THE RELUCTANT WITNESS

Angelina Baroni was about to testify against her mafia kingpin father until she received a threat to her life—despite the protection of US Marshal Dylan McKnight. Deciding she’s safer on her own, she leaves witness protection and goes into hiding. Three years later, the duty-dedicated marshal is the last man she expects to see when she wakes up in a hospital after someone attempts to kill her. Dylan knows he can’t afford to trust Angelina. Still, he’ll do whatever it takes to keep her safe from the mobsters on her trail. But Dylan has only a few days to accomplish his most difficult mission: defuse Angelina’s doubts about testifying and win her heart before their time runs out.

“Do you have any idea who might want you dead?”

He chuckled, but there was no humor in his tone. “Let me rephrase that. Do you have any idea which one of the many people your father has hired to kill you may have actually tried to do it?”

She shook her head, and the sudden movement flashed pain through her head and made her nauseated.

“My father didn’t put a contract out on me.”

Dylan stared at her, disbelief written all over his face.

“He wouldn’t,” she insisted. “If I had remained with you and testified against him, then he would have felt he had no choice. I understand that. But when I left witness protection and disappeared, he knew I was no longer a threat.”

“After everything that has happened, do you really believe that?”

“Yes, I do. But don’t you see? You’ve changed all that. If he finds out that I am in your custody again, he will believe I have accepted witness protection. Now I will be a danger to him. Now he probably will put out a contract on me. You have to let me go. You have to let me get out of here.”

“That’s not happening.” They locked gazes. “We are still getting you to that trial and putting you on the stand.”

DIANE BURKE is an award-winning author who has had six books published with Love Inspired Suspense. She is a voracious reader and loves movies, crime shows, travel and eating out! She has never met a stranger, only people she hasn’t had the pleasure of talking to yet. She loves to hear from readers and can be reached at diane@dianeburkeauthor.com. She can also be found on Twitter and Facebook.

The Marshal’s

Runaway Witness

Diane Burke

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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May you be able to feel and understand, as all God’s children should, how long, how wide, how deep, and how high His love really is; and to experience this love for yourselves, though it is so great that you will never see the end of it or fully know or understand it.

—Ephesians 3:18–19

Thank you with all my heart to the Volusia County Romance Writers group for helping me brainstorm this story. They were great at helping me fill in the Swiss cheese holes in my plot. You’re a great group of writers and I don’t know what I’d do without you!

I also wish to thank Nancy Orlandi, who suffered through every revision, every author doubt, and came up with some pretty good ideas when I needed them. I appreciate it more than you know.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

About the Author

Title Page

Bible Verse

Dedication

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

SEVENTEEN

EIGHTEEN

EPILOGUE

Dear Reader

Extract

Copyright

ONE

Unease crept up Angelina Baroni’s spine. The kind of unease a person feels when she thinks she’s being watched but doesn’t see anyone.

The tinkling of laughter and the sound of distant voices drifting on the Atlantic City ocean breeze couldn’t pull her out of her funk. Not even the incessant chattering and giggles of her best friend and business partner, Maria Lopez, could calm her dark mood as they strolled the beach.

Something was wrong.

She couldn’t put her finger on it but her senses flashed warning signs. She wouldn’t be alive today if she hadn’t paid attention to those inner warnings over the past three years. It unsettled her to have them crop up again.

Nothing unusual had happened during their marketing meeting tonight. On the contrary, Maria had given an excellent presentation. They’d signed a lucrative advertising contract with one of the larger casinos. This was a huge milestone for their tiny firm. First time they’d gone up against the corporate advertising giants and won.

They’d celebrated with dinner in the swanky dining room they would now promote and were walking off the huge calorie overload at the edge of the surf. Maria had worked hard for this account. Her enthusiasm was contagious and Angelina couldn’t be happier for her, for them.

Still.

A sense of foreboding crawled up her body like a bug she’d been unable to swipe away.

She glanced over her shoulder.

Nothing.

No one.

But someone was there. In the darkness. Watching them. Waiting. She could feel it.

The pale glow from a full moon provided extra illumination. Except for the two of them, the beach was deserted. She glanced at the boardwalk. People walked back and forth in a continuous motion. No one stopped to stare at them over the rails.

Her gaze settled on the area under the pier. Had she seen someone move in the shadows or was her mind playing tricks on her? She stared harder into the darkness. Nothing.

But that feeling of being watched...

Her stomach clenched.

She trusted her gut. This familiar, although unwanted, tightness told her she was missing something.

But what?

A splash of cold water hit her face.

“Hey, Angie! You haven’t heard a word I’ve said.”

It took her a second to respond to the shortened name. Believing her life was in jeopardy, she’d run away from the witness protection program, trusting no one but herself to keep her alive. She’d changed her name, staying close to her birth name so she’d respond to it easily, yet even three years later she still occasionally hesitated. Now Angelina Baroni, aka Angie Robertson, wiped the salt water from her cheek and grinned at Maria. “I’ve been listening. And stop throwing water at me. It’s cold.”

“It’s October, silly. The ocean is supposed to be cold. Don’t change the subject. You’ve been ignoring me.” Maria’s short black hair with its one large aqua streak blew in the wind. Strands danced across her freckled nose and coiled in her large hoop earrings.

“I heard every word.”

“Okay, fine. Tell me what theme I’m going to use for our first ad?”

Busted! She’d tried to listen. Honestly, she had. But that unsettled feeling had distracted her.

“See! I was right. You weren’t listening.” Maria stooped and splashed her again.

Angelina threw her hands up to protect herself and laughed. “Enough!”

“Our first casino! Can you believe it?” Throwing her arms wide and her face to the heavens, Maria spun around. On one of her passes she threw a glance Angie’s way and stopped in midtwirl.

“Okay. What gives? Something’s bothering you.” Maria shot a look in each direction. “What?” Her expression sobered. “Ang? You look scared to death. What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I’m being paranoid.” She stared into the darkness under the pier again. “It’s just...” She didn’t see anyone, no moving shadows this time, only darkness. “Forget it. I’m being silly.” She turned her attention back to her friend and grinned. “I’m so proud of you. You did a great job tonight.”

“Thanks.” Marie grinned in return. “Just think, Ang. We’ve worked so hard. Now all our dreams are about to come true!”

Something whizzed past Angelina’s ear.

Before her mind could identify the sound, another bullet whizzed past. This one landed in a soft thud.

A small patch of moisture formed on the left side of Maria’s dress.

Angelina blinked in shock and stared at the stain.

Blood?

Oh dear, it is blood!

A surprised expression appeared on Maria’s face moments before her body began to crumble.

