“We need to get something clear right now, Tara.”

Brad’s words were very matter-of-fact, his attitude all business. “I expect to have my instructions obeyed without hesitation or questions. Your life could depend on your immediate response to my orders.”

Tara glared angrily at him, but he stood his ground and refused to back down. Brad Harrison had her confused. He was a virtual stranger who had burst uninvited into her world, tried to take control of her life and demanded that she trust him. Yet his unwavering gaze sent a ripple of desire through her body unlike anything she had ever experienced. There was a lot more at stake here than a question of control.

Every time he touched her, a sensual rush coursed through her body. It was totally inappropriate for the situation and equally out of character for her. But for reasons she could not clearly fathom, she had made the decision to tentatively trust this very sexy and desirable man. Hopefully it would not be the biggest mistake of her life…or worse yet, the last decision she would ever make.

Dear Harlequin Intrigue Reader,

Harlequin Intrigue has four new stories to blast you out of the winter doldrums. Look what we’ve got heating up for you this month.

Sylvie Kurtz brings you the first in her two-book miniseries FLESH AND BLOOD. Fifteen years ago, a burst of anger by the banks of the raging Red Thunder River changed the lives of two brothers forever. In Remembering Red Thunder, Sheriff Chance Conover struggles to regain the memory of his life, his wife and their unborn baby before a man out for revenge silences him permanently.

You can also look for the second book in the four-book continuity series MORIAH’S LANDING—Howling in the Darkness by B.J. Daniels. Jonah Ries has always sensed something was wrong in Moriah’s Landing, but when he accidentally crashes Kat Ridgemont’s online blind date, he realizes the tough yet fragile beauty has more to fear than even the town’s superstitions.

In Operation: Reunited by Linda O. Johnston, Alexa Kenner is on the verge of marriage when she meets John O’Rourke, a man who eerily resembles her dead lover, Cole Rappaport, who died in a terrible explosion. Could they be one and the same?

And finally this month, one by one government witnesses who put away a mob associate have been killed, with only Tara Ford remaining. U.S. Deputy Marshal Brad Harrison vows to protect Tara by placing her In His Safekeeping—by Shawna Delacorte.

We hope you enjoy these books, and remember to come back next month for more selections from MORIAH’S LANDING and FLESH AND BLOOD!

Sincerely,

Denise O’Sullivan

Associate Senior Editor

Harlequin Intrigue

In His Safekeeping
Shawna Delacorte

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Shawna Delacorte has delayed her move to Washington State, staying in the Midwest in order to spend some additional time with family. She still travels as often as time permits, and is looking forward to visiting several new places during the upcoming year while continuing to devote herself to writing full-time. Shawna would appreciate hearing from her readers. She can be reached at 6505 E. Central #300, Wichita, KS 67206-1924.

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Brad Harrison—Has this Deputy U.S. Marshal uncovered a diabolical plot or is it just a series of odd coincidences?

Tara Ford—Is she really in danger, and if so, can she trust her life to this handsome stranger?

Shirley Bennett—Is she really the efficient employee she seems to be, or does she have a separate agenda?

Judy Lameroux—Is Tara’s new co-worker the friend she pretends to be, or does she have an ulterior motive for her kindness?

Thom Satterly—Has his stalled career with the Marshals Service pushed him into a life of crime?

Ralph Newman—Has this Deputy U.S. Marshal’s mounting gambling debts put him into a compromising position with the people he owes?

Ken Walsh—Is this retired Deputy U.S. Marshal the friend and mentor Brad Harrison thinks he is?

Danny Vincent—Is Tara Ford’s ex-fiancé responsible for the strange happenings that have plagued her?

Doreen Vincent—Is John Vincent’s only child following the same crime-strewn path as her father?

To Marilee

We’ll all miss you

Contents

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 One

A car pulled into the driveway, drawing Brad Harrison’s attention back to the house he had been watching. The woman climbing out of the car matched his photograph of Tara Ford and then some. The photo definitely did not do her justice. For one thing, it was only a head shot and didn’t reveal the fantastic body that went along with that gorgeous face. He scanned her personal information in his file—twenty-nine years old, five foot seven, auburn hair, hazel eyes and not married.

He watched as she bent over to retrieve the sack of groceries from the trunk of her car. Her tailored slacks hugged the curve of her hip without being obvious and the soft knit of her sweater rested gently against her breasts. He took a deep breath to break the tightness that pulled across his chest, but it didn’t help much.

She was certainly beautiful, but that didn’t tell him how she got involved with John Vincent. Was she really the innocent bystander she claimed to be or was she…

He snapped to attention, quickly dismissing his personal thoughts and becoming all business when he saw her nervously glance up and down the street. He unzipped his jacket for easy access to the 9mm semiautomatic handgun, but did not remove it from the clip-on belt holster. Her gaze fell on him for a second or two, causing him to crease his forehead in concentration. She appeared to be searching for something, her apprehension marring her delicately sculpted features. It was not the type of thing he would expect from someone who didn’t have any worries.

The tension knotted in his stomach as he continued to watch her house. The uncertainty of how to proceed weighed heavily on him. The last remnants of daylight faded. He had seen everything he could. He started his car and slowly pulled away from the curb with his headlights off.

TARA FORD CAUTIOUSLY peeked out from behind the miniblinds at the kitchen window. The man who had been sitting in the car parked across the street was gone. She wished she had gotten a better look at his face, but was afraid to stare for fear he would suspect she had noticed him. For the past few weeks she had been plagued by an uncomfortable sensation that someone was watching her, but this was the first time she had actually seen who it might be.

She wanted to believe it was her imagination, a residual effect from the turmoil of being one of the key witnesses at John Vincent’s trial. Her portion of the testimony dealt with information she had discovered while employed by Green Valley Construction—the looting of his company’s pension fund and the income he had hidden from the Internal Revenue Service. But the testimony of other witnesses showing his bookmaking operation, loan-sharking and ties to organized crime had come as a complete surprise to her. That had been six months ago. John Vincent had been convicted and sent to prison. For a while everything seemed to be okay. She thought she had put the nightmare behind her. A little tremor of anxiety rippled across her skin. She wasn’t so sure anymore.

The ringing phone startled her out of her thoughts. She placed her hand on the receiver, then froze as a shiver of trepidation darted up her back. She was sure it was another of those calls where someone was there but no one said anything. She had been plagued with a rash of them over the past few weeks. On the fifth ring she finally picked up the receiver. The apprehension churned in her stomach before she could even say anything.

“Hello.” She heard someone breathing. She spoke louder, trying to force a calm control to her voice. “Hello…is anyone there?”

“Tara…it’s Danny.”

The shock left her momentarily speechless. Danny Vincent. John Vincent’s thirty-four-year-old nephew—and her ex-fiancé.

An odd combination of irritation and relief passed through her. It wasn’t her anonymous caller, but it was the last person she wanted to hear from. Her displeasure forced its way into her voice. “How did you get my unlisted phone number?”

“Well, I have to admit that it took a little doing. First I had to find out where you had moved.”

Her anxiety level increased. “Have you been following me and making anonymous phone calls?”

“Following you? Anonymous phone calls? What are you talking about? I only discovered where you were living a few days ago and just got your phone number yesterday.”

Her exasperation traveled the phone line as she spoke. “What do you want, Danny?”

“I thought we might have dinner. Are you free tomorrow night?”

“No. I’m not free tomorrow night or any other night. It’s over between us. I thought that should have been obvious when I broke off our engagement.”

“Just a friendly little dinner. Surely that couldn’t hurt anything.”

A new wariness rose inside her. Why now? Why after all this time should he suddenly have the urge to track her down and want to have dinner? Especially when her testimony at his uncle’s trial helped get him convicted.

“No…no dinner, friendly or otherwise. Please don’t call me again.” She hung up without waiting for a response. Even though she had broken off the engagement three years ago, she and Danny had still come in contact periodically due to the fact that they both worked for his uncle, although Danny wasn’t in the office very often. But she hadn’t seen or talked to him since the day she quit her job at Green Valley Construction and agreed to testify against John Vincent.

A sick feeling welled inside her, one laced with trepidation. Could Danny possibly be the person responsible for harassing her? An attempt to get back at her for testifying against his uncle? Perhaps combined with some residual anger over her having broken their engagement? A show of anger certainly wasn’t anything unusual for Danny Vincent. Nor was there anything new about his desire to control everything—including her. It had been bad enough to have to put up with her mother’s manipulations for so many years, but when Danny started doing the same type of thing to her she knew she needed to get out of the relationship.

She had refused to put up with his outbursts when she objected to him making decisions for her. The final straw had been when he canceled hotel and flight reservations she had made for her vacation without even consulting her. She had been angry with him and he had responded by actually threatening her. Five minutes later their relationship was finished and she had told him she wanted nothing to do with him again.

Then her mother had started in with her incessant nagging and criticism, this time about how Tara should have forgiven Danny. After all, one day he would probably own Green Valley Construction and Tara would have a comfortable life. That had been a pivotal downturning point in her rapidly declining relationship with her mother and the impetus for her vow never to allow anyone to have any control over her life again.

So, what had prompted Danny to call her? And why now after so much time had passed? The headache throbbed at her temples. Her hand trembled as she turned on the water and reached for a glass. She took two aspirin, then leaned back against the counter and closed her eyes.

