CHRISTMAS IN WITNESS PROTECTION

After her ex-boyfriend’s murder, Callie Martin has no choice but to trade her quiet life as a kindergarten teacher for the witness protection program. It’s US Marshal Jackson Walker’s job to keep Callie safe, but the men who would do her harm just keep getting closer and closer. Either someone on the inside is betraying Callie, or she’s lying to Jackson about her involvement. So he decides to go off the grid, spiriting her away to the remote Vermont countryside at Christmas. Jackson wants to trust her, but with danger dogging their every move, he’ll have to use all his energy to keep her alive.

“Hi, Sheriff. Callie here. We’re in a bit of a jam, and Jackson needs to talk to you.”

Callie handed over the phone, then listened as Jackson apprised the sheriff of their situation and location. It took all she had not to peek over her seat in the car to see what was happening. Jackson’s ever-increasing speed gave her enough sense that it wasn’t good.

The sound of something hitting their car wasn’t good either.

“Jackson?”

“Callie, I need you to crouch down in front of the seat—wedge yourself in as tightly as you can and hold on to whatever you can find. It’s going to get bumpy, but you’ll be safer down there.”

Resisting the urge to look out the rear window, Callie unclasped the seat belt and slid to the floor. She curled herself into a ball. Jackson shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it down to her. “Pull this over you and try to use it to cushion your head.”

“What’s happening?” The tremors in her voice probably gave away her fear, but Callie was beyond caring.

“Someone fired at us.”

CATE NOLAN is thrilled to have her writing dream come true as an author for Love Inspired Suspense. Cate is an elementary school teacher who lives with her husband, dog and cat in New York City. She is the mother of two grown daughters who continue to bless her life each day. Cate loves to write stories of faith, enabling ordinary people to overcome extraordinary difficulties.

Christmas in Hiding

Cate Nolan

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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For You are my hiding place; You protect me from trouble. You surround me with songs of victory.

—Psalms 32:7

To my husband, who brought me roses when I finished my first book. Thank you for encouraging me through all the years since.

To my daughters, who have always been such a wondrous source of love in my life. I am so proud of the women you have become. Thank you for putting up with all the years of Mommy’s stories even when it must have been a bit unnerving to help your mother plot murder.

To my parents and sisters, who believed even when I didn’t. Thank you for your love.

To all my friends at Seekerville, thank you for your endless support and encouragement. You make this road so much smoother and the ride much more fun.

A special thanks to Emily Rodmell for taking a chance on a new author and offering so much of her wisdom in guiding me through the Killer Voices contest and this story.

And finally, but always first, to my Lord for His perfect timing. For making me wait until I was writing what He called me to write so I could more perfectly spread His message of love.

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

NINETEEN

TWENTY

Dear Reader

Extract

Copyright

ONE

The Christmas party down the hall was making her head ache.

Callie Martin sank into a chair at the now-empty conference table and rested her head in her hands. She tried massaging her temples to alleviate the painful throb, but her hands were shaking too badly.

Drug conspiracy. Conspiracy to kidnap and murder. Money laundering conspiracy. Interstate travel in aid of drug trafficking. The assistant US attorney’s litany echoed in her mind, clashing with the cheerful strains of “Jingle Bells.”

In that other office, people were celebrating the season with food and music and good cheer. Callie didn’t begrudge them their fun. Any other year she’d have been happy to join in. But their party was in such contrast to the meeting that had just ended in this room.

No Christmas cheer for her. No punch, no cookies. Only a throbbing headache as she sat alone in a sterile New York City office, terrified beyond imagining about what her future might hold.

Callie wrapped her arms around her torso and huddled into herself. When she’d entered the Federal Witness Security program in Texas, she’d thought she was testifying only about the murders she’d witnessed. But the meeting today had established a terrifying new reality. According to a very determined assistant US attorney, that nightmare moment in her life was only one small part of a much bigger scheme.

And they thought she knew something about it.

Callie couldn’t sit still. She rose and started pacing the room. How could they think she knew more? She wasn’t into drugs. She was a kindergarten teacher. She was supposed to be spending December knee-deep in glitter and tinsel, and helping her students with the nativity play.

Instead she was running for her life, hiding out in witness protection. No Christmas lights. No fake snow. No fancy cookies.

This had to be a mistake. A bad dream. She’d wake up, and Rick would still be alive and she’d... No. Not a bad dream. It was what her life had become.

She wanted Ben to come back upstairs. Ben Wilson had been her marshal, her protector, since the day she entered WITSEC. Earlier, after the assistant US attorney had laid all the accusations on the table, and the DEA agent had glared at her in disbelief for denying she knew anything, Ben had sensed her panic. Like the good handler he was, he’d tried to run interference, leaving her under guard while he escorted the attorney and the DEA agent to their cars.

Callie had no doubt he wanted to talk to them in private, but she didn’t care. She’d just been grateful to see them leave. She’d blessed Ben for the solitude and the chance to gather her thoughts. But now she wanted him back. Wanted him to make sense of her world out of control.

“Jingle Bells” switched over to something softer, and Callie tried to calm herself. If only she could think straight. Understand what they wanted. She’d seen her ex-boyfriend and his band murdered. She’d told the authorities everything she knew. Every sordid detail of how that ex-boyfriend had turned out to be a drug dealer who was gunned down by the very people he worked with. She didn’t know anything more than that.

Why didn’t they believe her?

Distracted by her frantic thoughts, Callie almost missed the unfamiliar ring of her cell phone. Not many people called her on this new phone. Hope lifted her spirits as she noted Ben’s name light up on the display, and she fumbled to grab the phone.

“Ben? Where are you? Did you talk to her? Did—”

His voice cut across her questions. “Another marshal...coming to get you.” Erratic breathing punctuated the words, making them hard to understand. “His name... Jackson Walker. Go with him.”

“What?” Ben had been her marshal from the start. Why go with someone else now?

“Don’t go out front. Don’t...even... Go... Leave New York.”

Callie shook her head, trying to clear the confusion. This felt all wrong. The voice was so broken. Was it really even Ben? He’d been fine when he left. Did this have something to do with the meeting? Dread sucked her hope away. “What’s going on? Why should I go with someone else?”

“Because your security has been compromised.”

Callie swung around at the sound of the harsh voice behind her. A tall man blocked the doorway. Her first thought was he looked like someone she wouldn’t want to meet in a dark alley. And she was supposed to go with him?

He flashed a badge at her. “Jackson Walker, US Marshals. Grab your purse and coat. We have to get out of here. Now.”

Callie stared at the stranger. He didn’t look like a marshal. His heavy jacket seemed straight out of an outdoorsman catalog, and he was wearing jeans and boots. The only thing missing was a cowboy hat. A dozen questions pinged in her brain. She settled on the most urgent. “How do I know I can trust you?”

He appeared to think about it for all of ten seconds. “You don’t. But I’m all you’ve got.”

Callie glanced at her phone. The display, her link to Ben, had gone dark.

“See those lights out there?”

Callie looked past him into the hallway. Some of the noise level had lowered, but the flashing lights were worse. They didn’t seem to be coming from the office anymore.

“Those aren’t Christmas lights. They’re ambulances.”

Callie swung back to look at his face. “What happened?”

“Attempted abduction.”

“What?”

“Someone tried to grab the assistant US attorney.”

The strained appearance of his face suggested more. “Ben?”

“Stabbed.”

Callie shook her head in denial, but she could see from his expression it was true. “But he was just here. He went down to bring the assistant US attorney...” Her words trailed off, and she leaned back on the table to steady herself against a wave of light-headedness. “I don’t understand.”

“I’ll explain what I can on the way.”

“But—”

“Listen, Ms. Martin.” He blew out a breath, softened his voice, but didn’t quite manage to hide his exasperation. “We have to get you out of here. Now.”

Callie was still reluctant to go with him. “Ben might need us.”

“We’re not doctors. The paramedics have him covered. My job is to protect you. That means getting out of here.”

“Where are we going?”

He just stared at her. “How long have you been in witness protection?”

“Shouldn’t you know that?”