Angelina rushed forward. Bullets kicked up the sand where she’d been standing only moments before.

“Maria!” She caught her friend in her arms. “No!”

Tears burned her eyes. Her arms begged to release the heavy weight but she couldn’t. Not yet. She clasped her friend against her body. Her arms ached with the strain of the deadweight. Her heart breaking with the sorrow.

Dear Lord, be with Maria. Carry her home in Your arms.

Slowly, gently, she lowered her friend to the sand.

The prayer had been automatic, instinctive. Angelina had stopped praying years before to God, whom she believed never answered her prayers. But she couldn’t take the prayer back. Not this time.

Two more bullets hit the water, each one closer than the last.

Springing into action, Angelina zigzagged across the beach, doing everything she could not to be an easy target. If she could reach the boardwalk she’d be safe. Lights, people, help loomed only a few dozen yards ahead.

Almost there.

She pushed harder, her feet fighting her as they sank into the soft sand. Her calves cramped beneath the punishing pace. Her breath bubbled in short gasps, each one feeling like her last.

Only a few more yards.

She never heard the bullet that claimed her. Never felt the pain as the velocity of the shot threw her to the ground.

I’ve been hit.

That was her last conscious thought as a second bullet sent her into blessed oblivion.

* * *

US marshal Dylan McKnight stormed down the hospital corridor and came to an abrupt halt outside one of the rooms. US marshal Thomas “Bear” Simmons stood with his back against the closed door.

Dylan never knew whether the man had gotten his nickname from his enormous linebacker girth or the fact that his huge hands could be mistaken for lethal weapons. Either way he never thought of his partner as anything less than the bear of a man he was.

“Is it true?” At six foot one Dylan still had to look up at the gentle giant.

Bear held his hands up and grinned. “Hey man, I know better than to play with you about this. Yeah, it’s true. Angelina Baroni is inside.”

Dylan exhaled slowly. He’d thought about what he’d do if he ever saw her again. Prayed about it. Now the time was here and he didn’t feel he could move a muscle.

His mind’s eye immediately captured the memory of long thick black hair framing a heart-shaped face. Twinkling sky-blue eyes. Natural blush-tinged cheeks. Lips, touched lightly with red, smiling back so mysteriously, she could give the Mona Lisa a run for its money.

His Angelina.

His nightmare was more like it.

He’d had one job to do. Keep his witness alive and hidden in protective custody until the upcoming trial of Vincenzo Baroni, New Jersey capo. Head of one of the strongest arms of organized crime to hit this area since the olden days of Capone and Luciano.

Ruthless.

Elusive.

Untouchable.

He had had Vincenzo dead to rights. His own daughter Angelina was going to testify against him. But Dylan had broken a cardinal rule—never get involved with a witness.

He’d trusted Angelina, after all he’d known her since grammar school, but he should have known better. He’d been burned once before by trusting a witness. The bad information had led to a shoot-out that killed his partner and had almost cost him his life, as well. He couldn’t believe he’d allowed his tendency to trust to burn them again.

Angelina had proven without doubt that she was her father’s daughter. She’d played him. Made a fool out of him. Disappeared without a trace. Almost ruined his career. Definitely ruined his case.

Thankfully, there had still been enough circumstantial evidence for the grand jury to indict. Now, after three long years and multiple attempts of the defense attorneys to delay, the case was finally going to trial.

With his star witness missing and the trial starting in six days, he’d been unable to sleep, eat or do anything else these past few weeks but pray.

God had cut it close answering those prayers. But He’d answered. Angelina was on the other side of that door.

His heart thundered against his chest. He shot a glance at Bear. “What happened? How is she?”

Dylan wanted to push past his partner into the room and find out for himself but he steeled himself to remain professional and in control. Something he should have done three years ago and hadn’t. He’d put his heart on the line and he’d been burned.

“She took a couple of bullets. One in the right arm. One grazed her head.”

His stomach clenched as if he’d been sucker punched. No matter what had happened between them he couldn’t bear the thought of anyone hurting her.

“She probably has a concussion. We’re waiting for the doctor to brief us.” Bear stepped away from the door. “She’s one blessed lady. The woman with her was brought in dead on arrival.”

Again, Dylan winced, offered a prayer of gratitude that Angelina hadn’t died and offered a brief prayer for the woman who had.

“Did they nab the shooter?” Dylan placed his hand on the door but paused for the answer.

Bear shook his head. “So far no witnesses. We have our suspicions but you know how that goes.”

Dylan nodded and pushed open the door.

The room, illuminated only by the night-light over the bed, revealed a small female form lying beneath the blankets.

Dylan stepped closer.

Short errant strands of hair peeked from beneath the gauze bandage across her head.

Red hair?

Who would have thought?

A smile touched his lips. Cute, though.

Almost as if it had a mind of its own, his hand brushed a wisp from her forehead.

He’d forgiven her years ago as God asks everyone to do. Forgiveness was the easy part.

It was forgetting he was having trouble with.

She stirred beneath his touch.

His hand froze. The warmth of her smooth, velvety skin seared his skin. His pulse skipped a beat. His eyes strayed to her slightly parted lips. She’d been his best friend in grammar school and their relationship had become full of teenage angst in middle school. Gazing at her now stirred those memories.

He took a deep breath, stared at the sleeping woman for another minute, and then lowered his hand to his side.

Once upon a time he’d believed he was falling in love with her. Until...

A slow, steady burn rose from his gut and he allowed the anger to flow like molten lava through his veins.

Anger would help him remain professional and keep his personal feelings at bay. Anger would keep him sharp and focused. Anger would prevent him from falling for her lies or betrayals ever again.

TWO

Pain.

Deep, throbbing pain.

Angelina raised a hand to her forehead. A thick gauze bandage made her pause.

What?

She opened her eyes. A lightning bolt of hurt shot through her head and she squeezed them closed again.

Okay. Stay still and think. Where are you? What happened?

It didn’t take long for her mental fog to lift. Everything came rushing back and she wished it hadn’t. The shooting. Her best friend, Maria, dead.

She shot up in bed and instantly regretted it. The room spun like an amusement park ride out of control. Her stomach turned over. She held her head with both hands and groaned aloud.

“Good. You’re awake.”

Angelina froze like a person who had stumbled upon a deadly rattler. She’d recognize that voice anywhere.

Dylan McKnight.

How had he found her? The last time she had seen US deputy marshal Dylan McKnight he was conspiring to have her killed.

She hadn’t wanted to believe it. Wouldn’t have believed it if she hadn’t witnessed it with her own eyes.

