Can the witness protection program keep her identity secret?

After Allison James finally escapes her marriage to a monster, she becomes the star witness in the case against her deceased husband’s powerful crime family. Now it’s up to US Marshal Jaxson Stevens, Ali’s ex-boyfriend, to keep the WITSEC widow safe. But as the danger escalates and sparks fly, will Jax be able to help Ali escape her ruthless in-laws?

DEBRA WEBB is the award-winning USA TODAY bestselling author of more than one hundred novels, including those in reader-favourite series Faces of Evil, the Colby Agency and Shades of Death. With more than four million books sold in numerous languages and countries, Debra has a love of storytelling that goes back to her childhood on a farm in Alabama. Visit Debra at www.debrawebb.com

Also by Debra Webb

In Self Defense

The Dark Woods

The Stranger Next Door

The Safest Lies

Finding the Edge

Sin and Bone

Body of Evidence

Dark Whispers

Still Waters

Bridal Armor

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

Witness Protection Widow

Debra Webb

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-0-008-90489-0

WITNESS PROTECTION WIDOW

© 2020 Debra Webb

Published in Great Britain 2020

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

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Version: 2020-03-02

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Those employed by the US Marshals Service and the Federal Bureau of Investigation are some of the finest law enforcement folk in our nation. I am in awe of all these dedicated men and women do. As I wrote this story, I took artistic license with certain protocols and operations. After all, romance fiction is about the love story between two people. Everything else is secondary. Enjoy!

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

About the Publisher

Chapter One
Four days until trial
Sunday, February 2
Winchester, Tennessee

It was colder now.

The meteorologist had warned that it might snow on Monday. The temperature was already dropping. She didn’t mind. She had no appointments, no deadlines and no place to be—except here.

Four days.

Four more days until the day.

If she lived that long.

She stopped and surveyed the thick woods around her, making a full three-sixty turn. Nothing but trees and this one trail for as far as the eye could see. The fading sun trickled through the bare limbs. This place had taken her through the last weeks of summer and then fall, and now the end of winter was only weeks away. In all that time, she had only seen one other living human. It was best, they said. For her protection, they insisted.

It was true. But she had never felt more alone in her life. Not since her father died, anyway. That first year after his death, she had to come to terms with being only twenty-four and an orphan. No siblings. No known distant relatives. Just alone.

Bob nudged her. She pushed aside the troubling thoughts and looked down at her black Labrador. “I know, boy. I should get moving. It’s cold out here.”

She was always keenly aware of the temperature and the time. When it was this cold, the idea of an accidental fall leading to a serious injury haunted her. Other times, when she couldn’t bear the walls around her a minute longer, no matter that it was late in the day, she was careful not to stay gone too long. Allowing herself to get caught out in the woods in the dark—no matter that she knew the way back to the cabin by heart—was a bad idea. She started forward once more. Her hiking shoes crunched the rocks and the few frozen leaves scattered across the trail. Bob trotted beside her, his tail wagging happily. She’d never had a dog before coming to this place. When she was growing up, her mother’s allergies wouldn’t allow pets. Later, when she was out on her own, the apartment building didn’t permit pets.

Even after she married and moved into one of Atlanta’s megamansions, she couldn’t have a dog. Her husband had hated dogs, cats, any sort of pet. How had she not recognized the evil in him then? Anyone who hated animals so much couldn’t be good inside. Whatever good he possessed was only skin-deep and primarily for show.

She hugged herself, rubbed her arms. Thinking of him, even in such simple terms, unsettled her. Soon, she hoped, she would be able to put that part of her life behind her and never look back again.

Never, ever.

“Not soon enough,” she muttered.

Most widows grieved the loss of their spouses. She did not. No matter the circumstances, she had never wished him dead, though she had wished many, many times that she had never met him.

But she had met him, and there was no taking back the five years they were married. At first, she had believed the illusion he presented to her. Harrison had been older, very handsome and extremely charming. She had grown up in small-town Georgia on a farm to parents who taught her that fairy tales and dreams weren’t real. There was only reality and the lessons that came from hard work and forging forward even when the worst happened. Suddenly, at twenty-six, she was convinced her parents had been wrong. Harrison had swooped into her life like Prince Charming poised to rescue a damsel in distress.

Except she hadn’t been in distress, really. But she had been so very hopeful that the future would be bright. Desperately hopeful that good things would one day come her way. Perhaps that was why she didn’t see through him for so long. He filled her life with trips to places she’d only dreamed of visiting, like Paris and London. He’d lavished her with gifts: exquisite clothing, endless jewels. Even when she tried to tell him it was too much, more came.

