SAFEGUARDING THE WITNESS

Close to bringing the Dupree crime family that murdered his parents to justice, FBI agent Ian Slade wants to track the leader—not protect the man’s niece. But with Esme Dupree’s uncle determined to silence her before she can testify against her brother, Ian and his K-9 partner are duty-bound to guard her. Even if her family ties make him doubt her innocence. But as he and Esme fight to survive the chase through the Florida Everglades, it becomes clear to Ian that she’s nothing like her family. And soon, Ian must choose between the vengeance he’s craved for so long and a future rich in forgiveness and hope.

“Do you have any other weapons?”

“If I did, I’d have used them already,” Esme said.

“Mind if I check? Just to be sure?”

“Yes. I do.”

“I’m going to have to do it anyway. You could make it easier by not struggling.”

“You could make it easier by letting me go.”

“That would defeat the purpose of me and King spending the last three days hanging around Long Pine Key Campground searching for you.”

“Is that Cujo’s name? King?”

“Yeah. Why?” Ian patted her down one-handed, refusing to release his hold. No matter how small she seemed, no matter how harmless, she was part of the crime family that had killed his parents.

* * *

Dear Reader,

When I first began writing for Love Inspired, my children were young. I worked late at night because it was the only time when I didn’t have a toddler in my lap or “Mom!” ringing in my ears. I was so excited to be an author and to share my stories with others. I sat down to write my first reader letter, and I froze. I had no idea what to say! All these years later, that still happens.

Nevertheless, I’ve found that my words reach the people they are intended for. Perhaps this letter is yours. Perhaps these words are meant for your heart. Because you matter. You do. You are not just a tiny dot on a small planet floating in the darkness of a vast universe. You are a bright light in the life of the people who love you. You are infinitely valuable to your creator, immensely loved by a God who sees your faults and still calls you His. Wherever your road has taken you, I hope that you find comfort in knowing He is there. And if you have lost your way, I pray He leads you safely home.

As always, I would love to hear from you! You can reach me at shirlee@shirleemccoy.com or find me on Facebook, Twitter or Instagram.

Blessings,

Aside from her faith and her family, there’s not much SHIRLEE McCOY enjoys more than a good book! When she’s not teaching or chauffeuring her five kids, she can usually be found plotting her next Love Inspired Suspense story or wandering around the beautiful Inland Northwest in search of inspiration. Shirlee loves to hear from readers. If you have time, drop her a line at shirlee@shirleemccoy.com.

Bodyguard

Shirlee McCoy

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

Before you start reading, why not sign up?

Thank you for downloading this Mills & Boon book. If you want to hear about exclusive discounts, special offers and competitions, sign up to our email newsletter today!

SIGN ME UP!

Or simply visit

signup.millsandboon.co.uk

Mills & Boon emails are completely free to receive and you can unsubscribe at any time via the link in any email we send you.

Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid, do not be discouraged. For the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.

—Joshua 1:9

To my beautiful and brave niece, Aaliyah Parker. The strongest young lady I know. I am so proud of you and so blessed to call you family! Keep smiling, sweetie. And, I will keep praying! I love you dearly!

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

About the Author

Title Page

Bible Verse

Dedication

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

EPILOGUE

Extract

Copyright

ONE

If the Everglades didn’t kill her, her uncle would.

Either way, Esme Dupree was going to die.

The thought of that—of all the things she’d leave behind, all the dreams she’d never fulfill—had kept her moving through the Florida wetland for three days, but she was tiring. Even the most determined person in the world couldn’t keep running forever. And she’d been running for what seemed like nearly that long. First, she’d fled witness protection, crisscrossing states to try to stay a step ahead of her uncle’s henchmen. She’d finally found her way to Florida, to the thick vegetation and quiet waterways that her parents had loved.

Esme wasn’t as keen. Her family had spent every summer of her childhood here, exploring the wetland, documenting flora and fauna as part of Esme’s homeschool experience. She preferred open fields and prairie grass, but her parents had loved the shallow green water of the Everglades. She’d never had the heart to tell them that she didn’t. By that time, her older siblings were grown and gone, and it was just the three of them, exploring the world together.

Funny that she’d come back here when her life was falling apart; when everything she’d worked for had been shot to smithereens by her brother’s and uncle’s crimes, Esme had returned to a place filled with fond memories.

It was also filled with lots of things that could kill a person. Alligators. Crocodiles. Snakes. Panthers. She wasn’t as worried about those as she was about human predators.

Her uncle and the people he’d hired.

The FBI, too. If they tracked her down, they wouldn’t kill her, but she’d put her hope in them before, trusted them for her safety. She’d almost died because of it.

She wiped sweat from her brow and sipped water from her canteen. Better to go it alone than to count on people who couldn’t be depended on. She’d been learning that the hard way these past few months.

Bugs dive-bombed every inch of her exposed flesh, the insect repellant sweating off almost as quickly as she could spray it on. Things hadn’t been so bad when she’d been renting a little trailer at the edge of the national park. She’d had shelter from the bugs and the critters. But Uncle Angus had tracked her down and nearly killed her. He would have killed her if she hadn’t smashed his head with a snow globe and called the police. They’d come quickly.

Of course they had.

They were as eager to get their hands on her as Uncle Angus had been. It seemed like every law enforcement office in the United States was keeping its eyes out for her.

