Hiding His Witness

by C. J. Miller

  With so many people taking care of last-minute shopping, Reilly stuck to the middle of the crowd, staying behind other people. He grabbed one of the last carts from the corral and headed in the direction of ladies’ clothes.

  Carey picked a pair of jeans, two zip-up sweatshirts and two long sleeved T-shirts. As they approached the lingerie department, she glanced at him. “Why don’t you head to men’s clothes while I pick up a few things?”

  Reilly shook his head, keeping his voice low. “This isn’t a time to be modest. I’m not leaving you alone.”

  Because he knew she was embarrassed, he didn’t say a word when she threw a pair of pink panties into the basket. His body had its own comment, his stomach tightening and images of her parading around in them flashing through his mind. She tossed in a few more pairs, burying them beneath the jeans and T-shirts. He couldn’t stop himself from picturing her wearing the panties. Them and nothing else.

  Although after the way he’d behaved, he might not get another chance with her after this case was closed. Did she understand he was doing his best to protect her and trying to keep his head where it should be, focused on the case?

  Getting control of his lust, he selected some things from the men’s department and they moved on to the personal care section. Wandering up and down the aisles, they each tossed in a few items—soap, shampoo, razors. Carey lingered near the bath products, running her fingertips over the bottles. They held her attention for a few beats and then she shook her head, as if telling herself she couldn’t have them. As he walked past, he added them to the cart.

  He picked up two disposable, pre-paid cell phones. If Mark had hacked Vanessa’s phone, he could hack into Reilly’s. Though his phone was supposed to be safe, Reilly didn’t trust it. The more connections he cut, the better.

  At the end of the aisle, Carey froze and spun around, her eyes wide and her chest rising and falling fast.

  “What’s the matter?” he asked, alarm pricking at his brain.

  “I thought I saw Mark.”

  Reilly pushed her behind him, peering around the corner. No one was harming her on his watch. “Thought? Or you did?”

  “Thought. He looked the same from the back, but when he turned around, it was someone else.” Reilly faced her and Carey shook her head, massaging her temples. “I’ve got to calm down. I’m seeing things.”

  Reilly rubbed her arms, concentrating on comforting her and ignoring the pang of desire that struck him. “We’ll get out of these crowds soon, okay?”

  Carey nodded, but she quaked with fear. Would she ever feel safe? Reilly wanted to make her feel better, but he didn’t honestly know how safe they were anywhere. Mark had proven to have a long reach.

  Reilly’s resolve to give her back her life strengthened. She couldn’t continue to live this way.

  They waited in line for close to an hour to pay for their purchases, keeping their faces forward, heads down. While the waiting was tedious, the frazzled cashier would never remember them. Reilly paid for their items with cash and they collected their bags from the turntable.

  “Thank you,” Carey said to Reilly as they headed to the car, nodding toward the bags. “I’ll pay you back.”

  Reilly shook his head. “Consider it a Christmas gift.”

  She smiled at him. “Thank you.” The word was spoken with genuine gratitude and he wished he had had time to get her a real gift. If a few necessities made her happy, how would she feel about jewelry or—

  Whoa, jewelry? Where had that come from? Jewelry was a gift for a girlfriend. He was trying to keep boundaries defined, not blur them and ruin the case. First, he’d take care of the Vagabond Killer and Mark. Then, he’d take care of Carey.

  Hiking to the end of the lot where they had parked the rental, they threw their bags into the backseat of the car. They climbed inside and Reilly turned on the engine and heater. He rifled through the bags, found the prepaid cell phone he’d bought, and plugged one into the car to charge the battery. He powered it on and dialed Vanessa, wanting an update on the situation.

  “I’ve been trying to call you. I even tried calling your parents’ place. Where have you been?” she asked.

  “I shut off my phone.” He wasn’t taking any unnecessary chances. “Did you get your phone wiped?”