He gave her anything she wanted...except children. He had been married once before and had two college-aged children. Though he was estranged from those adult children, he had no desire to go down that path again. No wish for a chance to have a different outcome. She had been devastated at first. But she had been in love, so she learned to live within that disappointing restriction. Soon after this revelation, she discovered a way to satisfy her mothering needs. She volunteered at Atlanta’s rescue mission for at-risk kids. Several months after she began helping out part-time, she was faced with the first unpleasantness about her husband. To her dismay, there were those who believed he and his family were exceptionally bad people.

The shock and horror on the other woman’s face when she’d asked, “You’re married to Harrison Armone?”

Alice—of course, that wasn’t her name then—had smiled, a bit confused, and said, “I am.”

The woman had never spoken to her again. In fact, she had done all within her power to avoid her. At least twice she had seen the shocked woman whisper something to another volunteer, who subsequently avoided her, as well. Arriving at the center on her scheduled volunteer days had become something she dreaded rather than looked forward to. From that moment she understood there was something wrong with who she was—the wife of Harrison Armone.

If only she had realized then the level of evil the Armone family represented. Perhaps she would have escaped before the real nightmare that came later. Too bad she hadn’t been smart enough to escape before it was too late.

She stared up at the sky, visible only by virtue of the fact that the trees remained bare for the winter. She closed her eyes and tried to force away the images that always followed on the heels of memories even remotely related to him. Those first couple of years had been so blissful. So perfect. For the most part, she had been kept away from the rest of the family. Their estate had been well away from his father’s. Her husband went to work each day at a beautiful, upscale building on the most distinguished street in the city. Her life was protected from all things bad and painful.

Until her covolunteer had asked her that damning question.

The worry had grown and swelled inside her like a tidal wave rushing to shore to destroy all in its path. But the trouble didn’t begin until a few weeks later. Until she could no longer bear the building pressure inside her.

Her first real mistake was when she asked him—point-blank—if there was anything he’d failed to disclose before they married.

The question had obviously startled him. He wanted to know where she had gotten such a ridiculous idea. His voice had been calm and kind, as always, tinged with only the tiniest bit of concern. But something about the look in his eyes when he asked the question terrified her. She hadn’t wanted to answer his question. He had been far too strangely calm and yet wild-eyed. An unreasonable fear that he would track down her fellow volunteers and give them a hard time had horrified her. After much prodding and far too much pretending at how devastated he was, he had let it go. But she understood that deep down something fundamental had changed.

Whether it was the idea that the bond of trust had been fractured, or that she finally just woke up, she could not look at him the same way again.

The worst part was that he noticed immediately. He realized that thin veil of make-believe had been torn. Every word she uttered, every move she made was suddenly under intense scrutiny. He became suspicious to the point of paranoia. Every day was another in-depth examination of what she had done that day, to whom she had spoken. Then he allowed his true character to show. One by one those ugly family secrets were revealed by his actions. Late-night business meetings that were once handled at his father’s house were suddenly held in their home.

One night after a particularly long meeting with lots of drinking involved, he confessed that he had wanted to keep the fantasy of their “normal” life, and she had taken it from him.

From that moment forward, she became his prisoner. He punished her in unspeakable ways for taking away his fairy tale.

Now, even with him dead, he still haunted her.

She shook off the memories and focused on the moment. The crisp, clean air. The nature all around her. She’d had her reservations at first, but this place was cleansing for her soul. She had seen so much cruelty and ugliness. This was the perfect sanctuary for healing.

And, of course, hiding.

Only a few more days until the trial. She was the star witness—the first and only witness who had survived to testify against what was left of the Armone family, Harrison Armone Sr. The man had built an empire in the southeast, and Atlanta was his headquarters. The Armone family had run organized crime for three generations—four if you counted her husband, since he would have eventually taken over the business.

But he no longer counted, because he was dead.

Murdered by his own father.

She had witnessed Mr. Armone putting the gun to the back of Harrison’s head and pulling the trigger. Then he’d turned to her and announced that she now belonged to him, as did all else his son had hoarded to himself. He would give her adequate grieving time, and then he would expect things from her.

Within twenty-four hours, the family’s private physician had provided a death certificate, and another family friend with a funeral home had taken care of the rest. No cops were involved, no investigation and certainly no autopsy. Cause of death was listed as a heart attack. The obituary was pompous and filled half a page in the Atlanta Journal-Constitution.