Thanks to the feds, the organization that had sworn to protect her. Witness protection was supposed to be her ticket out of the mess she’d found herself in. She’d hoped it would be. She’d probably even believed it would. She’d entered the program because she’d seen her brother murder a man in cold blood. She’d seen the look in his eyes, and she’d known that he was capable of anything. Even killing her to keep her quiet. What she’d learned since then was that there was no panacea to her trouble. No easy way out. No certain solution. Her best hope was in herself and her ability to keep a step ahead of her uncle until the trial.

“That might have been easier if you’d stayed with the police,” she muttered, using a long wooden pole to move the canoe through shallow water.

There was no sense beating herself up over the decision to run again. Uncle Angus’s hired guns had firebombed the tiny police station she’d been taken to after she’d been attacked. During the chaos that had followed, she’d seen the opportunity and she’d run.

It had seemed like the right decision at the time.

Now she wasn’t so sure. The sun had nearly set, its golden glow still lingering on the horizon. Mosquitoes buzzed around her head. She didn’t bother slapping at them. Her arms ached. Her head throbbed. Her body felt leaden. All she wanted was to get out of the Glades and back to civilization. She’d make different decisions this time. Head for a place she’d never been before. She’d buy colored contacts to change the bright green eyes she’d inherited from her mother. The reading glasses she’d bought and worn hadn’t hidden them well enough, and Uncle Angus had told her that was how she’d been found.

“Those eyes, kid,” he’d growled. “You can’t hide them.”

He was wrong. She could, and she would.

No more living in her delusions, telling herself that everything was going to be okay because she was a good person with a good heart who wanted only what was best for the people she loved.

A fool.

Because she really wanted to believe that good begat good and that the happily-ever-after she’d planned for so many clients would happen for her one day.

She might be a fool, but she wasn’t stupid.

If she was found again, she would die.

But she wasn’t going to be found. She’d sleep in the canoe again. Just like she had the past three nights, covered by mosquito netting, listening to things slither in and out of the water. By tomorrow afternoon, she should reach her destination—Long Pine Key Campground. She eyed the compass she’d bought before she’d left Wyoming, using a small Mag light to study the map she’d grabbed from the Everglades National Park information center.

She’d had a feeling she was going to need both.

As a matter of fact, she’d put together a survival pack, and she’d hidden it in the crumbling loft of one of the boat sheds that dotted the trailer park where she’d been staying.

She’d been able to grab it after she’d escaped the police.

Maybe she wasn’t as much of a fool as her ex-fiancé, Brent, had said she was when she’d told him she was going to testify against her brother. She was tired, though. Tired people made mistakes. Like coming to the Everglades instead of heading for Texas or California or somewhere else where no one would think to look for her.

Death.

It had been stalking her for months, but now...

Now she could feel it breathing down her neck.

She shuddered, watching the edges of the murky water for a place to pull onto the shore. She needed a spot clear of vegetation. One that would allow her to drag the canoe far away from the edge of the water.

Tomorrow she’d be away from the slithering, slapping, plopping sounds of things moving through the water. She’d leave the canoe behind and make her way out of Florida. She still had money. Not much, but enough to get her to another state. She’d start fresh, build a new business. Nothing to do with weddings or brides. Nothing that anyone she knew would connect her with.

Not even Violetta.

Her eyes burned at the thought of never seeing her older sister again, her heart heavy with what that would mean—no family, no connections, no one who shared all her childhood memories.

If she could have, she’d have contacted her sister. But she didn’t dare. Their brother, Reginald, would use Violetta’s knowledge about Esme to his advantage. He’d probably been doing it all along. As much as she loved her sister, she also knew Violetta’s weakness—greed. She liked the good things in life, and she was happy to let their brother, Reginald, give them to her. Even if his means to those ends was murder.

Esme winced at the thought, pushing aside the memory that was always at the back of her mind. She’d witnessed a murder. Her brother had been the murderer. She’d watched the victim die, and she’d known that she couldn’t keep quiet.

She’d turned on her family, betraying the deepest of all bonds.

That was what Uncle Angus had said when he’d broken into the trailer.

Turned on family, and that makes you the lowest of low. You have to die, Esme. Because family is everything.

It was a lot, but there was more to life. There was integrity, there was honor, there was faith. The last was what had enabled her to offer herself as a witness to her brother’s crimes. She had what no one else in her family did—a certainty that God was in control, that He’d work everything out for His good.

She just hoped His good didn’t involve her dying in the middle of the Florida wetland.

Esme flashed her light along the edges of the water, ready to stop for the night, to try to shut off her thoughts and get some sleep. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked, the sound both alarming and comforting. She had to be on the right track, moving closer to civilization. The map and the compass hadn’t steered her wrong, but civilization meant people, and that meant more danger.

Her light shone on marshy land. Eyes peered out from thick foliage, and she tried not to let herself think about what was watching her. She didn’t mind the mammals. Mice, marsh rats, deer. Even thinking about panthers and bears didn’t bother her. It was the reptiles that made her skin crawl—alligators, crocodiles, snakes.

“Cut it out!” she whispered, her voice filled with the fear she’d been working hard not to acknowledge. Oh, what she wouldn’t give to be back in her cute little Chicago apartment, making dinner after a long day planning weddings.

Esme sighed. She did not want to be in a place where predators were waiting to do what they did best.

The dog barked again—a quick sharp sound that made her wonder if she were even closer to civilization than she’d originally thought. She’d already planned her escape route and knew—in theory—how to get from the dock at the trailer park to the closest Everglade car-accessible campground. If cars could get in, she could walk out. And that was what she planned to do.

