Time To Kill (Witness Security Book 2)

by Jamie Hill

  She rolled her eyes. “Barely.”

  A businessman in the window seat leaned forward to speak to them. “You guys police? They said we were waiting for two more passengers. I figured you must be cops.”

  Jordan chuckled. “Who us?”

  Nick grinned. “Do we look like cops? Please.” He reached for Jordan’s hand and held it. “We’re flying off to Vegas to get married. They were kind enough to wait for us. We have to meet a tight connecting flight.”

  “Vegas?” The man snorted and leaned back. “Can’t believe we waited for a couple flying to Vegas.” He turned away from them and looked out the window.

  Jordan tried to pull her hand away, but Nick held it firmly.

  He smiled, planting small kisses on each of her knuckles. “So what do you think, the Elvis wedding chapel? Or the Little White Wedding Chapel? It’s supposed to be popular.”

  She rolled her eyes and leaned close so she could speak quietly. “It bothers me that you know that. Please tell me you didn’t get married on some drunken weekend in Vegas?”

  He continued to caress her fingers. “I don’t think so, but then again, my twenties were such a blur.”

  Jordan laughed and they stopped talking as the attendant gave the pre-flight instructions. She didn’t try to pull her hand back again which was good because Nick wasn’t going to let her. They’d set up their story, and he intended to play it out.

  He moved closer and nuzzled her earlobe.

  “Nick!” Her face flushed a soft shade of pink, but her protest wasn’t compelling.

  “Yes?” He continued pressing light kisses onto her ear and neck.

  “Don’t get carried away.”

  “Just playing the part of the excited bridegroom. Looking at you, who could blame me?”

  He felt a shiver ripple through her and smiled, happy as hell that he could still provoke those feelings in the sexy woman.

  She cleared her throat. “We should talk about Charlie, and what we’re going to do once we’ve found him.”

  He continued his ministrations. “There you go with the ‘Charlie’ business again. Getting a little paranoid that my kisses remind you of him.”

  “He is the reason we’re here. We need to have a plan. What are we going to do when we find him?”

  “Besides kicking his ass to the curb and back?”

  “You are not going to kick his ass. He might refuse to testify and leave the program. Then his life will really be in danger. We have an obligation to keep him safe.”

  “The dumb nut had an obligation to follow Witsec rules, remember? He’s not holding up his end of the bargain.”

  “I know. But still—” She seemed to lose her train of thought as he nipped her neck.

  Two women from the flight crew pushed a drink cart into the aisle next to them. “What would you like?” she asked Nick pointedly.

  He sat up and smiled, her message received. “Diet Coke, please. And do you have any snacks?”

  “Certainly.” She poured his drink into a plastic cup and handed it over along with a small bag of pretzels. “Ma’am?”

  “Same for me,” Jordan said politely, finally working her hand free. She put her tray table down and set her snack on it.

  The woman served their other seatmate before moving on.

  “I’m starving.” Nick popped a pretzel into his mouth.

  “We can grab something on the road, once we get a handle on Charlie’s location.”

  “Hope we do.” He wasn’t so sure. Archer hadn’t thought of looking for a tracking device before now, so Nick wasn’t worried about that. His bigger concern was the Plymouth not making the trip and Charlie needing to change vehicles.

  Jordan glanced at him and must have noticed his uncertainty. “We will.” She put her head on his shoulder.

  He turned ever so slightly and inhaled the scent of her hair. It would have been easy to get lost in thoughts of Jordan, but he couldn’t afford to get distracted. Nick forced his mind back onto the case and the matter at hand. His stomach growled and he sighed. “Are you going to eat those pretzels?”

  Chapter Six

  California State Prison, Corcoran

  Level IV Housing, General Population

  Corcoran, California

  Handcuffed and shackled, Van took a seat across from his lawyer in the small meeting room. “Tell me you have good news, Bean.”