  Vanessa blew out her breath. “Yes, the IT guys gave me a new one and confirmed there was spyware on my other one. How am I supposed to get messages to you if you’re not going to answer?”

  “Leave me a voice mail. I’ll check them from time to time.”

  Vanessa harrumphed. “Fine. I was trying to call you about the suspect we had in custody, John Sundry. After we released him, we kept a couple of tails on him, just in case. He lost them.” A tremor of fear ran through Vanessa’s voice.

  Reilly gripped the steering wheel, tension knotting in his shoulders. “When? How?”

  “This afternoon. Sundry went into a diner and never came out. They searched high and low. He’s in the wind,” Vanessa said.

  Reilly swore inwardly. “Are you somewhere safe?”

  “The lieutenant insisted I stay with him and his wife. Anyone closely connected to the case has been put on alert. Do you think we made a mistake? Do you think we had the right guy?”

  “Men with nothing to hide don’t run.” After his visit with Brent, Reilly was doubly convinced they’d had the right man and he’d been sprung with evidence manufactured by Mark.

  He heard Vanessa drumming her fingers on something hard. “I’ll call if anything changes. Be careful out there.” A touch of warmth tinged her voice.

  “You do the same.”

  He disconnected the call and looked at Carey. She waited for him to speak, her eyes wide. “Something happened. Please, tell me quickly.”

  He hated delivering more bad news. “They had a tail on John Sundry, the man they had arrested as being the Vagabond Killer. They lost him.”

  Carey wrapped her arms around her midsection as if trying to hold herself together. “He’s coming for me, isn’t he?”

  Not if Reilly had any say in the matter. “He has to find you first.” And it was his job to make that impossible.

  They traveled away from the city, searching for lodging, any safe place for them to stay. They were turned away by three hotels before they found one with a vacancy. The hotel was six stories high, the windows facing the front lined with garland. Green wreaths with red bows decorated them and trees trimmed with gold garland and shimmering Christmas ornaments filled the lobby.

  Reilly checked in and they took the elevator to the third floor. They needed to rest, and weariness was showing on Carey’s face.

  He called Harris on his cell and when he didn’t answer, Reilly left the number to one of the cell phones. Then he tucked it in his pocket, flopped on the bed and listened to the sound of children tearing up and down the hallway, their hotel room doors slamming, parents commanding them to be quiet, and giggles of excitement drifting under their door.

  The sound brought back memories of his childhood Christmases.

  Carey rifled through her duffel and pulled out her toothbrush and toothpaste. “I’m going to get ready for bed.” She flipped her dark hair over her shoulder and gave him a small smile.

  The urge to go to her and band his arms around her torpedoed through him. “You okay?” he asked, hearing something resonate in her voice.

  She looked at the carpet. “Christmas makes me miss my father.”

  Reilly swung his feet to the floor and gestured for her to come closer. She crossed the room and sat on his knee, resting her head on his shoulder. Tenderness crackled in the space between them.

  “I know you think he was a bad man, but to me he wasn’t a criminal. He was my dad.” She wiped away a tear with her finger. “He took good care of me. After my mom left us, he had to be both parents and he didn’t let me down. He came to my school events and he helped me with my homework.” She swallowed hard. “It’s hard to be alone.”

  R
eilly slipped his arms around her. “You aren’t alone. We’re together.”

  She bit her lip and brought her hand to his hair, running her fingers through it, pushing it away from his face. The gentleness of her touch ignited heat in his body.

  “You should go to your parents’ ranch and be with your family for the holiday. Your brothers came home so you could be together,” she said.

  Reilly read the sadness in her eyes, the guilt swimming there. He had committed to her and he was staying the course. “I told you. I’m not abandoning you.”

  She looked away from him. “I’m sorry for this. I don’t know what to do next. Do you hear those children?” She pointed toward the door.

  “Kinda hard not to. Do you want me to ask them to be quiet?” He didn’t mind their laughter, but she was under a lot of stress. Maybe it was grating her.