Angelina had been sitting in a holding room waiting to testify before the grand jury. She knew her testimony would go a long way in helping them determine whether there was enough evidence to indict her father for murder.

Nerves had skittered up her spine. Her legs had bounced up and down and her hands wouldn’t stop shaking. Unable to sit still another second, she sprang up from her chair and paced the room. On one of her passes she glanced out the door into the hall and saw Dylan slip the bailiff a piece of paper. Minutes later the bailiff, who had a sinister look in his eyes and a sneer on his lips, passed that note to her.

Do you really think you will live to testify? I own cops. I own judges. I own the marshals that pretend to protect you. You will never be able to hide from me.

The note had broken her heart. If she hadn’t seen the exchange she would not have believed it. During the few short months they were together in the witness protection program before she fled, she’d started to have feelings for Dylan and had believed they were returned.

How could she have been so wrong?

She’d tried to give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe Dylan had given the bailiff a different note. Or maybe Dylan hadn’t read the note and was just a go-between passing it from an outside source to the bailiff.

Maybe.

But could she trust her own judgment anymore? She’d trusted her father, believed him when he claimed to be a successful businessman who was the brunt of vicious rumors by envious competitors. She’d believed Dylan when he told her he cared about her and promised to keep her safe.

She’d been wrong about both the men closest to her.

Her father had turned out to be a cold-blooded murderer.

And Dylan...

Even if Dylan hadn’t known the contents of the note, he’d still let the bailiff come close enough to give it to her, close enough to kill her if he had wanted. She couldn’t trust Dylan to keep her safe. The note proved she couldn’t trust the marshals, the cops, even the bailiff! A heavy lead weight had formed in the pit of her stomach and with sickening clarity she’d known the truth. She couldn’t trust anyone anymore except herself—not even God.

And for the past three years that was exactly what she’d done—protected herself.

Until last night...

Dylan approached the head of the hospital bed. “What’s the matter, Angelina? Have nothing to say to an old friend?”

The warmth of the US marshal’s breath fanned her cheek when he spoke. She couldn’t be sure whether it was his words causing her pulse to trip or if it was the proximity of the man himself, the man who long ago had made her pulse race for reasons that had nothing to do with fear.

Did he have to stand so close?

There was a time when she would have welcomed his nearness.

But that was a lifetime ago. Three years had changed her. Three years had changed everything.

“Did you really think you could pull it off?” Dylan crossed his arms like an angry sentinel blocking all means of escape.

One glance into his dark, penetrating, hostile eyes brought her back to her senses. Her nerve endings danced in fear. What was he going to do with her now? She had betrayed him—and the years had not erased the memory.

She needed to run again—now, this minute—as far and as fast as she could. If she could only stop the shooting pain in her head and clear her blurred vision.

“Please...”

Please what? Even she didn’t know what she was trying to say. Where did that empty plea come from? Did she really think he could forget what she’d done?

A sense of dread cloaked her body like a heavy blanket. She inhaled deeply, exhaled slowly, trying not to panic. Somehow she needed to buy time while she tried to figure out her next move. She didn’t know what to do. She didn’t even know where she was. Her gaze skittered about the room.

Okay. She was in a hospital.

A tightness drew her attention to the bandage squeezing her right arm. An IV was connected to her left hand and a steel rail guarded the left side of her bed.

A dull throb claimed the space right between her eyes. Sluggish, unfocused thoughts made her head spin as if she was trying to resurface from deep waters.

The pounding in her head became a full-fledged gallop of pain as the significance of the night’s events slammed into her. Every cell in her body screamed.

You’re in danger. Get out of here. Run!

She threw the covers off and tried to swing her legs from the bed.

Her head swam and her eyes refused to focus.

“Where do you think you’re going? You are in no shape to be getting out of bed.”

She ignored Dylan’s words and tried a second time to stand. When her feet hit the floor, her legs, shaking as if they didn’t have a bone in them, stubbornly refused to hold her weight.

Two familiar, strong hands clasped her waist, supporting her, keeping her from hitting the cold linoleum in the white-washed room. Angelina knew she shouldn’t but she welcomed the strength of his sturdy male torso and leaned heavily against him.

The sound of his heartbeat beneath her ear soothed her. The warmth of his body made her want to burrow deeper in his arms. The woodsy aroma of his cologne mingling with his own masculine scent brought a smile to her lips and stirred pleasant memories.

Seeking reassurance she lifted her head, gazed into his dark brown eyes, and found none. Only questions, hurt and disappointment stared back. His coldness and anger unnerved her.

He couldn’t be on her father’s payroll. Could he? Either way, she knew she wasn’t safe in his care.

Dylan gently lowered her onto the bed. He pulled the blanket over her. The clipped tone in his voice vibrated with controlled anger but it was the gentleness of his hands as he tucked her blankets in and adjusted her pillow that offered her safety, comfort and hope.

“What can you tell me about what happened last night?”

Angelina lowered her head and remained silent.

“Don’t you remember?”

“Maria and I were taking a walk when...when...”

When she couldn’t find any more words, Dylan filled in the blanks.

“The police report states the two of you were walking last night down by the pier. Shots rang out. You ran for safety. You made it. Your friend didn’t.”

The brutal honesty of his words stung her.

She squirmed beneath his scrutiny but remained silent.

“Do you remember now?”

How much should she tell him? What should she say? If he was working for her father, was he trying to find out if she could identify her shooter? Or was he simply a US marshal trying to do his job? Either way, she knew she needed to choose her words carefully.

“I’m sorry. I can’t help you...” Her voice trailed off.

“Did you see the person who shot you?” Dylan waited for her answer.

She grimaced and touched the bandage on her forehead again. “I was shot?”

“Are you in pain?” A softer tone laced his words. “Do you want me to summon a nurse?”

“No.”

The hallway door opened. The figure of a large man, his silhouette outlined by the outside hall light, appeared in the doorway, his face in shadows.

A wave of panic stole Angelina’s breath. Dylan wasn’t the only one who had found her.

The killer found me. I’m no longer safe.

“Run!” She threw her body over the railing on the opposite side of the bed and promptly splatted like a pancake on the floor. Even her teeth vibrated with pain.

Dylan hurried around the bed. “Are you crazy? What are you trying to do?” He ran his hands lightly over her limbs, checking for broken bones. “That concussion must have scrambled your brains. Don’t move. Are you hurt?”

She had pulled the IV out of her hand during the fall. Almost in a daze she held it up in front of her face and stared at the blood trickling down her skin.

“Now look at what you’ve done.” Dylan pressed a clean, white handkerchief to the back of her hand to stanch the bleeding. “What were you thinking by pulling a stunt like that?”