It wasn’t until three days after the funeral that she had her first opportunity to attempt an escape.

She had prepared well. For months before Harrison’s death she had been readying for an opportunity to flee. She had hidden away a considerable amount of cash and numerous prepaid cards that could not be traced back to her. She’d even purchased a phone—one for which minutes could be bought at the supermarket. When the day came, she left the house with nothing more than the clothes on her back. The money and cards were tucked into her jacket. The entire jacket was basically padded with cash and plastic beneath the layer of fabric that served as the lining. She’d worn her favorite running shoes and workout clothes.

This was another way she had prepared. Shortly after her husband had started to show his true colors, she had become obsessed with fitness and building her physical strength.

The week before her own personal D-day, she had gone to the gym and stashed jeans, a sweatshirt, a ball cap, big sunglasses and a clasp for pinning her long blond hair out of sight beneath the cap in a locker.

When D-day arrived, she had left the gym through a rear exit and jogged the nearly three miles to the Four Seasons, where she’d taken a taxi to the bus station. She’d loaded onto the bus headed to Birmingham, Alabama. In Birmingham, she had boarded another bus to Nashville, Tennessee, and finally from Nashville to Louisville, Kentucky. Each time she changed something about her appearance. She picked up another jacket or traded with another traveler. Changed the hat and the way she wore her hair. Eventually she reached her destination. Scared to death but with no other recourse, she walked into the FBI office and told whoever would listen her story.

Now she was here.

The small clearing where her temporary home—a rustic cabin—stood came into view. The setting sun spilled the last of its glow across the mountain.

In the middle of nowhere, on a mountain, she awaited the moment when she would tell the world what kind of monster Harrison Armone Sr. was. His son had been equally evil, but no one deserved to be murdered, particularly by his own father.

Those last three years of their marriage, when he’d recognized that she knew what he was, his decision to permit her to see and hear things had somehow been calculated. She supposed he had hoped to keep her scared into submission. She had been scared, all right. Scared to death. But she had planned her escape when no one was looking.

The FBI had been thrilled with what she had to offer. But they had also recognized that keeping her alive until and through the trial wouldn’t be easy. Welcome to witness protection. She had been moved once already. The security of the first location where she’d been hidden away had been breached after only three months. She’d had no idea anything was going on when two marshals had shown up to take her away.

So far things had gone smoothly in Winchester. She kept to herself. Ordered her food online and the marshal assigned to her picked up the goods and delivered the load to her. Though she had a small SUV for emergencies, she did not leave the property and put herself in a position where someone might see and remember her.

Anything she needed, the marshal took care of.

The SUV parked next to the house was equipped with all-wheel drive since she lived out in the woods on a curvy mountain road. US Marshal Branch Holloway checked on her regularly. She had a special phone for emergencies and for contacting him. He’d made her feel at ease from the beginning. He was patient and kind. Far more understanding than the first marshal assigned to her had been.

For this she was immensely grateful.

Yes. She had married an evil man. Yes. She had been a fool. But she hadn’t set out to do so. She had been taught to believe the best in everyone until she had reason to see otherwise.

Two years. Yes, it had taken a long time to see past the seemingly perfect facade he had built for her, but she was only human. She had loved him. She had waited a very long time to feel that way again after her first heartbreak at the age of twenty-one.

“Get over it,” she muttered to herself. Beating herself up for being naive wasn’t going to change history.

This—she surveyed the bare trees and little cabin—was her life now. At least until the trial.

In the movies witness protection was made to look like a glamourous adventure, but that could not be farther from the truth. It was terrifying. Justice depended on her survival to testify in court, and her survival depended upon the marshal assigned to her case and on her own actions. The FBI had shown her how much bigger this case was than just the murder of her husband and the small amount of knowledge she had absorbed. The Armones had murdered countless people. Drugs, guns and all sorts of other criminal activities were a part of their network. She alone held the power to end the Armone reign.

No matter that the family was so obviously evil, she still couldn’t understand how a father could murder his son—his only child. Of course, it was Harrison’s own fault. He had been secretly working to overthrow his father. The old man was nearing seventy and had no plans to retire. Harrison had wanted to be king.

Instead, he’d gotten dead.

She shuddered at the idea that his father—after murdering him—had intended to take his widow as his own plaything.

