not to think about it.” He wanted to reach for her but kept his hands on his thighs. “It’s not your fault.”
“Let me count the ways it is.” She pushed her fingers through her hair and made a quick change of subject. “It feels like we left the hospital a week ago, but it was only this morning.”
“Won’t be long until the sun goes down.” Trace looked up at the late afternoon sky, wishing they were someplace safe now.
He returned his gaze to her as she tipped her head to the side and said, “What’s next?”
“The FBI wants to take you straight to Phoenix,” Trace said.
“I don’t want to go to a safe house again.” She tilted her face to meet his eyes. “It makes me think about what happened this morning and I keep seeing Agent Huff’s head—” Her eyes glistened and her voice cracked. “Can’t we do something that doesn’t involve a safe house?”
“The safe house is your best bet.”
Christie furrowed her brow. “I won’t go.”
“Agent Stillwater can take you to a hotel instead.” He hadn’t anticipated her refusal.
She set her jaw. “Same difference.”
The wheels started turning in his brain, but he said nothing as he held her gaze.
“You have an alternative idea,” she stated. “I can see it in your eyes.”
He’d been told he was difficult to read, so her comment surprised him.
“I did have a thought.” He furrowed his brow. “Agent Stillwater wouldn’t agree. I don’t even know if it’s the best option.”
“It doesn’t matter what Stillwater wants.” Christie had an edge to her voice. “She can’t make me do anything I don’t want, and I’m not going to another safe house.” She tipped up her chin. “I can’t.”
Trace thought it over for a moment. She’d made a reasonable request, as long as he could keep her from harm. He didn’t doubt for one moment he could.
“What you’re asking for is an alternative to being surrounded by agents and still remain safe,” he said.
She nodded. “Absolutely.”
Trace blew out his breath. Stillwater would want to kill him but keeping Christie safe, out of the way of Salvatore’s men didn’t look promising if the lead agent wouldn’t bend.
“A rancher friend, Ben Anderson, owns a remote cabin on Mt. Lemmon I can take you to,” Trace said. “I know security is excellent there because I installed the alarms and other safety features Ben wanted. Old Ben is a little paranoid after drug runners murdered a close friend of his on a ranch near Douglas. Any property he owns he beefed to the hilt.”
Christie perked up. “Stay in a cabin instead of with the FBI?”
“Other than Ben and myself, only Dylan and Brooks know about it and it’ll be secure.” Trace continued, “It’s not easy to find or get to and it’s been a great place to escape at times I needed to get away.” He rested his forearms on his thighs. “You would have to put up with me, though.”
“With you?” She blinked at him, surprised.
“It would only be a couple of days, since the trial is coming up soon,” Trace said. “I can ask Agent Stillwater if she has another agent free who can accompany us.”
Christie frowned. “I feel suffocated with all the agents hanging around. I know they’re doing their jobs and you all saved my life…but it’s hard. Salvatore kept me under his thumb for so long I need some freedom.” She hesitated. “I’d really prefer one agent and for that agent to be you.”
“When this is over, you’ll have all the freedom you want.” He pushed his fingers through his hair. “We need to keep you safe long enough for that to happen.”
“You’re not just thinking ‘safe’,” Christie said. “You’re thinking you need to keep me alive long enough to testify. If I’m dead, I can’t testify.”
“It’s not just a matter of keeping you safe until the trial and your testimony,” Trace said. “It’s making sure you make it out of this intact and ready to return to a world that treats you as you should be treated. Which means exceptionally well, as far as I’m concerned.”
A slight smile quirked the corner of her mouth, but it faded as he held her gaze. “None of this seems real, even though my arm is throbbing like crazy and you’re sitting here telling me you will keep me from getting killed.”
“It is very real.” He stared into her beautiful blue eyes. They had just made a dangerous turn, on a level he hadn’t anticipated. “Are you sure you’re all right with staying in the cabin, with me being responsible for your security?”