The man in the doorway threw on the overhead light and hurried forward. “Is she okay? Should I get a nurse?”

“She’s fine.” Dylan scooped her up in his arms as though she weighed nothing more than a feather and deposited her back in the bed.

Angelina guarded her eyes against the bright fluorescent light that had replaced the soft glow of the night-light above her bed. Shadows no longer hid this second man’s face. US marshal Robert “Bear” Simmons, Dylan’s partner and the other half of the team she’d duped, had entered the room.

“Good to see you again, Ms. Baroni.” Dylan’s partner grinned widely showing a mouthful of even white teeth against coffee-brown skin. “Imagine my surprise to find that you’ve been hiding right under our noses.”

Her eyes shot to Dylan.

For what? Reassurance? Safety? Help?

Dylan flashed that devastatingly handsome smile she had once found so hard to resist, that same smile that could draw her to him again if she wasn’t careful, but it lacked the warmth it used to hold.

She glanced away. She couldn’t afford to be careless again. Her life depended on it.

“I’ll ask you again...” She could feel Dylan’s eyes boring into her as he spoke. “Can you identify your shooter?”

“No. I didn’t see a thing. I was too busy running for my life.”

“Do you have any idea who might want you dead?” He chuckled but there was no humor in his tone. “Let me rephrase that. Do you have any idea which one of the many people your father has hired to kill you may have actually tried to do it?”

She shook her head and the sudden movement flashed pain through her head and made her nauseous.

“My father didn’t put a contract out on me.”

Dylan stared at her, disbelief written all over his face.

“He wouldn’t,” she insisted. “If I’d remained with you and testified against him, then he would have felt he had no choice. I understand that. But when I left witness protection and disappeared, he knew I was no longer a threat.”

“After everything that has happened, do you really believe that?”

“Yes, I do. But don’t you see, you’ve changed all that. If he finds out that I’m in your custody again, he’ll believe I’ve accepted witness protection. Now I will be a danger to him. Now he probably will put out a contract on me. You have to let me go. You have to let me get out of here.”

“That’s not happening.” They locked gazes. “Whether you testify voluntarily or whether the district attorney will have to call you as a hostile witness, we are still getting you to that trial and putting you on the stand.”

Angelina slid farther down her bed. She wished she could pull the blanket over her head and just make the world disappear. She’d been so careful. But in seconds her world had crashed around her and she didn’t have a clue how to make things right.

“I... I’ve already told you that I didn’t see anyone. I was walking with my friend Maria on the beach and then...”

Silence loomed between them.

“Please...” she whispered. “I need to rest. Please leave. I really can’t help you.”

“Leave?” Dylan’s mirthless laugh echoed loudly in the room. “Not a chance. I made the mistake of leaving you alone once before. Remember?” He moved closer so that only she could hear his words. “You lied to me.” His eyes darkened. “You walked into the bathroom, climbed out the window and took off. Made a fool out of me. Damaged my credibility with my boss.” He squared his shoulders and took a step back.

His voice hardened. “Did you really think I would forget? I haven’t forgotten anything.”

Heat burned her cheeks with shame and regret over their last night together, over the way she’d lead him on to think they were going to have their first romantic evening but had deceived him instead and ran away.

A variety of emotions flashed across Dylan’s face. He was as upset by this meeting as she was.

But how could that be? He was acting like the injured party. Is it possible she’d been wrong about her suspicions?

A twinge of conscience made her feel guilty. She hadn’t wanted to hurt anybody, especially not him. But even if she’d misread the note situation, she hadn’t been wrong about him letting the bailiff within arm’s reach of her. She had to keep reminding herself of the facts. US marshal or not, Dylan couldn’t keep his promise. He couldn’t be trusted to keep her safe. She’d had no choice but to run. And, if she wanted to live, soon she would have to find a way to run again.

Dylan appeared to recover quickly, the raw emotions that flitted over his face were gone and his features hardened like carved granite. But when he spoke his words were gentle. “I’m sorry about Maria.”

The tears Angelina had been fighting so hard to hold back flowed freely down her cheeks.

She remembered the shocked, empty look in Maria’s eyes, the weight of her body as she’d lowered her friend to the sand. She couldn’t imagine a day, didn’t want to imagine a day, without Maria in her life.

“Thank you.” Her words came out a whisper.

“Over the years, I’ve struggled with the possibility you might be dead. When you disappeared that night, I thought somehow your father’s organization had kidnapped you. It took me a while to understand that you fled on your own.”

Was that pain she heard in his voice? Could it be?

“I find it hard to believe you hid in plain sight for three years and didn’t run into the deadly end of a bullet before now.” Dylan’s voice softened. “I’m grateful you’re still alive.”

Angelina studied his expression. He seemed sincere. How could she know for sure? She had no faith in her ability to judge a person’s character anymore. If he were going to harm her, wouldn’t he have done it by now? Maybe Dylan had never been on her father’s payroll. Maybe she’d been wrong. Or maybe not. How could she know whether she could trust this man with her life or not?

* * *

If Dylan didn’t know better, he would think Angelina was afraid of him. He chided himself. Didn’t he know by now that she had that sweet, vulnerable act down to a science? He’d fallen for it once. He wouldn’t fall for it again.

He couldn’t believe she’d been able to survive on her own all this time. He’d carried a heavy burden of guilt for not being able to keep her safe every day since she’d disappeared. He’d been certain that one day he’d come across her dead body and he often wondered how he would ever face it if he did.

But she wasn’t dead.

She was alive and, although injured and hurting, he was certain she was warily looking for an escape route. He couldn’t let his guard down for a second.

The panic shining in her eyes reminded him of a helplessly injured and frightened animal. His conscience made him regret that he had to treat her so callously. But the memory of her setup and her betrayal was all it took to keep him on guard.

“Who knows I’m here?” She clasped his hand.

He felt the trembling in her fingers. The panic in her eyes made her appear vulnerable and terrified. She seemed barely able to hold it together and for a moment he felt sorry for her.

But only for a moment. He knew what she was capable of, after all she was her father’s daughter, and he would do well to remember it.

“I have to get out of here, Dylan. I’m not safe.” Her eyes pleaded with him.

“Don’t worry. I’m not going to let anything happen to you. There are only a handful of people who know who you are—or where you are—and they are on a need-to-know basis.”

The flash of doubt on her face surprised him.

He pulled his hand away from hers. “Get some sleep. You need your rest.”

“You don’t understand. If anyone other than you and Bear knows that I am here, then my safety is already in jeopardy.”

Dylan glanced over his shoulder at Bear. “Did you get the protection unit set up outside the room?”