Every day of late had become a new experience in the bizarre and stressful. Her personal life had been a tangled mess ever since the day she had agreed to testify at John Vincent’s trial. She had become leery of strangers and fearful about going out alone at night. She had started to feel as if she was a prisoner in her own home.

All six of the primary witnesses against John Vincent had been threatened and were put under the protection of the U.S. Marshals Service for the duration of the trial. A couple of weeks ago she had thought about contacting the marshals to ask for protection again, but decided against it. What could she say to them? She didn’t have any proof, only an unsubstantiated feeling that something was very wrong. Were her concerns real or only her imagination? It was a frightening place to be, caught in the middle between her unconfirmed fears on one side and what might be real danger on the other.

She took a deep breath, held it for several seconds, then slowly exhaled in an attempt to bring a calm to her inner turmoil. She had survived the threats before the trial and taken charge of her life. She certainly wasn’t going to let this get the better of her. Then the phone rang again. Apprehension surged through her body followed by a sinking feeling. Her throat started to close off. She took another swallow of water and quickly switched on the answering machine. Anonymous caller or Danny Vincent—either way she didn’t want to answer it.

She nervously paced back and forth between the living room and kitchen. She needed a security system for the house…she needed a large watchdog…she needed a gun. She stopped pacing. A gun? Had she totally lost her mind? A gun meant violence and said that someone could be hurt…or worse yet, killed. That was definitely not what she needed and certainly the last thing she wanted in her house or in her life.

She gathered her determination. What she really needed was to get her anxieties under control and stop making more out of the circumstances than they deserved. She had let her imagination run away with her common sense. She took a calming breath in an attempt to settle the jittery sensation churning inside her, then opened the refrigerator and took out some lettuce and a tomato to make a salad.

After eating dinner, she watched television for a bit then took a book to bed and read for a while until she became drowsy. But sleep eluded her. Troubled thoughts kept taking her to the car that had been parked across the street and the man who seemed to be watching her house. An uneasiness burrowed its way into her consciousness. The more she tried to ignore it, the stronger it pushed at her. Had he returned? Was he watching her house again?

The uncertainty forced her out of bed. She made her way through the darkened house and peeked out the living-room window. Everything looked normal, yet her concern refused to leave. She finally managed a few hours of troubled sleep.

BRAD SPENT a restless night. He had tossed and turned, his mind refusing to relinquish the onslaught of thoughts, foremost of which was what to do about Tara Ford. It continued to plague him as he drove to work. He had a busy morning, lots of details to take care of that had nothing to do with the immediacy of his Tara Ford problem. But even though he stayed physically busy, his thoughts were never very far from her and the mental image that had burned into his mind.

At lunchtime he drove to Tara’s place of employment, parked his car, then continued on foot. There were several places to have lunch within a two-block area of her office and he intended to check them all, hoping she hadn’t elected to have lunch at her desk. The third place he tried proved successful. He peered in the window of the deli and spotted her seated at a table with an attractive blond woman in her early thirties. He took in Tara’s sleek form and beautiful face.

His throat tightened and his mouth went dry, causing him to bristle with irritation. It had been a long time since he had come up against this type of involuntary physical reaction to any woman. He didn’t seem to have any control over it, something inexcusable for a man whose very life depended on maintaining control not only of himself, but everything that went on around him.

He collected his composure and entered the deli. He ordered a sandwich, then made his way across the room, smiling politely when she looked up at him. He selected a booth far enough away that he wasn’t right next to her but close enough to hear her conversation.

While eating his lunch he eavesdropped on the two women, their conversation telling him that they worked together. They discussed a work situation that had occurred at the office that morning, talked about a movie they had seen and discussed the latest best-selling book. The choice of topics was ordinary. The women appeared to be nothing more than two friends having lunch together. The only thing contradicting the outward appearance was the way Tara nervously eyed everyone who entered the deli. She seemed every bit as edgy as when she’d carried in her sack of groceries from her car. He had nothing to compare her actions with, no knowledge of how she behaved before the John Vincent case, but she did seem anxiety ridden.

He also found her much more beautiful up close than at a distance, so much so that she nearly knocked him for a loop. The physical attraction was immediate. He tried to shrug it off as being the understandable allure of a beautiful woman. Probably nothing more than the fact that it had been several months since he’d had a date. At least he wanted to believe that was all there was to it.

The two women left the deli. He noted that the blond woman was about the same height as Tara, maybe an inch shorter. His gaze became riveted to Tara’s retreating form. He studied the way she moved as she walked toward the door, a smooth graceful walk almost reminiscent of a dancer. He lingered on the way her clothes fit her body and the glossy highlights of her auburn hair. The heat of desire settled low in his body in defiance of his controlled outer calm. After taking a steadying breath, Brad followed her out the door and watched as the two women walked back toward their office.

Over the next two days he made sure he was on hand when she arrived at work, went to lunch and got off work. Then he kept her house under surveillance for a couple of hours in the evening. And each time Brad saw her he became more fascinated by her, with who she was, how she became involved with all of this, what she wanted out of life. And underlying that was the very distinct effect her voice had on his senses. It possessed a low throaty quality without being forced or artificial. A little ripple of excitement made its way through his body just as when he’d first heard her speak at the deli.

Uncertainty and doubts swirled in his head. His original plan had been to keep her under surveillance until he could gather more information and collect enough facts to prove his theory of a conspiracy in which it seemed that Tara Ford figured prominently. He needed to confirm his suspicions before he could act. But the more Brad thought about it, he was not at all sure he was following the best procedure by continuing to watch her from a distance. He needed to initiate a face-to-face meeting with her, something that would appear accidental and not alert her to anything being wrong…and the sooner the better.

THE NEXT DAY Brad spotted Tara having lunch at the deli with the same woman as before. He entered and ordered a sandwich. He carried his food toward a table against the back wall. As he passed Tara’s chair he purposely bumped it, jarring her arm and causing her to spill a glass of water.

A startled Tara jumped up from her seat. “Oh, no…”

He immediately grabbed her arm as if steadying her so she wouldn’t fall. “Are you all right? I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Her felt her muscles tighten under his touch and the tension course through her body, something far more than a response to a simple accident.

“I’m fine.”

He tried to hold on to her arm, but she eased it out of his grasp as quickly as possible without jerking it away. “Are you sure you’re okay? That was very clumsy of me. I’m sorry…”

His gaze locked on her for a moment, just long enough to drink in the luminescent quality of her hazel eyes. But he found something else there, too…something that disturbed him. She radiated a certain level of wariness, an underlying layer of fear marring her beautiful features. Again, something far more than what should have been caused by a simple bumping of a chair. At that precise moment he wanted to do everything in his power to protect her, rather than suspect her of being part of a conspiracy…to keep her from becoming victim number five in what he believed was a conspiracy of very clever murders of the witnesses in the John Vincent trial.

She shot a quick look of displeasure in his direction as she picked up a napkin from the table and dabbed at the water spot on her cream-colored blouse. He grabbed another napkin and mopped up the water from the edge of the table where it dripped to the floor. He noticed the blond woman hadn’t made any move to help. Her blue eyes seemed to be taking in everything, almost as if she were studying the situation. He needed to find out who she was.

Brad tried not to stare but couldn’t keep his gaze from gravitating to the wet spot on Tara’s blouse and the way it revealed the delicate lacy bra underneath. He sucked in a steadying breath and tried to pull together his rapidly disintegrating composure. It was the first time he had been this close to her—close enough to reach out and touch the creamy texture of her skin, to clearly see her eyes…and the uneasiness they held. He shook off the unwelcome pull on his senses and his inappropriate response. Purposely bumping her chair to create a face-to-face connection had produced far more than he had bargained for. He had to pull his composure together. He couldn’t afford the personal distraction. Lives were at stake.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine, except for this…” The heat of embarrassment spread across her cheeks when she looked down and saw the way the water spot had made her blouse nearly transparent. She pulled the fabric away from her body, then glanced up at this tall stranger.

She had noticed him on several occasions over the past couple of days, but this was the first time she had gotten a close look at him. Her breath caught in her lungs—a combination of panic and surprise. The gash on his chin, the split lip and the faint remains of abrasions across his cheek gave him the appearance of a violent man, someone to be wary of, while in no way detracting from his handsome features. In direct contrast his crystal-blue eyes revealed warmth, yet held a hidden mystery. His dark hair was styled in a casual manner.

“This was all my fault. I insist on paying to have your blouse cleaned.” The tantalizing fragrance of her perfume captured his attention, causing his nostrils to flare as the scent wafted past him. It was light, spicy and sexy without being overwhelming or obvious.

“Thank you…but that won’t be necessary. It’s just a little water. It’ll be fine.”

He reached for his wallet and pulled out a twenty-dollar bill. “I’d feel better if you’d let me pay to have it dry-cleaned.” He suddenly felt like a total incompetent, falling all over himself and offering her money. Beyond purposely bumping her, all his carefully prepared maneuvers failed to materialize. The moment he looked into her eyes a shortness of breath hit him, nearly driving away his purpose in being there.

He quickly pulled himself together, smiled and extended the money toward her. “Here, take this…please. It will make me feel better about being so clumsy.”