He sighed. And glared.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m not trying to be trouble, but it’s my life on the line here. I don’t know who to trust, and I don’t know you at all.”

“Didn’t Ben call and tell you to go with me?”

“Yes, but—”

“Ma’am, I don’t want to have to drag you out of here, but the longer you stay, the more you’re endangering yourself and everyone in the building.”

“How?”

He stared at her as if she were wearing a dunce cap. “Despite what people think, there generally aren’t random stabbings and kidnappings on New York streets.”

His words cracked her bravado. Kidnapping. He was right. She needed to leave. Tears built in her eyes and emotion choked her. Bad things seemed to follow her everywhere lately.

“Okay,” she conceded. Not that there was really any choice. Where else could she turn if Ben wasn’t able to protect her? Please, Lord. Guide me.

Callie grabbed her tote bag and headed for the door. She’d learned in her first week of witness protection to keep all her essentials in one ready-to-move-at-any-moment bag. It might seem silly, but having toothpaste, a brush, her Bible and the stuffed penguin that had been a gift from her class made her feel a bit more secure in this helter-skelter world that had become her life.

“Ms. Martin.” Jackson handed over her coat. Yes, she would need that. It was strange getting used to needing a heavy winter coat everywhere she went. Back home in Texas she’d rarely needed more than a sweater under her jacket when the temperatures dropped. Here in New York, they were hitting low thirties on a regular basis. Just one more thing that was different in her new world.

Callie put the bag down and slipped the coat on, taking an extra minute to zip up and wrap a scarf around her neck. She snatched her bag and started toward the door but was brought up short by the marshal’s hand on her arm. Right, Ben said not to go out front.

But he was out there. Callie’s loyalty to the marshal who was her only connection to her former life begged her to check on him. The tug on her arm drew her back.

“Back way,” he warned. “We can’t risk them realizing their mistake. Someone might still be watching the front.”

Mistake? His words sank in, and Callie’s knees turned to water. Her legs wobbled. The kidnappers had meant to take her? She felt suddenly as weak as if she’d been the one stabbed. Which she might have been if Ben hadn’t decided to walk the attorney out first. Jackson’s strong hand cupped her elbow, a support she found herself grateful for. She was still having a hard time wrapping her mind around the idea that someone wanted her dead.

Callie took a deep breath and fought for control. She could fall apart later. Right now she had to do what the marshal said. He led her toward the back corner of the offices, out the fire door and down a back stairway.

As they reached the bottom, Jackson turned to her. “There’s a connecting door in the basement. We’re going to walk underground until we come to the next building down. When we walk out, I want you to look calm. Pretend we’re just leaving and hailing a cab.”

“A cab?” That seemed so...ordinary.

“The less attention we attract, the better. There’s a cab parked down the street waiting for us. As soon as I give the signal that we’re coming out, he’ll pick us up.”

They wound their way through a warren of underground rooms, and just when Callie figured they’d walked clear to the Hudson River, Jackson took out his phone and entered a number.

“Whatever you do, don’t look back. Ready?”

Callie closed her eyes and counted slowly to ten as she breathed in and out. Was she ready? No. But again, she really had no choice. She opened her eyes and nodded. “Ready.”

He pressed send. They waited just inside the doorway while the clock on his phone ticked off two minutes. “Wait here until I call you.”

Callie watched him stroll out onto the midtown sidewalk, the picture of New York determination as he pretended to search for a cab. There wasn’t much traffic on the street—pedestrian or auto. Apparently the authorities had the entire area blocked off.

“Here he is,” Jackson called. She dashed out as he hailed the cab. It pulled smoothly to the curb in front of him, but before Jackson could hand her into the car, a man in an elegant overcoat materialized in front of them, attempting to grab the ride. Callie felt Jackson go on alert.

“Sorry, sir, my wife’s not feeling well. I called ahead for this car.” An elbow to the man’s briefcase backed up his words. Jackson shoved Callie into the cab and jumped in after her before the man could recover his balance. The driver hit the locks and the gas pedal.

Callie fell back against the cracked upholstery as the cab sped down the block. New York traffic still scared the life out of her. She hoped she hadn’t survived an abduction attempt only to be killed in a traffic accident.

Abduction. She shuddered, thinking about how close she had come to being a victim.

Callie’s thoughts were interrupted by the cab pulling up to a curb. She looked around, but they didn’t seem to actually be anywhere special. “Why are we stopping here?”

“Just making sure no one tailed us. We’ll cross into Grand Central Terminal as if we’re planning to get on a train to Westchester.”

“But we’re not?”

“Nope.”

“Where are we going?”

“To a new safe house.”

“You think this one will actually be safe?”

“Ms. Martin, WITSEC is not in the habit of losing witnesses.”

“Yet you nearly did.”

Callie was surprised at her bold words. She wasn’t normally a complainer, but she was getting a bit tired of his terse responses and this episode had her rattled.

If she was honest, she’d been rattled for months, ever since she’d accidentally walked into the middle of a drug deal and watched her ex-boyfriend shot down in front of her.

“We have never yet lost anyone who followed the rules. And we didn’t lose you.”

Would it be wrong to wish they had? Callie was so tired of running. So tired of fighting for a new life. Lord, give me strength. She glanced over at the new marshal. And patience.

Four months ago, her life had been normal. Happy even. She’d been dating someone who seemed nice. She loved her job working with little children. Her church was a community that gave her support and the first sense of family she’d had in her life.

Then things started going wrong, and nothing had been right since.

She’d realized Rick wasn’t the man for her. She liked him and had fun with him, but it would never grow into anything more. Though he gave lip service to her beliefs, he didn’t really share them, didn’t live them in his daily life. So she’d broken it off with him. Tried to break off at least. He had different ideas about that. He had different ideas about everything. That had been a big part of the problem. Things that seemed alluring at first were nothing more than temptations away from the life she’d chosen to live. So she’d ended the relationship.

And now she was paying the price for ever starting it. Facing the consequences of her bad judgment. How many times had she played the “if only” game? If only she’d stood firm. If only she’d never dated him in the first place. If only she hadn’t agreed to sing backup for his band that one last time.

He’d told her it was a charity event, so she agreed to perform, even though it had been a few weeks since they’d broken up. One last time singing, and then she would put that part of her life in the past along with their relationship. Except it hadn’t worked out that way. The charity gig had apparently been a cover for his drug dealing. And she’d walked right into a sting. DEA and FBI agents had arrived too late to save Rick’s life but just in time to whisk her away. They’d offered her sanctuary, but in order to testify to the things she’d witnessed she’d had to give up her whole life, assume a new identity and leave behind all that she knew and loved.

As the months had gone by, she’d learned to accept this solitary new life as atonement for her poor decisions. Tonight she wasn’t the only one paying the price. Regret at her own selfish thoughts stung Callie. A good man was injured, possibly dying, and another woman had been attacked. And what about the DEA agent?

None of this was directly her fault, but Callie couldn’t shake the feeling that if she’d made better choices, it all would have worked out differently.

* * *

Jackson stepped out of the cab and surveyed the street before he reached back in to help his witness out. He offered his arm. “Remember, we’re a couple. Look like we’re out for a romantic evening.”

“Is there a reason we can’t just look like friends or siblings hanging out together?”

He dropped her arm. “Whatever you prefer.”

If Ben survived, Jackson was going to have another talk with him. They’d spent an hour on the phone yesterday, going over case notes in preparation for a planned transition. The trial was due to begin in two weeks, and Jackson was set to take over and stay with Callie until it was time to bring her in to testify.

In all that conversation, never once had Ben warned him that Callie Martin was a difficult witness. In fact, if he recalled correctly, Ben’s words ran something along the lines of the sweetest, most innocent Texas blonde you’ll ever want to meet.

He glanced at the woman walking stiffly at his side. So much for sweet and innocent. He’d grant the beautiful blonde description, though. Even looking confused and scared, there was something compelling about her, something that had made him opt for pretending to be her husband rather than her brother. She’d certainly put him in his place.

“As we walk through the terminal, follow my lead. We’re going to cross the main concourse, then go down the stairs to the subway.”

“Why the subway?”