“It’s a good compromise.” She tilted her head to the side. “Will Agent Stillwater give you grief?”
She would, he had no doubt.
Trace shifted his position. “Ultimately, the choice is up to you.”
“I’ll take a cabin in the woods over being surrounded by agents in a safe house or a stuffy hotel room any day,” she said. “As a matter of fact, I intend to tell Agent Stillwater that myself.”
He thought about it a moment. “Let me talk with her first.”
Christie didn’t look like she wanted to wait, but she said, “Okay.”
Trace climbed out of the agency vehicle. He walked toward Agent Stillwater as she slid her cell phone into her jacket pocket. “I need a moment, Laura.”
Stillwater waited for him to reach her. “What can I help you with?”
This wasn’t going to be a cakewalk by any stretch of the imagination. “Christie insists she doesn’t want to go into full protective custody. I have an alternative.” He steeled himself for Stillwater’s response.
Her entire demeanor changed, making him feel as if she were an attack dog ready to rip out his throat. “Absolutely not.” Stillwater’s usual way of working with him vanished in a heartbeat.
“Do you remember what you told me at the airport, before Christie walked off that plane?” His control rode a fine edge. “You said you would let me convince her to accept protection. That’s exactly what I’ve done.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Regardless, this is where you’ll say goodbye to Christie. We’ll take it from here.”
A warm flood of anger washed over Trace. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“This isn’t up for negotiation, Agent Davidson.” The hardness in Stillwater’s voice could have cracked walnuts.
“No, it’s not up for negotiation.” Christie approached, drawing Stillwater’s gaze. “I’m going with Trace.”
Stillwater crossed her arms and glared at Trace. “What’s going on here?”
Christie cut in. “I told him I refuse to go to another damned safe house or to a hotel.” She propped her good hand on her hip, her other arm in a sling, held close to her. “I asked him for an alternative and he told me about a cabin.”
Red tinged Stillwater’s olive complexion as she spun on Trace. “You and I are going to have a conversation.”
“You might as well have it here.” Christie didn’t show signs of any of the exhaustion or pain she had shown earlier. “Because the only place I’m going is wherever Agent Davidson is headed.”
Trace wished Christie had stayed in the vehicle. This was going from bad to worse. He had to talk Stillwater down from her lofty FBI perch.
“It’s safe with the highest level security features that rival the FBI’s.” He explained about the remote cabin on Mt. Lemmon. “Salvatore’s men won’t have any idea where she’s at.”
“No,” Stillwater said in an icy tone. She turned to Christie. “You have seen what can and likely will happen outside the FBI’s protection.”
“Look what’s happened with your protection. I do trust Agent Davidson.” Christie stood straighter. “And who are you to tell me no? This is my life and I’m the one who will be testifying against Salvatore.
” She said Salvatore as though the word tasted bad on her tongue.
Stillwater’s expression closed and Trace thought she might mentally be counting to ten. She appeared to force herself to take a more reasonable tone with their witness. “I don’t like it. This puts your life at greater risk, Christie.”
“I agree with Trace.” Christie seemed to recognize how close she was to getting her way. “I doubt it would occur to them that we could go to Mt. Lemmon, much less stay in Tucson. They’ll probably expect us to go to Phoenix.”
For a long moment, Stillwater said nothing. Trace thought it might kill her when she turned to him and said, “I’ll send a couple of my best with you.” She still appeared angry enough to tear Trace in half and slice him into tiny pieces with her words.
“Agent Davidson made the same suggestion.” Christie’s petite height and smaller build didn’t make her any less formidable in that moment. She didn’t seem in the least bit intimidated by the tough female FBI agent. “I want one agent and that’s it. Trace knows the cabin and installed the security system. Also, he’s a close friend of two of my best friends and I knew him before this happened. I think it should be him.”