“No, really, I couldn’t.” Something was wrong. He seemed to be trying too hard. Or was it just her imagination again? She wrinkled her forehead in concentration. There was something about him that left her uneasy. And at the same time there was an unidentifiable quality that she found incredibly exciting.

The angle of his head, the definition of his features—a sudden jolt of panic grabbed at her. This was the same man she had seen parked in front of her house that night. She was positive…well, she was sort of sure. The fear pushed at her until she couldn’t control it any longer. She had to get away from this very disconcerting man and quickly. She gestured toward her friend. “We were just about to leave. So, if you’ll excuse me…”

“The least I can do is introduce myself. I’m Brad Harrison.” He stuck out his hand, clearly expecting her to accept it. He cocked his head, raised an eyebrow and stared at her as if waiting for her to do or say something.

She nervously cleared her throat. “My name is Tara.” She hesitated a moment, then accepted his handshake. The moment their hands clasped…skin against skin…a surge of sensual heat raced up her arm and through her body. She saw the look of surprise on his face that said she wasn’t alone in the experience. She quickly withdrew from his touch and took a step back. A shortness of breath told her something significant had happened, but she wasn’t sure exactly what.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Tara.” He glanced at the blond woman, nodding his head to include her while reinforcing his need to find out who she was. “Maybe we’ll bump into each other again sometime.” He forced an upbeat laugh. “But hopefully without such disastrous results.”

Brad watched as Tara and her friend left the deli. The warmth of her touch lingered, giving impetus to his loosely constructed plan to protect her. It was odd the way she hurried off, as if she had suddenly been frightened by something. Had he blown it? A little ripple of disgust told him it had been a perfect example of amateur time in the way he had handled the entire incident. No one had ever thrown him off track the way she just had. There was something very special about her, but he wasn’t sure exactly what. She gave off vulnerability, yet she did not come across as helpless.

He had orchestrated the physical contact but hadn’t been prepared for the surge of lust that jolted his reality. If this wasn’t a business matter—and a very serious one—he would definitely have asked her out with one objective in mind. But it was business. Serious business. Life-and-death business—literally.

He tried to force his libido aside and concentrate on what had to be done, but thoughts of a much more personal nature continued to circulate in the back of his mind. A very desirable woman and a very serious business…a dangerous combination for sure.

BRAD HARRISON…Tara kept turning the name over in her mind as she sat at her desk. She knew he was the man she had caught glimpses of the past few days, but she wasn’t sure whether he was the man she had seen parked in front of her house that night. And there was something very strange about their meeting in the deli at lunchtime. The entire incident left her decidedly unsettled and on edge. She had noticed him as soon as he entered, just as she had the previous time when he was at the deli while she was having lunch. It was almost as if he had gone out of his way to pass by her chair. There were plenty of other routes to the tables against the back wall without passing by the table where she and Judy Lameroux were having lunch.

Equally distressing was the wave of desire that had swept through her the moment they shook hands. Her immediate attraction to this mysterious stranger was confusing yet undeniable. But with the strange feelings and odd incidents that had been happening to her lately she knew she needed to be very cautious around strangers. Should she trust her fears or her desires? She shook her head. There was nothing that dictated that she had to make a decision between the two. It was a onetime accidental meeting—nothing more.

She couldn’t afford the luxury of dwelling on the thought any longer. She had to get her life straightened out, not complicate it. Whether Brad Harrison was nothing more than a man who simply worked in the same neighborhood she did or a mysterious stranger with an ulterior motive who had been following her, she had to keep her wits about her and maintain a distance from him.

“Are you okay?”

“What?” A startled Tara jumped at the sound of Judy’s voice. “Oh…yes, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? You looked like you were a million miles away.”

“It’s nothing, just a few things that I was trying to sort out in my mind. Nothing important.”

A teasing grin came to Judy’s lips. “I don’t suppose it had anything to do with that Brad Harrison person who bumped into your chair at lunch. The sexual magnetism practically oozed from his pores and he was obviously interested in you.”

“I…uh…hadn’t noticed.” A twinge of apprehension poked at Tara’s consciousness. Brad Harrison had been dominating her thoughts all afternoon, and regardless of her level of anxiety she had to admit Judy was right…the man oozed a lot of magnetic sex appeal.

“It’s way past quitting time. Do you have any plans for tonight?”

Tara forced a laugh, an upbeat attitude she didn’t really feel. “My only plans are to go home and do some laundry, otherwise I won’t have any clean clothes to wear tomorrow.”

Judy emitted a soft chuckle. “That sure sounds like an exciting evening. I’ll see you in the morning. Good night.”

“Good night, Judy.” Tara cleaned off her desk, then left the building. She walked the half block to the company parking lot.

“Miss Ford…Tara…wait a moment.” Brad stepped out from behind his car and approached her.

Total panic gripped her the second she saw Brad and heard him call to her. She stopped in her tracks, a nearly uncontrollable urge to run tempered with a curiosity about what he wanted. She took a step back, trying to put some distance between them without showing the fear that pumped through her body. Was this the culmination of her feelings that someone had been watching her? Was this man really a deranged stalker who meant to do her harm? She tried to swallow the lump in her throat without much success.

“How did you know my name?” Tara barely got the words out as her throat tightened and her mouth went dry.

Brad extended a friendly smile. “We met at the deli, remember? I introduced myself and you told me your name.”

“I never told you my last name.” She took another step back while desperately scanning the area for anyone who could help her. She fumbled with her keys, but was all thumbs as she tried to set off her car alarm and use the automatic car starter, ending up by dropping the remote on the ground. To her dismay, they seemed to be the only two people in the parking lot. She had never felt so alone, as if the entire world had deserted her. She mustered as much courage as she could find and stuck her hand inside her purse.

“Don’t come any closer. I…I have a gun and I’m not afraid to use it.” Her fingers touched everything she could find, but the only item that even remotely resembled a weapon was a nail file. Her heart pounded so hard she was sure he could hear it. Her stomach churned to the point where she feared she would become physically ill.

Brad held up his hands, showing her they were empty. “I’m not here to hurt you, Miss Ford.” He took another step toward her.

Total blind panic gripped her insides and twisted them into knots. She wrapped the shoulder strap of her purse around her hand and swung it at him. Her improvised weapon made solid contact with the side of his head. He staggered backward a couple of steps. She turned to run, but not in time. His strong grip caught her arm, then his hand clamped over her mouth before she could scream.

Chapter Two

“Don’t be afraid. I’m not going to hurt you.” He shouldn’t have waited so long to make contact with her. He had wanted to wait until he had more information, could present a more reliable scenario to her, but he couldn’t put it off any longer. “Listen to me. I’m a deputy U.S. marshal. I believe you’re in danger and I’m here to help you. We need to talk.”

She felt her eyes widen in shock as she stared at him in stunned disbelief. Her adrenaline surge began to subside and she stopped struggling. He finally removed his hand.

“You’re what?” She had trouble making sense of what he’d said, but then so many things didn’t make sense of late.

He released her arm, then slowly reached into his pocket and withdrew his identification. “I’m a deputy U.S. marshal. I believe your life is in danger. Can we go someplace where we can talk in private, rather than stand out in the open in the middle of this parking lot?”

“I…uh…” She wasn’t sure what to think or say. A deputy U.S. marshal—it was the last thing she expected to hear. But could she believe him? Anyone could flash a badge and claim to be a deputy marshal. She took a step back, enough to remove herself from his immediate reach. “I think I should call my attorney.”

He took a step toward her but the panic that immediately blanketed her features stopped him. “That’s your privilege, but there really isn’t any need to do that. You aren’t being accused of any wrongdoing. I’d prefer that you didn’t call your lawyer, at least not until you’ve heard me out. You don’t need to say anything, all you need to do is listen.”

“Well…” She shoved down her anxiety, making a bold attempt to regain control of her galloping pulse rate and pounding heartbeat.

He indicated his car and opened the passenger door for her. “Shall we go?”

“Uh…no…I’d rather drive my own car, maybe meet you in a public place…a restaurant perhaps.”

“Okay. Any particular one?”

She gave him the name of a restaurant she frequented. They each took their respective cars and left the parking lot.

THE ANGRY WORDS traveled over the phone line. “I thought you told me you’d have everything handled by now. Why the delay? I don’t like surprises. Is there some problem you haven’t told me about?”

“No…no problems. I’ve already contacted Pat and said I wanted the job finished tonight. Winthrope has already been taken care of and I was assured that things would be wrapped up very quickly.”

“You waited too long. I think there may be a deputy marshal involved now.”

“You mean she’s been put under the protection of the Marshals Service?” The quaver in his voice conveyed his apprehension at the unexpected news.

“No, I don’t think so. I think it’s just one man who has made contact with her. He seems to be working on his own.”

“Then it shouldn’t be a problem.”

“You’d better be right.”

BRAD ARRIVED at the restaurant first, made arrangements for a table, then waited just inside the door. A few minutes passed and still no Tara Ford. She had been right behind him when they had left the parking lot. A moment of alarm pushed at him. Had she changed her mind? Was she out there alone and vulnerable, not knowing that someone wanted her dead? Again he mentally kicked himself for not contacting her sooner, even though he still didn’t have anything more to go on than strong suspicions and too much coincidence without any solid proof.