“I’m trying to vary our travel arrangements. I don’t think anyone followed us, but if they did, it just got harder.”

He guided her down the escalator along with the rest of the crowd and headed across the main waiting room. He ducked onto the Track 23 platform, then hurried her along the back corridor and out through another track door that exited through a passage, across the food market and directly into the subway. Her labored breathing caught his attention so he slowed his pace, but he never stopped moving. His gaze darted around the station, missing nothing and no one as he slid a MetroCard through the turnstile and ushered her through ahead of him.

She stopped abruptly as they approached the stairs. “Am I allowed to know where we’re going yet?”

Jackson scanned the crowd swirling around them. “I’d rather not say.”

He knew he was irritating her with his evasive answers. It wasn’t intentional, but until he knew how her cover had been blown, he wasn’t saying much of anything. For all he knew, she was the one who had arranged the ambush. Jackson glanced at her. She looked dazed and confused, not malicious. Was she innocent or just a very good actress? Either way, she was his to protect.

As they walked across the platform he thought about the expression on her face and softened. What must this look like to someone from Texas who was relatively new to New York? Santa sat behind steel drums beating out some holiday tune. Elderly ladies offered crocheted hats for sale, while a man slept crouched against a pillar. From the look of awe on Callie’s face, he guessed she hadn’t spent much time in the subway.

Before he could say anything, the express train pulled in. Jackson took a moment to check the platform behind them. No one seemed to be paying any attention, but better safe than sorry. He led Callie on to the train and whispered, “Stay close.”

The doors started to beep their closing tune. Just as they were about to shut, he pulled her back out onto the platform. The doors popped open, then quickly closed. Jackson could hear the canned reminder not to hold the doors open. He swung Callie around and hopped on the local train pulling in across the platform.

“What... Why did we—?” Callie shook her head and grabbed for the pole as the train lurched ahead.

Jackson didn’t let his guard down, but he hoped anyone who might have trailed them was as stunned by his move as she apparently was.

The local train was fairly crowded, but Jackson managed to glare his way into a seat for Callie. She sat and he stood guard over her. From that vantage point he could see everyone around. He could also see her face. She was trying not to stare, but clearly the couple across the way had caught her attention. Little wonder with their matching tattoos and red-and-green hair. He wondered how the girl from Texas was managing.

“Have you ridden the subway much?”

She shrugged. “Some. I walk when I can.”

“Are you okay?”

She burst into a grin. “Yeah. I love it!”

Jackson couldn’t help but grin back at her. New York might be an acquired taste, but it was good she was flexible and adjusting so well. An adventuresome spirit would make her time in witness protection a bit easier to bear.

The train pulled into the next stop, and Jackson eyed the platform. If anyone had followed them, they should still be stuck on the express. “Come on, we’re getting off here.”

“Already?”

Jackson bit back a smile. Was that disappointment in her voice?

He led her above ground and into the madness of the East Side at Christmas. Hailing a cab wasn’t quite as easy this time, but before too long he had them back in another car. He gave directions for the West Side and watched as Callie stared out the window. “Christmas in New York. Pure insanity.”

She turned to him and smiled. “I still can’t get over the sheer number of people.”

Something about her enthusiasm stirred a response in him. “I’m pretty used to crowds, but every once in a while it amazes me, too.”

Within minutes, the cab pulled up in front of a hotel. After Jackson paid, he took her arm and helped her from the backseat. They walked to the hotel entry and waited under the awning. As soon as the cab turned the corner, Jackson urged her in the other direction.

Callie turned a skeptical gaze on him. “I can’t believe anyone could still be following us—if they ever were. I’m so lost, even I couldn’t find us.”

“Not too much longer now.”

She sighed and started walking. “You seem to know your way around. How long have you lived here?”

“I don’t. I’m just here because of you. Ben probably didn’t have a chance to tell you, but I was scheduled to replace him. He’s needed back in Texas. I’ll stay and take you in to trial.”

Callie paused and rested against an office building. Eyes closed, she drew in breaths. After a minute, she started walking again. He drew alongside her and rested his hand on her arm. “What is it?”

“Nothing.” She shrugged away from his hand. “I’m just still trying to wrap my head around all this. Around the idea that all of your lives are revolving around me. I feel like I should say I’m sorry.”

Jackson’s senses went on alert. “Why sorry?”

“That you have to be here, away from home, just because I am.”

He shrugged. “It’s my job.” That was life as a federal marshal. Holidays were pretty much like any other day. It suited him fine.

“I don’t suppose there’s any chance we can stop for coffee?”

Jackson looked ahead to the familiar green sign that had caught her eye as they turned the corner. He hated the longing in her voice and that he couldn’t do anything to help. “Sorry. Not until I’m sure we’re clear.”

She nodded and kept walking, but Jackson felt a twinge of remorse. She looked exhausted and anxious. Would it have hurt to stop? Maybe not, but he was taking no chances when they were this close to their safe house.

“This way.” He glanced quickly left and right, then led her across the street and up the hotel steps. They crossed a crowded lobby, directly to the elevator bank. “We’ve got a room already,” he said quietly. “You’re going to stay here until we have a better idea what happened. There’s another pair of marshals on duty up there. You’ll be safe.”

He hoped.

After depositing Callie in the hotel room, Jackson headed back out. He needed some information, needed to talk, hopefully to Ben if he was able, definitely to the assistant US attorney and the DEA agent. Once he’d spoken with them, he’d call his home office. They had to figure out what had gone so terribly wrong. Before it happened again.

Jackson reached for his phone to call the hospital but hesitated when he spied the coffee shop logo. The calls could wait a few minutes.

Fifteen minutes later Jackson handed off cups of coffee to the marshals on duty before entering the hotel suite.

Though Callie looked startled to see him back so soon, her apprehensive expression melted into a smile when she spotted what was in his hands. That smile made it worth all the lost time he’d spent waiting behind Christmas shoppers in a long line.

She accepted the cup from him and took a sip. “Ahh, perfect. Just the way I like it. How did you guess?”

Jackson shifted, uneasy with the praise. “It’s in your file.”

TWO

It’s in your file.

The door closed behind Jackson, but his words lingered, sending shivers down Callie’s spine. Of course she had a file. She just hadn’t really thought of it in those terms before. That somewhere there was a folder—most likely on some computer database—with all her information. Even the way she took her coffee.

If her file included minor details like coffee preferences, what else did it hold? The idea that Jackson, a man she’d just met, knew her personal information, even secrets she guarded from the rest of the world, left her feeling vulnerable in a new and profound way.

Did they know who her mother was? The thought struck from out of the blue. Callie’s fingers curled into fists as she fought to contain the rising dread. Wouldn’t that be ironic if they knew more about her life than she did?

Callie crawled up on the sofa. Cradling the coffee cup in her hands, she gently rocked, seeking calm. How had her life come to this?

Sometimes she thought she’d been asking that same question for three straight months. How had her life gone from being ordinary—her days spent teaching kindergarten—to this constant danger? Three months ago she’d been sitting at her kitchen table writing lesson plans. Now she was in hiding from the kind of dangerous men she’d thought only existed in movies.

She couldn’t even begin to comprehend all she had lost. Not long ago she’d been wondering if she and Rick had a future together. Now he was buried in his family’s plot in a remote Texas graveyard, and she was left to deal with the fallout.

She didn’t doubt her decision to break up with him. If nothing else, everything that followed had proved the wisdom of that choice. But with each day in witness protection, her dream of a family seemed farther and farther away.

For the umpteenth time in her life she was alone.

As a former foster kid who’d been bumped around from house to house during her childhood, she should have developed a thick enough skin to handle it. Should have. But the ache never went away. The longing for a real family remained. It especially hurt at this time of year.

Restless with the memories, Callie rose and drifted around the hotel room. It was too fancy, almost sterile. She couldn’t even find a safe place to set the coffee down without fear of leaving a ring. The suite was more luxurious than any place she’d ever stayed before. New York was so far removed from her small-town Texas life.