Sick. The man was absolutely disgusting. Like his son, he was a charming and quite handsome man for his age. But beneath the surface lived a monster.

Once the trial was over, she hoped she never had to think of him again, much less see him.

Staying alert to her surroundings, she unlocked the back door and sent Bob inside ahead of her. He was trained to spot trouble. She wasn’t overly concerned at this point. If anything had been amiss, he would have warned her as they approached the cabin.

The dogs were a new addition to the witness protection family. She hadn’t had a dog at the first location. It wasn’t until she’d arrived here and had Bob living with her that she’d realized how very lonely she had been for a very long time. Since well before her husband was murdered.

She locked the door behind her, taking care to check all the locks. Then she followed Bob through the three rooms. There was a small living-dining-kitchen combination, a bedroom with an attached bath and the mudroom–laundry room at the back. Furnishings were sparse, but she had what she needed.

Since cell service was sketchy at best, she had a state-of-the-art signal booster. She had a generator in case the power went out and a bug-out bag if it became necessary to cut and run.

She shivered. The fire had gone out. She kept on her jacket while she added logs to the fireplace and kindling to get it started. Within a couple of minutes, the fire was going. She’d had a fireplace as a kid, so relearning her way around this one hadn’t been so bad. She went back to the kitchen and turned on the kettle for tea.

Bob growled low in his throat and stared toward the front door.

She froze. Her phone was in her hip pocket. Her gun was still in her waistband at the small of her back. This was something else Marshal Holloway had insisted upon. He’d taught her how to use a handgun. They’d held many target practices right behind this cabin.

A creak beyond the front door warned that someone was on the porch. She eased across the room and went to the special peephole that had been installed. There was one on each side of the cabin, allowing for views all the way around. A man stood on the porch. He was the typical local cowboy. Jeans and boots. Hat in his hands. Big truck in the drive. Just like Marshal Holloway.

But she did not know this man.

“Alice Stewart, if you’re in there, it’s okay for you to open the door. I’m Sheriff Colt Tanner. Branch sent me.”

Her heart thudding, she held perfectly still. Branch would never send someone to her without letting her know first. If for some reason he couldn’t tell her in advance, they had a protocol for these situations.

She reached back, fingers curled about the butt of her weapon. Bob moved stealthily toward the door.

“I know you’re concerned about opening the door to a stranger, but you need to trust me. Branch has been in an accident, and he’s in the hospital undergoing surgery right now. No matter that his injuries were serious, he refused to go into surgery until he spoke to me and I assured him I would look after you, ma’am.”

Worry joined the mixture of fear and dread churning inside her. She hoped Branch wasn’t hurt too badly. He had a wife and a daughter.

She opened her mouth to ask about his condition, but then she snapped it shut. The man at her door had not said the code word.

“Wait,” he said. “I know what the problem is. I forgot to say ‘superhero.’ He told me that’s your code word.”

Relief rushed through her. She moved to the door and unlocked the four dead bolts, then opened it. When she faced the man—Sheriff Tanner—she asked, “Is he going to be okay?”

The sheriff ducked his head. “I sure hope so. Branch is a good friend of mine. May I come in?”

“Quiet, Bob,” she ordered the dog at her side as she backed up and allowed the sheriff to come inside before closing the door. She resisted the impulse to lock it and leaned against it instead. Holloway wouldn’t have trusted this man if he wasn’t one of the good guys.

Still, standing here with a stranger after all these months, she couldn’t help feeling a little uneasy. Bob sat at her feet, his gaze tracking every move the stranger made.

“Is there anything you need, ma’am? Anything at all. I’ll be happy to bring you any supplies or just...” He shrugged. “Whatever you need.”

The kettle screamed out, making her jump. She’d completely forgotten about it. “I’ll be right back.”

She hurried to the kitchen and turned off the flame beneath the whistling kettle. She took a breath, pushed her hair behind her ears and walked back into the living room.

“Thank you for coming, Sheriff, but I have everything I need.”

“All right.” He pulled a card from his shirt pocket and offered it to her. “Call me if you need anything. I’ll check on you again later today and give you an update on Branch’s condition.”

She studied the card. “Thank you.” She looked up at him then. “I appreciate your concern. Please let the marshal know I’m hoping for his speedy recovery.”

“Will do.” He gave her another of those quick nods. “I’ll be on my way then.”

Before she opened the door for him to go, she had to ask. “Are his injuries life-threatening?”