  “No. They aren’t bothering me. They’re having fun. They’re with their families. I’ll never get to have that. I’ll never have a baby to hold in my arms or a husband who comes home to me at night. The best I can hope for is to find people to spend a holiday or two with before I have to change cities.” Her voice cracked and she covered her face with her hands.

  He gathered her close and stroked her hair. Her shoulders shook, wracked by sobs. “It’s going to be okay. We’re going to find the Vagabond Killer and we’re going to find Mark. You’ll have those things.”

  He could picture her as a mother, fierce and protective, yet willing to let her children explore. And in that picture, he could see himself beside her.

  The realization caught him off guard. Why was he thinking about these things? The holiday getting to him? Or her? Was she getting to him? He’d hoped they’d have a future, at some point after this case was over, but the permanence of his vision startled him.

  Her breath heated his shoulder in uneven puffs. “I’m getting too emotional because I’m tired. I’ll be okay.” She spoke the words but made no attempt to move away. “I think you should go back to the ranch for the holiday.”

  He struggled with half a mind to push her away and half a mind to never let her go. “I’m sure they’d love to have both of us there.” He wanted her with him.

  She sniffed and wiped at her eyes. “How can you be sure we won’t be followed? Or that Mark isn’t waiting for us there?”

  “We’ve zigzagged too much. No one has been following us. My dad would have called if anyone was on the property.”

  She relaxed infinitesimally. “Why don’t you call them and talk it over? I’ll leave you alone and get ready for bed. I won’t hold you to anything.”

  Reilly leaned away and looked at her. It saddened him that she expected people—him in particular—to let her down. “I have a little surprise for you.”

  She inclined her head. “What kind of surprise? Last few weeks, my surprises have been bad ones.”

  He shifted her to the bed and went to the pile of superstore plastic bags. Searching through them, he found what he was looking for and lifted the bag in triumph. “Bubble bath and bath salts.”

  She smiled through her tears, a beautiful sight. “How did you know I wanted them?”

  She had wanted them. It pleased him he’d been right in reading her reaction. “I saw you eyeing them. And my mom loves things like that, so I figured you could use a little pampering. It’s not much...”

  Carey took the bag from him and reached her free hand to the back of his neck. She pulled his face to hers, their noses brushing against each other. “Thank you for this. Thank you for everything you’ve done. You’re—” she paused, as if searching for the words “—you’re an amazing man.”

  “You’re welcome,” he said, electricity shooting between them.

  Pulling on his neck, she pressed his mouth flush to hers, her lips tickling his. She dropped the bag to the floor and brought both hands around his neck, anchoring herself to him.

  He’d wanted to put off thoughts of the future to some later point, but he couldn’t seem to keep them from popping into his head. Whenever he’d tried to resist her, he’d failed. Deep down, she was who he wanted. Why was he denying it? Why was he pushing her away?

  She meant more to him than a linchpin holding together a case.

  Her inability to believe she had a future, made her believe they had only now. He’d show her they had now and they had later.

  Her mouth opened beneath his and he tasted her, mint and coffee. Deep kisses, hard kisses, soft kisses, his mouth explored hers. It had been too long since he had kissed her, since she had been in his arms. His hands hummed with pleasure as he slid them from her hips to her lower back, molding her against his body.

  The boundaries he’d constructed took one final blow and then tumbled down. Denial hadn’t worked and trying to put his feelings on hold had transformed his hunger into starvation. He sensed her need, her hunger as deep as his own, and his body responded to it. He was no longer a detective protecting a witness; he was a man protecting his woman. This time, he wouldn’t sneak away or let worry and fear control him. This time, he was promising her a future. A future with him.

  He could only think about her, her body pressed into his, her lips brushing his, her scent invading his nostrils. She intoxicated him. At this moment he never wanted to be separated from her.

