When ruthless killers target them,

even a safe house isn’t safe.

Only twenty-four hours remain until marshal Nick McKenna’s informant, Lori Carpenter, will testify against a powerful drug cartel. Nick has kept her safe for an entire year, but now all hell is breaking loose. With a team of cold-blooded assassins closing in, the by-the-book lawman decides to go rogue. He’ll risk his life for duty...and put it all on the line for his irresistible witness.

JUNO RUSHDAN is the award-winning author of steamy, action-packed romantic thrillers. As a veteran air force intelligence officer, she uses her background supporting special forces to write about kick-ass heroes and strong heroines fighting for their lives as well as their happily-ever-afters. Juno currently lives in the DC area with her patient husband, two kids and a rescue dog. Be the first to know about new releases, exclusive excerpts and contests by signing up for Juno’s newsletter at junorushdan.com/mailing-list

Hostile Pursuit

Juno Rushdan

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-0-008-90513-2

HOSTILE PURSUIT

© 2020 Juno Rushdan

Published in Great Britain 2020

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 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.

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www.millsandboon.co.uk

Note to Readers

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To all the readers willing to take a chance on a new

Mills & Boon Heroes author, I am grateful.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

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

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Epilogue

About the Publisher

Chapter One

For a year Lori Carpenter had stayed indoors, under constant watch, cut off from family and friends and everything familiar, in hiding.

Dread ate away at her every day. There was nothing she could do besides prepare. But it still wasn’t enough, and now her time was up.

The arm lodged against her throat tightened.

“You let your guard slip,” he whispered in her ear, his elbow locked under her chin, blocking off her airway.

Her lungs strained, clogged with fear as she flailed.

“Show me what you are,” he growled.

Prey or a predator.

Adrenaline shot through her bloodstream, her heart beating like a snare drum. Survival instinct kicked in and the lead weighing down her limbs evaporated.

Lori thrust her elbow back into his ribs, once, twice. All the drills repeated day after day for fifty-five weeks came rushing to the forefront of her mind. To break away, she had to flip him. She slammed her heel down onto his foot. As she shrugged her shoulders, she hooked her foot behind one of his legs, seized the arm locked around her throat and bent at the knees.

His body rotated, going over her shoulder. Perfect execution of the maneuver.

But he grabbed her, taking her down hard with him to the concrete floor of the empty two-car garage. They rolled. Their arms and legs tangled.

She landed on top of US Deputy Marshal Nick McKenna and jammed her forearm against his throat. “I asked you to give me a challenging lesson. Not try to actually kill me.”

Nick was tough, deadly. There was a darkness to him. The kind bred from dealing in the worst sort of violence. She appreciated that about him; it bolstered her confidence that he’d be able to keep her alive. So far he hadn’t disappointed. But there was another side to him she preferred.

He tapped her arm, giving the cue their self-defense session was finished even though he was lethally capable of maneuvering free of her grasp.

Part of her wondered why he had let her flip him to the ground. No way she could’ve tossed him unless he’d allowed it. Besides the fact that he was powerfully built, he had years of training and experience she couldn’t compete with.

She took her arm off his larynx, put her hands on his muscular chest and kept his body pinned with her legs, straddling his hips. Her belly fluttered with raw awareness, so close to him, pelvis to pelvis, their lips a breath apart. He took up all the oxygen in the room.

Rubbing his throat, he stared up at her with those intense, bourbon-colored eyes that seemed to see everything. Her fear, her pain, her loneliness.

Everything except her desire for him.

His devastating dark looks were even more tempting dotted with facial stubble and covered in a sheen of sweat. “I’m pretty sure attempted homicide is not part of my job description.” The overheated gravel of his voice teased an itch that hadn’t been scratched in a long, long time.

He flashed a heart-stopping smile that sent a tingle shooting straight to her thighs.

“You were right. I have been too easy on you and that’s not doing you a favor.” He swept a long lock of her hair that’d slipped from her ponytail away from her face, tucking it behind her ear. The brush of his fingertips, his touch lingering seconds longer than it should’ve, made her stomach bounce as if she were still a naive girl who believed in true love and the magic of chemistry, instead of the older, wiser thirty-two-year-old woman she was today. “You need to know what the fear and the panic would feel like in a real-world scenario so you can think and fight your way through it.”

Nick had been an anchor during the bleakest months, her sensei, teaching her to punch, kick, throw a proper headbutt. And he had become a dear friend. A smart, steadfast, sexy friend she couldn’t stop thinking about crawling into bed with.

Ted Zeeman crossed the threshold, strolling into the garage while typing on a laptop. Good ole Ted always popped up before Nick and Lori slipped across the line of propriety, like he could smell their pheromones from the next room.

Lori stood and offered Nick a hand up from the ground.

He took it, putting his palm on hers even though he didn’t need her assistance, climbed to his feet and dusted himself off. Standing shy of six feet with broad shoulders and streamlined muscles that hinted at his leashed lethality, he wasn’t a huge guy, but his magnetic presence dominated a room. Or perhaps he simply dominated her attention.

She dismissed the ridiculous crush she had on Deputy Marshal McKenna. If she liked him, then beneath the suits and badge was a quintessential bad boy.

In her experience, bad boys equaled heartbreak. Every man she’d been attracted to had left scars. She wasn’t in the market for another festering wound.

“Are you nervous about your big day tomorrow?” Ted asked.

Big day.

Weddings, funerals, your child being born...those were big days. Testifying in federal court against her in-laws’ financial firm for laundering millions was inevitable once she’d discovered what Wallace Capital Management—WCM—had been up to.

After she took the stand tomorrow, marshals she’d never met would give her a brand-new name and whisk her off into a brand-new life in a brand-new city.

Hopefully, not one in backcountry nowhere.

“Yeah, a little.” More like a lot. As in terrified.

“I’m about to file the morning report,” Ted said to Nick. “Anything you want me to add?”

“Did you annotate our excursion?” Nick asked.

“Yep. You betcha.” Ted nodded. “I reminded the boss, but I did the paperwork, too.”

One hour a day, Lori was allowed off the premises. She usually relished the time jogging through the adjacent woods, but not today.

Ted slapped the classified US Marshals Services laptop closed. “I’m going to haul the trash out while you two get cleaned up so we can go shopping.” He rolled his eyes.

Lori might’ve been living in yoga pants, jeans and T-shirts since her mad dash out of San Diego after spilling her guts to the FBI, but she’d be damned if she was going to face her no-good, cheating ex-husband and his lying, criminal family in anything less than the best professional armor.

“Fifteen minutes and we’ll head out.” Ted tucked the laptop under his arm. “Tomorrow can’t get here soon enough. My last assignment will be done, and I can finally retire.”

“Are you going to get a little hut on a powdery beach like you want?” Nick asked him.