“He was real lucky, ma’am. Things could have been far worse. Thankfully, he’s stable, and we have every reason to believe he’ll be fine.”

“What about his wife?”

“She wasn’t with him, so she’s fine. She’s at the hospital waiting for him to come out of surgery. If you’re certain you don’t need me for anything, I’m going back there now.”

“Really, I’m fine. Thank you.”

When the sheriff had said his goodbyes and headed out to his truck, she locked the door—all four dead bolts. She watched as the truck turned around and rolled away. She told herself that Marshal Holloway’s accident most likely didn’t have anything to do with her or the trial. Still, she couldn’t help but worry just a little.

What if they had found her? What if hurting the marshal was just the first step in getting to her? Old man Armone was pure evil. He would want her to know in advance that he was coming just to be sure she felt as much fear as possible. Instilling fear gave him great pleasure.

Harrison Armone Sr. had a small army at his beck and call. All were trained mercenaries. Ruthless, like him. Proficient in killing. Relentless in attaining their target. They would be hunting her. If being careful would get her through this, she had nothing to worry about. But that alone would never be enough. She needed help and luck on her side.

With this unexpected development, she would need to be extra vigilant.

“Bob.”

He looked up at her expectantly.

“We have to be especially alert, my friend.”

The devil might be coming.

And he wouldn’t be alone.

Chapter Two
Winchester Hospital

Jaxson Stevens left Nashville as soon as he heard the news of the accident. He and Branch Holloway had been assigned together briefly before Holloway transferred back to his hometown of Winchester. Holloway was a good guy and a damned fine marshal. Jax was more than happy to back him up until he was on his feet again.

He parked his SUV in the lot and headed for the hospital entrance. He hadn’t been in the Winchester area in ages. He hailed from the Pacific Northwest, and he’d taken an assignment in Seattle when he completed training with the marshal service. He had ended up spending the better part of the first decade of his career on that side of the country. Then he’d needed a change. He’d landed in Nashville last year.

Truth is, he’d hadn’t exactly wanted to spend time in the southeast, but it was a necessary step in his career ladder. There was a woman he’d met when he was in training at Glynco. The two of them had a very intense few months together, and he’d wondered about her for years after moving to Seattle. They’d both been so young when they first met. He’d kept an eye on her for years while she finished college, certain they would end up together again at some point. He’d anonymously helped out when her father passed away.

Then his notions of a romantic reunion had come to a grinding halt after she moved to Atlanta.

She had gotten married. He shook his head. All those years, she had haunted his dreams. He’d thought he had known her, thought they had something that deserved a second go when the time was right. He’d definitely never felt that connection with anyone else.

But he had been wrong. Dead wrong.

A woman who would marry a man like she had was not someone he knew at all. He imagined she fully comprehended what the world thought of her choice about now.

Irrelevant, he reminded himself. The past was the past. Nothing he could do about the years he wasted wondering about her. He was happy in Nashville for now. He had just turned thirty-two, and he had big career plans. There was plenty of time to get serious about a personal relationship. God knew his parents and his sister constantly nagged him about his single status.

Maybe after this case was buttoned up. The witness had to be at trial on Thursday. After that, he was taking a vacation and making some personal decisions. Maybe it was time he took inventory of his life rather than just pouring everything into the job.

The hospital had that disinfectant smell that lingered in every single hospital he’d ever stepped into. The odor triggered unpleasant memories he’d just as soon not revisit in this lifetime. Losing his younger brother was hard as a ten-year-old. He couldn’t imagine what his parents had suffered.

His mom warned him often that he shouldn’t allow that loss to get in the way of having a family. He had never really considered that he chose not to get too serious about a relationship because of what happened when he was a kid, but maybe he had. His parents had spent better than twenty years telling him that what happened wasn’t his fault. Didn’t matter. He would always believe it was. He should have been watching more closely. He should never have allowed his little brother so close to the water’s edge.

He should have been better prepared to help him if something went wrong.

Why the hell had he gone down that road?

Jax shook his head and strode across the lobby, kicking the past back to where it belonged—behind him. A quick check with the information desk and he was on his way to the third floor. He followed the signs to Holloway’s room.

His gaze came to rest on his old friend, and he grimaced. The left side of the man’s face was bruised and swollen as if he’d slugged it out and lost big-time. What he could see of Holloway’s left shoulder was bruised, as well. “You look like hell, buddy.”

Branch Holloway opened his eyes. “Pretty much feel like it, too. Glad you could make it, Stevens.”