  A small sigh sounded in the back of her throat, escalating his excitement, heating the air around them to a sizzle and burn. She pushed her hips against his. Her hands slipped from his neck to his chest, her fingertips pressing into his flesh, searing him with her heat, her intensity.

  Every time they came together, heat and lightning exploded between them. He took a step toward the bed and she moved with him, her thigh brushing his, fire whipping up his body. Two more steps and a small shove from her and his back hit the bed, his arms pulling her down. Her hair created a curtain around them as she held herself over him.

  “Reilly.”

  “Hmmm?”

  “Your pocket is vibrating.”

  He didn’t care about the phone. “Ignore it. It will stop.”

  He ran his hand along the waistband of her pants, touching the blazing skin of her midsection. Her skin was soft, her breasts pressing into his hard chest. The vibrating phone stopped. He reached for the hem of her shirt to peel it over her head. The phone vibrated again.

  Lifting his head and groaning, he rolled her to the side. He wanted to fling the phone away. He didn’t want to answer. He didn’t want to know whatever news would be delivered or answer whatever questions were going to be asked.

  “It might be important,” she said, her voice soft, even as her fingers trailed down his thigh.

  He dug in his pocket for the prepaid phone, Harris’s number lighting on the display. Taking a deep breath, he answered.

  Carey got out of bed, picking the plastic bag containing her bubble bath off the floor. She swung it on her finger and went into the bathroom, winking, and then closed the door behind her.

  “Did I wake you? You sound like you were sleeping,” Harris said.

  Sleeping...in the throes of passion. Whatever. “It’s been a rough couple of days.”

  “We’ve managed to dig up some information and compile a few theories.”

  His family was a brain trust of information about criminals. He would bet they’d had hours of conversation, debating Mark’s psyche and the Vagabond Killer’s next move. “Anything you have will help. We don’t know where either Mark or John Sundry are.”

  Harris blew out his breath in a huff. “They released Sundry and didn’t put a tail on him?”

  “He shook the tail. No one’s seen him since this morning.”

  “Are you somewhere safe?”

  “Relatively.”

  “Come home. You’re safest here,” Harris said.

  Carey hadn’t seemed convinced it was the best option, but she didn’t know his family as well as he did. They were safest watching each other’s backs. “We will. Soon,” Reilly said. He was on limited minutes and he
wanted the information Harris had gathered. “What did you come up with?”

  “We couldn’t find a link between them prior to John Sundry being held in jail. But Mark has a long history of run-ins with the law, all of them resulting in him coming up blameless of any wrongdoing.”

  Reilly snorted. “How many palms did he grease for that fortuitous result?”

  “More than I want to think about,” Harris said. “I’ve brought a few inconsistencies to the attention of the right people, people we can trust to do the right thing.” Harris cleared his throat. “Haley Leone has been missing in action for nearly a year. She doesn’t have any pending warrants for her arrest, but she’s listed as a missing person and a person of interest in several cases involving both her father, deceased, and Mark Sheffield.”

  Not what he wanted to hear. He’d wanted Carey to come back innocent of any wrongdoing. “She admitted she knows things about Mark. She’s too afraid to spill them.”

  “If she’s willing to come forward, we can make a case that she acted under duress, and taking into account her clean record and her father’s death, I think the D.A. would agree her fleeing was for her own protection.”

  Reilly wanted to abscond with her, to keep her safe and prevent any of the difficulties that were coming her way. “What about John Sundry? Any history?”

  Reilly heard Harris clicking at his computer. “From the age of four, he was in the foster-care system. Most of those records are sealed, but we can assume he was another lost child. He served a brief stint in the military, dishonorably discharged for going MIA in battle.”

  “Does that fit the profile? He kills people. Why avoid conflict in wartime?”

  Harris typed some more. “He attacks people weaker than he is. An opponent pointing a gun at him would terrify him. He needs the violence to sate his anger, but he won’t attack someone he perceives as stronger.”