Her light glanced off what looked like a tiny boathouse, the old wood structure gray against the lush vegetation. She checked her map, circling the camping area she thought she’d arrived at. The glades were dotted with little places like this—areas where a couple of campers could bed down for the night. This time of year, though, the water was high and the risk was greater. There weren’t as many campers. Just die-hard naturalists and explorers who wanted adventure.

Esme was neither of those things.

She liked home and books and routine.

She hated scary movies, danger, intrigue.

All she’d wanted was to plan weddings, marry her college sweetheart, have the nice life she’d been dreaming of for years.

But here she was.

Ready to bed down for another night in a place that she’d rather not be.

She steered toward the wood structure, saw the clearing beyond it. There were lights in the distance—unexpected signs that she really was closer to civilization than she thought.

Esme dragged the canoe out of the water, her waders sucked in by the muddy ground. Behind her, something splashed, and she imagined a crocodile or giant snapping turtle moving toward her.

There were no other boats, no campers, nothing human that she could see. Whatever the light had been, it was gone now. Twilight turned the world deep purple, casting long shadows across the wet ground.

She climbed into the boat, traced the route she’d highlighted on the map, double-and triple-checking her coordinates. Two more camping spots before she reached her destination. Unless she’d missed a couple on the journey.

That was a possibility.

If she had, she might be at the last stop before the road-accessible campground. Something rustled in the brush, and she jumped, scanning the area, looking for whatever had made the noise. Not a mouse or rat. This had sounded large. A panther? A bear? Her heart thudded in her chest as she pulled the bowie knife from the sheath she’d strapped to her thigh. It glinted in the last rays of the setting sun, the blade new and wicked-looking. A great weapon for fighting something close-up, but she’d prefer to keep far from whatever was lurking in the shadows. In hindsight, a gun would have been a better idea. Purchasing a firearm would have been a problem, but she could have gotten her hands on one if she’d tried hard enough.

It wasn’t like she didn’t know how to use one. Her parents had taught her, and Reginald had reiterated the importance of knowing how to defend herself. Probably because he’d been afraid that his crimes would catch up to him, that the people he’d hurt would come back to hurt his family.

Family was everything, but he hadn’t loved his enough to keep them out of harm’s way. The irony of that wasn’t lost on her.

The bushes rustled again—closer this time. Whatever it was, it was stalking her. She could feel it coming closer, see leaves shifting and plants shivering as something moved past.

“Please, God,” she whispered, her fingers so tight around the knife hilt they ached. “Please.”

And then it was on her, springing out from the brush in a flash of dark fur and dark eyes, her light following the movement as she scrambled back. Her knife hand moving as her brain screamed the truth—

A dog!

The thing was a dog, bounding across the open ground and stopping beside her. Sniffing at the air, at the boat, its nose so close she could have touched it.

“Hello,” she said, her voice shaking, but the dog was already bounding away, barking wildly, the bright orange vest it was wearing glowing in the beam of Esme’s light.

It took a second for that to register.

The vest.

The dog.

A search team. Either her uncle’s henchmen or the police.

Looking for her.

She jumped out of the canoe, dragged it back toward the water, her heart slamming against her ribs as she tried desperately to escape whoever was on her trail.

* * *

The lady was back in the water, tugging the canoe out of the shallows. She probably thought she could escape again, but Esme Dupree was about to be disappointed.

Ian Slade sprinted the last few yards that separated him from his quarry, his K-9 partner, King, barking ferociously beside him. Esme had to know they were coming, but she didn’t glance back, didn’t stop, she just kept dragging the canoe, splashing through the green water, alerting every predator in the area that prey was moving through.

He grabbed her arm, was surprised when she swung around, a bowie knife clutched in her free hand.

King growled low in his throat, a warning that Esme would be wise to heed. The Belgian Malinois was trained in protection. Smart, agile and strong, King had a bite as vicious as his bark.

“My partner,” Ian warned, “doesn’t like when people threaten me.”

“Is that what I’m doing?” She tried to pull away, but after three days of tracking her, there was no way Ian planned to let her go.

“What would you call it?” he replied, dragging her back a few steps.

“Defending myself.”

King growled again, and Esme’s gaze shifted, her attention caught just long enough for Ian to make his move.

He disarmed her with ease, grabbing her knife arm and twisting it until she dropped the weapon. Even then, he didn’t release his hold.

Sure, her record was clean. She made a living planning weddings...pretty aboveboard, from the looks of it. But Esme was a member of the Dupree crime family, cut from the same cloth as her brother—a man who killed first and asked questions later.

Ian knew that more than most.

She yanked against his hold, forcing her arm into an angle that had to be painful. He might not trust her, but he didn’t want to hurt her.

“Calm down,” he said, shifting his grip. “I’m Agent Ian Slade. With the FBI.’”

“And that’s supposed to be comforting?” Esme ground out as she continued to tug against his hold.

“More comforting than staying out in the middle of nowhere with your uncle still on the loose.”

“He wouldn’t be loose if your team would focus on apprehending him rather than me.” She yanked hard, her boots slipping in the muck.

She’d have gone down if he weren’t holding on to her.

She didn’t seem to realize that there was no way she was going to escape. Ian was a well-trained federal officer, part of an elite group of agents. He was also a head taller than she was and seventy pounds heavier. Maybe more. Her bones were small, her wrist tiny, his hand circling it with ease.

As battles went, this wasn’t a fair one, and he almost felt bad for restraining her.

Almost.

He knew what her family was capable of.

Until she proved differently, he had to assume she was capable of the same. Even if he’d been one-hundred-percent certain that she wasn’t, he wouldn’t have let her go. Protecting her was his assignment. Keeping her alive until the case against her brother went to trial was what he’d agreed to do.