  The thin, wiry man with slick black hair smiled nervously. He shoved his glasses up on his nose. “Wish I could, Van. The prosecution announced another witness, a guy named Charlie Allen. The schmuck is a nobody, worked at some game store, but was taking time off to write a book. Apparently, he lived in the same building as Roy Melton. They were acquaintances, if not friends. He happened to be out on the street the night Melton was killed and saw it happen.”

  “He get a good look at Rossi’s face?”

  “Good enough that they put Allen in Witness Protection. He disappeared after the hit and hasn’t been seen since.”

  “Damn it.” Van mulled the situation over. “Still, that incriminates Rossi, but not me, necessarily.”

  “We already know Rossi’s agreed to spill his guts. He’s confessed to three murders and a dozen or more assaults, but his story is they were all on orders from you. He says he was so loaded up on coke the night Melton died he barely remembers it.”

  “Stupid fucker! He’s gone underground in here, too. Word is that the feds are holding him in protective housing, and he’s impossible to get to.”

  Bean leaned forward. “Please tell me you haven’t tried.”

  Van smiled. “Whats’a matter, Oliver? The business getting to you now? It never bothered you before, like when you were installing that pool in the backyard of your Hollywood Hills mansion.”

  The lawyer scowled. “It’s getting harder and harder to keep you clean, Van.”

  He held up his cuffed hands. “Obviously.”

  “It’s all going to hinge on the jury. Rossi will testify and say whatever he’s going to say. He’s the key witness, of course. Allen’s testimony just adds credibility.”

  “Without Rossi—?”

  “Without Rossi the prosecution doesn’t have much on you. You’re probably released with time served.”

  “And without Allen—?”

  “Without Allen the jury will have to figure out if they believe Rossi or not. It could go either way.”

  “Rossi’s hands are dirty as shit. There’s no way he’s getting off scot-free, is there?”

  “He’s hoping for a reduced sentence, but the death penalty will be off the table.”

  “The death penalty.” A sick feeling settling in the pit of Van’s stomach. He’d been in here so long, he’d nearly forgotten that there was an even worse possibility.

  “Don’t think about that. You’ve just got a couple more weeks then the trial, and hopefully you’ll be out of here.” The man tried to smile optimistically.

  Van stretched his neck from side to side. “I’m really missing Misty. Any way you could get her in to see me?”

  “Not possible, my friend. The kids come to see you, don’t they?”

  “Yeah. But it’s just not the same.”

  “Two more weeks.”

  “Two more weeks,” Van repeated his lawyer’s words again. Two weeks to redouble his efforts in finding Rossi, and now, finding Charlie Allen.

  * * *

  Denver, Colorado

  Jordan made her way to baggage claim at Denver International Airport, Nick on her heels. They only had one bag each, but with their weapons they were required to check them, and had to wait with everyone else until the luggage appeared on the turnstile.

  Nick fired up his GPS app while they waited. “I’ve got a location on the vehicle.” He glanced at her. “The trick will be finding Charlie with the car.”

  “How far away?” She eyed the bags circling the conveyer belt and grabbed hers when it got close enough.

  He reached out and snagged his own.
“Looks like about twenty minutes. After another twenty in line at the car rental place.”

  “Yeah. Let’s go.” They followed the signs and were done and in the parking lot within a half hour. “This is it.” He pushed the button on his key and the doors of a Silver Grand Cherokee unlocked.

  Jordan opened the back and they loaded their cases, pausing long enough to retrieve their guns and stick them in their holsters.

  He closed the back hatch and looked at her. “Ready?”

  “For food, yeah. Let’s head in that direction and grab something on the way.”

  Nick grinned. “A woman after my own heart. Come on.” He went around to the driver’s side.

  She paused. “Want me to drive? I’m more familiar with Jeeps.”

  He made a face. “I think I can handle it, thanks.” He climbed in and adjusted the seat and mirrors.

  Slightly irritated, Jordan slipped into her seat. “I wasn’t kidding. You don’t always have to drive.”

  “I know. For now, we’re good.” He set his phone on the console between them and headed out.