She wandered over to the window. If Ben were here, he’d make her step back. Feeling defiant, Callie pressed her head against the glass. Fifteen floors below, people hustled along the street. For a brief time she’d been a part of that. She’d begun to settle into a new job and a new life and had actually thought it would be fun to be in New York for Christmas. She’d tried to look forward to the season, enjoying the lights, the windows, the tree at Rockefeller Center.

Now, that, too, was gone.

Heat poured from the vent, but Callie shivered as she stared at the crowds below. Evening was falling, dusk beginning to shroud the people from view. She wrapped her arms around herself, pulling her sweater tight. It wasn’t exactly a hug, but it was the best she could get at the moment.

She’d allowed herself to be lulled into a false sense of security. There was no safe place for her anymore. Not only could she never go home again, but apparently she also couldn’t trust that she would ever find a home that was safe. For the girl whose only dream had been a home and family of her own, that was a bitter pill to swallow.

Enough of this. Giving herself a shake, Callie turned from the window. She could wallow in sadness, or she could choose to focus on the good. And there was good. She just needed to remember it.

Callie rooted through her bag for her Bible. Focusing on reading scripture had been a tool of self-preservation in the early days of this ordeal. It was a way of reminding herself that God was good all the time. Even in the midst of all the turmoil, she had much for which to be thankful. So many people had helped her, starting with the marshals, like Ben, who were willing to sacrifice their lives to keep her safe.

Regret twisted in her belly. She wished she could have gone with Jackson to check on Ben. He’d helped her get her footing in her new life. At first he’d been a friend, protector and father figure all rolled into one. Once she’d been moved to New York, she hadn’t seen him often, but he’d kept in touch. She should be there for him. Since she couldn’t be, she would pray for him.

Dear Lord, I pray to You in thanksgiving for all You have given me. Jesus, my Lord, healer of the sick, please shine Your love on Ben. Protect him and keep him safe from harm.

Callie paused in her prayer. Ben had been her protector, and now Jackson had that role. She was grateful to God for sending Jackson to rescue her. Whether or not she was grateful for Jackson himself was another matter. She was going to have to get to know him better. A smile tugged at her lips as she turned back to her Bible. Buying her coffee definitely weighed in his favor.

* * *

Jackson gripped the edge of the hospital room door, trying to drain the anger from his body before facing his colleague. Ben didn’t need to deal with Jackson’s baggage. He had enough fighting of his own to do. According to the doctor, the knife had missed anything vital but not by much. Another quarter inch... Jackson shook off the thought. Supposedly Ben was just sleeping. Good. He’d wait.

He sank into the chair beside the bed and scrubbed his face with his hands, fighting back emotions that threatened to swamp him. Ben wasn’t just his colleague. He’d been a friend, a mentor and the closest man in Jackson’s life since his family was murdered.

Minutes ticked by with nothing but beeping machines and bustling nurses. Finally there was a slight movement in the bed. “You might as well spit it out instead of sitting there making angry faces.”

Jackson jolted at the whispered words. Tension slid off as he looked up to see Ben staring back at him. Those sun-crinkled eyes weren’t quite sparkling, but there was a light in them that eased something deep within Jackson.

He reached over and gripped Ben’s hand. “Nice of you to wake up.”

Ben grimaced. “You got her away?”

Jackson nodded. “Safe and secure.”

Ben closed his eyes and let out a slow breath. “Thanks. I owe you.”

“Nope.” Jackson shook his head. Ben had it backward. Jackson owed him everything. The senior marshal had taken a wet recruit under his wing and trained him and molded him into the man Jackson was today. He didn’t even want to think what would have become of the angry young man he’d been after the massacre of his family if Ben hadn’t intervened. Jackson had been drifting, aimless and angry. Ben had taken the bitter youth and helped him find a purpose in life. For that alone, Jackson owed him more than he could ever repay.

For that, if nothing else, he would see that the men who’d done this paid.

“What happened?” Ben’s voice melded with Jackson’s.

The two men shrugged as they simultaneously asked the same important question. It would have been funny if the situation weren’t so grave.

“I was hoping you could tell me,” Jackson urged.

Ben frowned, trying to push past the pain. “I remember coming out of the elevator, crossing the lobby. I told Christine to let me go first, but she pushed past and went into the revolving door.” Ben made a wry grimace. “She was annoyed because Callie had no answers. Said she was in a hurry. I went through the side door. That guy from DEA, Quint, followed me.”

Ben shifted, focused on breathing for a minute, then continued. “Someone was waiting. I took a knife. Quint must have seen them making a grab for Christine because he shoved me aside and lunged at her. Probably saved my life, too, because the minute he got his hands on her, the car took off, and the guy who’d stabbed me disappeared into the crowd. I never even saw him.”

That was not what Jackson wanted to hear. “Did you get a look at the car?”

“Quick. As I was falling. Dark blue, tinted windows.” He closed his eyes for a minute, apparently drawing on his training to try to dredge up a memory. “There was a dent in the right rear bumper. Some sort of decal right above it. White and blue. I couldn’t read what it said. Maybe Quint saw something else.”

Jackson would check, but from the report he’d gotten earlier, Mr. DEA hadn’t seen anything. He’d been totally focused on keeping hold of Christine Davis, the assistant US attorney.

“Any idea how they found her here?” Ben asked.

“Callie?” Jackson shook his head. “So you think it was her they were after?”

“Has to be. If they knew she was there, they would have expected her to be coming out with me. With Christine in that winter coat, hat covering her head, all you’d see was the blond curls. Easy to mistake.”

“Still doesn’t explain how they found her,” Jackson muttered. “Unless someone tracked Christine or Quint.”

“Possible, but we went to a lot of trouble to avoid it. That was the whole reason for bringing them here rather than taking Callie to them. Seemed safer. You came up with them, didn’t you?”

Jackson nodded. “We took separate flights from San Antonio and Austin into Atlanta but got stuck on the same connecting flight because of weather delays. Never acknowledged each other in the terminal or in the air and we made sure to take cabs to different hotels. No one would have had any reason to suspect we were together unless they knew.”

Their gazes met and held, neither wanting to be the one to say the words, admit that one of their own must have leaked information.

Ben finally broke the silence. “Get her out of town.” He swallowed hard, as much from the pain of betrayal as from physical injury. “Don’t tell anyone. Just go.”

“There’s one other possibility,” Jackson offered.

Ben shook his head slowly. “Nope. Makes no sense.”

Jackson didn’t respond.

“It’s not what you’re thinking.”

“How do you know what I’m thinking?” Jackson demanded.

Ben rolled his eyes. “Because I know you. She’s not in cahoots with them.”

“You still want to say that? You’re lying in this hospital bed because someone stuck a knife in you.”

“They were trying to get to her.”

“So you say. How do we know they weren’t trying to help her escape?”

Ben gave him a look of disgust.

“Why wasn’t she with you anyway? Why did you have Christine instead of Callie?”

Ben closed his eyes briefly. “Christine had come down really hard on her. Basically accused her of withholding evidence. Made all sorts of threats. She had Quint there giving his best DEA glare, trying to intimidate her.”

“Did it work?”

“Depends on your point of view. Poor kid was shaking in her boots. But she didn’t have any information to give.”

Jackson leaned back in the chair and studied Ben’s expression. Had his mentor gone soft?

Ben shrugged self-consciously. “I wanted to give her some time to settle down. It’s been real hard on her. So I left her in the office and took Christine and Quint down. I figured I’d ask them to lay off terrorizing the witness—at least until the holidays were past, you know?”

Jackson nodded. He knew. That was just the kind of thing Ben did. Going above and beyond to be sure his witness was not only safe physically but emotionally, too.

Jackson was careful with his words. “That doesn’t mean she wasn’t involved.”

“Gut instinct says she’s innocent.”

Jackson snorted. “Is that your healthy gut speaking or the one that was knifed?”

Ben laughed weakly. “Good one.” He closed his eyes.

“You’re tired and I’ve got to get back to my witness.” Jackson stood and rested his hand lightly on Ben’s shoulder. “Take care. Don’t worry—I’ll keep her safe until you come back.”

When Jackson turned to leave, Ben grabbed his sleeve. “Seriously, man.” He paused, dragged in a breath. “Don’t go into this thinking she’s guilty. If you do, you might make a mistake that costs her life.”

