by Jillian Hart
He knew how angry a person could get and how every time they opened their mouth they wanted to yell at God or cry until they couldn’t cry anymore.
He pulled into her driveway and they sat there a long time, just sitting, staring at her garage in front of them. Finally, she turned to face him, her eyes still watery, rimmed with red from crying. Her dark brown hair framed her face, her normally dark skin looked a shade or two paler.
Tall and slim, athletic, she’d always been an overachiever, the girl who thought she could do it all. And did. She’d been a star basketball player. She’d ridden barrels all the way to nationals, three times. She’d won the whole thing once.
Now she looked as broken as a person could get, but she still had fighter written all over her.
“Remember when Vicki used to tell you to just go ahead and cry.” He smiled as he remembered his wife, her best friend. That was what time did for a person, it made the memories easier, made smiling easier.
“Yeah, she used to do that. When I broke my ankle, sprained my wrist, had a concussion. ‘Cry,’ she’d say.” She rubbed her hand over her face. “But it didn’t make sense to cry over it. Pain is an emotion.”
Instead of crying Mia would just get mad. A defense mechanism he guessed from her pretty tough childhood, pre-Coopers. She reached for the door of his patrol car. He knew he wouldn’t get much farther with her but he had to try.
“Mia, she would tell you to have faith.”
“Don’t.” She opened the door and looked back at him, one foot on the paved driveway. “Don’t give me the easy answers, the platitudes. It doesn’t help. I can pray. I can have faith. I can believe in God to do all things. But there is one thing that won’t happen.”
“I know.”
She closed her eyes and the tense lines of her face eased. She reached across the car for his hand and held it tight. “I know you do.”
“But I promise you, those words are more than platitudes. It doesn’t feel like it right now, but it is going to get easier.”
“Come in for a cup of coffee?”
Okay, she wanted to change subjects. He radioed in that he’d be out of his car but available on his cell phone. Dispatch responded, and he pulled the keys out of the ignition. Yeah, he did that every single time.
Mia saw the keys go in his pocket and she laughed. With watery eyes and red streaks where tears had made trails down her cheeks, she laughed. He smiled and shrugged; he’d take the humiliation if it made her feel better.
“A guy only makes that mistake once.” He stepped out of his car.
“You know that Gage and Dylan did that to you.”
“Yeah, I know.”
She meant her brothers had hidden his patrol car. He’d been a deputy for two months and those two brothers of hers had spotted his car at the Convenience Counts convenience store, keys in the ignition. He’d been inside grabbing a corndog, and when he walked out, his car was gone. After fifteen minutes of searching on foot, he’d had to radio it in to dispatch. A BOLO, be on the lookout, for a police car.
Reese Cooper had come along a short time later and told Slade his car was parked at the rodeo grounds. Slade and Reese found the car just as three patrol cars zoomed in.
For several years the other deputies had called him BOLO. They still liked to bring it up from time to time.
Mia met him on the sidewalk, her smile still in evidence.
“Nighttime is the worst,” she admitted as she walked up the steps to her front porch.
“I know.” He had to tell her why he’d come looking for her. And he wasn’t looking forward to it.
“I don’t drink coffee,” she said as she unlocked the door to her house.
He followed her through the living room to the kitchen. He hadn’t been inside her house before today. He didn’t know why. He guessed because Vicki and Mia had been best friends. But he and Mia had been friends, too. They’d grown up together. They’d trailered to rodeos together, a bunch of kids sleeping in the backs of trucks and trailers during those two-day events.
After Vicki’s death, he’d been wrapped up in making his life work, in being a dad to his infant son, and Mia had taken a job on a drug task force that required undercover work.
He had to tell her why he was here.
In the kitchen, she bent to pull a coffeepot out of the cabinet. He reached to help her. She smiled a little and backed up, letting him put it on the counter.
“What are they saying about your arm?”
She ran the coffeepot under warm water and then filled it with cold water. He plugged in the machine and stepped back as she did a decent job, left-handed, of pouring water into the reservoir and then fitting a filter into the holder.
“Well, it’s held together with a plate and screws. They did what they could for the damaged nerves.” She looked down at her splinted wrist and shrugged. “I can start physical therapy pretty soon.”
“What about your job?” He measured coffee into the filter and hit the power button.
She walked away, to the window that overlooked her small yard and the two acres of field. He’d always wondered why this place. She had her own land. Each of the Cooper kids had their hundred acres.
“I don’t know about my job, Slade. The doctors say my right hand will suffer weakness because of the nerve damage.” She sighed and didn’t turn to face him. “I don’t know who I am without that job.”
“You’re still Mia Cooper.”
He moved a few steps and almost, almost put his hand on her shoulder, but he couldn’t. She was a friend. She’d been Vicki’s friend. She turned, smiling a sad smile.