Despite the fact that she was a Dupree.

“Do you have any other weapons on you?” he asked, his fingers curved around her wrist. She’d stopped tugging. Maybe she’d finally realized she couldn’t get away.

“If I did, I’d have used them already,” she spat.

“On a federal officer?” he asked.

“I didn’t realize you were a federal officer at first. If I had, I wouldn’t have pulled the knife.”

“Good to know. Mind if I make sure you’re telling the truth about weapons?”

“Yes. I do.”

He could have forced the issue, but there wasn’t any point. She might try to run, but he didn’t think she’d attack him to do it. She had a clean record, no history of violence or trouble.

“All right,” he said, releasing her.

“Thanks.” She started walking to the canoe as if she thought he’d let her leave.

“I’m not checking for a weapon, but I’m not letting you leave, either.”

“It would be easier on both of us if you did.” She turned to face him, the darkening evening wrapping her in shadows. He couldn’t see her expression through the gloom, but he could see the pale oval of her face, the tension in her shoulders.

“That would defeat the purpose of me and King spending the last three days hanging around Long Pine Key Campground waiting for you to show up.”

“I didn’t ask you to come looking for me. As a matter of fact, I would have preferred that you didn’t, Agent Slade,” she responded.

“Ian. We’ll be spending a lot of time together. We might as well be on a first-name basis.”

“I’m not going back into witness protection.”

“That’s fine. We’ll work something else out.”

“I guess I should have been more clear. I’m not going back into any kind of federal protection. I’ve been on my own for a few months now, and I’ve been doing just fine.”

“Until your uncle tracked you down,” he pointed out, and she stiffened.

“I was tracked down long before I came to Florida,” she responded. “Or have you forgotten that poor woman who was murdered because she was in the same state you’d hidden me in?”

He hadn’t forgotten.

None of the members of the team had.

Information about Esme’s location had been leaked to the Dupree crime family, and a woman who’d looked a lot like her had been killed. “I’m sorry that happened. More than I can express, but I’m not part of the witness protection unit. I work for the FBI Tactical K-9 Unit.”

“It doesn’t matter who you work for. I’m not spending any more time with you.”

“I wish that was how things worked, but it isn’t. You agreed to testify against your brother.”

“And I plan to.”

“That will be really difficult to do if you’re dead.”

“If I’d stayed in Wyoming, I probably would be. Then we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

She had a point. A good one. Esme was the sole witness to a murder her brother had committed. Her brother, Reginald, and Angus would do anything to keep her from testifying.

“We had a security breach,” he explained, snagging her backpack from the bottom of the canoe. “It won’t happen again.”

“It won’t happen again because I’m not going back into protective custody.”

“I’m afraid you are.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Have you ever been wrong before?”

“More than I’d like to be.”

“Good,” she retorted. “Then you won’t be upset that you’re wrong this time.” She whirled around and would have walked away, but King blocked her path, pressing in close to her legs.

She shot a look in Ian’s direction, her eyes still flashing with anger. “Call off your dog.”

“Release,” he said, and King pranced back to his side.

“Thanks.” She probably would have walked away, but he held up her pack.

“Forgetting something?”

She reached for it and King growled.

“He doesn’t like people taking things from me.”

“I don’t like people touching my things,” she responded, her focus on King. She looked scared. He didn’t blame her. At home, King was goofy and friendly, funny and entertaining. On the job, he was intimidating, his tan face and dark muzzle giving him a wolflike appearance.

“Sorry. I’ve got to check the contents before we move out.”

“I think I made it clear that—”

“You plan on going it alone. You’ve made it very clear. Unfortunately, my job is to get you to trial safely. I can’t do that if we’re not together.”

“We’re at cross purposes, then, and I don’t see us finding common ground.” She stepped back, and he thought she might be looking for an escape route. One that King wouldn’t be able to follow.

“The common ground is this—we both want to keep you alive. How about you let me do what I’m trained to do?”

“Which is?”

“Protecting people like you.”

King growled, the sound low and mean.

Esme froze, but Ian could have told her the growl wasn’t directed at her. It was a warning. One that sent adrenaline shooting through Ian’s bloodstream. He grabbed Esme’s wrist, dragging her close.

“What—” she began, but Ian held up his hand, silencing her so that he could listen. The evening had gone eerily quiet, King’s rumbling growl the only sound.

He pulled Esme to the thick brush that surrounded the campsite, motioning for her to drop down into the cover it offered. She slipped into the summer-soft leaves silently, folding herself down so that even he could barely see her.

King swiveled, tracking something that Ian could neither see nor hear. He wanted to think that it was a panther, a bear, an alligator, but King was trained to differentiate between human and animal threats. Besides, thanks to former team member Jake Morrow, the Dupree crime family seemed to always be just one step behind the K-9 team. There was every possibility that one or more of Angus’s henchmen was wandering through the Everglades.

He thrust Esme’s backpack into her arms, leaning close to whisper in her ear. “Stay down. Stay quiet. Don’t move.”

She nodded, clutching the backpack to her chest.

King’s growl changed pitch. Whoever was coming was getting closer. It wasn’t local law enforcement, and it wasn’t a member of the K-9 team. They were back at headquarters waiting for word that Ian had finally found Esme’s trail.

That left only one other option.

Angus Dupree or his hired guns.