“Boy, I wish. It’s a one-bedroom condo in the Keys for me. You’ll have to visit.”

“Better believe it,” Nick said. “We’ll be out front in fifteen.”

Ted strode back into the country house that was isolated on two acres of land.

“How are you holding up?” Nick’s gaze found hers again, warming something inside her like it did whenever he looked at her that way. “It’s the homestretch.”

She should’ve been relieved. By noon tomorrow this nightmare would be over, but tension threaded through her, tightening her muscles. “My father-in-law, Sam, begged me to look the other way, keep my job at WCM and to forget everything.” Lori almost kept talking, almost dared to unburden herself of the secret she’d been carrying.

One stupid mistake had pulverized her life like a sledgehammer crushed a walnut.

It wasn’t as if she could hide it forever. The truth would come out in her testimony, but what would Nick think of her when he found out?

“Of course he did.” Nick ran his hands up and down her arms. “Without you, there is no case. We’re talking about millions of dollars a year. Billions. I’m sure whoever they launder money for are dangerous people and only care about their bottom line.”

A shiver raced through her. Nick had no idea how dangerous, but she knew all too well. “Sam told me there’s no way to win. That I’m going up against Goliath.” And her father-in-law hadn’t been talking about WCM. “He swore I wouldn’t live long enough to testify.”

The shiver deepened to a chill that seeped to her bones. The firm’s biggest dirty client was violent and ruthless, had endless resources and people everywhere.

It was a miracle she’d lived this long.

“Goliath is big and ferocious. But not invincible. David beat him and so will you.” Nick took both of her hands in his and held her gaze.

The gesture was small, but heated her cheeks and chased away her goose bumps. The space around them seemed to shrink, due to his proximity and the quiet strength he radiated. At times his tall, dark and brawny package was menacing, but he could also be...gentle.

“No matter what, I’ll protect you and get you to court safely. Do you believe me?”

She believed he’d risk his life for duty and for any witness. “Yes.”

Nick had kept her safe for three hundred and eighty-six days. What could possibly go wrong in the next twenty-seven hours?

NICK’S GAZE FLICKERED up to Lori’s reflection in the rearview mirror of the car as he drove. Tension radiated from her slender body. Her expression was strained, her big brown eyes looking haunted. With her long chestnut hair loose and the flush of their workout gone from her cheeks, her fair skin was paler than normal. Somehow making the almost ethereal beauty about her more enticing.

The enormity of the transition she was going through wasn’t lost on him.

He could tell she was doing her best to hold it together and not let nerves derail her. For a year he’d studied her. Paid attention to her body language and every nuance.

Witnesses tended to get antsy in protective custody, especially over a long period of time, and sometimes they made bad decisions. Tried to bolt when they should’ve stayed put. Deviated from protocol instead of adhering to the strict rules.

Buddying up to them helped him keep his finger on the pulse of the situation, anticipate if things might go sideways because an informant was on the verge of unraveling.

What he hadn’t counted on was falling for a witness.

Lori had totally blindsided him. Several hours a day, seven days a week, watching her, talking to her, touching her during their self-defense lessons, was winding him up tighter than a watch spring. He’d never been so viscerally attracted to a woman. Everything about her excited him—her voice, those doe eyes staring at him, her silky hair he wanted to feel sliding across his belly, the knockout body he wanted to—

“Finally, we’re here,” Ted said, intruding on his thoughts.

Nick put the brakes on the inappropriate fantasy and leashed his raging hormones. Having an infatuation with a witness that bordered on obsessive was a reason to have his head examined.

He turned into the mall parking lot and pulled into a spot close to the west side entrance. The trip had been approved by their boss and planned for two weeks. He and Ted had gone over the layout of the shopping center numerous times, had memorized the location of the security station and every exit, and had narrowed down the mall’s peak hours. That was why they’d chosen the morning, shortly after the mall opened when it would be quiet, no crowds and easy to control the environment.

They entered the mall through a side door and walked down a short corridor with a few stores. Only the tea shop appeared to be busy at this hour. An apron-clad clerk stood out front holding a tray of samples. An elderly gentleman with a salt-and-pepper crown, hobbling with a cane, approached the clerk and asked questions about the different varieties available to taste.

As they reached the central part of the shopping center, Nick was at Lori’s side and Ted at their six behind them. The entrance they used was the closest to the women’s business-apparel store that Lori had chosen in advance. The walk was a short distance, but everything stretched before him, almost in slow motion.

Nick surveilled their surroundings, noting everyone in the vicinity. A couple, one pushing a stroller, the other with a baby in a carrier strapped to their body. Three fiftysomething-year-old ladies power walking while engrossed in a lively discussion.

Nothing stood out or struck him as unusual, but there was a subtle tug of caution in his gut, like he was being watched. Another furtive glance around still didn’t pinpoint any cause for alarm. Why his pulse pounded, and his palms itched, he didn’t know. They’d taken Lori on a few other outings, although never to the mall, and never to the same place twice.

It was probably just the buildup of stress and pressure from his longest assignment drawing to a culmination with her set to testify tomorrow. They were so close to finishing this.

As much as he needed to keep Lori safe and get her through her testimony, he also wasn’t ready to let her go. She’d been the sole focus of his life for the better part of a year. Resetting and moving on didn’t seem possible. It certainly wasn’t desirable. If he had a choice, he’d keep on seeing her, talking with her, hell, sneaking in a permissible touch—every single day.

But that was the one thing he didn’t have a say in.

He brushed the thought aside, concentrating instead on what he could control.

They reached the women’s clothing store. As they walked inside, a chime dinged from a motion-activated PIR sensor he spotted.

An employee behind the register, wearing a blazer and sporting a curly bob, made eye contact and gave a perky smile.

One female customer perusing a row of blouses didn’t glance their way.

“Hello,” the young sales associate said, her warm voice rich with enthusiasm. “Right now we have a sale on accessories. Fifty percent off. Let me know if you need help finding anything.”

“Thank you,” Lori said.

“You’ve got twenty minutes.” Nick looked at his watch while Ted swept the rest of the store. “We’re in and out, okay?”

Lori went to a rack of suits. “You don’t give a gal much time.”

“One hour away from the property,” he said, reminding her of the rules. “Not a minute more.”

Nick’s attention flickered to the other customer.

The woman was in her early forties, petite, olive complexion, coal-black hair pulled in a tight bun. No jewelry, wore slacks and a blousy top and carried a leather purse. She reached up, taking a shirt from the upper rack, and the frilly bell sleeve of her blouse dropped an inch, revealing a tattoo of a black rose on the back of her hand. The ink fit her. Beautiful. Elegant. Dark.

Reflexively, Nick pressed his arm against the Glock 22 in his shoulder rig.

“I don’t see why I should be penalized because the house is thirty miles away,” Lori said, checking the size on a navy two-piece.