“Slade, that’s the problem. Who is Mia Cooper? For the past few years I’ve been everyone but the person I thought I was. I’ve had to pretend to be people that I never wanted to be. I’ve had to forget myself.”
He watched the emotions play across her face, and even in that moment when she seemed to be looking for herself, she was still Mia. She was still the little sister of Reese, Travis, Jackson, the list went on. They were all friends of his. She’d been the kid sister who didn’t want to stay at home with the girls. She’d wanted to do the overnight trail rides with the guys. She’d beaten them at basketball, caught bigger fish, ridden harder, played longer.
“You’re still Mia. You’re stronger than anyone I know. You’ll find yourself.”
“Stronger than you?” She smiled then, a real smile, a flash of white in a suntanned face. “I don’t think so. How’s Caleb?”
“He’s five now and going to preschool a few days a week. He’s a chip off the old block.”
“I bet he is. I haven’t seen him in so long.”
“Stop by sometime.” He let the words slip out, easy because she was a friend.
“Yeah, I will.” She walked back to the coffeepot and saw that he’d already put coffee into the filter.
“You’ve said that before. It would be good for him, to know you.”
“I want to know him.”
“I have to go pretty soon.” He continued to watch her, slim shoulders straight. She nodded but didn’t turn around.
“I’m good.” She answered the question he hadn’t yet asked.
“No, you aren’t. But I’ll let you pretend you are.” Now he had to tell her the real reason he’d come looking for her. “Mia, Nolan Jacobs was released from jail last night.
“Mia?”
“I heard you.” She faced him, anger flashing in her dark eyes.
“What does that mean? He bonded out?”
“I guess so. And the charges have been reduced.”
“No. Butch and I covered all of our bases. We spent six months living that filthy life, away from our families, pretending to be people we weren’t. He had a way out the whole time. That’s how he made us, through an inside source.”
“They aren’t going to drop this. They won’t let you guys down that way.”
She leaned against the counter, nearly as tall as he was. She held her right arm and turned to stare out the window for a long minute. Finally, she looked at him.
“What about Butch’s wife? Does she know?”
“They’re going to tell her.” He considered letting it go, but he couldn’t. “Mia, it would be best if you went out and stayed with your folks for a while. At least until they find a way to bring this guy down.”
“That could take a year. It could take two years. I’m not going to live in fear of him, Slade. I’m staying right here in my house. I’m not going to let him win.”
She turned and poured coffee into a thermal mug. She handed it to him.
“Thanks.” Coffee. It made it seem as if nothing had happened, they weren’t talking life and death. They were friends catching up on the news.
“You’re welcome.”
“And you know I’m going to be out here on patrol. Wherever the money is that went missing, someone is going to be looking for it.”
“You’re going to be watching my house? Please don’t. I’ll feel compelled to feed you and you know I can only cook enchiladas and boxed hamburger meals.” She looked down at her arm. “And I can’t even cook those right now.”
“Maybe I can cook for you.” The words slipped out and then hung there between them.
“Slade...”
He raised a hand to stop her objections. “Friends, Mia, that’s what we’ve always been.”
She gave him a curt nod. “Be safe out there, Slade.”
“I’m always safe.”
She walked with him to the front door. “Yes, I know you are. But Slade, I thought we were safe, too. I thought Butch and I would have each other’s backs. I thought we’d always be able to save each other.”
“You couldn’t have known that you’d been made.”
“I know.” She stood in the front door as he got ready to leave. “Slade, what if I should have known? I keep going over it again and again in my mind, wondering if I saw something that should have given it away.”
“Don’t. I know that it’s easy to second-guess, but it won’t change anything.”
He’d done it, too. He’d thought about it over and over, if he should have known what would happen that night to Vicki. He couldn’t have known. He’d never seen it coming. But for a couple of years he’d beaten himself up, thinking he should have told her not to drive. He should have known there were storms coming.
He should have done something.
For a long minute he stood on Mia’s front porch, thinking back. Yes, he knew how Mia felt. He knew the questions she’d been asking herself since the shooting. It took him by surprise when Mia leaned over and kissed his cheek.
“It was an accident.”
He touched her arm and smiled down at her. “I know. And I’m asking you to be careful.”
“I will.”
“Will you be in church Sunday?”
She sighed and shook her head. “So I can yell at God in public? No, I think yelling at Him on the side of the road is enough for one week.”
He nodded because he got it. “If you need anything, call me.”
“I’m sure you won’t be far away.”
“No, I won’t.”
He walked down the sidewalk to his car, pulling the keys out of his pocket as he walked. He glanced back one last time before getting behind the wheel. Mia still stood in the doorway. She wouldn’t cry again. He knew Mia. She would walk it off. Or jog it off. And unless people who cared pushed, she wouldn’t talk about how much it hurt.
Her family would do that for her. They would push her to talk. He’d patrol and make sure she stayed safe.