Ian acted quickly, shoving the canoe into the water with just enough force to keep it moving. He gave King the signal to heel and went with him into the shelter of thick vegetation. Mosquitoes and flies buzzed around King’s head, but the dog didn’t move; his attention was fixed on a spot just beyond the clearing. Ian knew the area. He’d walked it several times the past few days, certain that Esme would arrive there eventually.

She was smart.

There was no doubt about that.

Ian had done his research. He knew as much as there was to know about her childhood, her schooling, her college years. He knew she’d built her business without the help of her older sister, that she’d never taken a dime from her brother. Everything she had, she’d earned on the right side of the law by using the brain God had given her.

The fact that she’d escaped witness protection and had stayed under the radar for months was even more proof of her keen intelligence. Smart people didn’t go into situations without a plan. Ian had visited the trailer she’d been renting at the edge of the Everglades. He’d seen the old boathouse and the dock, and he’d known she’d had an escape route in mind when she’d chosen to rent the place.

All he’d needed was a map and a highlighter. He’d done some calculations, tried to think of how far someone like Esme would be willing to travel in a hostile environment. It hadn’t taken any time at all to figure out that the quickest, most direct route out of the Everglades brought her here.

He’d staked out the area, walking a grid pattern every day, waiting for her to show.

Apparently, he wasn’t the only one who’d been haunting this place looking for her. She was smart, but she’d have been better off leaving the area. She hadn’t had the backpack with her while she was in protective custody with the local police, and she hadn’t visited any of the local outdoor supply stores, either. He had to assume that she’d returned to the rental to retrieve the pack. Which meant there was something she needed in it. Money seemed more likely than anything.

King’s growl had become a deep rumble of unease. Scruff standing on end, muscles taut, he waited for the signal to go in. Ian waited, too. He didn’t know how many people were approaching or what kind of firepower they’d brought. Backup was already on the way. He’d called in to headquarters as soon as he’d seen Esme paddling toward the campsite.

A shadow appeared a hundred yards out, and King crouched, ready to bound toward it. Ian gave him the signal to hold, watching as two more people stepped into view. A posse of three hunting a lone woman. If Esme had been bedded down for the night, they’d have been on her before she’d realized what was happening.

An unfair fight, but that was the way the Duprees did things.

One of the men turned on a flashlight, the beam bouncing across the camping area and flashing on the water. Twenty feet from the shore, the canoe floated languidly.

“There!” the man hollered, pulling a gun, the world exploding in a hail of gunfire.

TWO

If she’d been in the campground, she’d be dead.

Every bullet fired, every ping of metal against metal, reminded Esme that her family—the one she had loved and admired and been so proud of—wanted her dead.

Traitor. Benedict Arnold. Turn-tail. Judas.

Uncle Angus had whispered all those names as he tried to choke the life out of her four nights ago. The words were still ringing in her head and in her heart, mixing with the echoing sound of the automatic weapon Angus’s hit men were using.

She wasn’t sure what had happened to Ian and King. Either they’d run or they were biding their time, waiting for an opportunity to strike. One man against three didn’t seem like good odds, and it was possible Ian was waiting for backup.

He could wait until the cows came home.

Esme was leaving.

She slithered through muddy grass and damp leaves, praying the sound of her retreat was covered by gunfire. Eventually, they’d stop shooting. When they did, her chance of escaping undetected would go from slim to none.

Who was she kidding?

It was already that. She might get out of the Everglades. She might get out of Florida. Eventually, though, Uncle Angus would find her. He had money backing him, and he had a lot riding on his ability to silence her. If she testified against Reginald, everything the two men had built—the entire crime family they’d grown—would collapse. He’d been chasing her for months, and he wouldn’t give up now. Not with the trial date approaching. A few weeks, and she’d be in the courtroom, looking at her brother as she told the jury and judge what she’d seen him do.

She shuddered, sliding deeper into the foliage.

She wasn’t going to give up on life, and she couldn’t give up on saving the one remaining bright spot in her very dark family tree.

Violetta.

They hadn’t seen or spoken to each other since Esme had gone into witness protection, but they were sisters, bound by blood and by genuine affection for each other. As far as Esme knew, Violetta hadn’t been involved in any of Reginald’s and Angus’s crimes. Whether or not she’d known about them, however, was a question Esme needed to ask.

After she testified and shut her brother’s operations down for good.

The gunfire stopped, and she froze, her belly pressed into damp earth, her heart thundering. They’d check the canoe, find it empty, realize she’d escaped.

She had to get farther away before that happened.

Taking a deep breath, she slithered forward, her pack slung over her shoulder, the soft rustle of leaves making her heart beat harder. A man called out, and someone splashed into the water, cursing loudly as he went.

She used the commotion as cover, moving quickly, trying to put as much distance between herself and the campsite as possible.

“FBI, K-9 unit. Put your weapons down or I’ll release my dog,” a man called, his voice carrying above the chaos.

She froze again. Ian was still there. She hadn’t intended on spending much time with him. The entire time they’d been talking, she’d been planning her escape, trying to work out a solution to the newest problem. Just like she did when she’d planned a wedding and there was a hiccup on the big day.

“I said, drop your weapons,” he repeated sharply.

A single shot rang out, and someone shouted. A dog growled, and Esme could picture the dark-eyed, dark-faced K-9 racing into danger.

Two against three.

One weapon against many.

She couldn’t leave.

No matter how much she wanted to.

She couldn’t abandon a man to almost certain death.

Esme didn’t have a gun, but she had surprise on her side. She scooted back the way she’d come, the dog growling and barking, men shouting, chaos filling the darkness. She was heading right toward it, because she didn’t know when to quit. Another thing Brent had said to her.

He’d been right.

