Marshal On A Mission
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With that in mind, he saw a woman with a pencil in her hand and a sketching pad in front of her. Her partner’s Hawaiian-themed T-shirt was only a bonus. They were as good a place to start as any.
It was on the sixth try that he hit the jackpot. The woman he asked had not only heard of Tara but she had spoken to her only an hour ago. Within minutes, he was heading toward the sun-faded red stone building where the woman had directed him.
He couldn’t believe it had been this easy. He always felt that easy meant trouble. He walked along the uneven and narrow cobblestone street. It was crowded with merchants, shoppers and even the occasional donkey. As he did, he worried that there was something he had missed.
Five minutes later, he stopped on the edge of a yellow brick building at the junction of two streets. He saw the long blond hair first. It streamed freely down her back. He headed in that direction, going up a short flight of stairs to a small courtyard with a half dozen white metal tables and chairs to where the blond-haired woman was wiping a table.
“Excuse me,” he said.
She turned but it wasn’t Tara and disappointment bit deep.
“I was looking for Tara Munroe,” he began.
“Tara,” the woman said with a bright lilt to her voice. She held out her hand, her eyes alight with an admiration that was impossible to miss. “Siobhan.”
He gave her the briefest of handshakes and didn’t offer his name.
“Is she here?”
The smile she gave him was slightly flirtatious, but her eyes went somewhere over his shoulder.
“Tara,” Siobhan called. “Someone to see you.”
He felt someone else, someone watching from behind. He turned as a door leading away from the common area swung open and another blonde stood there. But this one was familiar.
He knew those high cheekbones. He knew that slightly rounded face. And he knew the dark brown eyes that now held a combination of curiosity and fear. He’d know that face anywhere. He’d looked at it enough times during the flight here, and he’d remembered the girl she’d been, of course. Still, he was stunned by the woman she’d become.
She gave an air of both confidence and fragility. She had matured into a soulful combination of beauty and innocence. If he’d been able to paint at all, he’d paint her, he’d...
She’d been the one who painted, not him.
Siobhan moved around him, standing slightly to his left as she looked from one to the other.
“You know each other?”
He couldn’t take his eyes off Tara.
“Trent,” Tara murmured.
His name on her lips was like a seductive whisper. He felt frozen in time. He stared at her, noticing how her hair moved in the light breeze. She was staring back. She looked shocked, as if she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. He couldn’t blame her. After all, he’d arrived on her doorstep, a memory of her past, without warning.
She looked at him as if seeing him for the first time. “Is it really you?”
“It is,” he said and only wanted to hug her, to touch her. To tell her how sorry he was to have left her the way he had all those years ago. He’d apologized for none of that. Even when her father had died, he hadn’t contacted her. Now he stood and waited for her to decide on what the next move would be. He wondered if the past could be redone whether he would have done any better.
She took a step forward. Her beautiful brown eyes were dark, almost stormy, like she sensed trouble. “What are you doing here? Why—”
He glanced at Siobhan. He didn’t want to admit why he was there. Not in front of the woman who seemed determined to protect her.
“It’s all right, Siobhan,” Tara said. “You can leave us alone to talk. I know him.”
As Siobhan left, he pulled out a chair for Tara.
“I can’t believe you’re here and I can’t imagine why,” she said as she accepted the seat he offered.
“I’m a US marshal,” he said.
Her face became pale beneath her light tan. “Like you always wanted to be,” she whispered.
“I did, didn’t I,” he said with some relief at the temporary diversion.
She laced her fingers and her lips pinched together. She refused to meet his eyes as she asked, “Why are you here, Trent?”
“You witnessed a bank robbery in Pueblo, Colorado.” This time it was his official voice speaking.
She looked at him with eyes that seemed weary and doubtful at the same time. Their sheen only reminded him of all she’d been through. He was grateful that he’d put himself forward for this. Grateful that it was him here and not someone else who didn’t know her as he did. Seeing her like this only told him that she needed him.
