Dangerous Memories (11 page)

“What I thought is that I’d bury my father who died in a car accident last week and return to my boring job in Georgia yesterday.
That’s
what I thought. I don’t want to run and hide for the rest of my life.”

She wasn’t crying. She seemed almost angry at him. Okay, he had led the shooter to her in St. Louis. Crap, he’d lost her on the train, too.

“No one said it would be
easy.” He offered a hand, wanting to pull her close and make everything okay.

She slapped it away, standing on her own. “Don’t
handle
me. I’m not one of your...your witnesses.”

Maybe holding her would make
him
feel better. It wasn’t the professional solution. Just desire and the reaction to holding her all night. “I thought I was treating you like a person who needed my expertise and
help.”

“Right.” She marched to the door, obviously hurt and upset.

“What did I say?”

Jo did an about-face, poking him in the chest with a fingernail. He took a step back and she let the door close hard enough that he was glad they were about to leave ’cause someone would be calling the manager.

“Pay attention,
Marshal Dillon,
sir.”

“I really don’t like that name.”

“Sorry, but you need to do more than just listen. Believe me. No matter how this turns out, I am not returning to the WITSEC program. Ever. My dad taught me how to be safe, but he also taught me how not to live. I’m done with that.”

“There’s no other—”

“Shush. I’m not finished.” She poked his chest again. She paced several steps, her hands on her slender hips, then pushed one through
her short hair, ruffling it into rippling waves. “I have lived more almost dying for the past three days than I have my entire existence. I don’t want to live the rest of my life on the run, but that doesn’t mean I won’t.”

She stood in front of him, appearing confident and sure of herself. He heard the words, felt her conviction, understood she was afraid in spite of her bravado.

“You
may think you know me, Levi Cooper, but you don’t. Count on this...I am not returning with you to Denver. I am not running to witness protection, even if I remember more than
Rainbow Man
. I will not spend the rest of my life lying and not living.”

He’d been shushed and kept his thoughts to himself. Because he knew what was involved in her dream. Knew that she had no clue what she was up against.

“I’m not a child or just Joseph’s daughter. You’ve been holding pieces of this puzzle from me and I don’t want any more surprises. At least not from you.”

It was past time he told her the whole truth.

Damn the consequences.

“Are you done?” he asked, noticing that his teeth hurt from clenching his jaw.

She nodded, wide green eyes reflecting the anger that perched on the
tip of his tongue. He didn’t blame her.

“Sit down.”

“I don’t want—”

“I don’t care. So sit.”

She pressed her lips together and sat. Not in the chair, on the bed. “You sit, too.”

He dropped the duffel to the floor and deliberately walked to the window. As far as he could see, no one watched the room. “I don’t like being on our own here. Protecting you is a full-time, round-the-clock
job.”

“No one asked you to.”

“Yes, he did, Jolene.” Sadly, he recalled the day Joseph had pleaded for his word. The last time he’d seen him alive. That story was for another day.

“I mean...I know you said Dad...Sorry.”

“Here’s what you don’t know.” He shoved the hair falling on his forehead back with the rest. Dammit, he hated this. “Six months ago I received a flag on your
father’s case. The weapon used to shoot him and kill two marshals was used in a random killing in Dallas.”

“What does ‘random’ mean?”

“Good question. As far as I could tell, this shooting had nothing to do with your family’s case, and quite frankly there didn’t seem to be a reason why the convenience store clerk had been killed. Which in itself set off red flags for me. As much as I
wanted to get involved—to investigate myself—there was no indication of a connection. Don’t give me that look like it was unimportant because it involved your family. That old gun was used to shoot and kill two of our own. The Marshals Service took the investigation very seriously and found nothing. Just a matching ballistics report.”

“You already mentioned that the gun had been used. If
there’s no connection, how does that matter to us now?”

“I’ve had time to think. I have no proof, but I believe the gun was a lure to get your father to Dallas.”

“But everyone thought he was dead.”