Jackson looked down at his friend. He couldn’t say the words, but he nodded his promise.

As he made his way back to the hotel, Jackson replayed the scene in his head. Ben was right, of course. He had to keep an open mind. Honestly, it didn’t matter at all to WITSEC if she was innocent or guilty. She was a protected witness who could provide testimony to convict the real bad guys. For that reason alone, she had to be kept safe.

It was a job he took very seriously.

THREE

By the time he reached the hotel, Jackson was envisioning dinner. He could have stopped to pick up something for them, but he decided to indulge his witness and let her choose. Maybe that would put them on a better footing.

The lobby was mobbed with Christmas revelers, so Jackson ducked around back to the lesser-used elevator bank. He squeezed in with a couple of bellhops and a room-service cart. The news was playing on the elevator television screen, and Jackson immediately recognized the scene from this afternoon.

He could just barely make out the news anchor’s voice over the chatter. “In other news, the Christmas season took a dangerous turn this afternoon when armed robbers tried to mug a woman exiting an office building in midtown. The woman escaped unharmed but her companion is hospitalized with a knife wound. Police are asking anyone with information about a late-model, dark blue SUV to contact the number showing on the screen.”

So that was the story they were giving out. Innocent mugging. Jackson shrugged. It wasn’t like they could reveal the truth that the assistant United States attorney responsible for prosecuting the biggest drug cartel of the past decade had almost been abducted on a Manhattan street. Not good PR for New York or the Texas justice system.

Jackson was turning his focus back to dinner plans when another conversation caught his attention.

“Dude, look.” One waiter nudged the other and pointed at the screen.

Jackson glanced up in time to see a quick flash of Christine Davis’s face on the screen. Uh-oh—someone would not be happy that picture had been released.

“The blonde? Nice.”

“No, man. The car. See the car? That looks like the one I saw parked right outside on 55th when I went for my smoke break.”

“I thought you stopped smoking.”

“Forget that. The car I saw. It looks like the one they showed in the picture. Even had the same dent.”

Jackson froze. Ben said the car had a dent. He looked up, but the news had moved on to another story.

“You think there’s a reward?”

The first guy hesitated. “A reward is nice, but not if it costs me this job.”

“I thought you were on break. It’s not like you were sneaking out or something. Talk to the boss.”

“Yeah. Let me just deliver this burger to 1408 first.”

Jackson fiddled with his phone, pretending to read a message, then reached over and pressed a different button to get off at the floor below Callie’s.

He took off down the corridor, through the fire exit and up the flight of stairs, taking the steps two at a time. He dashed down the hall and flashed his badge at the man standing guard. “Inside. We’ve got trouble.”

The marshal took one look at Jackson’s face and started defending himself. “No one saw her, sir.”

“What?”

“The room service. I placed the order and I accepted the food. She stayed in the bedroom. No one saw her.”

“That’s not the problem, and it’s not your fault.” Jackson wanted to kick something. The only person at fault was him for leaving her. How had they managed to find her again already?

He burst into the room, calling to Callie to grab everything. “We’re leaving.”

“Again?” She sighed. “Can’t we wait until I finish eating?”

“No. Staying to finish could cost your life.”

“Don’t you think that’s a little extreme?”

“I just rode up in the elevator with hotel staff who recognized the car that was used this afternoon. It’s parked outside the hotel.”

She looked confused. Little wonder.

“Which means that somehow they know that you’re in the hotel.”

Jackson began searching the hotel room for anything to use as a disguise. When he returned to the main room, Callie was still standing there looking dumbstruck and on the verge of tears.

“Look, Ms. Martin. You can think about this all you want later. Right now, we need to disguise you and get you out of this building before they figure out where in the hotel you are.”

He asked the other marshal for his coat and hat and shoved it at her. “Here, take this. Turn it inside out and stuff your hair up into the hat. Where’s your scarf? Wrap it around your face.”

He watched impatiently as Callie did as he’d directed. “Make sure there’s no hair showing and let’s go. We can’t disguise anything else now. We have to get moving.”

He turned to the marshal. “Once we’re clear, say five minutes, call it in. If anyone else shows up or asks about her, tell them—” He looked down at the tray. “Tell them she went out to dinner.”

Jackson opened the door and scanned the hallway. “Come on.”

He took her by the hand and led her down the hall away from the elevator. “We’re taking the stairs.”

“Fifteen flights?”

He stopped long enough to recognize the panic settling over her. “No,” he reassured. “Down four and then I’ll wait for an empty elevator.”

Once they reached the eleventh floor, Jackson kept her hiding in the hallway until an empty elevator arrived. He pulled her into the corner, shielding her from view as other guests got on. When they reached the fifth floor, they got off and he led her through a maze of conference rooms and down a series of escalators until they came out in a back alleyway onto 54th Street. He was tempted to swing around the block and take a look at the car, but it wasn’t worth risking his witness. A sudden peal of sirens in the distance told him the call had been placed. Now to make good their escape.

A line of cabs was waiting, but Jackson didn’t want to leave a trail from the hotel. Grabbing Callie’s hand, he dashed through traffic, crossed the street and ducked into the lobby of another hotel. He turned to face her. Callie was gasping for breath.

“It’s okay. We’ll get a cab from here to the airport.”

She looked upset, on the edge of breaking down. Once he had them settled in a cab, he wrapped an arm around her and rested her head on his shoulder. “Hang on,” he whispered. “We’re almost clear.”

By the time they arrived at JFK, Callie had recovered her color and some spunk. Jackson led her into the terminal, where they ducked into a shop to buy some tourist gear and cheap reading glasses. He sent her into the bathroom to fix up while he called to arrange a rental car.

His phone rang just as the car arrived. A quick glance at the display revealed his boss on the line.

“Walker here.” He juggled the phone while he traded car keys for a tip. He considered moving to another space, but Callie should be out soon. He’d use his badge if necessary to keep the space.

“I hear you stopped by to see Ben.” John Logan’s voice held more understanding than censure.

“Sir. I don’t like operating blind. Just wanted some answers.”

“Which is why I’m calling. Figured you couldn’t come in for an update.”

“I’m better off on the move.”

“Agreed. The car was abandoned.”

Jackson listened as his boss filled him in on the details, then blew out a breath of frustration. “Any sign of them?”

“Nothing.”

Jackson didn’t like the sound of that. Were they still searching the hotel for Callie? He didn’t think they could have been followed, but it wasn’t likely the thugs had just given up.

Jackson stared into the distance, watching the planes take off and land. There was a pattern to it, a rhythm. Most things had one. Few occurrences were random, including today’s attack. “What are you thinking?”

“Someone found her and wanted to send a message. Take her or take her out.”

Jackson chewed on that for a minute. He didn’t like the taste. “You don’t think she’s involved?”

“Callie Martin?” His boss sounded surprised. “Nope. I don’t think so. You do?”

Jackson was relieved his concern wasn’t dismissed out of hand. “I haven’t talked with her long enough to form an opinion. It just seems likely.”

There was a long pause. “You aren’t the first to question it, but most change their mind after getting to know her a little better.”

Jackson acknowledged his superior’s unspoken advice to give her time. He still intended to stay alert—and not just when looking for the bad guys.

“Let me know when you’re settled in. I’ll see to backup.”

“Will do, thanks.”

As Jackson disconnected the call he turned and found Callie standing behind him. How much had she heard? Enough to be suspicious—and angry—based on her expression. She walked silently to the car, climbed into the backseat and settled against the door, all without looking at him.

Jackson put away his phone and climbed into the front. He turned the key in the ignition, put the car in gear and headed west.

Miles rolled away under the wheels of the rental car while Jackson mulled over his conversation with Ben at the hospital. Something was nagging at him, but he couldn’t figure out what exactly it was.

He glanced at his witness in the backseat. She made him uneasy, too. He’d protect her, but he wouldn’t be fooled. You didn’t last long in witness protection if you let the witness burn you.

As the hours passed, the hum of the tires on the blacktop began to lull Jackson. Fatigue burned his eyes and the lane lines started to blur. He needed sleep. Coffee would have to do. The last sign had indicated a rest stop in twenty miles. He had to be pretty close to that now.