Stillwater, jaw tensed, looked as if she were going to say something else against the arrangement Christie wanted, but she switched gears. “We’ll need to coordinate this and make sure you’re not tailed until we can get you off on your own. Safely.”
She continued to focus on Christie, all but ignoring Trace. “I hope you’re not making a mistake.” She swiveled her gaze on Trace. “And you’d better hope the same. If something happens to Christie, you’ll have me to deal with.”
Stillwater turned away at the same time as she pulled her cell phone out of her jacket pocket.
Trace met Christie’s gaze. She sighed, letting out a rush of air. “I’m surprised I didn’t have a bigger battle getting her to agree to heading to the mountains with you.” Christie hardened her normally soft features. “I refuse to give in to an FBI bully.”
Trace wouldn’t call Stillwater a bully, but how could he argue with this beautiful woman?
“Come on.” He gestured to the agency SUV. “Let’s get you inside the truck and out of sight. I need to make some calls and take care of a few things before we head to the FBI’s office, then for the mountains.”
Chapter Seven
Hunger cramped Christie’s stomach, but she didn’t care, she was so limp with exhaustion. The throbbing pain in her arm and head caused her to give in and finally take a Vicodin. Even the conversation with Agent Stillwater had taken more out of her than she would have thought.
After performing another SDR, Trace took Christie to the local FBI office, with black agency SUVs in front of and behind Trace’s Explorer. The FBI agents, Trace, and Dallas guarded Christie as they ushered her into the building and to a conference room.
The sun had dropped behind the Tucson Mountains, casting the desert in evening shadow. Christie hadn’t eaten since before she’d checked out of the hospital. How long ago had that been? At this point, she couldn’t even remember.
Agent Garcia had taken Christie’s dinner order ahead of time. When Christie sat, Garcia gave her a bottle of water, barbecue chips, a huge chocolate chip cookie, and a turkey sandwich she’d bought at a nearby deli.
Christie groaned with relief as she settled in a surprisingly comfortable armchair. She took a few sips then set the bottle down on the oval table and sliding her fingers up and down the plastic.
Trace placed the magazines she’d been reading at the hospital, along with his iPad, in front of her. He crouched beside her chair. Trace smelled so good she temporarily forgot about her hunger and instead thought about what it would be like to be wrapped in his arms.
His touch would set her on fire and send ripples of pleasure through her body. She imagined him skimming his fingertips over her breast to her hip, his strong and callused hands contrasting with her soft flesh.
“I’m making a Walmart run to pick up supplies,” he said, jolting her out of her fantasies. “Any requests?”
“Don’t leave me.” A moment of panic had her scalp prickling and she nearly knocked over her water bottle. “Take me with you.”
“You are safer here.” Trace put his hand on her shoulder. “You’ll be fine. I promise.”
Even crouching, he was much taller than her and she tilted her head. She zeroed in on his lips. She wanted to kiss him more than anything.
She met his gaze and saw an array of expressions traveling over his face, as if he could see in her eyes how much she wanted him.
Feeling shy and embarrassed, she looked away, anywhere but at him.
His warm touch chased away her fear as he captured her chin in his hand and turned her face so their eyes met. “I’ll be back soon, okay?”
Stop being such a baby, she told herself. What happened to that tough new woman? “You’re right. I’m sure nothing will happen here. I should be safe in an FBI office filled with agents.”
Something like worry crossed his expression, then the concern vanished. He squeezed her shoulder. “Dallas will stay right here beside you.”
She wanted to tell Trace she would be okay without the German Shepherd, but he made her feel safer. “Thank you.”
“Do you have any cold weather clothing and a coat?” he asked. “Since you came from Indiana, I thought you might at least have a coat in your suitcase.”
“I did stuff my good coat in there when I arrived at the airport in Indiana, before I got on the plane.” She fingered the blouse she wore. “However, I only packed one set of clothes for genuinely cold weather that I intended to wear once I get home. The rest are things more suitable for Tucson and Phoenix winter temps.”