She never quit.

Not even when the odds were stacked against her. Hopefully, this time, it wouldn’t get her killed.

She crawled closer to the edge of the campsite, dropping her pack and grabbing a fist-sized rock from the mud. Reginald had taught her to play ball when they were kids. He’d shown her how to throw a mean right hook, to take a man down with a well-placed kick. She’d loved him as much as she’d loved Violetta, and she’d soaked up everything he’d had to offer. Until she’d realized that the road he’d chosen was one she had no intention of traveling. Then she’d distanced herself from her brother and, to a lesser extent, Violetta. That had been eight years ago. Even after all that time and all the years away from Reginald’s coaching, she still knew how to fight.

She stopped at the edge of the clearing, her heart pounding as she waited. The campsite had gone silent. No gunfire. No barking dog. Sirens were blaring in the distance, the sound muted by the thick foliage.

Somewhere nearby, a branch snapped, the sound breaking the eerie quiet. King barked again, and someone crashed through the brush just steps from where Esme lay.

She levered up, would have lobbed the rock at the fleeing man, but King was there, a shadowy blur, so close she could feel his fur as he raced past.

Surprised, she jerked back, her knees slipping in the layer of wet earth, her elbows sliding out from under her. She would have face-planted, but someone grabbed the back of her shirt, yanking her up.

“Hey!” She turned, the rock still in her hand.

“I told you to stay where you were,” Ian growled.

“I was trying to help.”

“Since when is getting in the way helping?” he retorted, King’s wild barking nearly covering his words.

Esme didn’t think he expected a response, and she didn’t bother giving one. He was already moving again, sprinting toward his dog.

She followed, keeping a few steps behind him. Despite his sarcastic comment, she had no intention of getting in the way. The more gunmen he could take out, the safer they’d be. Once they were safe, she could go back to her plan. Get out of the Everglades and out of Florida.

Alone.

“Federal agent! Freeze!” Ian shouted, and she froze before she realized he hadn’t shouted the command at her.

“Call off your dog!” a man replied, his voice tinged with a hint of panic.

“You want me to call off the dog, you freeze.”

“This is all a mistake!” the man whined. “I was out here hunting gators and—”

“One command, and his teeth will go straight to the bone,” Ian cut in.

The man must have stopped moving, because Ian stepped forward, gun trained toward something Esme couldn’t see.

“Keep your hands where I can see them,” he commanded, King still growling beside him.

“And you,” he continued, and even though he hadn’t turned to look at her, Esme was certain he was talking to her. “Stay where you are. The guy ditched his gun back at the campsite, but that doesn’t mean he’s not armed.”

“I ditched my gun because your crazy dog was trying to kill me.”

“You can explain it all to the judge.”

“What judge? I was hunting gators. I can’t help it if I got in the middle of your shoot-out.”

“Like I said, you can explain it all to the judge. I’m sure he’ll be really interested in your version. He’ll also be interested in what your friend has to say. If he survives.”

“I didn’t come with a friend. Never seen either of those men before in my life.”

Ian didn’t respond.

Esme could hear the men walking toward her, their feet slapping against wet grass and soggy leaves. They reached her seconds later, Ian taller and broader than the man he’d apprehended. He looked fit and strong. The perfect bodyguard. If she were looking for one. She wasn’t. What she was looking for was some peace. She wouldn’t get that until her uncle was apprehended and he and her brother were convicted of their crimes.

“What now?” she asked, trying to think ahead, to figure out the best way to separate herself from the situation. Once she knew his plans, it would be easier to make hers.

“We’re heading back to the camp. I’ve got one man down and cuffed there. The other ran off.”

“He could return,” she pointed out.

“Local law enforcement is close. Hopefully, one of them will pick him up.”

“I stopped hoping for safety right around the time my uncle tried to murder me,” she muttered.

He eyed her through the evening gloom, his expression unreadable. For a moment, she thought he wouldn’t respond. When he did, his tone was gruff. “I hope you’re not living in the delusion that your uncle is the one responsible for all of this.”

“Who else would it be?”

“Your uncle might have tracked you to Florida, but your brother is calling the shots from prison.”

“Maybe.” Probably.

She didn’t want to admit that.

Not even to herself.

She and her uncle had never been close. She could almost pretend they weren’t family.

She and Reginald, though...

They were siblings. Sure, he was much older, but they’d been raised by the same parents with the same values.

Somehow they’d taken completely different paths, found value in completely different things.

She’d watched him kill a man.

She would never forget that. She would testify against him.

But this was by far the most difficult thing she’d ever done.

It was the right thing, but that didn’t make her feel good about it. It sure didn’t make her safe. Her family would do anything to keep her from testifying. She still couldn’t wrap her mind around that.

The proof was here, though—the cuffed man walking beside a federal agent who had come to track her down. Both of them wanted Esme for different purposes. One wanted her dead. The other wanted her to stay alive. At least until her brother’s trial.

The sirens had grown louder, and she could see flashing lights through the mangroves. Help had arrived. It didn’t seem like Ian needed it. He motioned for his prisoner to sit on the raised sleeping platform.

“Guard,” he commanded, and King snapped to attention, his eyes trained on the cuffed man.

“He’s guarding you, too,” Ian said, meeting Esme’s eyes.

“It’s not like I have anywhere to go,” she responded. She could see the canoe, a dozen yards out, listing heavily to the right. Enough bullets had been fired to cause it to sink. If she’d been in it, she’d be dead. She shivered, suddenly chilled despite the warmth and humidity.