“Yep, 24/7. Detective Donahue loaned us some of his men. No one will be allowed into this room without furnishing proper identification.”

Angelina laughed mirthlessly. “You think a cop sitting outside my door is going to protect me? You think my father isn’t capable of corrupting a nurse or a doctor with stellar credentials to gain access to this room?” She flailed her arms. “How about the janitor mopping the floors and emptying the waste bins? It isn’t a matter of if my father can infiltrate this joke of protection you’re offering me, it’s when.”

She pushed hard against Dylan’s chest. “Move out of my way. I have to get out of here now!”

“Shhh!” Dylan pulled her to him, his arms steel bands holding her against his chest. “You’re safe, Angelina. I’m not going to let anything happen to you. Trust me.”

It took her a few minutes to stop struggling and calm down. When she did, she raised her head from his chest. Her eyes challenged him. “Why should I trust you?”

A bittersweet smile twisted his lips. “Because I didn’t betray you. You are the one who betrayed me.”

THREE

Dylan’s words settled over the room like a dark thundercloud. An ominous silence ensued between them.

Bear shook his head and emitted a low whistle. “Things are getting a little too dicey in here for me. You two work this out. I’ll be outside the door making sure everything’s set.”

After Bear stepped outside, Angelina sat on the edge of the bed. She looked into Dylan’s eyes and tried to find answers to her unasked questions. She sighed. She didn’t trust him. She didn’t believe he could keep her safe but she realized, for right now, there wasn’t a thing she could do about it.

“What do you have planned?” She grimaced and again fingered the bandage wrapped across her forehead as a lightning bolt of pain grabbed her. “How long do I have to stay here?”

“Not long. I’ve already put things in motion to have a safe house ready as soon as you’re discharged.”

“And if I don’t want to go to a safe house? If I don’t want to cooperate?”

Dylan didn’t respond. The hard glint in his eyes did the talking for him.

Once there had been warmth and gentleness in Dylan’s demeanor. Though she understood his coldness and distance, it still surprised her and she wished for just a flash of that former warmth.

“Are you certain it was my father who killed Maria and shot me?”

“I doubt whether your father was the actual shooter. He’s too smart to dirty his hands a second time. But did he order the hit? What do you think? You are the only person standing between him and a date with a lethal injection.”

“Sometimes it’s hard for me to believe my father is trying to have me killed.” She shrugged. “He’s my dad. What kind of dad tries to kill his own daughter?” She didn’t know what hurt more, the physical pain of her injuries or the emotional pain of trying to deal with the current situation. “When I left protective custody, I thought Dad would believe I’d changed my mind about testifying and would no longer pose a threat. It’s why I felt safer staying in this area.” Her shoulders sagged beneath the weight of the truth. “I was wrong.” She gazed up at him. “Maybe about a lot of things.”

“Why, Angelina?”

She knew his question wasn’t about her father or her decision to remain in Atlantic City. She saw all of the pain, confusion and anger in his eyes. His question was about them.

Three years ago their relationship had been new and exciting. Their time together in protective custody cemented the friendship they’d shared as kids and laid the foundation for something more meaningful as adults. They spent nights talking in front of the fire about shared interests and goals. Their many walks on the grounds of their hideaway led them to discover a mutual love of nature. Angelina believed there might be a possibility of a future together. Until the note exchange made her lose her faith in him.

Dylan wore his emotions on his face and she knew this reunion wasn’t easy on either one of them. She could see how he struggled. Part of him tried to put on a professional air and act as though the past hadn’t happened.

But the other part of him...

When he looked at her, she saw his pain. Yet the anger in his face was tempered by the gentleness of his touch. She knew he wondered if what they’d shared had been real or merely a ploy. She wondered the same thing of him.

But none of it mattered now. She couldn’t give him answers she didn’t have. It had been another time and place. A moment of stability in a world of chaos. A safe haven.

But real?

The only thing real anymore was that Dylan McKnight was law enforcement and that meant he couldn’t be trusted.

Angelina rubbed her face with her hands. “I need to get out of here. I need to get away...” Her voice trailed off.

“Angelina, you saw your father murder your neighbor, a man you knew very well. I don’t care if he’s your father or not. I can’t believe you’re hesitating about testifying after what you saw him do.”

When she spoke her words were merely a whisper. “You don’t understand.”

“Explain it to me.”

Her eyes challenged him. “I hated what he did. It made me sick. It made me scared. Of course, I wanted him punished. I still do.”

“Then why did you run?”

Wetness welled in her eyes.

“I wanted to live! I didn’t believe you or anyone else could keep me safe. It was stupid...and selfish...and...and...” Agony sliced through her body. “Because I only cared about myself, my best friend, the funniest, most wonderful individual I have ever known, is dead.” Her voice cracked on a sob.

“Maria’s death is not your fault.” Dylan fisted his hands at his sides almost as if he had to fight to stay where he was and not come closer or offer her comfort.

She swiped a hand at the tears streaming down her cheeks. “Isn’t it? If I hadn’t been such a coward, if I’d stayed and testified against my father, Maria would be alive today. How is that not my fault?”

“I’m sorry you lost your friend. But you can’t blame yourself.”

“It tears me up inside to know my father is guilty of murder, that all the things said about him being a crime boss are true. He sheltered me from the truth my entire life. He acted just like everybody else’s dad. He kept that part of his life totally hidden from me. I honestly didn’t know. I didn’t.”

Dylan nodded his understanding but didn’t interrupt.

“Do you have any idea how difficult and painful it is for me to know my father probably has a hit out on me right now. My father! The man I’ve trusted and loved my entire life has hired someone to kill me!”

If I can’t trust my father, who took care of me after my mother died, how can I ever trust any other man? No matter how much I may want to, how can I ever trust you?

She clasped her forehead in her hands almost as if she could hide her thoughts from him.

“I hate what he’s done!” She spat out the words. “So many nights I prayed for God to bring him to justice.” She balled the sheet in her fist. “But God didn’t answer my prayers.”

Bitterness spilled over in her words.

“I grew up believing God is a forgiving God. I don’t want God to forgive this time, Dylan. I want vengeance.”

Dylan’s shocked expression gave her pause. “God insists we forgive others and leave judgment to Him. Pray. He’ll help you through this.”

“God has no place in my life anymore. I stopped believing in Him and the idea of forgiveness years ago.”

“Don’t give up on God, Angelina. He hasn’t given up on you.”

If only she could believe it. She changed the subject.

“When do I have to testify?”

“Monday. Less than a week away.”

A week. She doubted she’d still be alive in a week.

“After you testify, the running will be over. You’ll have your life back. You’ll be free, never having to look over your shoulder or be afraid anymore.”