Jax moved to the side of his bed. “What happened? You tick off the wrong cowboy?”

Tennessee was full of cowboys. Jax had tried a pair of boots. Not for him. And the hat—well, that just wasn’t his style. He was more a city kind of guy. Jeans, pullovers and a good pair of hiking shoes and he was good to go. He was, however, rather fond of leather. He’d had the leather jacket he wore for over a decade.

“I wish I could tell you a heroic story of chasing bad guys and surviving a shootout, but it was nothing like that. A deer decided my truck was in his way. I didn’t hit him, but I did hit the ditch and then a couple of trees. One tree in particular tried real hard to do me in.”

Jax made a face. “Sounds like you’re damned lucky.”

“That’s what they say, but I gotta tell you right now I’m not feeling too lucky. My wife says I will when I see my truck. It’s totaled.”

“Can I get you anything?” Jax glanced at the water pitcher on the bedside table.

“No, thanks. My wife was here until just a few minutes ago. She’s hovered over me since the paramedics brought me in. Between her and the nurses, I’m good, trust me.”

Jax nodded. “You didn’t want to discuss the case by phone. I take it this is a dark one.” Some cases were listed as dark. These were generally the ones where the person or persons who wanted to hurt the witness had an abundance of resources, making the witness far more vulnerable. Sometimes a case was dark simply because of the priority tag associated with the investigation. The least number of people possible were involved with dark cases.

There were bad guys in this world, and then there were really bad guys.

“Need-to-know basis only,” Holloway said. “We’re only days out from trial. Keeping this witness safe is essential. At this point, we pretty much need to keep her under surveillance twenty-four hours a day until trial. This couldn’t have happened at a worse time.”

“Understandable,” Jax agreed.

“I’m sure you’re familiar with the Armone case. It’s been all over the news.”

Jax’s eyebrows went up with a jolt of surprise. “That’s not a name I expected to hear. I knew the patriarch of the family was awaiting trial, but I haven’t kept up with the details. Besides, that’s a ways out of our district.”

“The powers that be felt moving her out of Georgia until trial would help keep her safe. They’ve kept the details quiet on this one to the greatest extent possible. Even with all those precautions and a media blackout, her first location was jeopardized.”

Her? A bad, bad feeling began a slow creep through Jax.

“Hell of a time for you to be out of commission,” he said instead of demanding who the hell the witness was. This could not happen. Maybe it was someone else. A secretary or other associate of the old man. Or maybe of the son, since he was dead. His death may have prompted someone—an illicit lover, perhaps—to come forward.

“Tell me about it,” Holloway grumbled.

“Why don’t you bring me up to speed,” Jax suggested. “We’ll go from there.”

“The file’s under my pillow.”

Jax chuckled as he reached beneath the thin hospital pillow. “I have to say, this is going the distance for the job.”

“We do what we have to, right?”

“Right.” Jax opened the file, his gaze landing on the attached photo. He blinked. Looked again. She looked exactly as she had ten years ago.

“You okay there?” Holloway asked. “You look like you just saw a ghost.”

“Full disclosure, Holloway.” Jax frowned. “I know this woman.” No. That was wrong. He didn’t just know this woman—he knew her intimately. Had been disappointed in and angry with her for years now.

“Well, hell. If this is a problem, we should call someone else in as quickly as possible. I’ve got the local sheriff, a friend of mine, taking care of things now. But I can’t keep him tied up this way. No one wants this bastard to get away this time. We’ve got him. As long as she lives to testify, he’s not walking.”

Holloway was right. The Armone family had escaped justice far too long. “I’ve got this.” Jax cleared his head. If Holloway thought he was not up to par, he would insist on calling in someone else. Jax was startled, no denying it. But he wanted to do this. He had to do this. For reasons that went beyond the job. Purely selfish reasons. “You can count on me. I just wanted to be up front. We knew each other a long time ago.”

“If you’re sure,” Holloway countered. “I’m confident I can count on you. I just don’t want to put you in an unnecessarily awkward situation. Sometimes the past can adversely affect the present.”

Jax felt his gut tighten. Maybe he wasn’t as ready for this as he’d thought.

No choice.

If he didn’t do this, he would never fully extract her from his head.

The what-ifs would haunt him forever.

“I can handle it. Like I said, we haven’t seen each other in years,” he assured the other man. “No one wants this family to go down more than me.”

That part was more true than he cared to admit.