He wondered if she had decided to skip out on him. A hint of panic pushed at him as he reached for the door, but it opened before he touched it and she entered the restaurant. He quickly pulled her aside. “I have a table for us in a nice quiet corner.”

Her anxiety level increased as soon as they were seated. She had started to turn around and go home rather than drive to the restaurant. But then her common sense told her that he knew where she lived, so she might as well meet him. “You claim to be a deputy U.S. marshal. I don’t recall seeing you before or during the Vincent trial when I seemed to be surrounded by deputy marshals.”

“I have Special Operations Group training and I’m occasionally assigned to them for specific jobs. I was on a fugitive-apprehension mission out of state at the time deputies were assigned to protect the witnesses, so I never became involved with the John Vincent case.”

She frowned in confusion as she studied him for a moment. “Then why are you involved with it now, rather than one of the deputies who protected us during the trial?”

“Well…that’s kind of a convoluted story. I was wounded during my last mission with the Special Operations Group and was placed on recuperative leave then came back to work on light restricted duty until the doctor releases me for active duty again. Part of that light duty has been updating case files. One of those files is the John Vincent case.”

She looked at him questioningly. “There’s something new with the case since the trial ended?”

“Yes. Two weeks after John Vincent started serving his prison term, he died of a heart attack. I’ve been notifying the witnesses and others involved in the case of his death.”

“Uh…do you mind if I see your credentials again? You flashed them rather quickly and I’d like a better look.”

Certainly a reasonable request along with her valid questions, but one that only confirmed his assessment of the situation. Tara Ford was afraid of something and being very cautious. Perhaps it was that caution that had protected her from harm so far. Brad took his identification from his pocket and handed it to her. He watched as she studied the identification card, the badge, then glanced several times back and forth between his photograph and him.

He tried to make light of the situation. “I should look more like that picture in a few days when this gash on my chin and my cuts and scrapes finish healing. I was on courthouse duty last week and got into a little scuffle with a very large man who took exception to the judge’s ruling.”

She handed his identification back to him without responding to his comment.

“Good evening.” The waiter handed them menus. “It’s nice to see you again, Tara.”

“Thank you, George.”

“May I bring you something to drink?”

Brad noted that the waiter addressed the question to him, but gave an appreciative glance in Tara’s direction. An inner smile of approval confirmed his assessment of her being very resourceful. Not only had she chosen a restaurant she knew, she had chosen one where they knew her by name and would take more notice of the person she was with. But on the downside, if someone was stalking her they would also know this was a place she apparently frequented.

They placed their dinner order and as soon as the waiter left, Brad turned to the problem at hand.

“A week and a half ago, while doing follow-up on the Vincent case, I discovered that over the past six months four of the six witnesses who testified against John Vincent have met with strange accidental deaths.

“I found the coincidence of this having happened four times over just a few months to be too great to accept it so casually. After I started checking into these accidents they seemed to me to be more and more like connected crimes. Then four days ago the fifth witness met with a similar type of strange accidental death. The five deaths occurred in five different parts of the country under the jurisdiction of five different law enforcement agencies.”

He took a sip of his water, then continued. “On the surface there didn’t seem to be any connection between the victims. There wasn’t any reason for the local authorities in the individual cases to be suspicious of what appeared to be an unfortunate accident or think that it would have any connection with anything else. Each one seemed to be an isolated incident—just an unfortunate accident. What makes it particularly compelling is that two of those witnesses were in the Witness Security Program and had been given new identities and relocated. The fifth accident happened in Portland, Oregon, and was the only one thoroughly investigated beyond what appeared obvious.”

“The fifth one? What happened to make that the exception that it would be handled differently?”

“I have a friend on the Portland police force. He’s a homicide detective. I contacted him unofficially just two days after the death happened and asked him to go over everything very carefully, to not be too anxious to write it off as an accident. I heard back from him this afternoon. It was a carefully and expertly disguised murder.”

Tara’s eyes narrowed as she stared at him. “The way you describe this…I have a friend on the Portland police force…contacted him unofficially…makes it sound as if you’re doing this investigation on your own rather than it being an official position of the Marshals Service.”

Tara Ford was definitely a smart and perceptive woman. Brad drew in a deep breath and slowly expelled it while trying to determine how best to express himself. “I won’t lie to you. Yes, I’m doing this investigation on my own. I took the information I had to the head of the Seattle office after I discovered the fourth death and he said it was speculation on my part that the victims hadn’t died as the result of accidents and without anything more there wasn’t a case. It was a couple of days later that the fifth…accident occurred. I’ve kept that information to myself for the time being because I don’t have any evidence showing that this murder had any connection to the other deaths, even though it was another of the witnesses in the Vincent case who had been murdered.”

He paused for a moment before continuing. “From what I’ve observed about you the past few days, I think you’re the type of person who would rather have the information straight out rather than have half truths. So—”

“The past few days?” Her eyes widened in shock. “You haven’t been watching me for a few weeks rather than a few days?”

He saw the fear return to her eyes and the wariness that blanketed her features. “No, only a few days. It was only a little over a week that I started pulling information together about the first four deaths and formulated a theory about someone systematically killing off the witnesses from the John Vincent trial—a theory reinforced when the fifth death occurred.”

Tara stared down at the table. The anxiety twisted her insides into knots. If he was telling her the truth, then things were worse than she thought. But was he telling her the truth? What reason would he have to lie to her? She was no longer sure of anything or anyone. She didn’t know what else to do, but she had to do something. She couldn’t just sit here staring at her water glass. She decided to go along with what he told her, at least for the time being.

She recaptured his gaze. Again, as in the deli when he bumped her chair, his eyes held concern rather than hardness or danger. “For the past several weeks I’ve had the feeling that I was being watched. Nothing I could put my finger on, just a bothersome sensation. Then suddenly a few days ago there you were every time I went anywhere. At first I thought you worked in the same neighborhood where I do, then I wondered if you were the person who had been watching me.”

Brad glanced around, making sure their conversation was private. “Did you have any impressions about who it would have been?” He allowed a soft chuckle. “Other than me, of course.”

“No. I never really saw anyone. It was just an uncomfortable sensation…you know, like when someone is staring at you and you can feel their gaze on the back of your neck even though you don’t see who it is.”

They both stopped talking when the waiter approached with their food. As soon as he left, they resumed their discussion.

Apprehension filled her voice. “Do you…do you know who killed the other witnesses? Who would be watching me?”

“No, unfortunately I don’t have any idea. As I said, I just recently got involved with this case. My first thought was that the deaths had to do with Vincent’s organized-crime connections, since the first four witnesses who were killed had testified specifically about his criminal activities. The two who were in the Witness Security Program testified to his organized-crime connections, helping to convict John Vincent under the federal Racketeer Influenced and Corrupt Organizations statute. RICO has been used with great success in obtaining organized-crime convictions. But neither you nor the man in Portland were involved in that aspect of the testimony. Both of you testified to his company pension fund and income manipulations.”

Her words came out as a mere whisper. “And with the man in Portland dead that leaves only me?”

“I can’t officially offer you the protection of the U.S. Marshals Service at this point. My theory has already been shot down by the head of the Seattle office. I can’t take it over his head or go directly to the FBI without proof to back up my speculations.”

“Wouldn’t the Portland death being declared a murder be enough to start an investigation?”

“There’s nothing that links his death with the others. He could have had enemies of his own with no connection to John Vincent or the trial. There’s not a scrap of proof at this time that shows any connection between his murder and the other deaths or that the other deaths were really murder. What I can do is work personally to protect you, but I need your help if I’m going to find out who’s behind this and gather evidence to warrant an official investigation.”

What he didn’t tell her was his suspicion that there was a leak within the Marshals Service, something possibly originating from the Seattle office, concerning the protected witnesses. There shouldn’t have been any way for someone to have found the two people in the Witness Security Program—one of the facts thrown up to him by his boss as reason for him to forget his crazy theory. It was also the reason he knew he couldn’t trust anyone else until he had some solid facts to work with. Any information he put into an official report could easily be accessed by whoever was responsible for the leak.

Tara noted the hint of apprehension that crossed his face. Her concerns about who she could and could not trust, what was true and what wasn’t, kept her at a cautious distance from him. She nervously cleared her throat. “I need to think about this, consider the pros and cons, go over all my options.”

He leveled a purposeful look at her, his voice adding emphasis to his words. “I don’t want to frighten you unnecessarily, but please don’t take too long to think about it.”

Her anxieties jumped into high gear. His words of warning said it all. They silently ate their food. He seemed as absorbed in his own thoughts as she was in hers. Following dinner they left the restaurant.

Brad walked her across the restaurant parking lot toward her car. “You’ve had some time to think about what I’ve said. I’m afraid I need an answer from you now. This is a very serious matter.”

As they approached her vehicle, she took the lock and ignition remote from her purse. She pressed the button to unlock the doors and start the engine.

The sound of a horrendous explosion ripped through the air. Tara’s entire body jerked around, then she stood frozen to the spot. She stared in the direction of the conflagration with her eyes wide and her features contorted into a mask of shock and fear. She heard a loud scream, then realized it came from her. A moment later strong hands grabbed her shoulders and shoved her to the ground behind a van. The next thing she knew Brad had protectively covered her body with his.