“There are plenty of places to go. You’ve proved that several times.” He turned and walked away, moving across the clearing and crouching next to a man who lay near the water.

She thought he was checking the guy’s pulse and rendering first aid, but it was hard to see through the deepening gloom. This would have been her third night out in the Glades. She should be used to how quickly darkness descended After so many months running from people who wanted her dead, she should also be used to skin-crawling, heart-stopping fear.

The cuffed gunman shifted position, and King growled, flashing teeth that looked as deadly as any gun or knife Esme had ever seen. He was focused on the prisoner. If she were going to try to escape, now would be the time to do it. She could see the emergency vehicles, hear people moving through the mangroves. She scanned the clearing and spotted her backpack abandoned near the edge of the campsite.

It would take seconds to grab it and just a little bit longer than that to disappear. She’d done it before. She could do it again.

But she was exhausted from endless running, tired from months of being on guard. She didn’t trust the police or the FBI to keep her safe, but she wasn’t sure she had the stamina to keep trying to do the job herself. Not that she had any choice.

The trial was just a month away. That seemed like forever, but it was nothing in comparison to the amount of time that had already passed. Once she testified, she’d disappear again. This time, she had no intention of being found. New name. New job. New beginning. Not the life she’d planned, but she knew she could make it a good one.

All she had to do was survive long enough to get there.

Just do it. Grab the bag and run! her mind shouted, and she was just tired enough and just scared enough to listen.

She darted forward, snagging the straps and lifting the bag in one quick motion. The rest was easy. Or should have been. The mangroves provided perfect cover, and she ducked behind one of the scrub-like trees, water lapping at her ankles as she moved.

She would have kept running, but something grabbed onto the bag, yanking her backward. She released the pack, but she was already falling, her ankle twisting as she tried to pivot and run.

She went down hard, splashing into a puddle of muck, the dog suddenly in her face, teeth bared, dark eyes staring straight into hers.

“I told you,” Ian said calmly, his voice carrying through the mangroves, “he was guarding you.”

She couldn’t see him, and that made her almost as nervous as looking in the dog’s snarling face did.

“He’d have been better off guarding the guy who tried to kill me,” she responded, not even trying to get to her feet. Not with the beast of a dog staring her down, his teeth still bared. In any other circumstance, she’d have admired him for what he was—a handsome, fit working dog. Right now, she just wanted him gone.

“The perpetrator is in police custody. I guess you were too busy planning your escape to notice them moving in.”

“I noticed.”

“And did you think I wouldn’t notice you leaving?” Branches rustled, and he stepped into view, his head and shoulders bowed as he walked through the trees.

“What I thought was that I wanted to live, and that being alone seemed like the safest way to make sure that happened.”

“Esme, you really need to stop fighting me,” he said, crouching a few feet away and looking straight into her eyes. There was something about his face—the angle of his jaw, the sharp cut of his cheekbones—that made her think of the old Westerns she used to watch with her dad, the hero cowboy riding to the rescue on his trusty steed. Only, this hero didn’t have a horse; he had a dog.

“I’m not. I’m making your job easier. Go back to your office and tell anyone who cares that I refused federal help. I want to do this alone.”

“What? Get yourself killed?”

“Call off your dog, okay? I want to get out of the mud.” And the Everglades and the mess her family had created.

To her surprise, he complied.

“Release!” he said, and the dog backed off, sitting on his haunches, still watching her. Only this time, she was sure he was grinning.

* * *

King had had a great night. He’d found his mark twice and brought in an armed man. He was obviously pleased with himself, his tail splashing in a puddle of water, his dark eyes turned up to Ian.

“Good boy,” Ian said, scratching behind King’s ears and offering the praise he’d been waiting for.

“That’s a matter of opinion,” Esme muttered.

Ian flashed his light in her direction. She’d fallen hard but didn’t seem to be much worse for the wear. “He did what I asked him to. That’s always a win.”

“That depends on what side of his teeth you’re sitting on.”

“He wasn’t going to bite you.”

“Right,” she scoffed, tucking a strand of auburn hair behind her ear. She hadn’t colored it. That had surprised him. It would have been the first thing he’d have done if he’d been in her position.

“He bites when he has to, but it’s not in his nature to snap. Unless I give him the command.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said, a hint of weariness in her voice. She looked as exhausted as she sounded—her skin paper white in the twilight, dark circles beneath her eyes. He’d seen photos of her taken just a few months before she’d watched her brother execute a man. Her cheeks hadn’t been as hollow, her shoulders as narrow.

He didn’t want to feel sorry for her. She was, after all, part of the family that had taken his. Years ago, Reginald Dupree had called the hit on Ian’s father. He’d been just starting out, sticking his toes in the water of his new family business. Ian’s father had been a Chicago police officer, determined to undermine Dupree’s efforts. He’d arrested two of Reginald’s lower-level operatives. In retaliation, Reginald had paid a couple of street thugs to shoot him when he left the house for work. They’d opened fire as he’d stepped outside. The first bullet had killed him instantly. The second had killed Ian’s mother, who’d been standing in the doorway saying goodbye.

Yeah. He didn’t want to feel sorry for anyone in the family, but his father had raised him to be compassionate, to look out for those who couldn’t look out for themselves. More than that, he’d raised him to do what was right. Even when it was difficult. The right thing to do was to protect Esme. Despite her last name and her family, she’d committed no crime.

“How about you keep something else in mind, too?” He offered a hand, and she allowed him to pull her to her feet.

“What?”

“Next time I tell you to stay somewhere, you should do it. It’s a waste of King’s energy to chase after you when he’s supposed to be keeping you safe.”