The low chime at the front threshold rang. Another woman entered the store. Bottled-bleach-blonde. Tall and thin. Jeans and a buttoned shirt. Sneakers that squelched lightly against the tile floor.

“Eighteen minutes,” Nick said, telegraphing with his hard tone this was nonnegotiable.

Lori cringed. “Yes, sir.” She gave him a mock salute. “Have I told you how much I hate it when you snarl orders at me like a drill sergeant?”

Snarl? And drill sergeants were the worst. No one liked them. “You’re exaggerating.”

“Try understating. When we’re out, you have two speeds. Icy cool and this Judge Dredd persona.”

Nick realized he sometimes came across as abrasive when he was in work mode, but that wasn’t the impression he was shooting for. At all.

She picked a suit from the rack. “This should work. I better go try it on. Tick-tock.”

Nick looked to Ted, where his partner stood at the entrance of the dressing rooms. Ted nodded, signaling the stalls were empty and he’d make sure no one followed Lori inside.

Blondie headed straight to some dresses hanging in the rear of the store, grabbed one almost mindlessly, or perhaps she’d been in before and knew what she was looking for, flicked a glance at a tag and made a beeline for the dressing rooms.

Ted lifted a palm, not letting the blonde in after Lori. The woman huffed and protested, raising a loud stink, but his partner held firm.

Show her your badge, Ted, and be done with it. Flashing the Eagle Top five-pointed star had a way of shutting down any complaints lickety-split.

“Who do you think you are?” Blondie asked with a fist on her hip.

“A US Deputy Marshal, ma’am,” Ted said. “Sorry for the inconvenience and the wait.”

“Listen, jerk. I need to get in there now.”

Ted laughed in his self-deprecating way. “Sorry. Not going to happen.”

The sales associate went over to the scene unfolding. “Hi,” she said brightly, her sunny disposition almost disarming. “Is there a problem?”

Nick maintained his position, monitoring the rest of the shop and the entrance.

Black Rose circled silent as a fox around to an ornate display of scarves and ran her fingers across the silk. Not once since they’d entered had she acknowledged their presence in the slightest. Until now.

Her gaze lifted, meeting his, her face an expressionless mask, but her sharp eyes were those of a merciless predator.

Prior experience as an army ranger in Afghanistan before becoming a marshal had taught him the hard way never to underestimate a woman with a slight build, or even a child for that matter, and the deep scar under his chin was a testament.

For a chilling instant they stared at one another, sizing the other up. Not from a physical perspective. It was an assessment of will. And what Nick saw in her was fathomless.

Blondie threw the dress at Ted, dividing Nick’s attention, and stormed out of the store.

The bell chimed. Black Rose’s steely eyes narrowed before she turned and strode unhurriedly toward the door—as if she had all the time in the world.

Then he saw it. Her low-heeled boots that didn’t make a sound.

His neck prickled the way it did when he was on a hunt for big game with his siblings. Nick followed. He had no reason to detain or question her, but something about that woman was wrong. From the tattoo, those rubber-soled shoes, to how she’d looked at him. As if she’d wanted to slice through him like a hot knife through butter.

None of it was evidence of anything and not cause for more than suspicion, but training and years of experience had taught him not to dismiss either.

The woman strolled away, lengthening the distance between them with each store she passed. One, two, three. But the tightening in his gut didn’t ease.

Black Rose glimpsed back at him over her shoulder, caught his fixed stare and stopped in her tracks. Pivoting, she turned and faced him, leveling her icy gaze his way. The look she sent him was full of loathing and in a blink it changed. Her lips hitched in an ominous half grin and she winked. Almost daring him to pursue.

Old ranger instincts urged him to take up the chase, confirm what his gut screamed about the woman, shake something that made sense out of her, but his training overruled recklessness.

He looked back in the quiet clothing store, checking on things.

Ted no longer stood stationed at the entrance of the dressing rooms.

Nick touched his Bluetooth earpiece. “Ted? What’s your position? Do you have eyes on Hummingbird?” he asked, using the code name for Lori.

Deafening silence.

Nick’s pulse spiked, but he remained calm—never one to succumb to panic. He stepped past displays and racks, his gaze scanning, his mind assessing.

No sign of Ted. Or the sales associate.

Drawing his gun, Nick hustled toward the dressing rooms.

Anticipation coiled in his chest, adrenaline roaring through him. The weight of his backup piece strapped to his ankle was a small comfort. Nick’s fingers tightened on his Glock. He reached the threshold, scanned left, then right.

Ted lay on the floor beyond the entrance in a corner. Blood soaked his white hair at the base of his skull.

Son of a—

Ted was down.

There was no time to check if his partner was unconscious or dead. A commotion deeper in the dressing room drew him forward. Two people struggled inside the second stall.

The horror in Lori’s terrified whimper jolted his heart.

Chapter Two

Lori’s blood turned to slush, but her brain didn’t misfire in the panic swamping her.

If she froze, she was dead.

If she didn’t think, she was dead.

If she didn’t fight, she was dead.

Lori had caught the glint of the door’s lock moving in the mirror’s reflection. But the sales associate had slipped inside the dressing room stall before Lori had registered what was happening or even had a chance to spin around half-dressed.

The next thing she knew, the young woman rushed up behind Lori and whipped some kind of cord around her throat. The sharp wire bit into her skin, pressing against her windpipe.

The pain from the instant constriction of her airway, the absolute terror, was mind-numbing. Her earlier exercises with Nick, despite how aggressive he’d been, paled in comparison. Deep down she’d known he’d never hurt her and that she was safe with him.

But the sweet-looking sales associate had morphed into a merciless killer and was strangling her to death. Every time Lori tried to throw an elbow back, the woman seemed to anticipate it, jerking her left and then right, spinning her in the stall as if Lori were a rag doll.

She fought with all her strength. Her attacker dug harder, not giving a second of reprieve.

Dear God! Where are you, Nick?

Lori sent her silent prayer up to some omnipotent being, the universe, to anything that’d listen. She was utterly powerless.

Her heart beat harder and harder against her rib cage. Her lungs squeezed as if caught in a vise, starved for air. She wasn’t ready to die. Not like this.

She clawed at the wire tightening around her throat. Desperation welled in her chest. She tried to scream for help, to make any sound to draw attention. A guttural cry rose deep in her throat, but only the strangled wisp of air came from her mouth.

Her nerves ping-ponged as her mind surged for an escape. She kicked out, frantically.

At the same time, the dressing room door swung in. She glimpsed Nick for a split second before her bare foot—already in motion—knocked the door closed.

Pushing up and backward with both her legs, Lori sent her attacker slamming into the mirror. Glass shattered to the floor. Still clawing at the cord over her throat, her fingers slipped in the warm wetness of her own blood.

Her heart felt like it was trying to fight its way out of her chest, lungs burning for oxygen.