A few seconds later, Brad stood up. He raked his gaze efficiently across the scene, taking everything in.

Tara struggled to her feet and started toward the charred mangle of metal that just seconds earlier had been her brand-new car. Waves of fear washed through her, something nearly akin to stark terror. Her body shook uncontrollably. Her legs turned wobbly. She tried to run but was brought up short when someone grabbed her arm and held it in a strong grip.

“Stay put!” Brad’s no-nonsense voice barked out an order as he took control of the situation. “Don’t you dare move from this spot.”

“Let go of me!” She tried to jerk her arm free. Her heart pounded in her chest. She heard the blood rushing in her ears along with the echoing sound of the explosion playing over and over in her head. She had to do something even though she wasn’t sure what. She started toward her car, but was again brought to an abrupt halt when Brad took hold of her arm.

“I told you to stay here!” He left her no room for argument.

“But…” She heard the quaver in her voice, the uncertainty that matched the panic building inside her.

“No buts! There’s nothing you can do over there.”

“My car—”

“Your car is history. There’s nothing over there except twisted metal.” The hard edge to his voice softened a bit. “There’s nothing there that you need to see.”

She went numb inside as she fought off the need to run in the opposite direction as fast and as far as she could. Everything Brad told her about the danger had come back to hit her in the face. She felt light-headed. Her knees started to buckle.

“Tara…Tara, answer me. Are you all right?”

“I…yes, I’m okay.”

He held on to her, providing support while keeping her from walking off. A crowd gathered, any one of whom might have been the person who had planted the bomb. Brad scanned the faces, but no one jumped out at him as being suspicious or familiar. One thing was crystal clear. Someone had followed Tara, watched her park and go into the restaurant. There was no way anyone could have known she would be going there since it was a decision that had only been made moments before she left the parking lot at work.

And whoever saw her had most likely seen the two of them talking before that. Perhaps it was the presence of a deputy marshal that pushed the killer to abandon the use of accidental means and go the more direct route. But that only prompted another question. How would the perpetrator know he was a deputy marshal, since he wasn’t connected with the original case? If that was what had happened.

Then another thought occurred to him, one he didn’t like. What did he really know about Tara Ford? Out of the six witnesses at the John Vincent trial she was the only one who still lived in the Seattle area and, therefore, the easiest to locate. Yet she was the only one still alive. All the other murders had been very clever, but the attempt on her life had been clumsy and had failed. The perpetrator had made no attempt to have it appear to be an accident.

Could his having shown up and saying she was in danger have alerted her that someone was suspicious of the accidental deaths? Could she have rigged this herself to throw him off track? Maybe she had stopped to call someone while en route. It would explain her arriving at the restaurant several minutes later than he had when they’d both started out at the same time. If that was the case, then she must have a motive for the murders, and on the surface he didn’t see what that motive would be. But one thing experience had taught him was not to ignore small details and not to dismiss seemingly insignificant events too quickly.

A quick jolt of irritation told him how distasteful he found his line of speculation. His assessment of her character said she was far too straightforward to be involved in that type of subterfuge. Was he merely grasping at straws in an attempt to put some much-needed logic to a confusing problem? Was he allowing a beautiful, enticing woman with a sultry voice to cloud his reasoning?

His thoughts drifted in another direction, this one a painful memory more than anything else. He had been with the Marshals Service for a year. Then one day while he was involved in a high-profile fugitive hunt someone planted a bomb in his car. The bomb had missed its target. Rather than him being killed, the victim had been his wife of six months.

He had carried the guilt of his wife’s death with him ever since then, a guilt that came rushing back at him the moment Tara’s car exploded. Here was another woman who had been put in danger with a car bomb. Was it because of him? If his original theory was correct, Tara was next on the list of victims, and if they hadn’t tried a car bomb it would have been something else. He hadn’t been able to keep his wife safe from danger and it had left a gaping wound that refused to heal even though he had closed off his heart to the possibility of any future relationship.

He saw the confusion and fear on Tara’s face. It worked itself inside him until it touched a place of vulnerability buried so deep he had forgotten it even existed. She was so tempting, so enticing. She stirred a very primal desire in him. It had been a long time since he had been this instantly attracted to any woman. He had failed to protect his wife, but he would do his best to protect Tara Ford.

It took the sound of the approaching sirens to banish the ghosts of the past. He turned to Tara, his words emphatic as he exercised total authority. “I’ll handle this. Respond directly to the questions you’re asked with the shortest answers possible. Don’t volunteer any information. Follow my lead.”

He put his arm around her shoulder and guided her toward the arriving police car. He felt the tension running through her body. “Everything is going to be okay, just stay with me.”

Brad’s mind raced ahead to what he should say to the police. Identify himself as a deputy U.S. marshal and say she was under the marshals’ protection and cut the local police out of the loop? That would officially throw the whole mess back into the lap of the Marshals Service and put his activities out in the open before he was ready to disclose that he was still working on his theory. Or maybe he should play ignorant of any and all reasons why the explosion had happened. Perhaps he should pretend that a freak malfunction, rather than a car bomb had caused the gas tank to explode. Whichever way he decided to go, he needed to make a decision and do it fast.

He watched two policemen climb out of the car, the older one going toward the fire engine at Tara’s car and the younger one heading toward the restaurant. The young policeman looked as if he couldn’t have been on the force very long, possibly still on probation from the police academy. He most likely didn’t have any experience dealing with federal cases and interfacing with federal agencies. Brad decided that discretion would be the best avenue for the time being.

He approached the young officer. “My name is Don McMillan and this is my fiancée, Tara Ford. It was Miss Ford’s car that just burst into flames.” He used a phony name for which he had identification. Hopefully the inexperienced officer wouldn’t think to take down the number on his car license tag. He purposely avoided using the word exploded, not wanting to put any ideas into the officer’s head.

The policeman took out his notebook and began writing. He paused to glance at Tara’s left hand, then directed his attention to Brad. “Your fiancée? I don’t see any kind of ring.”

He bristled at the officer’s implication, in spite of the fact that the man was correct in his observation and more astute than Brad had given him credit for. “That’s because I just asked Miss Ford to marry me while we were having dinner in the restaurant. We plan to shop for a ring tomorrow.”

“I see.” The policeman continued to make notes.

Tara took several deep breaths in an attempt to calm the nearly out-of-control panic rampaging through her body. Only the consistent strength radiating from Brad as he protectively kept his arm around her shoulder prevented her from falling prey to those fears.

The policeman looked at Tara. “You’re the registered owner of the vehicle?”

“Uh…” She swallowed to break the dryness in her throat. “Yes, it’s my car.”

“I need the make, model and license number. I also need your address and phone number.”

Tara provided the officer with the information, all the while drawing comfort from Brad’s reassuring presence.

“And you, Mr. McMillan…I need your address and phone number.” Brad gave the officer Tara’s address and phone number, alluding to the fact that they were living together.

“Okay…now, what happened here?”

Brad immediately took control of the conversation. “I’m really not sure, Officer. We came out of the restaurant and started across the parking lot. I was walking Miss Ford to her car.”

The young officer looked up from his notebook, addressing his question to Brad. “You arrived in different vehicles?”

“Yes, it was more convenient for us to meet here since we were coming from different directions.”

“What happened then?”

“Miss Ford took her car remote from her purse and clicked it to unlock the door and start the engine. There was a loud noise and the car burst into flames.”

The officer stopped writing again. “Burst into flames…are you saying there was an explosion?”

“I can’t really say what happened, Officer. Miss Ford and I—” he placed a tender kiss on her forehead “—didn’t actually see it. I assume it was caused by some sort of malfunction connected to the remote starter. Thank goodness no one was injured.”

“I see. Wait here, please.”

Brad and Tara watched as the officer crossed the parking lot and conferred with his partner. “How are you holding up?” He gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. Even though he spoke to her, his gaze never left the officers as they talked.

“Okay, I guess.” There was no denying the tremor in her voice.

“Hang in there. We’ll be out of here in a few minutes.”

Another half hour passed before they were able to leave. One overriding thought kept circulating through Tara’s mind. She had to keep her wits about her and pull up all the inner strength she could muster. It was not the time to let her fears get the better of her. After what she had been through with the trial and all the chaos it had introduced into her normally ordered life, getting through this should be just one more hurdle to jump. Unfortunately, no matter how hard she tried, her brave thoughts didn’t do anything to calm her fears.

They drove away from the restaurant in Brad’s car. He carefully measured his words as he spoke, not wanting to frighten her any more than she obviously already was, but not wanting her to misunderstand the seriousness of the situation, either. “You won’t be going home tonight. We’ll stop at a store and you can buy whatever you’ll need for a day or two, then I’m checking you into a motel.”

She jerked around in the seat until she faced him. “A motel?” She couldn’t conceal her irritation. He had made the decisions for her back at the restaurant when he had restrained her and when dealing with the police, but this was different. “You’re telling me I’m not allowed to go home? You’re making this decision on your own without even doing the courtesy of consulting me?”

He snapped out an answer to her defensive attitude. “There’s nothing to discuss. Anyone determined to do so could find out where you live in a matter of minutes. I’m sure whoever is behind the bombing already knows where you live in addition to where you work.”

His words struck a chord with her. If it was that easy, then why had Danny Vincent claimed it had taken him so long to discover where she had moved? Or had it really taken him that long?