“You told him to guard me,” she pointed out.

“Because the closer you are, the easier it is for me to make sure your brother doesn’t get what he wants.”

“Me dead, you mean?”

“I wasn’t going to put it so bluntly, but yes.”

“My uncle is the one who wants me dead, Ian. It’s his hands that were around my throat the other night.” Her tone was hard, her voice raspy, and the compassion he didn’t want to feel welled up again.

“Does it make you feel better to keep telling yourself that?” he asked gently.

“It will make me feel better to be done with this. It will make me feel better to do what I promised and to get on with my life. So how about you leave me alone and let me go back to the business of staying safe until the trial?”

“Do you think this will all end if we have your uncle in custody?” he asked, calling King to heel and leading Esme back the way they’d come.

“I hope it will,” she murmured, limping as she tried to keep pace with him. She must have hurt her leg or foot. He shouldn’t have cared. She was a means to an end. Despite the clean criminal record, the supposedly upright business, she was who she was—a Dupree.

But he did care, because she was a person who’d found herself in an untenable position and had chosen to do the right thing. She’d witnessed a horrible crime, and despite the fact that her brother had committed it, she’d gone to the police and offered to testify.

“What’d you do to your leg?” he asked, and she shrugged.

“Twisted my ankle. It’s fine.”

“Then why are you limping?”

“Because I’m tired, okay? Because I want to get out of this stupid swamp and into clean clothes. I want to take a shower and wash three days’ worth of bug repellent off my skin. Mostly, I just want to close my eyes, open them and find out that this has all been some horrible nightmare.”

“I’m sorry,” he said and meant it.

“For what? Being the one they chose for this assignment?”

“For the fact that all of this isn’t just a bad dream. Your family has deep pockets, Esme. They can afford to pay people to do their dirty work. Which means you won’t be safe until we shut down the crime ring your brother and uncle control.”

“You’re a wellspring of joyful tidings, Ian.”

“I’m honest.”

“And, like I said, I’m tired. So how about we discuss this another time?”

“You want to survive, right?” He stopped short and looked straight into her pale face.

“Would I have spent three days in the Everglades if I didn’t?”

“Some people love it here.”

“I’m not one of them,” she huffed.

“And yet, this is where you ran when you left witness protection.”

“My parents and I spent every summer here when I was a kid. They’re—”

“Buried twenty miles from here. I know. I’m sure your uncle knew. Your brother. Your sister.”

“I feel like you’re trying to make a point, so how about you just get to it?” Her hands were on her hips, her chin raised. Of the three Dupree siblings, she was the one Ian understood the least. Reginald was all about power and money. He’d go to any length to get it. Violetta wanted the same, but she wasn’t willing to break the law to get it. On the other hand, she wasn’t willing to cooperate with law enforcement to make her brother pay for his crimes.

But Esme...

Ian couldn’t wrap her in a tidy package and put a label on her. That bothered him. He’d spent most of his adult life studying people, figuring them out, deciding whether they were telling the truth, were dangerous or could be trusted. He’d missed the mark with Jake Morrow. A member of the Tactical K-9 team, Jake had put on a good show. He’d pretended to be everything the team believed in—a man of honesty, integrity, honor. That hadn’t meant Ian had liked him. There’d always been something a little cocky about Jake, something a little off. Still, he’d trusted him.

That trust had been misplaced.

Jake had been on the Dupree payroll. He’d betrayed the team, and he was still on the loose, still causing trouble.

“Here’s my point,” he said, King panting quietly beside him. “You came to a place where anyone who knew anything about you would look for you. You would have been better off sticking with witness protection.”

“One innocent person already lost her life because I was in the program. I’m not going to risk someone else dying for the same reason.”

“We had a leak. We’ve sealed it. No one else is going to be hurt,” he responded, keeping his tone neutral. He’d thought she was worried about her own safety, that she’d run from the program because she thought she’d be safer away from it. The fact that she’d been worried about others put a twist on things. A twist he didn’t like. He wanted to lump her in with the rest of the family, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t seem to do it.

“You don’t seem to understand.” She swung around, her auburn ponytail flying in an arc as she moved. “One person being hurt is too many. I think about it every day. About how that woman died because someone mistook her for me.”

“It wasn’t because of you. It was because of your uncle and your brother. It was because they thought they were above the law, because they hadn’t expected to ever be stopped. They like their money and their power, and neither of them want to give it up.”

“Yeah. I know.” She sighed, walking away, heading toward the distant emergency lights, her stride hitched but brisk, her shoulders straight.

“Esme,” he said, not sure what he wanted to add, what he could possibly say to make things better or easier or right.

“I think we’ve both said everything we need to, Ian. How about you just let me do what I need to? I’m sure the police would like to talk to you, and I’ve got a long way to go before I reach civilization.”

He could have stopped her.

He had the authority to do it. He had the strength. He had King.

But he let her go, because he thought she needed some space. It was five miles to the main road, and there were emergency vehicles everywhere. She’d be safe enough.

“All right,” he said, and she met his eyes.

He thought he saw tears before she looked away again.

Then she was moving, putting distance between them, her backpack lying a yard away, abandoned on the muddy ground. He snagged it, figuring she’d want it later. He needed to check in with the local police, and then he’d get in his SUV and pick her up on the way out.

“King,” he said, and the dog looked at him, eager for the next command. “Guard!”

The Malinois took off, racing across the clearing, his light brown fur visible in the darkness as he followed Esme through the trees and out into the main campground.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.