“You can’t keep me safe!” Raising her voice sent pain shooting through her head. Instantly she stopped talking.

He gently clasped her hand. “I’ll protect you with my life, Angelina. Trust me.”

Trust him? The note. The bailiff. How could she possibly trust him?

“How many lives are going to be lost before this is over, Dylan? Cops? Federal marshals? You? It’s hard enough for me to live with the deaths I already know about. First, our neighbor. Then, Maria. If I survive this mess and others don’t, how do you think I can live with the knowledge that other people lost their lives while trying to protect me?”

“Your father is a powerful man, Angelina. But he isn’t God. I’m putting this in God’s hands. He has brought down the mighty before.”

“I’m going to testify,” she assured him. “It’s what I should have done years ago. If I had done it then when I should have, Maria wouldn’t be dead. I just hope I can testify before anyone else dies.”

“Don’t worry about other people dying. We’re all trained law enforcement officers. We’re good at our jobs. We know how to protect ourselves and we can protect you.” He crossed the room to the door. “I’m going to check with your doctor and see how soon we can move you.”

“The sooner the better, Dylan. Every second I’m in this hospital room I am in danger and so is everyone else.”

“Bear is right outside the door. I’ll be back as soon as I confirm a few things.”

She nodded.

As he turned to go she called his name and he glanced back over his shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Dylan. I didn’t mean to... I didn’t want to hurt you.” She ended in little more than a whisper. “There were things about that night you don’t know.”

Dylan straightened his spine and held up his palm to stop her almost as if he just couldn’t handle this conversation right now.

“We’ll talk about it later. My job right now is to get you out of here and keep you safe.”

Without another word, he turned and strode out of the room.

* * *

Dr. Thompson looked up from reading the medical file displayed on the computer terminal when Dylan approached.

“Doctor, how soon can we safely move the patient in room 210?”

“I’d like to keep her at least tonight for observation. We removed the bullet in her arm but the one that grazed her skull could be more serious. Another fraction of an inch and we’d be talking a totally different outcome.”

“Doc, if I don’t get her out of here soon, tonight if possible,” Dylan insisted, “I’m afraid her good fortune might run out. Tell me what I need to know to be able to take care of her yet still leave.”

“She probably has a mild concussion. Keep her awake and alert as much as possible. When she does doze off, wake her up often and make her speak to you.

“She might suffer from blurred vision. Probably nausea. And I am certain she’ll have pain.” The doctor stepped over to one of the medication carts. He withdrew a card filled with pills from the cart and signed a chart before turning toward Dylan. “This will help with the nausea.” He handed him the card. “But I am against giving you prescription-strength pain medication if she isn’t here to be monitored.”

“I understand. Isn’t there something milder than narcotics that will at least keep the edge off her pain? I’d like to keep her as comfortable as possible.”

The doctor paused a moment and then handed him a different card. “This should help but please monitor her carefully.”

“I will. So what do you say? Can I get her out of here?”

“Yes. But call me if you run into problems. Better yet, if something goes wrong bring her back to the ER and page me immediately.”

“Thanks, Doc. I appreciate it.”

Dylan stepped away from the nurses station. He took out his cell, punched a number and wasn’t surprised when his boss answered on the first ring.

“Well? Has she agreed to testify?” he asked without hesitation.

“Yes. But she’s scared and I can’t say I blame her. She’s been on the run for over three years. Her best friend was killed. She was shot. She doesn’t trust anyone right now. But she’ll be all right by the time the trial begins next week.”

“Good. Everything’s almost set on our end. I’ll text you the address of the safe house as soon as it’s confirmed. Detective Donahue has arranged for some of his men and a few state troopers to escort you. They’ll meet you on the lower level of the hospital by one of the back loading docks.”

“Don’t think that’s a good idea, boss. I don’t need a parade of cop cars drawing unnecessary attention to us. Bear and I can handle it.”

“Like you handled it last time?”

An uncomfortable silence stretched across the airwaves.

“Okay,” his boss relented. “We’ll do it your way. No troopers. No cops. I sent Marshal Selma Washington to go with you. I don’t want Angelina Baroni out of your sight. Having a female agent who can go everywhere Miss Baroni goes will guarantee we won’t lose this witness a second time.”

“I understand, sir.” Dylan gritted his teeth but refrained from rebuttal. He deserved the dressing-down.

“Washington is probably already at the hospital,” his boss continued. “I gave her the assignment hours ago and asked her to meet you in Baroni’s room.”

“Fine. I’m headed back there now.”

“Call in when you get to the safe house.”

“Will do.”

“And, Dylan...”

“Sir?”

“I don’t need to tell you how important it is to get Ms. Baroni to testify. The FBI are down my neck on this one. Along with ATF and even Homeland Security. Vincenzo Baroni has broken every federal law known to man and everybody wants in on the action. This woman has the power to bring down one of the strongest organized crime families we have seen in decades. Keep her alive and don’t let her give you the slip again.”

“Believe me, sir, no one wants that more than me.” Dylan hung up and slid the phone back in his suit pocket. Angelina’s betrayal had done much more than ding his male pride. It had put an indelible black mark on his career and he wasn’t about to let her do it again. He’d bring her in to testify if he had to handcuff her to his left wrist and stay awake 24/7.

A sound, a specific sound not easily mistaken for anything else, drew his attention.

Couldn’t be.

He froze, cocked his head to the side, and listened.

There it was again.

Pop! Pop!

Gunfire!

FOUR

Adrenaline surged through Dylan McKnight’s body. He withdrew his weapon and pointed it toward the ceiling. His legs pounded the linoleum faster than he’d thought possible as he bolted toward Angelina’s room.

“Move!” He skirted a patient on a walker. “Get out of my way!” He dodged a nurse pushing a wheelchair.

In the distance, he saw a familiar figure racing toward him.

Bear!

A woman, probably the other marshal, matched Bear’s pace stride for stride as they sprinted forward. Angelina’s petite figure was huddled between them as they half dragged, half carried her along.

“Get back in your rooms,” Dylan shouted to hospital patients as he tried to close the distance between himself and his partner. “Get out of the corridor, now!”

Chaos ensued. People screamed and hospital personnel scurried to help the patients do as Dylan demanded.

Two men appeared at the end of the far corridor and were quickly gaining ground.

A shot rang out.

Bear, never losing stride, glanced over his shoulder, raised his right hand and fired his weapon.

A second shot rang out and a chunk of drywall chipped off next to Dylan’s ear. He ducked and returned fire, offering what little cover he could for his partner.

One of the men in pursuit fell to the ground.