“What sizes do you wear?” He took his phone out of his jeans pocket. “I’ll make a quick trip to a department store that should have a good selection of winter clothes. I’ll head to Walmart after that.”
“I have cash in my wallet.” She frowned. “But I don’t know where my purse is.”
“It’s in the truck,” he said. “You can pay me back later. For now, just give me your sizes.”
She gave him everything he asked for, down to her shoe size.
He glanced up from his phone after entering all her information. “Do you need anything else?”
“Nothing I can think of now.” She stared at her dinner. “Although I could use help opening the chips.” She ached too much from exhaustion and pain to deal with it.
Trace opened the bag and set it in front of her. “Have Agent Garcia give me a call if you decide you want something.”
“Okay.” She gave him a small, tired smile.
Trace got to his feet. “Dallas, keep an eye on Christie.” The dog barked once then lay near her feet. “Good boy.” He rubbed Dallas’s head. “See you both soon.”
He headed for the door, casting a glance over his shoulder. He smiled and left the room.
“It’s you and me, Dallas.” Christie lightly stroked the dog’s head, down to his neck. “What do you suppose a pair like us can do while we wait?”
One-handed, Christie opened the package containing the turkey sandwich. While she ate, she studied the iPad and magazines in front of her. She’d seen enough of the travel magazines for now. Instead, she pulled the iPad closer and brought up the Internet browser.
She did a Google search for ‘Tucson International Airport’ and ‘news’. Up popped a list to choose from, including articles about a shooting that had shut down the airport for hours as law enforcement searched for suspects. She went to AZCentral.com and read about gunshots, and reports from people who had been staring out of the window and seen people being shot. The sketchy information showed witnesses refusing to talk any more about anything they’d seen.
Strange, Christie thought. Or maybe not. The FBI could probably shut up anyone who had seen the sniper attack.
Who knows?
She did another search, this time for gunshots in a Tucson neighborho
od. She found nothing but a gang-related shooting the night prior.
She didn’t find anything more to entice her, so she decided to go through other news from one of the online sources. Rather than reading any depressing articles, she went for fluff stories that made her smile a little, or interesting pieces that engaged her. She found focusing difficult, but made herself do it.
While she ate the cookie, she came across one article stating reports showed people who used social media lived longer.
Maybe that would help me. She almost laughed, then sobered. Social media wouldn’t stop bullets.
Salvatore hadn’t let her join Facebook. Later, once she’d gone to Indiana, Stillwater had told her not to get an account, because individuals in the cartel her ex-husband had been involved with could track her. So she waited for a time she wouldn’t be in a life-or-death situation.
When will that be?
She found herself knee-deep in a YouTube video about how the human brain interpreted sights and sounds. A knock on the doorframe jerked her out of her video-trance. Trace stood in the doorway, looking incredibly yummy.
“Ready for a trip up the mountain?” he asked with an easy smile.
“I am dying to get out of here.” She balled up the food wrappers.
“I brought in only the things you’ll need for now. The rest is in the truck.” Trace raised a shopping bag. “If you’re okay with it, Agent Garcia can help you put on one of the sweaters I picked up.”
“Thank you for getting what I’ll need.” She smiled. “Agent Garcia’s help is welcomed.”
He tossed the empty wrappers to her dinner in a nearby receptacle, then gathered the magazines and iPad since she had to do everything one-armed.
Dallas stayed close to her, everywhere she went. Even with Trace in the same room, Dallas remained at her side rather than his. She liked the dog’s company.
Within twenty minutes, she had changed into a blue pullover sweater and sturdy boots with thick socks, and agents ensconced her safely in the truck.
Then she and Trace were on the road. Agents led and followed in black SUVs but eventually dropped away. Trace said they’d accompanied the Explorer long enough they were comfortable no one followed them. That left Trace to perform an SDR, to make doubly sure.
Taking Fire Page 9