“Tara.” He reached over and took one of her hands in both of his. Her palm was clammy. It was as if the very mention of what had happened, what she had run from, threw her into an immediate panic. He hoped that he was wrong, that his assessment was off but...
“I can’t believe they sent you all the way here,” she said in a voice that was tired, drained even.
The act of keeping it together seemed to have slipped, like she was too tired to care. He was glad of that. Playing games would only lengthen the process. He wanted to fast-track this and get her home, where he had more resources.
“There wasn’t a choice,” he said, pushing his thoughts aside.
“What do you mean?”
“You’re the only witness. Which means that you could put a notorious bank robber behind bars.”
“I know but I’m scared. After what happened to my dad.” She took a breath. “He had police security assigned.”
“A marshal,” he corrected.
“And it didn’t matter. He was the witness that could put a drug dealer away and he was shot in public.” Her voice choked off and it was a moment to regain her control.
He waited, knowing that there was nothing he could do or say that would change any of it.
“I just know that I’m safe here.”
“No, Tara, you’re not.”
“I don’t like where this is going,” she said.
“It was a mistake to run, Tara. You’re safer at home, under my protection. Your testimony will be needed should this ever go to trial. And...”
She was shaking her head. He tried not to be mesmerized by those dark soulful eyes that saw everything, or so it seemed. He’d forgotten that about her. As he’d grown up and forged an adult life, there were things he didn’t want to remember. But now with her here, no longer a memory and with her eyes fixed on him, he couldn’t look away. He remembered everything about her, eclipsing what he’d forgotten. He pulled his thoughts back to reality, to the situation and not the girl he’d once thought he’d loved. That girl was now a woman he had to protect.
“I’m flattered that you took on this assignment, Trent, but it wasn’t necessary.”
Her look said that because she knew him, she also knew what he was about. Some of that was true. But if that was what she thought, she had a whole lot wrong—dangerously wrong.
“Flattered?” He bit back a knot of anger. What the hell was she saying? She thought he did this out of kindness or some misguided gesture of goodwill? “There’s men who will kill you for what you saw.”
Her face lost what color it had. “That’s why I’m here, Trent. Where no one can find me. I’ll stay until this all blows over and then I’ll go home and give my testimony.”
“It’s not going to blow over. You need—”
“I don’t need your protection, not here. I’m far enough away. I’ll be safe.”
“Tara...”
“No, Trent.” She looked distraught.
On the nearby street, a guitar began to softly chord a melody that was as strange as it was beautiful. He glanced over and saw a man sitting with his back against the dusty red stone wall of a building, one leg stretched out as he played his guitar. In another situation, it would be romantic.
He turned his attention from the guitarist and to Tara. He needed her cooperation and he needed it quickly. There was no time to mince words. And yet, contradictorily, he didn’t want to frighten her. She’d been through enough but... The thought broke off. She needed to know. He had to tell her to keep her safe.
“You’re in danger. Mexico might be another country, but despite that, you didn’t run far enough.”
“What do you mean?”
“Someone broke into your house after you left, Tara. We can only assume that they saw the same note we did. Your flight information was easy to find, left on the kitchen counter.”
“Someone? What do you mean? What are you implying?”
He brought his hand flat on the table. “Damn it, Tara. Do you have any idea your value dead?”
“No.” Her voice was barely a whisper.
“The stakes are high, Tara. These thieves have a lot to lose. If they take you out, they keep the money, their freedom and carry on with their crime spree. Essentially, they profit from your death.” He paused, hating the brutal truth to his words. “We won’t let that happen. That’s why I’m here.”
“They found me?” her voice was soft.
“There’s no indication of that,” he said.
“What if they do?”
“Then I do my job. I keep you alive.”
Chapter Four
“I thought running was enough,” Tara said and her voice trembled. Her fingers were interlaced in front of her as if that would keep her steady.
“I’m sorry, Tara. I know that was harsh. And no, it wasn’t that you didn’t run far enough, it was that you tried to do it alone. The truth is that you’re a witness who could threaten a man’s freedom. You can’t put a price on that.”
Trent regretted laying the facts out so bluntly. But he desperately needed to get her to see how grave the situation was and how much she needed him.