The second man stopped, grabbed his injured accomplice under the arm, and dragged him to his feet. In a hail of bullets, they ducked down another hall.

Dylan returned fire again, then again.

When they disappeared from sight, he stopped firing and tried to make a split-second decision on what his next move should be. He wanted to pursue them but there were three people at hand that needed him more. If there were two bad guys, it stood to reason there would soon be more. His priority right now was getting his team to safety.

“I’ll take over. Thanks.” Dylan nudged Selma away. He slipped his hand under Angelina’s left arm but not before passing Selma his car keys and telling her where their black sedan was parked. “Bring the car back to the loading dock. We’ll be right behind you. Go!”

No longer burdened with Angelina’s weight, Selma didn’t need any prodding and took off running.

“Hit the elevator button,” Bear yelled.

Dylan pushed the button but then moved the three of them to the stairs.

“Whatcha doing, man?” Bear tried to pull Angelina back toward the elevator.

“We’re taking the stairs. We can’t be sure they’re alone. Others might be riding up here right now. Don’t want to be greeted with gunfire when the elevator door opens, do we?”

Bear pushed open the door to the stairwell and peered over the railing. “Are you crazy? It’s ten floors.”

“Getting soft in your old age, Simmons?”

“I’ll give you ‘getting soft.’” Bear almost growled the words.

Dylan chuckled in spite of the tension of the moment. Everybody knew Bear counted the days, hours and even the minutes until his retirement party in six months. He’d become a little less willing to risk any injury. But Dylan intended to make sure his partner made it to that party in one large cake-eating piece.

Dylan forced his mind into overdrive, doing a double and triple check of every decision he made. He vowed not to lose the life of a second partner on his watch like he’d done years ago.

“Dylan...”

Pure terror resonated in Angelina’s voice yet her outward demeanor remained calm and collected.

“It’s going to be all right, Angelina.” He gave her noninjured arm a reassuring squeeze. “We’ve got you. We’ll be out of here and safe in a few minutes. Don’t worry.”

He threw a glance over his right shoulder to make sure they weren’t being followed. Then, offering a silent prayer that he was making the right decision, he nodded to his partner and they began their descent down the stairs.

* * *

Not a word passed between them as they moved in an even rhythm through the stairwell.

Angelina’s head pounded with pain. Her blurred vision made the stairwell and the men beside her appear as if they were underwater. But she didn’t dare complain. She couldn’t be responsible for slowing them down when she knew every second was crucial to keeping the three of them alive.

Dylan grinned when they reached the ground floor. “We made it!”

“You sound surprised. That sigh of relief doesn’t instill a great deal of confidence here, McKnight.”

“What are you talking about? I told you it would be okay. I’d keep you safe.” Dylan gingerly patted her shoulder. “And I will.”

When Bear released Angelina’s other arm, she slid to the bottom step, grateful for the moment of rest.

Bear leaned over, his huge hands bracing his upper body against his knees, and sucked air deeply into his lungs. “Yeah, well don’t start celebrating yet,” he baited Dylan. “All we’ve managed to do is jog down a million steps.”

Angelina smiled up at the older man. “You did a good job. Thank you for keeping me safe.”

A surprised expression crossed his face. Then he nodded almost shyly in acknowledgment of her compliment.

“Stop your griping, Bear.” Dylan slapped his partner on the back. “You really are getting soft, you know. Good thing you’ll be hanging up your shield soon. Those bones of yours are getting pretty old.”

“Don’t get too sure of yourself. How long do you think it’s going to take the bad guys to figure out we took the stairs? A nanosecond from now?”

Dylan glanced up the stairwell and then out into the corridor. “My guess is they’re riding the elevator and searching floor by floor.”

Bear nodded. “Then let’s get out of here before they figure it out. I’m a bigger target than you. Today’s not the day I feel like getting shot.”

“Copy that, big guy.”

Dylan helped Angelina rise from the step. “You okay?”

She nodded. But she knew Dylan wasn’t blind. Her eyes watered from the pounding in her temples and she didn’t know how much longer she could tolerate the pain.

Still, she couldn’t slow them down. She refused to be the reason any more people died. Not today. Not ever.

“Beat you to the back door.” She forced herself to grin at the two men.

“You’re doing great.” Dylan stared into her eyes exuding more confidence than she was sure he felt.

She knew she wasn’t fooling him but he wasn’t fooling her, either. They were in danger. Huge danger. And every second counted.

“One more corridor. Just one more,” he assured her. “Selma’s right on the other side of that last door and then we’ll be safe.”

Angelina took a deep breath. Now she understood what it meant when people said the spirit is willing but the flesh is weak. She knew her fighting spirit and determination wouldn’t let her down but she worried that her body was another story.

“We’ll do this together, Miss Baroni,” Bear said, clasping her under the arm. “Let’s go.”

Without another word, both men picked her up and moved in a rapid pace toward that back door. She knew neither man would dare voice their own fears that Selma and the getaway car might not be there in time but tension was written all over their faces.

Excruciating pain pounded in her temples at each jolt of her body. Her vision blurred even more and nausea cramped her stomach.

Dear Lord.

The beginning of a prayer came naturally. It saddened her that she couldn’t feel comfortable anymore talking to the Lord, the only One whom she had once believed could truly keep her safe, whom she had once sought for comfort and inner peace.

Angelina gritted her teeth and endured the ache in each arm as the men half carried, half dragged her down the corridor.

The men’s pace increased almost with a desperation she knew they didn’t want to show.

This wasn’t going to work. These men would forfeit their lives trying to get her to the safe house and she would have more blood, more good lives lost, on her head. The murder she witnessed of a neighbor had started this whole thing. Then, the loss of Maria. Who would be next?

A moan of grief escaped her lips.

“Almost there, Angelina. Hang on.”

Dylan’s voice penetrated her consciousness. He’d misinterpreted her moan for pain. Well, it was pain. But it was so much more—fear, grief, uncertainty.

Please, please don’t let anyone else die.

She couldn’t help offering the prayer even though she truly believed God didn’t listen to her anymore. Maybe this time He would. For these men if not for her.

She thought back to the night three years ago when she’d deceived Dylan. Funny thing, the mind. Here she was being shot at by mobsters and being dragged down corridors and all her mind wanted to think about was Dylan.

They’d gotten close...much closer than either of them had expected. Dylan had done his best to be professional and keep his personal feelings out of it. He’d even made jokes that it was nothing more than physical attraction blossoming between them and they needed to ignore it.

But she knew it had been more.

She’d touched his heart. She saw it in his eyes when he looked at her. She felt it in the warmth of his touch, a touch lasting a moment longer than it should. She heard it in the gentle huskiness of his voice when he spoke to her.