Traffic had been light and there was no indication anyone was trailing behind them. He’d varied speed enough and watched the cars carefully as they passed, so he was 100 percent confident no one had followed him. Still, when he saw the exit, Jackson skipped using the turn signal and waited until the very last second to make an abrupt turn into the rest-stop parking lot. There was no sense in advertising his plans. He pulled in close to the rest station and turned to check on Callie. The slow rise and fall of her chest and her gentle, even breathing told him she was deeply asleep, as she had been ever since they’d left the airport. He probably should wake her and see if she needed to go inside.

“Ms. Martin?”

She muttered something in her sleep and huddled deeper into the seat.

He didn’t like leaving her alone, but he’d do neither of them any good if he fell asleep at the wheel. Hopefully, he’d be back and on the road without her ever noticing he’d been gone.

After a quick stop in the restroom, Jackson stocked up on coffee and candy bars. He was just exiting the building, ripping open a candy bag with his teeth, when a bloodcurdling scream echoed across the parking lot.

Callie! Jackson dropped the coffee. Candy pieces scattered in his wake as he ran for the car.

* * *

“Ms. Martin, Callie, Callie, wake up.”

The words came from a great distance. Callie felt the hand on her arm and screamed again. “Let go of me!”

“Callie.” The voice was gentler now, closer. “Callie, you’re dreaming. Wake up.”

She could barely hear his words over the thrum of her racing heart, but the soothing tone helped ease her terror. It was a dream. He said she was only dreaming. Oh, praise the Lord—it was all a dream.

As her fear ebbed, Callie’s memories rushed in. Screams rose in her throat again, but she cut them off with a sob.

“That must have been some dream.”

She buried her face in her hands, rubbing her eyes as if she could erase what she saw. It wasn’t a dream, not really. It was her living nightmare. She’d been reliving the night Rick was killed.

“Are you okay?”

She lifted her head and looked around, noticing for the first time that they were in a parking lot. The back door of the car was open, and Jackson was crouched beside her.

She nodded in answer to his question and raised one of her own. “Where are we?”

“Somewhere in the middle of Ohio.”

Which meant they’d driven through New Jersey and Pennsylvania while she’d been sleeping. “Is that where we were going?”

He shrugged. “I was just driving until the sun came up.”

It dawned on her that he’d been driving all night while she slept. “Do you want me to drive for a while so you can sleep?”

There was only the barest hesitation, but she caught it.

“No, thanks. I thought we could find a hotel, pull in and catch a nap for a while.”

The last thing she wanted to do was sleep again.

He returned to the driver’s seat, and she took the passenger side. They sat for a while, each lost in their own thoughts, until Jackson broke the silence.

“Do you want to talk about it, the dream?”

“Not really.”

“It might help to talk. Get it out of your system.” He winced. “Sorry, not a good choice of words.”

“I understand.” And she did. She just wasn’t anxious to relive the experience a second time tonight. “Maybe some other time.”

“Do you have these dreams often?”

“No.” She paused. “I haven’t had one in weeks. Not since I settled in New York. I felt safe there, I guess.” She could hear the defeat in her own voice. Safety was an illusion. “We should probably get going again, right?”

He didn’t answer. She could tell he wasn’t going to let it drop, but she couldn’t deal with any more of it tonight. She had to change the subject.

“I fell asleep before I could ask you about Ben.”

“That’s okay—you were exhausted.” And angry.

“How is he?”

“Fortunate to be alive. The knife missed anything vital. He’s just weak from blood loss.”

“Thank you, Lord.” Callie fiddled with the latch on her seat belt. “Did he explain what happened?” And would Jackson tell her if he had? Callie hadn’t forgotten the snippet of conversation she’d overheard. Did he really think she was involved in yesterday’s attack?

“Just that as he walked out of the building with the assistant US attorney and the DEA agent, one person knifed him while another tried to snatch Christine. Quint managed to hold on to her.”

“But someone identified the car?”

“Apparently there was a security camera on the building. They got a still from that. It matched the car they found outside the hotel, but no one was inside.”

Callie collapsed back into the seat. “If they attempted to grab the attorney, why does everyone think they’re after me?”

The silence stretched so long Callie began to fear Jackson wouldn’t answer. She watched his fingers on the wheel, reading the tension in his grip. Finally he eased up. “Ben thinks they mistook her for you, you both being tall and blonde.”

Callie wanted to be offended that the woman who’d been so harsh could be mistaken for her, but she could see Ben’s point. They had similarities, especially in heavy winter clothing. With a sinking heart, she mouthed the words she feared. “Do they want me dead or alive?”

She watched Jackson take a deep breath, then let it out slowly. He glanced over at her before answering. “I can’t honestly say.” He took his hand from the wheel and reached over to cover hers. “But I can promise I’ll do everything in my power to keep them from getting to you.”

She swallowed around the sudden lump in her throat. “Thank you.”

The silence was broken only by the hum of the tires on the highway. Callie chewed on her lip. “So we assume they’re still after me.”

“Apparently so.”

She sagged against the seat, trying to absorb the implications. “Then what do we do now?”

He jerked his head toward the road. “For the time being, we keep driving.”

“Doesn’t really sound like much of a solution,” she muttered.

“Ms. Martin—”

“Call me Callie, please. With all the time we’re spending together, Ms. Martin seems too weird. That’s what my students call me.”

He chuckled. “Wouldn’t want to be mistaken for a five-year-old.”

Callie didn’t even crack a smile. “Why would they go to all this trouble if not to kill me?”

Jackson shrugged again. “They could have been trying to send you a message. Let you know they could find you.”

Callie shuddered. “They sure made their point.”

Jackson turned the car on and pulled back onto the highway. “Ms. Martin, Callie, it really would help me to protect you if you could tell me about your dream, tell me what happened.”

“I thought it was all in my file.”

“The facts are there. I need to understand you, know how you feel.”

“What, to see if I was involved?” Callie tossed that out just to see how he reacted. It seemed everyone’s first impression was to think she was a part of this.

“You seem pretty calm about such an accusation.”

Callie bit her lip to fight back tears. “I’ve had lots of practice.” She swallowed hard. “It’s everyone’s first reaction. Apparently no one can believe that someone could be completely in the dark about what her boyfriend was up to.”

“But you were.”

“I was.”

“Tell me.”

So finally, she did. Maybe because she desperately wanted him to believe her, she told him each harrowing detail. About how she’d been lonely so she kept dating Rick long after she’d known better. How she’d gone along to gigs with his band, helping out as a backup singer whenever needed. How despite everything, they’d drifted apart because they wanted different things from life. How she’d finally broken up with him—even before she learned about his lies and deceptions.

And then there was that final night. Rick had begged her to sing with them. Said he needed her, and the kids who would benefit from the fund-raiser needed her. She’d always been a soft touch for a child in need and he’d known it.

She recalled how they’d performed a first set, and then the guys had taken a break to go outside for some air.

Callie stopped there. She buried her head in her hands and prayed for the strength to get through this retelling, for the wisdom to find the words that Jackson needed to hear, for the courage to continue her fight for justice.

“I was chatting with one of the families from my school. They’d come into the cantina for dinner. The family had twin girls who’d been in my class several years ago. I sat with them, catching up about everything the girls were doing.

“After a while, it hit me that the guys had been gone a really long time. It was getting awkward to still sit there because the family was ready to leave. So I decided to go find Rick.”

A sob escaped her lips as she got to the next part. “I stopped in the ladies’ room first.” She looked up at him through tear-drenched eyes. “Do you know how many times I’ve wondered what would have happened if I hadn’t stopped in there first?”

Jackson reached back across the seat and squeezed her hand. Callie realized he had pulled off the road again and was sitting, facing her, giving her his undivided attention.

“I was almost to the patio door when the first shot sounded. I didn’t realize what it was at first, fireworks or something. I wasn’t expecting gunfire. But when I pulled back the door, I was suddenly face-to-face with a man holding a gun. He turned and waved it at me, then blasted it off at Rick.” She twisted the scarf in her hands, wringing it, wrapping it around her hand, over and over. “He fell at my feet.”