It was impossible for Lori to avoid the shards of broken mirror, and her naked soles were driven into the jagged pieces in the struggle. But only one thing mattered. Staying alive.

The door slammed open again. Nick used his hip and leg to keep it from swinging shut and aimed his gun.

He must not have had a clear shot because he didn’t fire.

Lori’s vision narrowed. Dark spots began forming in front of her eyes. Her panic-stricken heart squeezed.

Nick’s voice rang in her mind. Show me what you are. Prey or a predator.

She had to do anything possible to give him a clear shot. Right now!

Lori threw her head back, smashing her skull into her attacker’s face. Bone crunched and as the wire slackened a centimeter, she rammed her elbow into the woman’s ribs.

With a grunt, her assailant’s hold loosened enough for Lori to jerk away to the side.

Nick fired twice. The woman dropped to the floor.

Relief poured over Lori’s soul.

Coughing, raking in air, tasting her own blood, Lori scrambled into Nick’s arms.

He pulled her sideways against him. His hand clasped the back of her head, his fingers curling in her hair, and guided her face to his chest.

She broke down as sobs tore painfully from her throat.

“You’re okay,” Nick said. “I’ve got you.”

The reassurance of his strong, solid form pressed close didn’t do anything to loosen the knot of terror and anxiety twisting her insides. But she wasn’t ready to put space between them. Not yet. She needed this. His warmth, his strength, his arms around her, a little longer.

“Nick. Nick...” she repeated again and again, unable to utter anything else.

She hated the neediness in her voice, the way she clung to him for dear life. Lori had never been a weak, whimpering damsel in distress. She took care of herself and never relied on others for anything. To do so only invited disappointment.

But this had escalated to the next level, to something that exceeded her deepest fears.

Someone taking a shot at her on the courthouse steps she’d braced herself for, but not this. Being attacked, nearly strangled to death in a dressing room with two armed deputy marshals within shouting distance.

How in the hell was that possible?

Oh, God. Oh, God. If they could get to her here, when her whereabouts and itinerary were supposed to be confidential, then they could get to her anywhere.

Panic swelled, building to hysteria. She was on the cusp of hyperventilating.

“Breathe. You have to breathe. Slow breaths, in and out.”

Nick moved his head from side to side and she would’ve sworn his mouth brushed her hair. But she wasn’t sure. Then his lips caressed her forehead in the barest touch, but the electric sensation was enough to burn through the mounting fear.

“I’m here. I’ve got you.” He lowered his face to hers. His brown eyes—so authoritative and intense—anchored her. “I’ve got you, Lori. It’s going to be all right.”

NICK HELD HER tight to his chest, his heart sick with unfamiliar fear that threatened his composure. His muscles bunched, ready to blow a hole into anyone else who dared harm Lori. “Are you okay?”

She went limp against him, clinging to him with one hand and the other pressed to her throat. Her body shook so hard it was as if she might shatter into a million pieces.

He hauled her from the sight of the dead woman and inspected her neck. The garrote had left a laceration that would definitely scar if it wasn’t tended to quickly. But she was alive and that was all that mattered. “Lori, are you all right?”

Nick needed to get her talking, make sure she didn’t go into shock.

She sobbed into his shirt. Tears streamed down her face.

“Breathe,” he said, gently. “Take deep breaths.”

“If you had been ten seconds later...”

Brushing a finger under her chin, he tipped her face up to his.

Lori squeezed her eyes shut. “She would’ve killed me.”

Seeing her hurt and distraught made his stomach clench.

Ten seconds. Such a close call.

How many seconds had he wasted focused on Black Rose when he should’ve maintained his vigilance? The woman had been a deliberate distraction, goading him, to give the planted sales associate an opportunity to strike.

He’d give anything to rewind one damn minute and prevent this from ever having happened. How had he missed the setup?

Nick was no rookie. He didn’t make wet-behind-the-ears mistakes. The bait to hook his attention had been clever, well played. They’d been ready and waiting for Lori to arrive.

But how had those killers known they’d be in the store?

He longed to hold Lori tighter, closer, and soothe her, but this was the wrong place and the worst possible time. Once Black Rose, or whoever the hell that woman was, realized the assassination attempt had failed, she could come back—with reinforcements.

“We’ve got to get out of here.” His gaze fell to her bare, cut feet and exposed legs. Nick ducked into the dressing room, glass crunching underfoot, and gathered her things. “Here.” He handed Lori her clothes. “Get dressed. There’s a med kit in the trunk of the car. Once we’re away from the mall, I can treat your injuries. But we’re not safe here.”

More tears welled in her eyes. “Okay.” She brushed loose pieces of glass from her feet and plucked at embedded shards, wincing from the pain.

Nick took a knee beside Ted and put two fingers to his carotid.

There was a pulse, thready and slow, but he had one. Thank goodness.

The possible horror of losing both a witness and his partner at the same time flashed before him. No, it wasn’t something he would ever be able to live with.

He had to make damn sure that never happened on his watch. Not today. Not ever.

“Oh, dear God.” Lori peeked around the wall of the dressing room at Ted’s body while tugging on her jeans. “Is he alive?”

“Yeah. She must’ve hit him on the back of the head.” Nick loosened Ted’s tie and undid the top button of his shirt. There was a lot of blood and no way to assess how bad his head injury was, not when Black Rose could pop up again at any moment. He hated it, but he had to risk waking Ted. Nick shook him hard. “Come on, Ted.”

The old guy didn’t move. Blood had trickled down, soaking the back of his collar.

Nick reached into his jacket pocket and took out smelling salts. As the middle child in a family of bounty hunters, he knew well enough never to leave without extra ammo, caffeine pills, condoms and smelling salts. Invariably, you’d need one or all of them.

He snapped the capsule of white crystals under Ted’s nose, releasing the acrid punch of fumes. The ammonium carbonate tickled the membranes of Nick’s nose and lungs, triggering his own breathing to increase.

Ted’s eyes fluttered as he took a breath.

“There you go, buddy.” Nick tapped his arm and helped him sit upright.

They had to get the hell out of there, but there was no telling what was waiting for them outside the store. Nick glanced at Lori. She’d mustered a brave face, her eyes wet with tears, but her stark vulnerability struck him.

“Take off your shirt,” he said to her.

“What?” She gaped at him. “Why?”

Nick pulled off his jacket and holster and unbuttoned his shirt. Lori stared at his bulletproof vest. It was regulation for the marshals to wear one out in the field. The beefed-up hard composite body armor had an extra protection plate.

She caught his intention and did as he instructed.

Even though Nick had fantasized about seeing Lori undressed more times than he was ashamed to admit, he averted his eyes while he unstrapped the vest to put on Lori. There was no way to conceal the fact she was wearing one with only the T-shirt.

