Shielding His Christmas Witness

by Laura Scott

  “Any problems?” Michael asked.

  Marc set a bag on the table next to the computer, glanced over at her, then shook his head. “No. It cost me a little money, that’s all.”

  Michael grunted then grabbed his jacket. “Let me know if you need anything.”

  “I will. Thanks again for coming out.”

  “No problem.” Marc’s brother drew on his coat then let himself out without saying anything more.

  “Talkative guy,” she said.

  That made Marc smirk. “Yeah, Mike isn’t much for chitchat.”

  “I noticed.” She watched as he pulled out his phone and crossed over to her. “What did you find out?”

  “Jamison got his tattoo at the same time two others did. These are their designs.” He showed her the photograph on his phone. “I know it’s small, but do you think you can draw them for me? I stopped and picked up a drawing pad and pencils at the store on my way back.”

  She peered at the side-by-side images on the phone. “I can draw them, but it would be better if they were blown up bigger.”

  “Well, there’s no need to start tonight. You can draw them in the morning.”

  “I’m awake now,” she pointed out. “Might as well make good use of my time. What will you do with the sketch?”

  “Get it into the database, see if we can get any hits.”

  She gnawed her lower lip. “But I thought we couldn’t use the FBI computer system.”

  He nodded. “I’m thinking of making a quick stop at my place, at least long enough to check these additional tattoos. I need to know if they match anyone we’ve arrested in the past.”

  She frowned. “You’re not going to leave me behind again, are you?”

  “That depends. But let’s work on getting the sketches done first, okay?”

  “All right.” She slid the drawing pad out of the bag, admiring the thick paper. He’d also purchased a large package of pencils in a variety of colors. Eager to get started, she took a seat at the table, opening the pencils and spilling them out on the table. “Wouldn’t it be easier to send the images to the computer?”

  “I thought of that, but the images are a little blurry. I think your sketches will work better.”

  “Okay.” She didn’t mind doing them. In fact, she was glad to be able to help.

  Marc fiddled with the phone, setting it up so she could see the images. She opened the sketchbook, picked up a black pencil and began to draw.

  Everything in the room around her faded away, even Marc. Immersing herself into her art, she created the first image, adding color since he’d purchased the pencils.

  When she finally looked up, she was surprised to see that Marc was watching her intently. She blushed when she realized he’d probably been staring at her the entire hour that it had taken her to complete the drawing.

  Odd that she hadn’t noticed. Normally, she didn’t like to have people watching while she worked. But for some reason, she wasn’t as self-conscious around Marc.

  “What do you think?” She turned the sketch so he could see what she’d done.

  “Incredible.” The admiration in his tone made her blush. “I know I said this before, but you’re very talented.”

  “Obviously, you haven’t spent enough time around art,” she teased. She flipped over the page and picked up the black pencil again.

  Forty-five minutes later she tossed down the pencil with a sigh. There was a dull ache between her shoulders from sitting so long and her vision was beginning to blur, but she’d finished them. “Here you go. I hope these additional tattoo designs help find the men who assisted in setting up the bank robberies.”

  Marc stood and came over to take the sketchbook, setting it aside. “You look exhausted. Can you stand or should I carry you?”

  “I can stand.” At least she thought she could. She planted her hands on the table and levered herself upright, keeping her weight off her injured ankle.

  Marc muttered something under his breath and then she was up and in his arms for the second time that day. He carried her into her room and gently set her down on the bed.

  His face was dangerously close for several long heartbeats before her arms dropped away, allowing him to step back.

  “Good night,” he murmured, turning off the light as he left the room.

  “Good night.” She rested back against the pillow, Marc’s sandalwood scent surrounding her, providing a comfort that had eluded her earlier.

  Moments before she succumbed to sleep, she realized that she was depending on Agent Marc Callahan a little too much. Not just to keep her safe from harm. But for emotional support, as well.

  A weakness she could not afford.

  * * *

  Sleep didn’t come easy to Marc. He kept thinking about how close he’d come to kissing Kari. Completely inappropriate thoughts, because not only was she his witness and his responsibility, but she was pregnant with another man’s child.

  Kari’s pregnancy kept reminding him of Jessica’s secret. Granted Kari’s situation was different than Jessica’s decision to have an affair, but he couldn’t deny the deep-seated urge to stay far away from having anything to do with Kari’s unborn child.

  So why had he almost kissed her?

  Because he’d been alone too long in the two years since Jessica’s death. Even as the excuse filtered through his mind, he knew he was lying to himself.

  Truth was, he liked and admired Kari. Her strength, her resilience, her determination to do whatever was necessary for the sake of her baby. She was the opposite of Jessica in so many ways.

  Kari was the last thing Marc thought about when he finally fell asleep and she was also the first person he thought about when he woke up the following morning. A fact that made him grumpy.

  After a quick shower, he yanked on his clothes while planning his next steps. He didn’t want to use the new computer to log in to the FBI database, which left only one alternative. If he used the desktop computer he had at home, the leak within the task force could only trace the access back to his house. And he figured that once that happened, he and Kari would be long gone.