She glanced at Brad as they drove onto the interstate. Someone had just tried to kill her and now her life was in the hands of a total stranger who was driving her to an unknown place. She wasn’t sure exactly what to think or feel anymore.

She had briefly thought about moving to another state and starting over after the trial in order to distance herself from the chaos that had been forced on her, but running away wasn’t her life pattern. The trial was over, she had a new job and she was free to return to her normal routine of dull and predictable. She had thought the only change would be her move from Seattle across Lake Washington to Bellevue to be close to her new place of employment. How wrong she had been.

She had always done what was expected of her, gone along without making waves, which included agreeing to testify at the trial. She had information about John Vincent’s activities. It was her duty to testify—it was expected of her.

Even taking the job at Green Valley Construction as soon as she graduated from college had been to please her mother. She had spent most of her life trying to be the daughter her mother wanted. As a child she had been subjected to constant fights between her mother and father. Finally her father walked out the door for good, leaving a ten-year-old girl to deal with her mother’s demands. She felt as if she had been abandoned, leaving her to believe that she couldn’t trust anyone. She had done her best to cope, but from that moment on her mother had leaned heavily on her for emotional support, draining her of a happy childhood. Her mother insisted that she was too frail and couldn’t manage by herself. She needed Tara’s help.

She could still hear her mother’s words. Being a dancer isn’t any kind of respectable career for a young woman. Get yourself a nice secure office job where you can grow with the company, and if you don’t find yourself a husband, at least you won’t be washed up by forty and you’ll have a nice pension when it comes time for you to retire.

She had finally been able to break away from her mother’s constant control when she had saved enough money from her job to move out and get her own apartment, but it didn’t stop her mother’s relentless attempts to interfere in her life. Getting married had not been on Tara’s list of goals, and as it turned out an office job had ended up being anything but secure. The only true risk she had ever taken in her life was agreeing to testify at John Vincent’s trial. That decision had turned her life upside down…and now, when she thought it was all over, it had come back to turn her life into a nightmare.

The one shining moment had been her new job. Finding it had been a real stroke of luck. She had been at her favorite bookstore and had reached for a book at the same time as Judy Lameroux. They struck up a conversation that quickly turned into a friendship. Judy told her about a job opening at the company where she was the office manager. It was almost as if fate had stepped in to help her in her time of need. She liked her new job, her co-workers and her new home. And two months ago she had bought a new car…her first car that was brand new rather than used. It had seemed as if everything was going to be okay in spite of her brief sojourn in a chaotic situation.

She glanced at Brad again. Trust hadn’t been easy for her since the upheaval of her childhood. It had been even more fleeting since her disastrous engagement to Danny Vincent, then reinforced by the subsequent arrest of the man who had employed her, followed by his trial and her being thrust into the very awkward and uncomfortable situation of being a witness.

She took in Brad’s handsome profile and strong determination. When he put his arm around her shoulder in the restaurant parking lot he had provided her with a silent strength while at the same time calming her fears. It had also sent a little tremor of excitement through her body, something totally inappropriate for the situation yet a very real sensation. He was as fascinating and dynamic as the danger surrounding her was traumatic and frightening.

And now she was all alone with this very appealing stranger in whom she was forced to place her trust. Her very life depended on whether that trust was valid. Another shiver of anxiety confirmed what she already knew. The danger was very real. A chapter of her life that she thought was over had come back to haunt her and throw her life into turmoil again. Could she trust this man to help her? She wanted to, but she wasn’t sure she even knew how to trust anymore.

Chapter Three

Brad headed south from Seattle, exiting the interstate at Tacoma. He stopped at a discount store so Tara could buy the items she would need to stay overnight. They drove to a nearby motel. He checked into the room using the same fictitious name he had given the police officer, and paid cash in advance for two nights.

He unlocked the door. “It’s not fancy, but it’s clean and will be safe for the time being. I’ll check with you in the morning.”

She stood in the middle of the room, her gaze nervously darting from the bed to the television perched on the dresser, then to the small table and two chairs and finally the large stuffed chair in the corner without lingering on any one spot for more than a couple of seconds. Her words were soft and filled with the anxiety coursing through her body.

“It never occurred to me that testifying against John Vincent would continue to control my life after the trial was over.”

She finally looked up at Brad, capturing his gaze and holding it. She attempted to put on a brave front. “I’m not the type of person who is accustomed to taking chances. I knew it was my duty to testify at John’s trial—” a lump formed in her throat “—but I never dreamed my life would be turned upside down like this.”

The words were difficult for her. Digging into her inner fears and expressing them did not come easily. “I thought when the trial was over everything would go back to normal with the only change being superficial…a new job and a different place to live. I had assumed my daily routine would return to what it had been before all this started.” She forced the words while trying to keep her anxieties from creeping into her voice. “But that’s not the way it turned out.”

Tara glanced around the small room again. “I guess I’d better get settled in—” she focused her attention on the floor “—although all I have to unpack is the sack from the discount store.” She looked up at him, her voice falling off to a frightened whisper. “Will I be here for very long?”

It had been quite a while since anything latched on to Brad and turned him inside out the way he was at that moment. Tara was obviously frightened and trying her best not to show it. He marshaled his composure. If nothing else, he needed to maintain a calm and in-control outer presence in order to instill a confidence in her that said he knew what he was doing. “Just tonight, maybe two nights at the most while I work out a plan to keep you safe until I gather enough new information to be able to convince my boss of the danger and get you some official protection.”

“But doesn’t someone’s planting a bomb in my car qualify as proof?”

“It’s proof that you, Tara Ford, are personally in danger, but it doesn’t tie anything in with the John Vincent case or the deaths of the other witnesses. The culprit could be a disgruntled lover, a co-worker or even a relative. There’s nothing there that takes this out of the realm of a local police investigation, or that makes it the concern of the U.S. Marshals Service. There’s no evidence to connect the bombing with the protection of witnesses in the John Vincent case.”

“Oh.” She glanced down at the floor, the disappointment ringing loud and clear in her voice. “I see. I didn’t realize what the difference was.”

He placed his fingertips beneath her chin and lifted until he could see her eyes. The physical contact sent a tingle of excitement through him that he tried to ignore.

It was much easier when someone was officially under the protection of the U.S. Marshals Service. She would have been allowed to pack a suitcase, then been taken to a known safe house or nice hotel room with deputy marshals on duty to protect her around the clock. All he had offered her was a sack of bare essentials from a discount store, an out-of-the-way motel and his promise that he would protect her even though he would be leaving her there alone. Again, his failure to protect his wife came back to haunt him. It was the day he had closed off his heart.

He quickly shook away the disturbing memories and returned his attention to the problem at hand. He wasn’t sure how he was going to accomplish the task he had set for himself, but right now he had to do something to help her over the first of what he suspected would be many rough spots.

“I need to go back to my office for a little while. I have a few things to do that can’t be done during normal hours.” He saw the trepidation come into her eyes and it pulled at his senses. “I’ll check back with you in a couple of hours. But first, there are a few things I need to go over with you before I leave. Come on…let’s sit down.”

He placed his hand at the small of her back and escorted her across the room to the large chair. He grabbed a straight-back chair and sat down facing her. He took the cell phone from his jacket pocket and handed it to her.

“Here…this is one of my personal cell phones. Keep this with you at all times. No one knows you’re here. I registered at the front desk using the same name I gave the officer at the restaurant—Don McMillan. I’ve paid for two nights in advance. There’s no reason for anyone to be calling you here, so I don’t want you answering the motel phone. If I need to get in touch with you I’ll call you on my cell phone. Don’t answer it right away. I’ll let it ring twice, hang up then call right back. Don’t answer unless it’s that signal.”

He took one of his business cards from his pocket and jotted a couple of phone numbers on the back, then handed it to her. “Here’s my phone number at the office and my Marshals Service cell phone number. I’ve written my home phone on the back and also the number of my other personal cell phone. If you need to get in touch with me, try my personal cell phone first, my home second, my Marshals cell phone third and the office as the last choice. Don’t leave your name, just say you’re my cousin from Los Angeles and I’ll call you back.”

“Okay.” She took the card, looked at it for a moment, then put it in her purse.

“I’ll see you in a little while.” He offered her a confident smile, reached out and squeezed her hand. “In the meantime, try to get some rest.”

The last thing he wanted to do was leave her and it was as much personal as it was business. The feel of her hand in his sent a ripple of excitement through his body. He reluctantly let loose of her hand. He had to keep focused on business. He could not allow his newly awakened emotions to get the upper hand.

BRAD LEFT the motel and headed back toward Seattle. If nothing else, the bombing of Tara’s car told him he was on the right track with his theory. What wasn’t immediately obvious was what to do about it.

He arrived at his office, unlocked the door and let himself in. It was after hours and he looked forward to having the place to himself. As he made his way down the hallway, a sound from the file room brought him to an abrupt halt. Someone else was there. He quickly detoured toward the coffee room, plunked some coins into the slot and took the cup of coffee from the machine.

He rounded the door toward his cubicle and literally ran into the office’s computer expert, Shirley Bennett. The hot coffee splashed over the top of the cup. He jerked his hand back, dropping the full cup to the floor in the process. Shirley tried to maintain a grasp on her purse and the two department-store sacks she held in her arms without any success. Everything fell to the floor.