He reached up to the rack of discarded clothes, grabbed a lightweight blazer, ripping the tags off, and helped her put it on.

Ted held the back of his head and wobbled to his feet. “What in the hell happened?”

“We’ll talk in the car.” Nick roped an arm around Lori, leading them from the dressing rooms. “But right now I want us out of here.”

BELLADONNA STALKED ALONG the upper landing of the mall, drumming her fingers on the cold steel railing. The clothing store was fixed in her sights.

Tension crawled along the tendons of her neck. She rolled her shoulders once to ease it, maintaining her cool exterior despite her nerves.

This was taking too long. Something must’ve gone wrong.

The two deputy marshals rushed out of the shop with the target sandwiched between them, shouldering past passersby down the walkway. The target looked like she’d been through the wringer, but the problem was she was still breathing.

Trixie had failed. The talented young woman could flip from happy-go-lucky to jamming a fork into your eye in a breath. She would be greatly missed.

Things had not gone as Belladonna had hoped, but she thrived on contingency plans and never accepted a hit without analyzing all the angles first. Not that she’d been given a choice in this situation.

Sixty contracts spanning over twenty years and three continents had taught her it was far easier to eliminate a target if they were on their own or simply had a private security team. Mishaps were more likely to occur when the target was in the protective custody of federal agents. Preparation for any possibility was key.

With the main money-laundering mechanism of the cartel at stake, it was imperative to have layers of contingencies this time. A web within a web, and she was the spider weaving the entire sticky trap.

After she was forced to take this job, her employer had made it crystal clear that a five-million-dollar payday, her reputation and her life all rested on the outcome.

Failure wasn’t a consideration.

She had too much to live for. A family counting on her this time. She had to finish this job. No matter what.

Gritting her teeth, Belladonna slid a steady hand over her flawless bun, ensuring not a hair was out of place. The store had been the optimal location to take out the target. A controlled environment. No witnesses. Disposal would’ve been simple.

This setback was irritating, but temporary.

What had to happen next would be messy, far too public, making it harder to contain and to clean up. The likelihood of collateral damage would escalate exponentially. Belladonna abhorred the unnecessary loss of life. The hallmark of a true professional, one of the best in her humble opinion, was no accidental casualties.

But it had to be done. If a little innocent blood was spilled in the process, ultimately it was Lori Carpenter’s fault. All that woman had to do was keep her mouth shut. Would’ve saved Belladonna so much trouble.

Now she had to go through the hassle, not to mention the sheer inconvenience, of killing that bitch.

Belladonna inserted her earpiece and activated it with a slight touch. “Bishop, you’re in play. No knight stands in your way. Secure the queen at all costs,” she said to another person on her team stationed in a prime position.

“Check,” the low voice acknowledged.

The only other thing she wanted to hear was checkmate.

NICK GUARDED THEIR REAR, ensuring no one got the drop on them from behind. They hustled toward their exit. The mall left them too exposed. There were multiple sight lines for a sniper to take a clean shot. He glanced around, trying to assess where one could hide.

No, no. He shook the thought off. They’d considered that at least. That was why they liked this mall. There wasn’t a suitable position for a sniper’s nest. But the shopping center did provide opportunities for a hit man. They hadn’t factored in the possibility of an open, up-close assault.

The couple with the stroller and baby carrier looped back around in their direction. There was no movement from inside the stroller or the carrier.

Were the kids asleep? Or were those dolls and the gear a facade, hiding weapons?

He had to consider everyone a potential threat.

Two feet in front of him, Ted escorted Lori toward the last short corridor. Both were injured and frazzled and needed time to recuperate.

Lori hurried along with a hand pressed to her throat. The back of Ted’s head was still bleeding badly. His partner might need stitches and hopefully nothing else. Ted was literally hours from retirement and had almost bitten the dust.

Nick itched to have his weapon in hand until they were safely in the car, but he’d holstered it after leaving the store.

The last thing they needed was to draw unwanted attention to themselves. Their scramble out of the clothing shop had probably already raised speculation among the onlookers, making them wonder if they’d robbed the place.

Nick spun on his heel, doing a quick three hundred sixty scan.

No sign of the woman with the tattoo. She’d vanished like a phantom. But that didn’t give him a warm and cozy feeling, and it didn’t mean there wasn’t any danger.

Stay alert, stay alive, his former platoon leader used to say. There were no truer words.

They hit the west side corridor. The outer doors leading to the parking lot were in sight.

Ted held Lori by the elbow, keeping her moving at a rapid pace.

The older guy in front of the tea shop had progressed past asking questions to tasting samples. The nail salon and mobile phone shop were now a flurry of activity with customers.

A woman rummaging around in a large, bucket-size purse heading their way stole his attention. Nick slid his hand inside his jacket and gripped the handle of his service weapon, fingers tightening in readiness.

She pulled out a ringing cell phone and answered it, passing them by.

Nick exhaled the breath he’d been holding.

In fifty feet, they’d reach the doors and clear the mall. Then he’d reset from this epic disaster. Figure out how this could’ve happened in the first place.

All his senses were keyed up hot. Even his heartbeat had a machine-gun rhythm.

“I like the loose-leaf Dragon blend the best,” the senior citizen said as Nick came within earshot.

The sales associate holding the tray smiled at him. “That’s my favorite, too.”

Only thirty feet to go.

The old guy pivoted, lifting his cane like a shotgun and aimed at Lori with shocking speed.

Taking him head-on was the only response.

Nick bolted forward in a rush and charged the guy. The AARP-card-carrier’s eyes widened as he spotted Nick inbound and tried to redirect the aim. Nick knocked the cane up.

Bullets spit from the tip, spraying rounds on automatic. A plate glass storefront shattered. Rounds stitched up toward the ceiling. The air was split by the loud sewing-machine sound.

Ted pushed Lori up against a wall, out of the line of fire, and shielded her as he drew his Glock.

Bullets kept discharging in rapid fire. The gun concealed as a cane was such a thin, deceptive-looking weapon, but a stout recoil reverberated through Nick’s arms.

The man fought Nick to regain control and almost succeeded.

Though the guy was older, he wasn’t about to be put out to pasture. He had the strength of a bull and unleashed blinding martial arts moves.

Nick struggled to hold on to the cane through the assassin’s lightning kicks until the weapon clicked. Empty. Nick threw a hard right punch, catching the older man full in the face.

To his credit, the man didn’t stumble, but the blow stunned him a second. Maybe only a nanosecond before the man took a running leap into the air, screaming like a ferocious beast. AARP hoisted the cane up and swung it down.

Nick raised both arms, forming a triangle in front of his head to protect his skull. He took the brunt of the blow with his forearms and went for the man’s knee with the heel of his foot.

The old guy was too quick and dodged it but left another body part vulnerable. Nick kicked the man straight in the gonads.