  It could work. If there wasn’t someone keeping a close eye on his place. Which he had to believe there was. All he needed was a way to get in without being seen.

  His condo was on the tenth floor of a building that overlooked Lake Michigan and the parking garage was located underground. The truck he’d borrowed from Mitch couldn’t be connected to him, so if they could get inside, taking the elevator up to his place wouldn’t be difficult.

  A surge of adrenaline pulsed through his bloodstream. If he pulled this off, the risk was minimal, at least in the grand scheme of things.

  He heard movement from Kari’s room, indicating she was up. A glance at his watch told him that it was seven thirty in the morning. Plenty of time to eat breakfast before heading downtown.

  When he poked his head through the doorway, he noticed her bathroom door was closed. Since she needed time to get ready, he decided to make coffee, using the tiny coffeemaker supplied by the motel.

  Marc found himself staring at Kari’s drawings, wondering about the three men who’d gone in together to Mikio’s tattoo shop. Terrance Jamison had been one of the men, but he needed to know about the other two men. There was no guarantee that they were Jamison’s accomplices, but it was a good place to start.

  Hopefully, they’d get a hit in the federal crime database.

  “Good morning.” Kari’s soft voice broke into his troubled thoughts and when he glanced up at her, he was struck once again by how pretty she was. Her brown hair was still damp, framing her face and touching her shoulders. Her cheeks were flushed and her dark eyes were wide and bright, fringed with long lashes. She didn’t wear an ounce of makeup and he never realized how much he li
ked her natural beauty.

  “Good morning.” His voice came out husky and he cleared his throat awkwardly as he rose to his feet. “How’s the ankle?”

  “A little better,” she said, glancing down at her foot. “It doesn’t hurt as much today and I think the swelling is finally going down.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.” He picked up her sketchbook. “Are you hungry? The restaurant across the street serves breakfast.”

  “Very.” She smoothed her hand over her stomach, and he almost asked if she could feel the baby moving again.

  Not his business, he reminded himself.

  “Let’s go. We’ll need to take everything with us. We’re not going to stay here for another day.”

  “Where are we going?” she asked, taking the sketchbook from his hand and scooping up the pencils and then tucking them into a plastic bag. Marc shut the computer, then tucked it under his arm. “I mean, after breakfast. You mentioned going to your place to get access to the FBI database?”

  “Yeah, that’s still the plan. I’ll explain over breakfast.”

  Kari nodded.

  He opened the door, letting in a cold blast of air. “Wait here. It’s too slippery.”

  After storing the laptop behind the driver’s seat, he started the engine and turned the heat on high as he brushed the snow from the windshield. When he was finished, he went back inside for Kari.

  “Hang on to my arm,” he said. “I don’t want you to fall and twist the other ankle.”

  “I hope I’m not that clumsy,” she muttered, but he noticed she held on tight while taking careful steps to get over to the truck. There were no running boards for her to use, so once again he hoisted her into the seat.

  The parking lot of the restaurant had been salted and plowed, so the going was easier there. Once they were settled into a booth and had placed their orders, he filled Kari in on his plan.

  “You really think someone might be watching your condo?” she asked when he’d finished. She took a sip of her decaf coffee, eyeing him over the rim.

  “It’s what I would do,” he responded.

  “Shouldn’t you ask one of your brothers to help?”

  “Not this time. The truck is our best disguise since they have no idea what we’re driving. We have a good chance of getting into the parking garage without being noticed, especially if you crouch down in the seat.”

  “They might still recognize you.”

  He shrugged. “I’ll stop and pick up a hat and sunglasses. We’ll be fine.”

  The waitress arrived with a large tray of food. He sat back so she could set down the plates as she warned them they were hot. She refilled their coffee, and then left.

  Marc glanced at Kari and reached his hand across the table. “Let’s pray,” he suggested.

  Her smile lit up her entire face, and she took his hand, then bent her head. “Dear Lord, we thank You for this food we are about to eat. We also thank You for keeping us safe in Your care. Please continue to guide us on Your chosen path. Amen.”

  “Amen,” Marc echoed, reluctantly releasing her hand. He couldn’t deny a sense of peace that washed over him as soon as they finished their prayer, and he felt ashamed that he’d allowed himself to stray from his faith.

  His mother, his whole family, would be disappointed if they knew the truth. And he was grateful for Kari for reminding him about what was really important.

  The food tasted great, but they didn’t linger too long. He paid the bill in cash and they both used the restrooms before heading back outside.

  The sky was partly cloudy, but there was enough sunlight to provide a good excuse for wearing sunglasses. He pulled into the first drugstore he found, bought what he needed then returned to the truck.

  “Ready?” he asked, glancing over at Kari.

  “Sure. When do I need to crouch down on the floor?”

  “I’ll let you know when we’re within a few miles,” he promised. He didn’t like the idea of her crouching down on the floor without the ability to wear a seat belt, but it wouldn’t be for long.