“If we’re lucky, that family will be history when this trial is done,” Holloway said. “The son is dead. Now all we need is for the father to be put away for the rest of his sorry life.” Holloway searched his face as if looking for any uncertainty. “I can ask Sheriff Tanner to show you the way to her location if you’re sure we’re good to go.”

“That works.”

“Thanks, Stevens. I’ll owe you one.”

THE CABIN WAS well out of town. Sheriff Colt Tanner had met Jax at the courthouse and led the way. Tanner had last checked on the witness an hour ago. At this stage, Jax wasn’t going to simply check on her—he was to stick with her until she walked into that courtroom to testify. Protect, transport...whatever necessary.

On the drive to her location, he had decided he really didn’t have a problem with doing the job. He couldn’t deny that he had spent a great deal of time trying to find Allison James, aka Alice Stewart, the widow of Harrison Armone Jr., illegal drugs and weapons kingpin of the southeast. In fact, he wanted to do this. He wanted to learn what had happened to the sweet young woman he had known during his training. How had the shy, soft-spoken girl become the wife of one of the most wanted bastards on the minds of FBI, ATF and DEA agents alike? Maybe it was sheer curiosity, but he needed to understand how the hell that happened.

The actual problem, in his opinion, was how she would feel about him being the one charged with her safety. She no doubt would understand that he was well aware of who she had gotten involved with and would be disgusted by it. Members of law enforcement from Atlanta to DC had wished for a way to eradicate this problem.

He guessed he would find out soon enough.

Jax parked his SUV next to hers and got out. She was likely watching out the window. Tanner had updated her on Holloway’s condition and told her that a new marshal would be arriving shortly. Jax had no idea whether the sheriff had given her his name. If he had, she might be waiting behind that door with her weapon drawn. Not that she had any reason to be holding a grudge. He’d asked her to go with him to Seattle, but she had turned him down. No matter that he shouldn’t—didn’t want to—he wondered if she had attempted to track him down at any time during those early years after he left and before she made the mistake of her life.

Had she even thought of him?

He hadn’t asked her to marry him, but they had talked about marriage. They had talked about the future and what they each wanted. She’d had expectations. He had recognized this. But that hadn’t stopped him from leaving when an opportunity he couldn’t turn down came his way. She wouldn’t go. Her father was still alive and alone. She didn’t want to move so far away from him. What was he supposed to do? Ignore the offer he had hoped for from the day he decided to join the marshal service?

That little voice that warned when he had crossed the line shouted at him now. He had been selfish. No question. But he’d had family, too, and they had been on the West Coast. An unwinnable situation.

He walked up to the porch. Climbed the steps and crossed to the door. Aware she was certainly watching, he raised his fist and knocked.

She didn’t say a word or make a sound, but he felt her on the other side of the door. Only inches from him. He closed his eyes and recalled her scent. Soft, subtle. She always smelled like citrus. Never wore makeup. She had the most beautiful blue eyes he had ever seen.

The door opened and she stood there, looking exactly the way she had ten years ago—no makeup, no fussy hairdo, just Ali. The big black Lab the sheriff had told him about stood next to her.

For one long moment, she stared at him and he stared at her.

He inhaled a deep breath, acknowledged the scent of her—the scent he would have recognized anywhere.

“Say it.”

For a moment he felt confused at her statement.

“Say it,” she repeated. “I’m not letting you inside until you do.”

He understood then. “Superhero.”

She stepped back, and he walked in. The door closed behind him, locks tumbling into place. The dog sniffed him, eying him suspiciously.

She scratched the Lab’s head, and the dog settled down. “No one told me you were the one coming.”

She stood close to the wall on his left, beyond arm’s reach. Now that he had a chance to really look, she was thinner than before. Fear glittered in her eyes. Beyond the fear was something else. A weariness. Sadness, too, he concluded.

“I didn’t know it was you until I arrived in Winchester.” He held her gaze, refused to let her off the hook. He didn’t want this to be easy. Appreciating her discomfort was low. He knew this, and still he couldn’t help it. “I’m glad I’m the one Holloway called. I want to help. If that’s okay with you.”

“I’m certain Marshal Holloway wouldn’t have called you if you weren’t up to the task.” She shrugged. “As for the past, it was a long time ago. It’s hardly relevant now.”

She was right. It had been a long time. Still, the idea that she played it off so nonchalantly didn’t sit so well. No need for her to know the resentment or whatever the hell it was he harbored related to her decisions or the whirlwind of emotions she had set reeling inside him now. This was work. Business. The job. It wasn’t personal.