Copyright © 2013 by Brenda Minton
When bodyguard Arianna Jackson’s life is in danger, can she learn to let U.S. Marshal Brody Callahan call the shots to keep her safe?
Read on for a preview of GUARDING THE WITNESS by Margaret Daley, coming from Love Inspired Suspense in June 2013.
CHAPTER TWELVE
A HELICOPTER BANKED to the left and descended toward the clearing where Deputy U.S. Marshal Brody Callahan’s new assignment, Arianna Jackson, was being guarded by the three marshals his team would relieve. He used his vantage point above the forest to check the area out. The cabin backed up against a medium-size mountain range on the north and west, while the south and east were bounded by a wall of spruces and other varieties of trees that stretched out for miles. A rugged land—manageable as long as the weather cooperated. It was the end of July, and it had been known to snow at that time in Alaska near the Arctic Circle. He had to be prepared for everything.
As they dropped down toward the clearing, Deputy U.S. Marshal Ted Banks came out of the cabin, staying by the door, his hand hovering near the gun in his holster. Alert. Ted was a good marshal whom he’d worked with before.
The helicopter’s landing skids connected with the ground, jolting Brody slightly. Over the whirring noise of the rotors, he yelled to the pilot, “This shouldn’t take long.”
With duffel bags in hand, Brody jumped to the rocky earth from the door closest to the cabin, while his two partners exited from the other side. Brody ran toward Ted, still on the porch, as the wind created by the rotating blades stirred up dust.
Ted held out his hand and said in a booming voice, “Glad to see you.”
“Ready to see your wife, are you?”
“Yep. I hope you’ve honed your Scrabble skills. This one is ruthless when it comes to the game. I’m going to brush up on my vocabulary with a dictionary before I play her again.”
“I’ve read her file.” Arianna Jackson was the star witness for the trial of Joseph Rainwater, the head of a large crime syndicate in Alaska after witnessing Rainwater killing Thomas Perkins. The man had bled out before the EMTs arrived.
“Doesn’t do her justice. I don’t have anything to add to my earlier phone report this morning. C’mon. I’ll introduce you two.” Ted nodded toward Kevin Laird and Mark Baylor, who were carrying a bag and three boxes of provisions, before Ted turned to open the door.
Brody scanned the rustic interior, noting where the few windows were located, the large fireplace against the back wall, the hallway that led to the two bedrooms and the kitchen area off the living room. His gaze connected with the witness he was to protect.
Arianna Jackson.
Tall, with white-blond hair and cool gray eyes, she looked as though she were a Nordic princess, very capable of taking care of herself from the way she carried herself, right down to the sharp perusal she gave him. From what he’d read, Ms. Jackson had been a good bodyguard caught in a bad situation. Her life would never be the same after this.
She tossed the dishtowel she held on to the kitchen counter, never taking her gaze off him. She assessed him, never indicating what she had decided about him. That piqued his interest.
“These three are our replacements—Brody Callahan, Kevin Laird and Mark Baylor. This is Arianna Jackson,” Ted said, then he headed toward the door. “It’s been quiet this pas
t week except for a mama bear and her cubs.”
“Good. Have you seen anyone in the area?”
“Nope, just the wildlife. We are, even in Alaska, out in the boonies,” Ted said, giving him a salute. “Hope the next time I see you is in Anchorage.”
Brody swung his attention to Arianna, who watched the first team leave. These assignments were intense and never easy on anyone involved. And with Ms. Jackson, the situation was even more so, because Joseph Rainwater was determined to find her and take her out. And the man had the resources and money to carry out that threat.
Her gaze linked with his. “The bedroom on the right is where you all can bunk,” Ms. Jackson said in a no-nonsense voice as she rotated back to finish drying the few dishes in the drain board.
Patience, Lord. I’m pretty sure I’m going to need every ounce of it this next week. He was guarding a woman who was used to guarding others. He doubted she would like to follow orders when she was used to giving them.
Brody nodded to Kevin and Mark to go ahead and take their duffel bags into the room assigned to them. Then Brody covered the distance between him and Ms. Jackson. “We need to talk.”
She turned her head and tilted it. “We do? Am I going to get the lecture about not going outside, to follow all your directions?”
“No, because you guard people for a living and you know what to do. But I do have some news I thought you deserved to know.”
Her body stiffening, she fully faced him, her shoulders thrust back as though she were at attention. “What?”
“Esther Perkins is missing.”
* * *
ARIANNA CLENCHED HER HANDS. “No one would tell me anything about Esther other than she was being taken care of. She didn’t witness the murder. She couldn’t testify about it. What happened?”
“True, but Rainwater thought she might know something concerning the ledger that he interrogated Thomas about and went after her. Or rather, a couple of his men did, since Rainwater is sitting in jail. We moved her out of state while she tried to help us find that ledger long-distance.”