“At home it’s different—I can protect you more easily. I have more resources and I can carry a gun.”
“Back to Pueblo?”
“Not necessarily. Definitely the States,” he said. “Witness protection is being set up. I came after you before getting the details on where you’d be located. You’ll be in witness protection until the trial is over.”
She shook her head as a tremor seemed to run through her.
“Think about it, about going home to the States.” He paused. “With me,” he finished. “I know you just got here but this was a mistake. Running was a mistake.”
“Just like my dad,” she said. Sadness was like a heavy film running through her voice.
“Not like him at all, Tara.” Her father had been killed, shot while under witness protection. He cringed at the thought of how that had all come down. His killer had never seen justice.
“I’m sorry, Tara. I can’t change the past but I guarantee you this, you’ll be safe. I’ll keep you safe.” He took her hands. “I promise.” And he knew that he’d keep that promise or die trying.
She pulled her hands free. “No one can make that kind of promise. Not even you, Trent.”
He skipped over her doubt. “Like I said, I can offer you more protection at home. These men are violent criminals and they’ll do everything they can to prevent being caught.” He looked her in the eye. “You’re the one thing standing between them and their freedom and they may know you’re in Mexico.”
He didn’t know how often he had to repeat it. But their window of time was unknown. He wanted her home where he could ensure her safety. Not here, in a country that he wasn’t unfamiliar with but one where he couldn’t even carry arms. The sooner he got her home the better.
“I’m far enough away. And I’m only a concern to one of them.”
“Maybe. But your testimony could put the one we suspect to be the leader behind bars. Just one of them standing trial will jeopardize the others. You’re the key to ending one of the most successful gangs of armed robbers in recent years. There’s also the possibility of a domino effect. Them turning on each other. In that case, you could put them all behind bars. They’ve killed for money, I don’t think killing for their freedom would be a stretch.” He was going for the shock factor now. He needed her to get on board with going home and he needed her to do it quickly.
He’d give her a day, two at the outside. She’d see things his way soon enough. For now, it wasn’t a bad decision to spend a couple more days than he planned. Inconvenient for him but it was something that could have her more solid in her decision than if he rushed her back. He’d roll with it, but he had one more tool in his arsenal.
Before he could say anything more, however, Siobhan brought out a coffee for each of them.
Trent had to fight to hide his impatience. He’d made an impact on Tara and an interruption was the last thing he needed. Besides that, he’d been going in fast-forward since he’d been assigned the case.
But as he glanced at Tara, he realized how selfish his thoughts were. He was thinking in terms of the end result, not in terms of how this was affecting her. She was safe enough for now. They had time—not a lot, but more than he’d initially allowed for. His being here was shock enough. He reminded himself that as usual, he was coming on too strong. But it was like a clock was ticking in his head. He needed to take a step back. It was clear in the fact that she had run in the first place that she more than realized the danger she was in. His immediate task was to convince her that she couldn’t do it on her own. He had found her and that only made it clear to him that the scuzbag who might be coming after her could find her, too. She needed not just him but the resources that backed him.
“Thanks, Siobhan. I can never get enough. There’s nothing better than a good cup of coffee in the moring.”
“Thanks,” Trent said only because it was expected. In reality he had no desire for coffee. Caffeine was something he didn’t want. But he took the cup. He might not drink it, but he could not ignore the gesture.
“How’s it going?” Siobhan asked.
“Fine,” Tara said. “Trent is an old friend. From high school,” she said with a grimace. “We’ve kept in touch. Although, I sure didn’t expect to find him here but—”
“But here he is,” Trent added, impressed with her bit of improv. Maybe this would work out better than he thought. “We follow each other on social media.”
He could feel Tara’s gaze on him.
He glanced over at her and an understanding seemed to pass between them. For what he’d said was a flat-out lie.
Siobhan looked doubtful, but she didn’t ask any questions.
“How’s it with you?” Tara asked. “Any better?”