He hitched a thumb toward the door. “I picked up a pizza. It’s a little early for lunch, but I was on the road damned early this morning.”

“Make yourself at home. You don’t need my permission to eat.”

No, he did not. “I’ll grab my bag and the pizza.”

He walked out to his SUV. He took a breath. Struggled to slow his heart rate. He had an assignment to complete, and it was essential he pulled his head out of the past and focused on the present. What happened ten years ago or five years ago was irrelevant. What mattered was now. Keeping her safe. Getting her in that courtroom to put a scumbag away.

He grabbed his bag and the pizza and headed back to the cabin. She opened the door for him and then locked the four dead bolts. He placed the pizza on the table and dropped his bag by the sofa. He imagined that would be his bed for the foreseeable future. The place didn’t look large enough to have two bedrooms.

“This is Bob, by the way,” she said of the dog who stayed at her side.

He nodded. “Nice to meet you, Bob.”

Bob stared at him with a healthy dose of either skepticism or continued suspicion.

“Would you like water or a cola?”

Since beer was out of the question, he went for a cola. She walked to the fridge and grabbed two. On the way to the table, she snagged the roll of paper towels from the counter and brought that along, as well. She sat down directly across the table. Apparently she had decided to join him. He passed her a slice, grabbed one of his own and then dug in. Eating would prevent the need for conversation. If he chewed slowly enough, he could drag this out for a while.

She sipped her drink. “You finally get married?”

He was surprised she asked. Left her open for his questions. And he really wanted a number of answers from her. At the moment dealing with all the emotions and sensations related to just being in the same room with her was all he could handle.

“No. Never engaged. Never married.”

Silence dragged on for another minute or so while they ate. Keeping his attention away from her lips as she ate proved more difficult than he’d expected. Frankly, he was grateful when she polished off the last bit.

“Technically,” she pointed out as she reached for a second slice, “we were engaged—informally.”

He went still, startled that his heart didn’t do the same. He hadn’t expected her to bring that up under the circumstances. “Technically,” he repeated, “I suppose you’re right.”

“How long were you in Seattle?”

“Until last year.” He wiped his hands on a napkin. “I’m sorry about your father.”

“It was a tough time.”

“Yeah, I’m sure it was.” He had come so close to attending the funeral, but he had wondered if he would be welcome, so he hadn’t.

He bit into his pizza to prevent asking if that was why she’d ran into the arms of a criminal. Had she wanted someone to take care of her? A sugar daddy or whatever? Fury lit inside him. He forced the thoughts away. It didn’t matter that they had spent months intensely focused on each other, practically inseparable. That had been a long time ago. Whatever they had then was long gone by the time she married Armone. All this emotion was unnecessary. Pointless. Frustrating as hell, actually.

“What about your parents?” She dabbed at her lips with a napkin. “Your sister?”

“The parents are doing great. Talking about buying a winter home in Florida. Is that cliché or what?” He managed a smile, hoped to lighten the situation.

She looked completely at ease. Calm. Maybe he was the only one having trouble.

Her lips lifted into a small smile. “A little.”

“My sister is married with three kids.” He shook his head. “I don’t know how she does it.”

“She’s lucky.”

“You have kids?” He knew the answer, but he didn’t know the reason.

“No. He didn’t want children. He had two with his first wife.” She stared at the pizza box for a moment. “Looking back, I was very fortunate he didn’t.”

For now, he guided the conversation away from the bastard she’d married. He asked another question to which he already knew the answer. “You were determined to finish school. Did you manage?”

“I did. With taking care of my father it took forever, but I finally got it done.”

“That’s great.”

More of that suffocating silence. He stared at the pizza, suddenly having no appetite.

“Your career is going well?” she asked.

“It is. The work is challenging and fulfilling.”

She stood. “Thank you for the pizza.”

He watched as she carried her napkin and cola can to the trash. She stood at the sink and stared out the window.

The urge to demand how she could have married a man like Harrison Armone burned on his tongue, but he swallowed it back.

“I think maybe they should send someone else.”

Her words surprised him. Flustered him. He stood, the legs of his chair scraping across the wood floor. “Why? I see no reason we can’t put the past behind us.”

She turned to face him but stayed right where she was, her fingers gripping the edge of the countertop as if she feared gravity would fail her. “If he finds me, he will kill me. If you’re in the way, he’ll kill you, too.”

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