And she’d exploited those feelings.

A twinge of shame and regret hit her conscience. How could she have hurt him like that? Particularly when she hadn’t been sure he had deceived her. His current actions made her more certain than ever that she’d misjudged him.

Now it was worse. Those gentle feelings she’d seen in his eyes years ago were replaced with anger, mistrust and pain. Yet here he was putting his life on the line to protect her, again. He was probably going to get himself killed. And it was all her fault.

“There they are!” Male voices at the distant end of the corridor rang out and were quickly following by the sound of feet pounding the floor.

“If you’ve ever said a prayer, man, this would be a good time to do it,” Bear yelled to Dylan. Then he slammed the palm of his hand against the back door. “Be there. Be there. Be there.”

The three of them paused on the loading dock, acclimating themselves to the darkness and to their surroundings.

“Hurry! Over here!” Selma’s crisp, tense voice carried in the cool autumn air.

Angelina’s body took another heavy jolt as the men sprang into action, lifted her feet off the ground, and ran with her bouncing between them toward the dark sedan barely visible in the poorly lit drive. The severe jarring motion made every muscle in her body scream in protest.

Her stomach roiled and it took all her strength to remain conscious.

Bear pulled open the back passenger door and dived in. He reached out his hand to pull her in after him. Dylan brought up the rear.

Angelina squinted as the bright light of the car interior hit her eyes, sending shafts of fresh pain through her eyes.

The sound of a bullet hitting metal made Dylan push her into the backseat. Her face mashed against Bear’s chest. She could hear his voice reverberate against her ear as he yelled to Selma.

“Go! Go! Get out of here! Now!”

Sandwiched between Dylan and Bear, Angelina heard the car tires squeal before Dylan had even closed the back door.

Another bullet on metal. Then another.

“Stay down!” Dylan ordered, shoving her head deeper into Bear’s chest as his large, ungainly partner sprawled half on and half off the backseat. Why was God letting this happen? Why wasn’t He bringing her father to justice before more innocent people got hurt?

The car swayed to the right. Then Selma took a sharp turn to the left.

Angelina grabbed hold of Bear’s shirt and tried to steady herself and not crash backward into Dylan.

Selma made another right-hand turn, this time down a backstreet. Angelina was certain they did it on two tires, not four, before the car banked sharply back to the left. They cut through an industrial park parking lot.

“I think you lost them. I don’t think they were able to grab a car in time to follow us.” Dylan, gun drawn, his back pressed against the back of the driver’s seat and his knee digging painfully into Angelina’s side as he balanced himself on the seat, pointed his weapon at the rear window.

“Where are we going?” Selma called from the front.

“Just get us out of here,” Dylan yelled. “We’ll figure it out when we’re not dodging bullets.”

“Roger that.”

All three of them were thrown together as Selma hit the accelerator and took another sharp turn.

Angelina couldn’t tolerate the pain in her head another second. Her blurred vision quickly became a sheet of black. She gave up the fight and slid into the welcome darkness.

* * *

“Angelina!” Dylan pulled her into his arms and cradled her head against his chest. “Open your eyes. Stay with us. C’mon, open those eyes.” His heart pounded and the pulse in his temple throbbed. She had to be okay. She had to be.

He gently shook her. “Angelina. C’mon. Open your eyes.”

“Maybe we ought to take her back to the hospital.” Bear’s solemn stare almost made Dylan lose it. His partner never would suggest taking her back into danger unless he thought she was going to die.

She wasn’t going to die. Not here. Not now. He wouldn’t allow the thought to enter his mind.

C’mon, Lord. I need You now. Please, Lord.

Angelina’s eyelids fluttered.

“That’s a girl.” Relief coated Dylan’s every word.

A little more fluttering and then Angelina opened her eyes and stared back at him. He’d never been more grateful for anything.

“Good girl! Now take some deep breaths. Inhale through your nose. C’mon, Angelina. Breathe in. That’s a girl. Now purse your lips and blow out slowly. Good girl. Now do it again. Nice and slow. Again.”

“My head.” She lifted her fingers to touch her temple. “The pain...”

“I know. I’m sorry. Here.” He placed two pills in her hand. “The doctor gave me these. Take them. They should help. I just need you to hang in there a little bit longer. Can you do that for us?”

Selma reached over the front seat and handed back a bottle of water.

Angelina started to nod but stopped instantly and grimaced. Her fingers moved to her mouth. “I’m going to be sick.”

“I’ve got something for that, too.” He handed her the antinausea pills. “Just a little longer, Angelina. We’re almost there.”

“Where?” Selma stage-whispered from the front seat. “You never did tell me where I’m supposed to be driving.”

“I don’t know.” Dylan raised his head and looked out the back window. They’d pulled into an alley when Angelina had lost consciousness. “Have we lost them?”

“I think so.” Bear slid his gun back into his shoulder holster. “I haven’t seen anyone for a while now.”

Dylan returned his attention to the woman sprawled on the backseat. “That’s it. Slow, deep breaths. Keep your eyes open. Just listen to my voice and blow the breath out slowly. In. Out. There you go.”

He tapped the driver’s headrest. “Just drive, Selma. Give us a few minutes to figure this out.”

She nodded and turned the key in the ignition.

Dylan gathered Angelina in his arms. He held her tightly in the confined space in an attempt to steady her as much as possible as Selma pulled out of the alley.

Bear squished himself against the door and window in an attempt to give them space in the cramped quarters.

“I don’t see anyone behind us.” Selma and Dylan’s eyes met in the rearview mirror. “We’ve lost them.” Selma slowed the car and merged into normal traffic. “What do you want me to do now?”

“Find a diner or small restaurant. Something off the beaten path while we wait for the text on the location of the safe house. Angelina needs to rest. We need to call this in and all of us need to take a minute to unwind and regroup.”

“Sounds good.” Bear pulled a cell phone out of his pocket. “I’ll call it in and find out what’s the holdup on the safe house.”

Dylan repositioned Angelina. For a moment when she’d blacked out he had thought he’d lost her. Panic had coursed through his veins. He couldn’t afford to lose this witness. If she didn’t testify, her father would walk free. That’s what it was, worry about his witness.

His hands shook. He almost had to sit on them to refrain from brushing the hair off her face.

What was the matter with him? Why were his insides in a knot and his chest feeling as if he’d just had a major heart attack when he saw her slip into unconsciousness?

She was an important witness. Nothing more. That’s all she was.

He looked down at her long lashes wet with tears as she closed her eyes and burrowed in his arms.

Yeah, right. Just a witness.

Who did he think he was kidding?

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