Sioban shrugged. “No. Like I said the other day, the place is near empty much of the time. I’m not sure why they keep me on. Not only that, but I saw Carlos turn down potential renters more than once. I’ve heard him and Francesca fight about it and I have absolutely no idea what’s going on but it’s not making this job look too secure.”
Tara turned to Trent. “That’s sure changed since the last time I was here. In fact, I wasn’t sure that I wouldn’t be turned away, they were so busy.”
“No chance of that now,” Siobhan said before returning to work.
“Have a drink with us this evening,” Tara said to her.
Trent had to bite back his surprise and disappointment. She was putting a buffer in place. It was the oldest trick in the book.
“Sure,” Siobhan said with an appreciative look at Trent.
“Okay,” Tara said. “Gloria’s Vino and Tacos at seven.”
A minute later a phone rang and Siobhan headed inside.
Shortly after that, a man who Trent pegged to be approximately sixty came out of the main house. His taller-than-average height and heavier build half hid the thin woman behind him until she moved slightly ahead of him. The woman’s high-heeled sandals and sundress, and his pale blue cotton pants and golf shirt completed a put-together look that made it clear they were going out.
The man’s dark eyes seemed to rake over Trent. But it wasn’t just a look, it was an assessment, an analyzing of who he was or who he might be.
“Carlos, Francesca, this is my friend Trent. Trent, my landlords.” Tara paused as they shook hands and exchanged a few pleasantries.
“He’s here for a few days.”
“Where are you staying?” Francesca asked.
Trent didn’t look at Tara for he didn’t know what her reaction would be to what he was about to say. But now that he was here, there was no way he was not going to do his job and protect her. That meant being nearby. “I thought I’d bunk on Tara’s couch. A night or two,” he clarified.
He could almost feel her outrage. But to her credit, she said nothing.
He didn’t look at her but instead addressed the one thing that he was sure would be uppermost in her landlords’ minds—rent.
“I’ll pay...”
“No,” Carlos said. “I’m not charging for a few days on a hard couch. If you stay longer than that, we’ll work a deal.”
Carlos’s words seemed casual but despite that, Trent felt like he was under a spotlight in the way Carlos looked at him. He seemed to see through him as if he knew a secret about him, as if... The thought trailed off but not his suspicions about Carlos. He wasn’t a regular civilian despite his looks, dress and current profession. There was a look of assurance about him combined with cynicism that Trent had seen before and that piqued his interest.
“You’re sure you’ll be comfortable on her couch?” Francesca asked.
“We have rooms available,” Carlos said.
“I...” He squeezed Tara’s hand as she began to speak. He guessed that finally, she was about to contradict him. He leaned over and kissed her full on the lips. He didn’t have time to think about what he did or how it impacted her. He was just trying to swing things his way.
The kiss was short and his attention was just as quickly turned to the couple, who were now officially his landlords.
“Empty rooms because you refuse to advertise.” Francesca looked at Carlos with a frown.
Carlos laid a hand on his wife’s shoulder. “We’ve already talked about this, Frannie,” he said with a tone of gentle resignation. He turned his attention back to Trent and Tara.
“We’d visit with you,” Carlos said. “But Frannie and I will be late for the show.”
“What do you mean you’re staying on my couch?” Tara asked a minute later when the couple were gone. “You’re kidding me. We’re long over, Trent.”
“It’s not about that,” he said patiently. “I don’t think you understand the seriousness of this. Your life could be in danger, even here. What you saw... These men could come after you. We can’t take the chance that whoever broke into your house isn’t tied to that robbery. If it was, they have your travel information, Tara. They know where you are.”
Her hand stopped in midair with the cup in her hand. She’d admitted an addiction to coffee only a few hours ago. He remembered her comment that had tailed the admission.
THERE’S NOTHING BETTER than a good cup of coffee in the morning.
Now she set the cup down with a bang. Coffee sloshed over the edge of the cup, but her eyes remained on him. “You think they’d find me here?” Panic etched her words.
“It’s a possibility, Tara. We can’t discount it.” He covered her hand with his. “I don’t mean to frighten you but whether that’s the case or not, you’re a major threat. You saw one of their faces. That could put him in jail for a long time. Of course, they would have to know where you lived.”