Such simple words. He fell at my feet. They didn’t begin to capture how it felt to watch the life flow out of him, to watch as the recognition in his eyes faded away into a blank stare. Chaos had erupted around her, with federal agents bursting in and capturing the gunmen. That was all a hazy memory. She’d had eyes only for Rick. She’d stood there like petrified wood as his blood pooled around the pointy toes of her favorite boots.

Callie ripped the scarf off her hands and yanked the car door open. She had to get out, get away from the memory. She paced along the deserted highway, only vaguely aware of Jackson trailing behind her.

“Callie.”

She turned around. His arms were open, and she fell into them. He wrapped his coat around her and held her close while she cried.

When the sobs finally lessened, she lifted her head. “That’s why I didn’t want to tell you the story tonight. This happens every time. They keep telling me it will get better with time, but it never does.”

FOUR

Jackson awoke to a sound at the door.

He bolted from the bed and grabbed his gun. The sound came again, a soft knock, and he relaxed, realizing it was coming from the connecting door.

After he’d gotten Callie back in the car early this morning, they’d driven another hour before stopping for food and then finally settling into adjoining hotel rooms.

He’d lain awake long hours, replaying the scene she’d described, trying to see through the emotion to the truth. Had it happened as she said, or was she a stellar actress?

The taste of doubt was bitter on his tongue, but Jackson knew the price of false belief was much worse. He wanted to believe her, but if he was going to keep her safe, he had to be completely sure he understood every angle, every dynamic.

He’d finally dozed into a fitful sleep, but based on the slant of sunlight coming through the window, it hadn’t been for very long. He shrugged into his shirt before opening the door.

“What’s up, Callie?”

“Hope I didn’t wake you.”

Her distrust from yesterday appeared to have given way to a reluctant acceptance and friendliness. He supposed he could go along with that. If they were going to spend a week in close quarters, they might as well be friendly.

He yawned. “I wasn’t really sleeping well anyway.”

“Yeah, that was quite the bedtime story I told you.”

Jackson laughed, but the look they shared said they both knew it had kept him awake. “Let’s not talk about that now.” He could offer her that much anyway. “I’ll grab a shower and then we can go get some lunch, okay?”

“Can we walk through the Christmas Fair?”

“The what?”

“While you were sleeping, I read the local paper. Today is their Christmas Fair. It started with a parade earlier this morning, but there are activities all day—caroling, ornament making.” Her head dipped in resignation. “I know we can’t really do any of those things. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t even be thinking about it after what happened yesterday.”

She was right. They’d come a long distance with no sign of a tail, but that didn’t make it playtime.

“I feel like I’ve been either sleeping or running for the past twenty-four hours. The past three months really. It would be so nice to do something normal.”

The shadows under her eyes reminded him of how hard this had been on her. Not as hard as being dead, though.

They’d run in so many circles and switched transportation so many times, it should have been impossible for anyone to have followed them. Jackson wasn’t taking any chances on should haves. Still, her sad eyes tugged at him.

He was known for being overly cautious, but maybe there was no real cause for concern since they’d gotten cleanly away.

“Let me check in with the office. If there’s no indication anyone followed us, then we’ll see. We have to eat.”

“Really?” Callie beamed at him and something inside him lifted. “I know you don’t like it, but...I just really need something normal today, you know?”

He didn’t know. Not really. There wasn’t much about his life that was normal—ever—but he did understand her need. Her life had just been turned on its head a second time. Normalcy was necessary, even if it was an illusion.

Jackson grabbed some fresh clothes and headed into the shower. He needed some time alone to rebuild the professional wall he’d breached when he’d held her in his arms last night. The embrace had been natural, an offer of solace to a fellow human in need. He hadn’t expected to be the one feeling comforted.

An hour later, with the car packed and ready to move at a moment’s notice, Jackson drove them into town. It was his concession to her desire to walk. He’d drive to town, then they could walk and catch a bite to eat. His office said there was no indication of trouble, no evidence they’d been trailed. He guessed they could handle an hour in one small town at Christmas.

There was a huge lunch smorgasbord at the Church Hall and Callie talked him into eating there. Up until yesterday she’d roamed freely around New York City, she reminded him. As Jackson watched her chat with the locals and drink in the festive atmosphere, he decided the change was good for her. She had a knack for making friends and fitting herself in, which would suit her well in witness protection. Whereas he would have stayed back, grabbed a burger at the corner diner and been on his way, she’d jumped right into the thick of the celebration. After the harrowing past twenty-four hours, it was nice to see her relax.

An hour became two, and Jackson was more than ready to move on. “Callie.”

She grinned at him, and it was such a contrast to her frightened, shell-shocked expression of yesterday that he found himself grinning back. But they were still leaving.

As they walked out to the car, she touched his arm to stop him. “Can you give me just five more minutes? There’s something I need to buy. The pastor’s wife told me I can get it in that little shop on the corner.”

“Callie, we really need to get moving.”

Her face fell. Jackson kicked himself. Maybe it was female things she needed.

“Five minutes.”

She ran off, promising to be back in four.

Jackson leaned back against the car and stared at the small shop she’d entered. No female things in there. What could she possibly need from a trinket shop like that?

Whatever it was, she was true to her word. He’d watched the numbers on his phone advance only three minutes when she came dancing out the door.

Jackson grinned looking at her. Ben was right. She was charming when she was happy. He watched her come down the steps of the gift shop, her cheeks rosy from the cold, her lips curved in a smile that hinted of happy secrets.

She started to cross. Instinct had him on alert, so he sensed the car almost before he saw it. He yelled a warning as a dark vehicle came barreling around the corner. Too late he realized it was coming directly between him and Callie. The wheels screeched as the driver skidded to a halt and two men jumped out.

Jackson charged across the street, yelling for help. He pulled his gun and tried to take aim, but he couldn’t get a clear shot. There were too many families to risk shooting. He ran faster, but it felt like concrete blocks were dragging at his feet. Everything moved in slow motion as one man grabbed Callie around the waist and the other one shoved her toward the open car door.

There was no way he could reach her in time.

* * *

Callie heard Jackson’s yell a split second before a black SUV cut to the curb in front of her. Tinted windows made it impossible to see inside. She had no time to react as men jumped from the car and grabbed her.

No! She hadn’t gotten this far just to let them take her now. At least not willingly. She screamed and kicked as hard as she could.

She may as well have been kicking cement for all the good it did. One man had his hands around her wrists like manacles while the other held everyone off with his gun.

Callie stopped struggling. There were too many children on the street. She couldn’t risk one of them being hurt. She heard Jackson yelling as they shoved her into the SUV. The door slammed behind her, the engine raced and the car leaped forward.

Facedown on the seat, Callie couldn’t see anything, but she felt the car gathering speed. Her heart sank. It was over. Despite all the precautions. She should have listened to Jackson, should have stayed in the hotel room. Now, because she’d wanted to celebrate Christmas, there would be no one to testify against the killers, no one to see justice done for Rick.

No. She wasn’t giving up. As long as she was breathing, there was still a chance. Rick may have made poor choices, but he hadn’t deserved to die for them and she wasn’t going to make it easy for his killers to dispose of her. Hopefully there would be time for regrets later, time to tell Jackson she’d do whatever he asked. First she had to figure a way out of here.

Callie held herself very still, not an easy feat as the car careened down the road. She tried to get her bearings, evaluate the predicament. There were three men—the driver, the one she thought of as the gunman and the one who had grabbed her. None of them was saying a word, but the tension in the car was intense. Was someone—possibly Jackson—following them?

The gunman fired a shot out the window, and Callie’s heart seized. Please, Lord, don’t let him hurt Jackson. None of this is his fault.

“Can you see who’s following us?”

Based on the direction of the sound, Callie attributed the question to the driver. She couldn’t make out the reply. Without moving her head, Callie eased an eye open. She couldn’t see anyone so she waited. When there was no reaction, she slowly turned, moving her head in minute increments until she could see ahead. Unbelievably, no one seemed to be paying attention to her. Maybe they thought she’d been stunned when they threw her in the car. The driver was concentrating on the road and the gunman held his head just inside the open window, his gun outside and aimed at the car in pursuit. The man who had grabbed her, and who was probably supposed to be watching her, had turned his back to play lookout. “Speed it up. He’s gaining on us.”