“Damn…” Brad shook his hand, then pulled his wet shirt away from his body where the coffee had soaked through to his skin. “That’s hot!”

“Are you all right?” Shirley’s formal, all-business voice gave no hint of any irritation at the collision.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He glanced down at the contents that had spilled from her purse and the items of clothing that had tumbled from the shopping bags, what appeared to be gym workout clothes.

“I’m sorry about that. I didn’t realize you were there. Let me help you with this.” He kneeled down and began picking up the items—her wallet, a day planner, a comb, a small makeup pouch, a bottle of eyedrops and the case for her glasses. He stared at the eyeglass case for a moment, noting the name of the optometrist before handing everything to her.

“It seems we go to the same eye doctor. How do you like Dr. Keeson?” A slight grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. The bold pattern and bright colors of the case didn’t go with the style of her glasses or fit in with her plain appearance.

“He’s very nice.” Shirley took the items from him and shoved them in her purse. “You’re here late. I thought you were on light duty until your shoulder wound healed completely. And to that we can add your most recent abrasions.” She gestured toward his face.

He chose to ignore her comments about his split lip, the gash on his chin and the scrapes across his cheek. “I’m feeling fine. The doctor thinks I should give this shoulder another week or so to heal from the bullet wound before he releases me to field duty.”

“Is there a problem of some sort that brings you back to the office after hours?”

“I’m catching up on a little paperwork. I thought I could get a lot of it done tonight when no one was around. I want all of it cleaned up so I can get back to field duty.”

“Well, if there’s nothing you need me for, I think I’ll call it a day.”

“I’ll see you in the morning, Shirley.”

Brad watched as she walked down the hall and disappeared around the corner. She had only been in the Seattle office of the U.S. Marshals Service for a couple of months. He didn’t know her very well as she seemed to keep mostly to herself. She had been transferred from another district to fill the vacancy created when their computer expert retired.

She seemed very efficient at her job of being their software expert and maintaining the computer system. No matter what the problem, she had it fixed immediately. Any difficulty accessing files or finding information on the Internet and she was a whiz at handling it. In fact, she exactly fit his concept of a computer-nerd stereotype…straight brown hair worn short with bangs, medium-brown eyes, horn-rimmed glasses, about twenty pounds overweight, most of which seemed to be on her hips and around her waist probably due to lack of exercise, very little makeup, quiet and kept to herself. She was short compared to his six-one height. He guessed she topped out at five foot three.

He listened until he heard the front door close, then grabbed the John Vincent folder from the file room. He made copies of everything to take with him—something very definitely against the rules. Then he went to his cubicle to do some computer research. He needed information that he couldn’t access from his computer at home, and during office hours there was too much of a chance that someone would see what he was doing. He worked quickly, finding and printing out what he wanted.

As soon as he finished he drove back to the motel to check on Tara. He knocked on the door, at the same time calling to her. “Tara…it’s me.”

She looked through the peephole in the door, then opened it to let Brad in. “Did you get everything done that you wanted to?”

“Yes, I think so. How are you doing? Is everything okay? Is there anything you need?”

She glanced around the small room. A little sigh escaped her throat. “I can’t think of anything specific that I need.”

He heard it in her voice and saw it in her eyes…the anxiety, the apprehension and the loneliness. Her despair tugged at his senses and pulled at his emotions. She was obviously scared and trying to put up a brave front. He was responsible for her being stuck away in a small motel room, but if he hadn’t taken action when he did she would probably be dead by now. The thought helped lessen his guilt but didn’t calm his own anxieties. He desperately wanted to do something to try to comfort her and ease her mind.

“There’s a special on television tonight that I wanted to see, but it comes on in ten minutes and I can’t be home by then. If you don’t mind, I’d like to stay here for a while. I can watch the special and keep you company for a bit…” He offered his best confidence-inducing smile. “If that’s okay with you.” He took off his jacket and tossed it across the foot of the bed.

Her attention flew to the holster clipped to his belt, becoming fixated on the handgun. A shiver darted up her spine and anxiety churned in the pit of her stomach, confirming what she already knew—she was in serious danger. She closed her eyes. The sound of the explosion and the vivid image of the burning car assaulted her senses. She shook her head, trying to rid herself of the disturbing vision.

“Tara? Are you all right?”

His voice pulled her out of her thoughts. She opened her eyes, her attention again riveted on the weapon, her thoughts telling her of the danger it represented. “Do you…uh…always carry a gun?”

“Yes. We’re issued a .357 magnum, but I prefer this 9mm semiautomatic. I find it more comfortable to carry and to use.”

“To use?” A knot of anxiety pulled tight in her stomach. “Do you have to use it often?”

“Occasionally.” A twinge in his shoulder gave a sharp reminder of the last time he’d needed to use it.

She pulled her attention away from the weapon, glancing around the room as she composed herself and tried to project a positive manner. “I didn’t mean to get off the subject. What were you saying?”

“I was asking if you minded my staying to watch a program on television. Maybe keep you company for a little while until you’re feeling more comfortable?”

“Uh…no, I don’t mind if you want to watch something on television. Go ahead.”

Tara retreated to the corner of the room, curling her legs under her as she sank into the large chair. Try as she might, she simply couldn’t concentrate on his conversation. She kept hearing the explosion over and over, the horror of pieces of metal flying through the air. The churning in her stomach drove a sick feeling up her throat. She knew it was a memory that would continue to haunt her the rest of her life however long—or short—that life might be.

She watched Brad as he sat on the end of the bed staring at the television, although he didn’t seem to really be watching the program. He appeared casual enough, as if he didn’t have any concerns, but the tight set of his jaw belied that. She could almost feel the tension pulling his muscles into knots. But in spite of that he radiated a sense of confidence that surpassed his take-charge attitude. A quick dash of irritation flitted through her. Confidence or not, his was still a take-charge attitude in which he gave orders and expected to have them obeyed without question. Although it was something quite different from the way Danny Vincent had tried to control her life.

A little shiver darted across her skin. Things were too confusing…too many strange things had happened in the past few weeks, and her totally unexpected phone call from Danny after all this time was definitely one of them. Again the image of her bombed car popped into her mind followed by the way Brad had taken control without hesitation. He had taken charge, but it was not a domineering type of thing. He had known exactly what to do and how to properly handle the situation.

A warm feeling replaced the shiver as she thought of his arm around her shoulder while they talked to the policeman. She had felt safe, at least for that moment. She studied his handsome features. A ripple of excitement invaded her senses, a sensation that started with a tingle deep inside and quickly spread through her body. Her life was in danger and her world had been thrown into turmoil. The last thing she should be thinking about was an attraction to a very desirable man.

She straightened in her chair in an effort to pull herself together. She didn’t want to show the depth of her fears to this very together—and extremely handsome—man. She certainly didn’t want him thinking she was some silly little twit who fell apart at the first sign of an unpleasant situation. With everything she’d been through since agreeing to testify, she should be able to take this in stride without any problem.

Another sigh of despair tried to work its way into the open. Testifying at a trial was not the same thing as having someone try to kill you. Her brave intentions did nothing to calm her fears. She knew she was only lying to herself.

Brad seemed to be alert to everything going on. Every time the sound of a car engine or car door invaded the room he was on his feet. He’d pretend he needed to stretch and would make his way to the window and peek out around the edge of the drapes. But in spite of his casual outer manner, it was obvious he was far from relaxed.

Then another memory flooded her consciousness—Brad’s body protectively covering hers when he had shoved her down behind the van in the restaurant parking lot. And then the tender kiss he had placed on her forehead. It was more than his having put his life on the line for her. A totally unexpected sensual rush had hit her like a ton of bricks. Brad Harrison was a very desirable man—handsome, confident and extremely sexy. He exuded the strong presence of someone who knew what he was doing and could be depended on in a crisis. There was something very reassuring about a man who had the ability to take control of a precarious situation.

Then another dark thought clouded her perception. Was his take-charge manner just one small step away from the controlling efforts of Danny and the domineering manipulations of her mother?

“I guess I’m a little too restless to stay with the television program.” Brad’s words drew her attention back to what he was doing. She watched as he stood and stretched his arms above his head, then behind his back.

He cocked his head and raised a questioning eyebrow. “How about you? You look comfortable enough, but your expression seems more worried than at ease…although I can certainly understand why.” He glanced down at the floor for a moment as if trying to collect his thoughts. “I know it’s of little use for me to tell you not to worry, but I’ll try it anyway. Please think positive, we’ll get through this and everything will turn out okay.”

Before she could respond, he grabbed the ice bucket from the table. “I noticed an ice maker and a vending machine a couple of doors down. I’ll get us some ice and a couple of soft drinks. Be right back. I’ll take the key so I can let myself in. Don’t answer the door if anyone knocks.” He opened the door and quickly scanned the parking lot before stepping outside.

The image of Tara curled up in the large chair had truly gotten to him. She looked too desirable. He wanted to pull her into his arms and move the few steps over to the bed. The urge needed to be dealt with, and walking out the door into the cool night air seemed to be the most expedient way of doing it. He took in a deep breath, then another. It helped clear his head a bit, but did not chase away the feelings. He filled the ice bucket, bought two soft drinks from the machine and quickly returned to the room.