“Oh no.” Her hand gripped his wrist as if the very touch would give her strength. “When my things dropped out of my purse that day, I lost my artists’ guild card.”
“What!”
“My things scattered onto the sidewalk and I lost my guild card. It had my picture, my address—everything he’d need to find me. And he was right there when I dropped it.” She looked at him with terror in her eyes. “That’s why I couldn’t stay. There was no way it was safe. They know who I am and you’re suggesting that there’s a chance they know where I am?”
Her hand flung sideways. The coffee cup fell over, sending the remains of her coffee across the table. Both of them ignored the trail of liquid that dripped off the edge. Their eyes were locked on each other.
He didn’t know what to say, not at first. What she’d said shocked him. It could bring the worst-case scenario to fruition. Her lips were pinched and her whole demeanor was troubled and yet there was something in the way she looked at him, in the way she no longer looked ready to bolt, that he hoped hinted at trust.
But the reality was that she also looked like she might be sick. “I was in such a rush.” She looked at him with a mixture of sorrow and fear. “I played the odds and unfortunately, I was right. They found my home.” Her lips trembled.
He nodded. Not that he agreed with her action, but he could understand why she’d run. He wasn’t so sure that in the same circumstance, without a law enforcement background, that he might not have done the same, or at least considered it. It didn’t matter whether he agreed or not. Now he had to ensure her safety and to do that he needed her to be in complete agreement that she needed his protection.
“It was bad timing,” he said. “Fortunately, nothing was taken and the house wasn’t trashed. That leads to the conclusion that they were looking for something specific, or someone. That they were looking for you.”
Her hands were clenched in front of her and she looked more frightened now than anything else.
“I plan to bring you home, to a safe house, without delay.”
He knew his mistake as soon as he saw her look of panic. She wasn’t ready to be pushed this hard. It didn’t matter what she now knew—it wasn’t enough. She needed what little time he could give her to let reality set in. He’d seen witnesses react like this before, like the truth was overwhelming when provided all at once. Sometimes it had to be fed to them in small pieces, bit by bit, and then they needed what little time could be offered to digest their situation.
“No, Trent. No, I won’t go. Not yet.” She shook her head. “You’re wrong.”
Cripes, he thought. What did she need? Her denial was too adamant. He needed her buy-in, or at least the start of a buy-in. “They saw your travel itinerary. If it was anyone associated with the robbery, they’d know you’re in Mexico. It would be that easy.”
She folded her arms and there was a set to her chin that wasn’t there before.
“They’ll find you, Tara. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but if they want you bad enough—”
“But they don’t know I’m here in San Miguel de Allende. Mexico is a big country.”
“Don’t they? A mention of San Miguel de Allende being an artist mecca was all it took for me to remember that you’d been here before—twice. I saw that on your social media feed posted three and four years ago. I found both references to San Miguel. That’s wiped now but anyone else could have seen it. They could guess that in Mexico you might return to a place that was familiar.”
“I never thought of that. I—”
“And now if they have your flight itinerary...” He let the sentence drop, let her reach her own conclusions.
“If...” But there was little resistance in the word.
“Mexico City was easy. You gave that one away. It’s clear you don’t know what you’re doing and that is going to spell trouble. They’ll find you.”
He paused, locking into those brown eyes that even in this situation seemed to do something to him. They made him more aware of her as a woman and not the girl he had long left behind. He took her hands, squeezing them between his.
“There are two options here.”
“Don’t give me an ultimatum.” There was anger in her eyes and a shake to her voice. “This is all just speculation. Besides, like I said, Mexico is a big country.”
He remembered that about her. How she’d use anger as a shield. “Not big enough,” he said.
Her eyes were huge in her pale face.
He knew that despite her bravado she was very afraid. He felt bad. He didn’t want her afraid, but he needed her to know that eventually, home was exactly where he’d take her. He also knew this was a lot thrown at her all at once. He needed to give her time. Still, he kept pushing.