Sirens crowded the air and filled Callie’s heart with relief. The feeling lasted only an instant; it was replaced by fear as the driver hit the gas harder and the lookout pulled out his weapon and began firing. She was going to have to do something to improve her odds if she wanted to survive.

Callie took a minute to consider the possibilities. It would have helped to know the rules. Was she supposed to be taken alive, or didn’t it matter if they only delivered her body? Knowing that answer would improve her chances of making the right choice of who in the SUV to attack.

Because she didn’t know, she’d go with the one thing that was clear in her mind. Being taken—dead or alive—was not an option she was willing to consider.

The driver seemed the best choice. She had little chance against a man with a gun, but if she could take the driver by surprise maybe she could crash the car.

“How are we doing?” The driver barked the question at the man in the passenger seat.

Good. She’d like to know that, too.

“They’re falling back.” He took aim and let off another shot. “Got a tire. Another few shots, and we should be clear.”

Which meant she had no time to lose. The next time he took aim, Callie did, too. She launched herself between the seats and wrapped her hands around the driver’s face.

“Hey, someone get hold of her.” The driver shook his head violently, trying to free his face, but Callie hung on for dear life. Blinded by her hands, he lost control and the car careened off the road.

Callie felt the barrel of a gun connect with her jaw just as the car slid off the pavement.

Crash. The impact rolled her onto the floor. Stunned by the double assault, she lay there a minute. Pushing past the pain, she scrambled to her knees just as the door flew open. She could have cried at the sight of Jackson’s face. Never had there been such a sweet image. He pulled her free as police officers surrounded the car.

Jackson grabbed her, half carrying, half pulling her across the street to the safety of his car. Once she was safely inside, he rounded the car, got in and locked the doors. “Get down until we know the area is secured.”

His voice was harsh, just like it had been the first time she’d met him, and Callie had a flash of insight. This was his tense voice. The one that said the situation was not to his liking and needed to be controlled. Given his ability to control, that tone was reassuring to her. While sheriff’s deputies swarmed the SUV, Callie ducked down beneath the seat as instructed.

Within only a few minutes, Jackson gave the all clear and helped her up because the officers had all three men out and spread-eagled against the car. Callie could only stare in disbelief. It had all happened so fast. Less than twenty minutes ago she’d been shopping. It was terrifying to think how quickly things could change.

“I’d prefer to hit the road and get out of here,” Jackson said. “But I think we’d better stay and answer some questions. We don’t want the sheriff tailing us, too.”

Callie nodded. Her heart was still racing too fast for her to form an answer.

“Just stay here while I—”

Callie reached and grabbed his arm. Panic was beginning to settle over her now that the immediate danger was past. “Please, don’t leave me.”

Jackson’s gaze softened. “Don’t worry. I’m not going anyplace. I’m just going to stand outside the car so the officer can find me.” He got out and rooted around in the trunk before unlocking her door. “Here, have some water and try to relax.”

He crouched beside her seat. “You’re safe now.” He waited until she looked at him, until she let his assurances wash over her.

“Okay.” She nodded. “I’ll work on believing that.”

He winked at her. “That’s my Callie girl.”

She gave him a feeble smile, then winced as pain rocketed through her jaw. He tilted her chin and stroked a finger over the sore spot.

“We’ve got to get some ice for that bruise. Do you want a paramedic?”

“No. I’ll be fine.”

Jackson stood, closed and locked the door with his key fob, and leaned against the car, waiting for the sheriff’s deputy to come speak to him.

Inside the car, Callie forced herself to take deep, calming breaths, but this time her heart was racing as much from his endearment as from her near kidnapping. His Callie girl. No one had ever called her anything like that before.

It didn’t mean anything. He was just caught up in the moment of worrying about her and feeling protective. That was okay. It still felt nice to have someone care for her.

Once Callie calmed down, it didn’t take long for her to grow restless. She started to get out of the car, but seeing Jackson in the middle of a serious-looking conversation with the local police officer, she decided to wait. What were they saying? Didn’t they need to talk to her? She’d been the victim, after all.

But what should she say? What was Jackson saying? This was witness protection—not an ordinary crime. How much would a marshal give away in a situation like this? She’d have to remember to ask Jackson so she didn’t make any mistakes about it next time.

Next time. The thought hit Callie squarely in the chest.

She started to tremble as she acknowledged the simple truth. There was always going to be a next time. Despite Jackson’s reassurances, she wasn’t safe and she never would be again.

How many times did she have to be reminded?

Her breath came short and fast as waves of heat rolled over her. The air in the car was suddenly stifling. She lifted her hair and rolled it into a bun, trying to keep the damp mass off her neck. She tried to roll the window down, but the power switch didn’t work with the car off so she rested her cheek against the window, hoping the chilled glass would cool her. Please hurry, Jackson.

She closed her eyes a moment and concentrated on breathing slowly, in and out, in and out. She opened her eyes to check on Jackson just in time to come face-to-face with one of her kidnappers as he was dragged off by the police. Their gazes met for just one second—one interminable second of staring into the face of someone who wanted her dead. The look in his eyes was lethal. Heat switched to chills. Goose bumps rose along every inch of skin as Callie shivered uncontrollably. She let her hair back down and wrapped it like a shawl, huddling into the door, trying to curl in on herself as despair swamped her.

Lord, help me. Help me to find Your purpose in all of this. I am Your servant, Lord. I am Your servant. Callie whispered the prayers as she choked on silent sobs. Why was this happening? There had to be a bigger purpose. That was the only way any of this ordeal made sense. At least that’s what she kept telling herself. But what was that purpose? What was she supposed to do?

Is this Your plan for me, Lord? What do You want of me? I am Your servant, Lord. Maybe if she repeated them enough, the words would break through the despondency that cloaked her.

Jackson was still conferring with police officers, so Callie continued to pray. Gradually the words calmed her fears, and her agitation eased. God didn’t want her to be passive. She might not understand exactly what His purpose for her was, but she was pretty sure it didn’t involve being anybody’s victim. She continued the prayers, calmer now. Show me what to do, Lord. Lead me.

By the time Jackson got back in the car, she was settled and resolute. “What did they say? What’s next?”

“They took the men in on attempted kidnapping. The sheriff asked us to stop by the station to file a report. No need to go any further than that. There were enough witnesses. We can leave your sworn testimony and contact info. And get you some ice.”

“I can leave contact info?” She massaged her jaw as she waited for him to explain. “How does that work if I’m in witness protection?”

Jackson shrugged and waved it off. “Don’t worry. I’ll give my cell number and leave a number for the marshal’s service. If they have to call, we’ll get the message.”

Callie interlaced her fingers, running one thumb over the other as she struggled for composure. This was just one more reminder of how different her future would be. Even giving contact information required advance planning.

They drove in silence for a few minutes. As the car pulled up in front of the station, Callie turned to face Jackson. “I don’t know how to ask this exactly, but what am I supposed to tell them?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not supposed to tell anyone my real name, but I won’t lie.”

“You won’t lie?” He looked so puzzled by her refusal. Callie watched him mull over her words. She could almost see him rolling them around inside his brain. Finally he nodded. “No problem. It’s fine.”

“How so? I’m not kidding. This is important to me. I always tell the truth.”

“It’s not a problem, Callie. We gave you a new identity, so you might as well give them your real name.”

“Okay.” Her tension eased. “Thank you.”

He nodded. “And just so you know, Callie. You’re not lying when you tell people your new name. Legally it is your real name.”

She wasn’t ready to think about that.

“Okay.” She couldn’t think of anything else to question, so there was no postponing it. She was going to have to face the men who had just tried to kidnap her. The men who were somehow connected to the ones who had killed Rick. She closed her eyes a moment and drew on her strength. I can do all things in God who loves me. She opened her eyes and turned to Jackson. “Come on. Let’s do this.”

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