  She glanced out the window as he drove. “Eight lanes of traffic. I hate cities.”

  He chuckled. “St. Louis has some ten lane highways. You’d love them.”

  “How big is St. Louis?”

  “Slightly over one million people at last count. I think I read where Denver has about six hundred thousand.”

  She chuckled. “Topeka has like a hundred thousand, maybe one-twenty-five.”

  “A regular Mayberry.” He glanced sideways at her. “Not one for big cities, eh? I grew up in Chicago. They’re approaching three million.”

  “Shit.” She shook her head. “Doug and Christi live in Silver Lake, you remember where that is?”

  He grinned. “A few minutes outside of Topeka, sure. How big is that, maybe fifty people?”

  “Heck, no! Closer to fifteen-hundred. With one Chinese restaurant that’s only open on weekends. Best Chinese I’ve ever eaten.”

  “Duly noted. Right now I’d settle for Mickey D’s.” He glanced around. “There’s a chicken place. You want a chicken sandwich?”

  Her stomach growled. “I might want two.”

  Nick chuckled and drove through, then ate as he continued on their way.

  Jordan vaguely protested as she wolfed down her sandwich. “You could take ten minutes to eat.”

  “I’m fine. The sooner we get there, the sooner we’re on our way home.” He shot her a look.

  She glanced away quickly, understanding his meaning. They were so close to taking that next step. The more time she spent with him, the more she knew it. He hadn’t made her any promises, but at this point she wasn’t sure that was necessary. As long as she went into a relationship with her eyes open, she’d be good.

  He nodded toward his phone. “You want to monitor that GPS and tell me when we’re getting close?”

  “Sure.” She picked it up. “About five more miles on this road. You’ll want the McManus Exit, and you’ll take an immediate right after that.”

  “Good.” He drove and she directed him, and soon they were at a seedy motel with only half the neon letters lit. “otl,” he commented.

  Jordan chuckled. “Remember that movie we watched eons ago, Motel Hell? The ‘o’ was burned out, it was supposed to be Motel Hello.”

  Nick laughed. “Yeah! The owners were eating their guests, and not in a good way.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Do you have to sexualize everything?”

  He shrugged. “I’m a guy. It’s what we do.”

  “Guys are pigs.” She spotted the black Plymouth and pointed. “There’s his car.”

  He pulled to a stop directly behind it so the car couldn’t leave, and scanned a row of rooms. “It sure is. Now which one of these doors do we think Charlie is hiding behind?”

  “There’s an office. We could go ask.”

  He turned off the Jeep and grinned. “Damn, you’re smart. I knew I brought you along for a reason.” He followed her out and up the sidewalk to the office. “Nice ass, too.”

  She glanced over her shoulder at him and mouthed, “Pig.” She stepped inside, holding the door so he could grab it.

  A fifty-something man with greasy dark hair stood behind the counter, his attention focused on a small TV. He tore his gaze away from a game show long enough to ask, “Need a room?”

  “Need some information.” She stepped up to the counter. “We’re looking for the man driving the black Plymouth. Red-headed, stocky guy. Which room is he in?”

  The guy sized them up before replying, “He in trouble?”

  Nick stepped forward. “Nope, we’re friends of his. Which room did you say he rented?”

  He studied them for another moment before answering. “He’s gone.”

  “His car’s still here.” Jordan hoped like hell he was mistaken.

  The man shrugged. “All I know is he came in and asked which way to the nearest bus depot. He turned in his key.”

  Nick frowned. “What did you tell him?”

  Reaching under the counter, the man pulled out a flyer with directions to both the bus depot and the airport they’d just landed at.

  Nick snatched the paper. “How long ago was that?”

  “Couple of hours.”

  “Did he have luggage?”

  “A backpack was all I could see.”

  “And he didn’t say why he was leaving his car here?”

  The guy shrugged again. “I didn’t know he did.”

  Jordan asked, “Has his room been cleaned yet?”

  The clerk got a funny look on his face before shaking his head no.