“Someone outside the Marshals Service knew your father was alive and still a threat that needed to be eliminated.”

She came to him at the window. The filtered morning light darkened
her hair and made her skin glow. The worry settled on her forehead and in her direct steps to his arms.

The pull between them—lust or grief—was real and constant.

“But you said it yourself, Levi, he’s been safe for twenty years. Who would want to kill him now?”

“The murderer.”

Chapter Eleven

TEXT MESSAGE: Blocked Sender 07:18 A.M.

KILL THEM NOW!

I
N
L
EVI
’
S
ARMS
, Jo felt much safer than his constant reminders to the contrary should have encouraged. Their discussion would progress faster if they separated and each paced different areas of the hotel room.

The small space seemed to be shrinking when she moved to the opposite wall. Levi’s
presence dwarfed everything else around him. Or it might have been her desire to be in his arms, protected.

No, she could fight this feeling. Stay clear of physical contact and fight her urges. Agree with him sending her away once they found her mother’s evidence. Let him believe she’d return to witness protection. After this was said and done, she could take care of herself.

That can
be my secret.

She fluffed her short hair, still drying from her quick shower. Levi hadn’t seen it this length. She’d cut it since her last visit home. He hadn’t mentioned it. He actually hadn’t mentioned much at all. Not where he or his family or his real life was concerned.

Something else to ask about later, when life wasn’t chasing them in circles. Stop thinking about Levi. Concentrate
on the facts.

“You think my mother’s murderer committed another murder six months ago to draw my father into the open. Honestly, my father was left for dead. For all purposes he did die. This case has gone without scrutiny for so long. It doesn’t make sense to take that risk. Using the weapon that killed those marshals seems illogical. The killers wouldn’t know if my father had access to
the ballistics reports.”

“It was in the papers, made national news. Maybe it was a test to see if someone was still watching? Or a threat to a person like LuLu, for instance. Perhaps reestablishing who was in control.”

“It would be smarter to destroy the gun and let sleeping dogs lie.”

“Unless the dog was already rousing.” He paced the length of the room. “From the beginning. Elaine
Frasier, big shot attorney comes across something so scary she’s willing to give up her career, the life she knows and protect her family by entering WITSEC.”

“You’re positive the Department of Justice didn’t have a name and as a result of investigating all her clients no dirty laundry was aired?”

“That’s right. So what could she have found? And where’s the evidence?”

“Why do we
assume there’s evidence?”

“Someone thinks it exists. They wanted your dad dead.”

“Why assume we can find it after twenty years?”

“Instinct? I don’t know. I could be way off.” He shrugged. “They’ve searched your family’s home. If it were in Dallas, they would have found it.”

“Or they simply wanted the witness to the murder dead to eliminate the possibility of exposure.”

“Good point. Nothing was in the house. If your dad had found anything he would have turned it over to protect you.” He shook his head. “No arguments. I knew your dad.”

I thought I had.

“Did the FBI consider the murderer was out for revenge?”

“There’s nothing in the file to suggest that. We assume that he wants all of your family dead.”

“Who could hate anyone that much?” she
asked, not understanding.

“Plenty of people. Thing is, we’re out of leads. I can make a call for information. I just want to make certain we’ve exhausted our options.”

“There’s still the dog statue. We can break it open.” The terror that he’d actually agree was plain in her voice and on her face—she could see it in the mirror.

“Let’s try an X-ray. Don’t worry, I can twist an arm
or ask for a favor to get it done.”

“Thank you.”

For their conversation he’d leaned against the open wall, arms crossed, balanced with his ankles crossed. Relaxed. And each time she looked at his body or watched the genuine concern in his eyes...She wanted to be closer.

“Wait a minute. That means no one really knows why my mother was murdered. Why didn’t I realize that before?”

She’d assumed a lot of things over the years—a lot to do with her father’s avoidance. But she’d never asked, avoiding quite a bit on her own. It was easier, less complicated.