The cane slipped from AARP’s grip and he doubled over in what must’ve been a world of hurt. But Nick wasn’t gullible enough to think that man wouldn’t recover in the next breath.

Nick grabbed the stainless-steel tray from the gawking clerk, letting samples of tea spill to the floor, and smacked AARP with the platter. A clang rang in the air as the man’s head twisted. But he stayed upright, wobbling—still a threat. Nick threw his entire body into hitting the man with the steel tray again. Not once, not twice, hell, he didn’t stop whaling on AARP until the guy dropped like a sack of potatoes and didn’t so much as twitch.

Lori was safe behind Nick’s partner, her face awash in renewed horror. Ted stood vigilant as a sentinel, determined not to let anything or anyone touch her, but his gun hand was shaking.

Not a good sign.

Ted was solid as a rock and Nick had never seen him tremble from nerves. Hopefully, his partner could make it to the car and Nick would tend to Lori and Ted later.

Right now there was a far more urgent problem.

The tingle in the back of his neck that slipped down between his shoulder blades told him he was being watched, and not by lookie-loo civilians.

He glanced around, barely taking in the carnage of broken glass and injured bystanders, bleeding and rolling on the floor from stray bullets.

One thing was at the forefront of his mind.

How many more hit men were there?

Chapter Three

Another bishop lost. Damn it!

Belladonna forced herself to stop staring at the target and turned, pretending to look at a storefront window display, in the opposite direction of the murmuring crowd that was gathering at the scene.

In another second or two, Deputy Marshal Nick McKenna would’ve sensed her surveillance and spotted her.

Unlike the older, softer Zeeman, McKenna was razor-sharp and capable. Traits she’d banked on in the clothing store when she’d lured the younger man away from the vicinity of the dressing rooms. She thought for certain he would’ve pursued her. The feral gleam in his eyes telegraphed his gnawing desire to do so, but he’d followed his protocol instead.

Something she bet he’d do again.

Even if she was mistaken on that account, she’d spent weeks planning, putting the pieces into place, waiting—down to the wire—for the final, missing element to fall in line.

There was nowhere they could go that she wouldn’t follow. Nowhere for them to hide. She had a carefully handpicked hit squad of more than a dozen left at her beck and call.

Belladonna whipped out her burner phone. First, she made a call to housekeeping.

“ETA on police?” she asked.

“They were just called,” the whiskey-smooth female voice on the other side said. “A bystander in the crowd phoned it in. ETA six minutes. We’ve kept the mall security phone lines down and the video surveillance feeds to the clothing store and southwest entrance cut.”

“Good. One less complication to deal with.”

“You need to consider that someone may have filmed the altercation on their phone.”

Exactly what Belladonna didn’t need. Video footage slapped up on YouTube going viral. “I need cleanup. ASAP.” She kept her own voice calm yet firm. “Two down. I don’t want any DNA traces of my people left behind. Not a drop of blood. Not a single hair. No clothing fibers. Nothing. Do what you can to wipe the phones in the area clean. Are we clear?”

“As always. We’ll monitor the internet in case any footage slips past us and pops up.”

They’d clean that, too.

There wasn’t a better housekeeping team on the planet, and they were worth their weight in gold. They would enter the mall disguised as paramedics and police officers, enabling them to move around unobstructed and unquestioned.

What they weren’t able to get spick-and-span, they’d taint, making it worthless to forensics.

“Once you’re done cleaning up this mess, restore feeds and phones before the media circus arrives.”

Belladonna disconnected and sent a short text.

You’re up, rook.

Standing by for a reply, she looked at the back of her hand and traced the lines of her tattoo—an inky rose. The symbol reinforced her resolve.

Tattoos or any identifying marks were a hazard in her industry, but she’d gotten it after her daughter was born.

The rose was meant to signify a fresh start, a path of her own choosing, a new identity.

Belladonna was the name the drug cartel had christened her when they took her in thirty years ago, smelted her down, trained her, forged her into the weapon she was today. It was Italian for beautiful woman.

And it was also the name of a plant. Every part of the nightshade from bloom to leaves to enticing berries was deadly.

Funny, she’d always loved the name and had embraced the purpose that had gone hand in hand with it until—

A response came back on her cell.

Ready to rock and roll. Set in ten.

She stowed her phone in her pocket. Lori Carpenter wouldn’t live to take the stand.

Belladonna would make certain since her own life was staked on it.

“TED IS STABLE, and the bleeding seems to have stopped.” Nick drove the sedan, headed in the general direction of the safe house, but with no confirmed destination yet.

His boss on the other end, Will Draper, would decide their next move. Nick continued to check his mirrors fifteen minutes later for any following vehicles. Using the skills that he’d learned from his family and reinforced by the US Marshals, he’d gotten on the freeway, gotten off and then immediately back on. Where traffic was dense, he weaved in and out of lanes.

He exited for the state road that led to Big Bear Lake. Rather than going to the safe house, he took a circuitous route, looping through residential neighborhoods, passing the camping gear store and veterinarian.

At every yellow light, he shot through and made sharp turns at the last possible moment. All the while staying vigilant and looking in his mirrors for a tail.

“But he’ll need to be checked for a concussion as soon as possible,” Nick said, finishing his update.

Until then, Nick needed to make a pit stop to get his partner some ice for his head and to treat Lori’s wounds. He glanced at her in the back seat. Her arms were wrapped around her midsection, hugging herself, and her head rested on the window. A cloud of despair and fear hung over her. She looked so fragile and on edge and had every reason to be. He wanted to do something to restore her sense of safety, her belief in his ability to protect her.

The truth was he even doubted himself at this point for letting his guard slip. Something that never should’ve happened.

“Glad to hear Ted is fine. We’ve never had anything like this happen,” Draper said. “Are you sure you didn’t pick up a tail at the mall? You’re not being followed, are you?”

“I’m certain. We aren’t being followed.” The road behind them was clear, but he hadn’t loosened his death grip from the wheel or let his muscles relax in the slightest.

“Good. I’m going to have Intel get to the bottom of what happened.” Draper heaved a hard breath over the line.

Nick didn’t know Draper well. Six months after Draper had been appointed as marshal of the San Diego office, Nick had been banished to the remote mountains on this long-term mission.

This assignment was a punishment. For losing his temper and communicating with his fists rather than his words with a fellow deputy—a real bastard. His boss paired him with mild-mannered, easygoing Ted, figuring the two of them wouldn’t clash. An accurate assessment.

Draper’s track record as an ambitious hard charger and reputation for positive results were well-known and had preceded him. Zero mistakes on his record.

“In the meantime,” Draper continued, “we have no reason to believe the safe house has been compromised. Based on your location and Ted’s injury, it’s the best place for you to go. Far better than holing up at a motel off the interstate that could easily be breached. And the nearest hospital is thirty minutes away, not that you’d be in a defensible position there. At least the safe house is stocked with provisions and has fortified safety features in a worst-case scenario. Go there, enter with caution and stay put until I have further instructions. I’ll call in backup.”