When he stepped inside, he found her exactly where he had left her. “I hope this is okay. I didn’t think to ask you what kind you preferred.” He set two cans on the table, put ice in two glasses and opened one of the cans for himself.

“This is fine. Thank you.” Tara took the other can, poured the contents into the glass, but left it on the table without taking a drink.

He seated himself at the small table, maintaining a view of the door and window. “Tell me, Tara Ford—” he ran his fingertip around the rim of his glass, trying to project an easygoing manner that he hoped would calm her nerves “—how did you get mixed up in all this?”

“Don’t you have all that in your files?”

“We have some information, but not that much.” He wanted to hear it from her, get an impression of what she was thinking and how she felt about things rather than go by some cold facts on a piece of paper in a file folder.

“Well…I, uh…” She swallowed the discomfort that welled inside her. His intentions were obvious, the uneasiness in his eyes saying far more than his words. “You really don’t need to do this.”

“Do what?” A hint of surprise darted through his eyes, followed by curiosity.

“You don’t need to sit here with me to ease my discomfort. I’m sure you have other things you’d prefer to be doing than this.”

He leveled a steady gaze at her as if trying to read her mind. “Actually, I don’t have anything else I’d rather be doing right now.” He creased his forehead in a moment of concentration, then flashed a mischievous grin. “Other than maybe sailing in the South Pacific or skiing in Switzerland.”

“You do those things? Sail and ski?”

“Yes, two of my favorite passions.”

“I’ve never participated in either of them.” She added somewhat tentatively, “although they look like they’d be a lot of fun.” Sailing, skiing…both were activities that she had wanted to try. She’d even had an opportunity to go on a school ski trip when she was a senior in high school, but her mother had refused to sign the permission slip, saying it was a foolish waste of money. It was but one of a long list of disappointments and regrets that had been part of her life, most of them caused by her mother. Then there was the time her mother had refused to allow her to go to the senior prom in high school and… She shoved the memories aside. She knew they would only make her angry and would serve no purpose.

“Never? I have a small sailboat, large enough to be sea-worthy but not so large that I can’t handle it by myself—” He abruptly jumped to his feet, staring at her for a long moment without saying anything.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“I’ve got it!”

“You’ve got what?” She looked around, but everything was just as it had been when he started talking. She didn’t hear any noises coming from outside.

“Damn…it’s nothing.” The optimistic expression that had been on his face just a moment before had disappeared. He dejectedly slumped back into the chair. “I thought I had a solution to where you could stay for a couple of days, but it was a bad idea—an impractical notion that wouldn’t work.”

“Stay where? What idea?”

“Well, I thought I could hide you on my boat for a day or two.” He shook his head and took a swallow from his glass. “It wouldn’t work. It was a stupid idea.”

“I don’t understand. Why is that impractical?”

“No one lives on my boat, so having somebody suddenly staying there would attract unwanted attention at the marina. And it certainly wouldn’t be a secure location.” He didn’t want to upset Tara any more than she already was, but he knew that whoever was involved in this could easily have seen him with her at the restaurant and traced his car license to discover his identity, if they hadn’t already. He was fully conversant with how simple it was to gather information on someone. Anyone with a computer, a modem and decent computer skills could find out that he owned a sailboat and where he kept it.

“Oh.” She looked as dejected as he felt.

He moved to the bed, seating himself on the edge next to her chair. The tone of his voice provided a comforting level of intimacy. “You understand how important it is for you to stay out of sight and avoid all contact with everyone, don’t you? It’s the same concept as when you were under the marshals’ protection before and during the trial…only for the time being it’s just you and me until I straighten out a few things.”

A few things, such as who killed five out of six witnesses, with two of those witnesses having been in the Witness Security Program. A few things, such as figuring out how someone had obtained the new identities of protected and relocated witnesses…whether there was someone inside the Marshals Service selling those identities. A few things, such as a motive for the killings. He reached out, took her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. Her muscles tensed beneath his touch, telling him just how distraught she really was despite the brave facade she had been trying to display.

A few things—such as who this woman hiding inside the beautiful package labeled Tara Ford was and how she got mixed up in this mess. He continued to hold on to her hand. Warning bells sounded off inside his head telling him he had overstepped the line, but he chose to ignore them. He liked the way her hand felt in his.

“Weren’t you starting to answer my question about how you became involved in this situation when I interrupted you?” He had to have information, but didn’t want her to feel as if she was being subjected to an interrogation.

“It’s not a very interesting story.” The warmth of his touch produced a sensual flow of energy that started with her hand, ran up her arm, then quickly spread through her body. The sensation did more than excite her. It also provided an odd feeling of security that she hadn’t known before. Even during the trial when she was under the direct protection on the U.S. Marshals Service she never really felt safe. For the first time since agreeing to testify against John Vincent she felt that something positive was finally being done to ease her anxieties. Did she dare to trust those feelings?

“I’d like to hear it. I need to know everything I can. Some little bit of information might not seem important to you, but it could mean a great deal to me. So, if you could start at the beginning…”

Tara shifted her weight in the chair, but allowed the comforting sensation of his hand to remain on hers. She didn’t like talking about herself, certainly not to a stranger and especially not to someone like this very disconcerting man who made her heart beat a little faster and her pulse race.

“Well…I guess it started when I answered a help wanted ad in the newspaper. Green Valley Construction was looking for a secretary. I had just graduated from college with a degree in something practical that would guarantee me a secure future…something my mother had insisted on.”

She knew that bitterness had crept into her voice, but she had not been able to control it. It was an old wound and at the same time a fresh one that still hurt. From the time her father had deserted her until the time she’d made the decision to testify against John Vincent, her mother had made every attempt to control her life. All during her school years her mother had denied her permission to participate in extracurricular activities.

Her mother’s excuses fell into two categories—either it was a waste of money or else her mother suddenly developed an illness and Tara had to stay home to take care of her. She knew her mother wasn’t really sick, but there wasn’t anything she could do about it. Things had gotten better when she had been able to get her own apartment after graduating from college and getting a full-time job, but she hadn’t been able to escape her mother’s continuous attempts to dominate her and the constant meddling.

“I got the job and eventually was promoted to the position of John Vincent’s administrative assistant and finally the company office manager. As his assistant I had access to more company information than when I was a secretary. As the office manager I had access to all the company records including the books. That’s when I came across the irregularities in his accounting.”

“What did you do then?” Her tone of voice told him as much as her facial expression when she mentioned her mother’s connection with her choice of educational pursuits and career. Part of his job was to read people quickly and make judgments based on that assessment. She obviously had a very strained relationship with the woman. How deep did the problem go and how much of her life had been affected by it? Questions he would have to put aside until some other time.

“I wasn’t sure if I was interpreting the information correctly, so I finally went to the company’s outside CPA with what I’d found. Phil Winthrope and I—”

“Phil Winthrope was the fifth witness killed. I didn’t realize you knew him before the trial. Did you know any of the others?”

She glanced at the floor, then back at Brad. A sadness covered her face as she spoke. “I didn’t know Phil well, we only had the occasional business contact. He seemed like a nice man. Did he…uh…leave any family? A wife or children?”

“No, no immediate family.”

“I didn’t know any of the other witnesses before the trial.” She shifted her weight as if trying to find a more comfortable position before continuing. “Phil looked over what I brought him and agreed with my conclusions. John Vincent had been systematically looting the pension fund and was also keeping a double set of books as far as taxes were concerned.”

“Did the two of you ever discuss what to do about this discovery or did you both just sort of ignore it?”

A quick flash of anger darted across her face. “Ignore it? Are you accusing me of condoning John’s actions?”

He remained calm despite her outburst. “I’m not accusing you of anything. I’m just trying to get a clear picture of the sequence of events.”

She took a deep breath, held it a moment, then expelled it. “I…I guess I’m just a little on edge.”

“That’s certainly understandable.” He extended a comforting smile and waited for her to continue.

“Neither Phil nor I had an opportunity to do anything about it. The very next day I was approached by the D.A.’s office. They said they were conducting an investigation into John’s activities and questioned me about what I knew. I didn’t know what to do or say. I knew the books had been manipulated, but I really didn’t know for a fact that it was John who had done it. They had me served with a subpoena to testify before a grand jury along with several other potential witnesses. I gave them the information about the books. The grand jury findings were presented and John Vincent was arrested on numerous charges. I was called on to testify at the trial, and the rest, as they say, is history. At that moment my life became chaos. I thought everything would have returned to normal by now.” A look of sadness darted across her features and her voice dropped to a mere whisper. “But I was wrong.”

Brad studied her for a moment. She had already been through so much. In some ways she seemed so in need of protection and so vulnerable. Yet there was an inner strength that radiated from her, something he felt even though he couldn’t clearly define it. Each passing minute proved to be added fuel to a flame of desire that had started as nothing more than a sensual spark. He rose to his feet under the guise of taking another peek around the corner of the drapes, all the while telling himself this is business…this is business. It was a refrain that continued to repeat in his mind as he stared at the parking lot.

A quick jolt of adrenaline shot through Brad’s body. He stared at the car with the headlights off slowly making its way along the row of motel rooms. A flashlight beam came from the car window, shining on each of the cars parked in front of the rooms.

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