  Nick flashed his badge. “We’ll need to see the room he stayed in.”

  The man wagged a finger. “He is in trouble.”

  Jordan leaned across the counter. “You’re going to be in trouble if you don’t show us the room, pronto.”

  He reached for a key hanging on the wall behind him. “Keep your pants on. I’ll show you.” He led the way out, chuckling to himself. “Unless you want to take your pants off, in which case I can rent you a room. Special rates by the hour.”

  She glanced at Nick as they followed. “Pig.”

  Nick offered a small smile and a shrug.

  The clerk unlocked the door and motioned for them to go in. “I’ll be in the office if you need me. Lock up when you leave.” He started to walk off, but reconsidered and added, “If you stay longer than an hour I’ll have to charge you. No freebies.” The man laughed at his own joke as he strolled away.

  Jordan looked around the dirty room and frowned. “Pervert probably has a hole drilled in the wall somewhere to watch.”

  Nick lifted the edge of the rumpled spread and they glanced under it. The sheets were a mess, like Charlie had thrown them over the mattress when he left and nothing more. “What do you want to bet the room won’t be cleaned before the next customer checks in?”

  She shivered. “That’s just disgusting.”

  He peered into the bathroom. “Nope, that’s what you get for $29.95 a night.”

  A cockroach scurried along the baseboard and Jordan jumped. “Christ! Let’s get out of here. I’d sooner sleep in my car then in a place like this.”

  “I don’t see anything Charlie left behind,” Nick ventured. “Let’s go.” He walked out and stood next to the Plymouth, glancing inside.

  Jordan pulled the room door closed and peered into the car. “Keys?”

  “Not that I can see.”

  She tried the door. “Locked.”

  Nick stood and looked at her. “So either he had car trouble or he suspected he might be followed.”

  “I can’t believe he’d just abandon his car. Wouldn’t you think he’d try to sell it or something? I mean, Witsec was paying some of his bills but it’s not like the guy was loaded. Money is an issue.”

  He smiled. “At least until he signs that three-book deal.”

  “Yeah, with video game rights. You bet.” She
headed to their Jeep.

  They climbed in and he glanced at her. “Some people do it.”

  “Some people win the lottery, too. And others like Doug just keep buying that ticket once a week, wishing and hoping.”

  He put the Jeep into drive. “Funny, I don’t see Doug as the lottery-playing type.”

  “He just does it for fun. He already has everything he’s ever wanted in life.”

  Nick stared at her for a moment. “You sound envious.”

  She shrugged. “Why wouldn’t I be? Doesn’t everyone want to find the perfect person, settle down and live happily ever after?”

  “I suppose. Some people have different definitions of happy, though. Does it always have to include a white picket fence and 2.5 kids?”

  Resentment bubbled inside of her. “I don’t know, Nick. Maybe it does. That idea obviously still terrifies you.”

  He frowned. “Nothing terrifies me, except maybe you when you’re PMSing. Let me know if you’re winding up for another bitch session. I don’t want to be driving in eight lanes with you smacking me around.”

  The urge to whack him was overwhelming but she controlled it slightly better than she hid her irritation. “Fuck you, asshole.” She grabbed her cell and dialed the chief, trying to calm herself as she listened to the phone ringing.

  He answered, “Please tell me you’ve got Archer and you’re booking a flight back.”

  “I might as well tell you that Pierce is being a perfect gentleman, because both of those would be big fat lies.”

  Rhodes groaned. “Damn it. What does the GPS say? Are you close?”

  She snorted. “Close to the car with the GPS locator, hell, yeah. We’re sitting right beside it. Charlie abandoned the car and asked the motel clerk which way to the nearest bus depot.”

  “Have you checked bus schedules?”

  “No. We’re headed there now.”

  “They may not have left yet.”

  “He said it was a couple of hours ago.”

  “Get your asses in gear and go find out. Call me when you know for sure.”

  “Yes, Chief.” She ended the call and turned to Nick. “He said to get your ass in gear.”