The safe house wasn’t a perfect option. There was no way to know what information the assassins had, but Nick agreed that it was their best bet, for now. A haphazard decision made from fear without all the facts could leave him and Ted exposed and Lori vulnerable to another attack.

“All right. I understand.” Nick disconnected. “We’re sticking to protocol and heading to the safe house.”

Protocol was everything. It had kept the US Marshals from losing a single person under active protection in the witness security program for decades.

“Not surprising,” Ted said. “Did Draper have any ideas how they found her?”

Nick spotted a gas station convenience store, pulled over and threw the car in Park. “Draper doesn’t know how, but he’s got Intel digging into it.” A fresh wave of tension churned in his gut. “I’m going to grab some ice for your head. Keep your eyes peeled.”

Ted reached over and grabbed Nick’s forearm, stopping him. “I messed up back in the store.” He sucked his teeth, disgust stamped on his face. “Let that girl get the drop on me.”

Ted had a perfect record, stellar reputation and was one of the best to work with. Sure, he was about to retire, but he wasn’t guilty of complacency.

“She was a professional,” Nick said. “Looked perfectly harmless to me, too, and you were probably focused on the blonde as a possible threat.”

The same way Nick had been focused on the brunette. Hell, he’d almost left the store to go after her, and if he had, Lori would be dead.

Ted grimaced. “Thanks for trying to make an old guy feel better, but I’ll run in and get the ice. You stay with Lori. I couldn’t live with myself if something else happened to her because of me. Don’t let her out of your sight, kid.”

At thirty-four, Nick was no more a kid than the assassin had been a girl, but Ted referred to anyone twenty years his junior as such. “All right. Two minutes, then we hit the road.”

Ted gave a curt nod and climbed out.

Nick popped the trunk. “Give me a sec,” he said to Lori as he opened his door, but she didn’t acknowledge him with a glance.

He skirted around to the rear of the vehicle, grabbed the medical kit and slid into the back seat beside her.

She didn’t look at him or shift his way or move an inch. Her blank stare stayed fixed outside the window, her limbs rigid with tension, a subtle tremble moving through her.

What he wouldn’t give to make her stop shaking.

“Will Ted be okay?” Her gaze was still focused outside the window. “I feel awful that he was hurt because of me.”

She was almost killed, twice, and here she was worried about Ted. Always showing concern for someone other than herself.

The more time he spent with Lori, the more he saw how she had a generous heart, one that he guessed had been hurt. He suspected it was the reason she was so guarded, but he admired her strength, too.

Tough as steel on the outside with a surprising vulnerability on the inside. An irresistible combination that had tempted him every waking hour in their close quarters.

Was the draw to her simply lust? Or something deeper, something more abiding?

The latter worried him senseless.

“Ted will be fine.” He opened the med kit. “Is it okay for me to clean and bandage it?” He gestured to her throat.

She nodded.

Nick dabbed gauze doused with saline solution across the laceration.

Lori hissed, her pale face twisting in agony.

The last thing he wanted was to cause her more pain, but the wound needed to be cleaned. He applied triple antibiotic ointment to the raw wound and bandaged it.

“Hey, are you hanging in there?”

Another nod.

Ninety-five percent of the people the Marshal Services protected were some shade of criminal, endeavoring to evade prosecution by snitching on a bigger fish. That wasn’t the case with Lori. She was a good person, a law-abiding accountant, no criminal history, who went to the FBI of her own free will. Most upstanding people didn’t do that, believe it or not.

Turning state’s evidence that qualified a person for WITSEC meant sacrificing everything. The vast majority weren’t willing to accept a new identity without resources, credit or the promise of stability, all after being dumped in a strange environment. Their inclination was to look the other way instead.

While Lori’s reward for doing the right thing by agreeing to testify against dangerous parasites was to risk her life, change her name, sacrifice her career, give up all her friends and accept a much lower standard of living. She didn’t deserve any of this.

“Not much choice in the matter.” She clenched her hands into fists, digging them into her thighs. “I refuse to roll over and give up.”

Regardless of the horror and trauma of the past hour, she wasn’t about to break. Her eyes were glassy from the strain. But beyond the tears there was determination. He could almost see her gathering her strength and he admired that about Lori.

She was a fighter. He’d seen her inner constitution during their hand-to-hand lessons.

No matter how many times he knocked her down or how hard she fell, she got back up. Sometimes winded and weary, but always with an easy grace, ready for more.

That took serious guts.

His mom had called her incredible in their weekly chats when he talked about Lori’s compassion, her kindness, her courage—without mentioning her name or specific circumstances or anything to violate the rules.

“No. I wouldn’t expect you to give up.” Nick longed to touch her, as a man would a woman. Not as a marshal trying to put a witness at ease. He settled for setting his palm over her fist, and her fingers loosened instantly, taking his hand in hers. “But that doesn’t mean what happened isn’t overwhelming for you.”

She wasn’t a federal agent, hadn’t grown up around a bunch of rough and rowdy bounty hunters, and had no self-defense training outside of what he’d provided.

This situation was bound to be tough for any civilian.

“I can’t stop thinking about it,” she said, her brow furrowed, “when all I want to do is push it from my mind.”

His fingers itched to stroke away her worries.

When she’d asked to learn self-defense, he’d jumped at her request. Sure, he was eager to teach her skills he hoped she’d never need in her new life, but it was also a tad self-serving. All their physical contact, no matter how brief or slight, how accidental or deliberate, had only stoked his appetite for more.

“I don’t think the garrote will leave a mark.”

“The gar-what?”

“The garrote. What the assassin used to...” That woman had gotten so close to ending her life. Too damn close. And that was on him. “It’ll take time to heal. On the inside as well as the outside.” Temptation won, and he brushed his knuckles across her cheek. Satin didn’t hold a candle to her skin. His breath grew shallow as she leaned into his touch. “But I’m here for you.”

He wasn’t exactly sure what he was trying to say, but he meant as more than a deputy marshal. He liked her. He wanted her so much that he ached, and he’d spent too much time wondering what it’d be like to kiss her. But staunch professionalism had always drawn a fine line in the sand, stopping him from doing anything they might both regret. That, and the ever-looming presence of Ted, if Nick was being one hundred percent honest.

Not that he should be thinking about that now, considering she was still in danger, but he couldn’t help it with her sitting close enough for her warm breath to caress his cheek.

Averting her gaze, she put her palm on his thigh. “You mean, here for me for another day, anyway. Then you’re off to your next assignment, next witness to protect, and before you know it, you’ll have forgotten all about me.”

Forgetting Lori would be like forgetting being struck by lightning. Totally impossible.