  When they were a mile from his usual exit, he looked over at her. “I need you to get down now.”

  She quickly unlatched the seat belt and slid down onto the floor. The truck was so large, and she was so tiny, she fit just right.

  Wearing a knit hat and sunglasses, Marc kept a keen eye out for any sign of a vehicle that seemed out of place. Since Kari had smashed their windshield, he couldn’t be sure if they’d replaced the broken window or switched cars.

  He didn’t see anything out of place until he turned the corner to approach the entrance to the parking structure located halfway down the street. A black SUV with tinted windows was parked on the opposite side of the road.

  A coincidence? Or were the gunmen inside, watching?

  With his heart pounding, he slowed down, knowing that he had to act as if he belonged there. Just before he turned into the parking garage a large semitruck with the name of a food supplier painted on the trailer came lumbering down the road from the opposite way, momentarily blocking him from view.

  Taking the opportunity, he clicked the remote on his key chain to gain access to the parking garage. The door opened with excruciating slowness, but soon he was inside. He glanced in the rearview mirror, grateful to see that the semitruck was still out on the street. He quickly hit the remote, closing the door behind them.

  He drove in and parked next to his car located in his designated parking spot and shut off the engine. He knew his neighbor traveled for business, so Garrett’s truck would be okay there for a while. As much as he wanted to believe they were safe, he couldn’t deny the fact that there was only one way out of the underground garage and that was going out the same way they’d come in.

  Driving right past the SUV with tinted windows. He could only hope and pray that either the vehicle was long gone by then or that they’d manage to get away safely.

  NINE

  Admittedly curious about Marc’s home, Kari followed him into the elevator located straight across from where he’d parked. The interior was lined with floor-to-ceiling mirrors, and she winced when she saw her reflection standing next to him.

  Even wearing the knit cap over his dark hair, he looked tall, handsome and strong. His square jaw was covered in a five o’clock shadow since there were no razors at the motel, but somehow that only made him more attractive. She felt short and chunky beside him in her secondhand winter coat, leggings and rounded abdomen. Her hair looked dull and limp thanks to not having a brush. The only saving grace was her dark eyes.

  Wait a minute, what was she thinking? That she wanted Marc to think of her as pretty? As a woman he might one day be interested in? Talk about letting her imagination run amuck—he’d already made it clear that there was nothing personal between them. That he was only doing his job in protecting her as a witness, keeping her safe.

  And she was grateful to him for that. For everything he’d done for her since the safe house had been breached. He’d rescued her from the tree house and shielded her from harm on multiple occasions. To expect anything more would be incredibly selfish.

  She pushed the ridiculous longing away, watching as the elevator rose up one level at a time. When they reached the tenth floor, Marc stepped aside, giving room for her to walk out first. Their footsteps were soundless on the plush carpet as they approached the door to the left of the elevator. Marc used his key to unlock the door, then stepped back to allow her to go inside first.

  When she crossed the threshold, she was oddly disappointed to see the place looked like something out of a fancy magazine. Lots of beige, black, white, glass and chrome, nothing seemingly out of place.

  No color? How in the world did he live without color?

  As if sensing her disappointment, Marc grimaced. “I k
now it looks a little impersonal, but I don’t spend a lot of time here. I’m usually at work or spending the weekend with my family.”

  She nodded, wondering what his mother thought about the stark decor. Not that his choices were any of her concern.

  “Don’t use any lights and stay away from the windows,” he cautioned as he took off his coat and tossed it over a chair. “We don’t want to alert anyone that we’re inside.”

  “Okay.” She removed her coat, too, draping it over his. “Do you have a home office?”

  “This way.” He led the way down a short hall to the first door on the right. The office was just as austere as the rest of the living quarters. The only difference was that he had a framed photograph of his family sitting on his desk. Curious, she moved closer to get a better view.

  An older couple stood in the center of the photo, with Marc and his brothers and sister surrounding them. They were all smiling broadly for the camera, except she noticed Michael’s smile wasn’t as open and friendly as the rest. She wondered why his expression seemed a bit guarded.

  “My parents’ thirtieth wedding anniversary,” Marc murmured, coming up beside her. “Taken about three years before my father was killed in the line of duty.”

  She touched the frame with the pads of her fingers, wishing she could meet everyone in Marc’s family. “I’m sorry for your loss. You must miss him very much.”

  “Yeah.” He hesitated, as if he might say something more, but simply moved away and turned on his computer. She took the sketchbook out of the bag and handed it to him. He placed her drawing on the combo printer and scanner and then sat down behind the desk to go to work.

  Kari tore her gaze from the family photograph and tried to think of something to do to occupy her time. She wandered back into the living room, knowing she couldn’t go near the windows, but still enjoying the amazing view of Lake Michigan.

  As beautiful as it was, she couldn’t imagine living here. It was too cold, too impersonal. Too downtown. If there had been any lingering fantasies about getting together with Marc on a personal level when the trial was over, seeing the way he lived in the fancy condo squashed them like a bug.