“No matter what happens after tomorrow,” he said, cupping her cheek, and his heart pumped double-time, “never think you were just an assignment or a witness to me.” Because you’re so much more.

Her gaze lifted to his, and something sparked between them. Warm. Undeniable. Stronger than rapport. She wet her lips, and he was tempted to hold her in his arms the way he’d fantasized for months, reeling her flush against him, and kiss her.

Ted came out of the store with a bag of frozen vegetables pressed to his skull and headed for the car. Impeccable timing as usual.

“I’ll never forget you, Lori. Never.” Nick lowered his hand from her face. “When we get to the safe house, I can take a look at your feet.”

She nodded. “Thank you, for everything.”

Before Ted threw him a side-eye, Nick wasted no time switching seats back behind the steering wheel.

Ten minutes later they arrived at the safe house.

Rather than stow the car in the garage, he parked in the drive. Better to check the house and perimeter first, proceeding with caution like Draper advised and his gut insisted on.

“I’ll do a sweep,” Nick said. “Make sure it’s all clear.”

Ted scowled. “I’ll take point.”

Was he kidding?

Ted hadn’t tossed his cookies or lost consciousness again, which were both bad signs with a head injury, but he had a tremble in his hand and wasn’t quite steady on his feet.

Nick was all for tenacity—they needed it to get through these tough assignments—but pushing it was plain stupid. “You could have a concussion. What if you get light-headed or pass out?”

“You’re not leaving her side,” Ted said, wagging a finger in Nick’s face. “Got it, kid?”

“No, Ted. I don’t got it. There comes a time when we have to acknowledge our limitations and concede. This is one of those times.” Nick put his hand on Ted’s shoulder. “It’s no reflection on you or your record.” He had admired Ted since he first started working at the San Diego office. A lifer who hadn’t grown soft or complacent, eager to help the newbies, lend an ear of support and offer good advice when solicited or not. Ted was like the caring, helpful uncle everyone wished they had. “You’re not well. You need to stay off your feet. I’ll clear the house.”

Ted looked back at Lori like he was reluctant to speak in front of her.

She made it easier by looking out the window and pretending she wasn’t privy to their conversation. A small consideration that spoke volumes about Lori’s generosity, especially in light of what she’d been through. She had every right to chime in, shout her opinion, accuse Ted and Nick of falling short and failing her. But she didn’t, always one to take the gracious, high road.

“I was with Hummingbird when that girl got close enough to almost—” he dropped his voice to a whisper “—kill her. Somehow, I didn’t see it coming. That’s on me.” Ted shook his head, mouth pulled into a grim line. “I’ve got the feeling that this isn’t over.”

Nick had the same queasy sensation rolling in his stomach.

Black Rose hadn’t shown herself again at the mall. But she was out there, somewhere, waiting for the opportune moment to strike.

Would that happen when Nick left Lori alone with Ted?

His partner was injured, less fit and capable now than he had been at the clothing store.

Nick wanted to clone himself into an army that he could rely on to keep Lori safe, but he didn’t have that luxury. He had to work with what he had and stick next to Lori. No distractions, no being baited, no entertaining any other possibility.

“You need to stay by her side and make sure nothing else happens to her,” Ted said.

His partner was well respected, senior and technically in charge, but Nick could see it in his eyes—the need to get this right. No more mistakes.

Ted had made hard sacrifices over the years. His five tumultuous divorces were legendary. He wanted a committed, stable marriage and had tried multiple times to achieve it, and contested every dissolution, but this job demanded so much, sucked you dry. All he had left was his career and reputation.

Sure, it didn’t keep a man warm at night, but he’d chosen to put duty first and accept the cost. Something all the deputies related to and commended.

To lose a witness was the one thing every marshal dreaded, but to have it happen on your last assignment would be a mark of shame none would be able to live with. Going down in infamy as that deputy marshal who’d lost someone in protective custody and becoming the focus of a lesson at the academy on what not to do.

No one wanted the torment of a tarnished legacy in their twilight years. It was all Ted had left.

“Got it,” Nick said. “But if you start seeing stars, you let me know.”

“Will do.” Ted drew his weapon, switched off the safety and left the car.

As he jogged along the outskirts of the safe house, scanning the tree line of the surrounding woods, he did a quick perimeter sweep that must’ve made the old guy’s head pound.

“All clear. Entering the house,” Ted said over comms.

The security system gave thirty seconds for the code to be entered before sending an alert to district headquarters and the alarm sounded.

Nick stepped out of the car for a better vantage point, keeping his eyes peeled for any indication that the safe house had been compromised. He trained his gaze on the woods. Nothing beyond birds and squirrels stirred. No tingle down his spine like they were being watched.

“First floor, clear.” Ted’s voice was tight, strained. Through the open front door, Nick saw him cross the entranceway toward the stairs. “Heading to the second floor.” A minute later he said, “Good to go. Cleared to bring Hummingbird inside.”

Nick opened Lori’s door and escorted her to the house. The crunch of the gravel in the driveway underfoot echoed in the stillness. He ushered her up the porch steps, inside and locked the reinforced steel door capable of withstanding a battering ram. The house was stuffy, warmer by about five degrees he estimated, but the smart thermostat was set for efficiency.

After a small adjustment, they could all take a breather and recover from the morning. Gain their bearings and assess everyone’s physical condition. Lori needed painkillers and he had to examine Ted’s head to see if stitches were necessary.

Nick had patched up a buddy or two in the field when he was in the army, a skill that had come in handy on more than one occasion, but he’d never treated a head injury before and wasn’t qualified to try.

“Ted, what’s your status?” Nick headed to the security system to arm it.

“Checking the crawl space in the attic. It’s tight up here. And hot. But an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.”

This was why Ted was in charge, beyond seniority. The man might have a concussion, but he had the foresight and the fortitude to push through and check the attic. The assassins they were dealing with had proven to be resourceful and deceptive. On the off chance they had the location of the safe house, the attic would be a clever hiding spot.

Nick tapped in the code on the panel, activating the security features of the house, from motion sensors that would alert them to anyone approaching, to video cameras giving them eyes for three hundred sixty degrees. If necessary, with the touch of a button, steel shutters would deploy, rolling down over the windows—a cheaper, more efficient alternative to bullet-resistant glass—turning the shelter into an impenetrable fortress.

Each safe house was designed to hold up under an attack and provide a secure environment where marshals could wait for reinforcements.

“Nick?” Lori asked, staring at the thermostat. Something curious in her voice tugged at him.

“Yeah.” He turned, stepping up beside her.

“Look.” She pointed to the Nest sensor.

He glanced at the round dial. Instead of the display showing the temperature, numbers were counting down. Fourteen. Thirteen. Twelve.

A raw, flaring pit opened in his chest as realization set in. The place was rigged to blow.

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