Now she needed answers. She’d closed her eyes and Levi had crossed the room. These moments of unawareness—almost blackouts—were beginning to unnerve her.

“I have to see this through, Levi.”

He nodded. “I
don’t agree with Joseph’s actions and I hate the results, but I can understand why he wanted to know. Why you want to know.”

Comforting hands sought her shoulders again. Soon she’d be seeking the comfort of his lips instead of more of the story. Levi must have thought the same thing. The indecision played on his own expression before he moved back to the window doing his constant watch for
danger.

The window shattered.

His body dropped like lightning to the floor.

Oh, my God, he’s been shot!

“Get back. Inside wall. Bathroom if you can.” His gun was in his hand. Prepared. Waiting.

“Are you hurt?”

“Go. Now.”

He’d told her several times he couldn’t protect them worrying about her. She obeyed, crawling on the floor, dragging his duffel behind her.
No matter what happened, they couldn’t lose the few things they had. Especially the dogs. As soon as she was on the other side of the wall that formed the open closet area she heard a string of curses. Curses aimed at the shooter, at Levi’s lax protocol. They’d been located because they’d been talking instead of moving. Putting her in danger instead of keeping her safe.

“I can’t see where
the shooter’s at.”

On her belly, she looked around the divider wall. Levi was at the edge of the window. No blood on his shirt, so he hadn’t been shot. More of the window burst.

What could she do? She searched the pockets of the duffel, found her battery and slipped it in her phone. Precious seconds ticked by while the cell booted up before she could dial 911.

“There’s a lot of
smoke on the fifth floor at the Spanish Comfort Inn on 635 and Gross Road. Please send help.”

“Quick thinking. Call the front desk, tell them the same thing.” He swiped at a scratch caused from the broken glass.

She stood in the corner, well out of range of the windows and found the hotel number, dialed and told them the same story. The memory of the train was so vibrant in her mind,
she nearly smelled the smoke. Before she crouched on the floor she heard the hotel fire alarm sound.

“If the police detain us again, my superiors won’t be as forgiving,” Levi said from the window.

“Then let’s get out of here.” She shut off her phone and removed the battery, replacing both in the bag. “A police escort is not an option.”

When he’d hit the floor, something in her had
crashed, too. She couldn’t lose him. Not yet. Involving the police would separate them and stop their investigation.

“Jo, they could be waiting outside the door. We don’t know if the shooter’s working alone.”

He moved the curtains. Another shot hit the far wall.

Levi army crawled across the carpet to her, gun still in his right hand. “You stay behind me and do exactly what I tell
you to do. We wait. We look. We’re careful. We stay alive.”

“Right.”

He smiled crookedly, comforting every part of her nervousness. “Hand me the dang duffel.” He ducked into the hallway, tapping when it was okay to follow.

Sirens. If the shooter was still out front, he wouldn’t be for long. Levi gave a signal for her to wait behind a cleaning cart. He checked the stairwell, stuck
a hand through the door and waved for her to follow.

She felt the adrenaline rushing through her system. The uncertainty of what was around the next corner or if they’d avoid those searching for them had her heart battering her ribs as she followed Levi down two flights of stairs.

Other guests ran into them, more just walked and complained about hotel fire drills. Others didn’t seem
concerned, walking at a normal pace, laughing and joking like everything was normal.

Normal? Had she really thought that she wanted a normal life? She’d had that in spades in Georgia. An occasional boring date with a boring man. A job sitting in front of a boring computer all day. A social life where her limited friends met for a movie or to hear a band once a week.

What did Levi do
on his night off?

“I assume it’s not safe to go back to the car and we’re on foot,” she whispered, leaning in closer, careful not to touch her protector’s back and distract him further.

He didn’t speak, just gave her a look like she was crazy for asking.

On the first floor of the building, a maid had left a room door propped open facing the front of the hotel. They darted inside,
and Levi gestured her to the bath area while he took a look out the window.

“Firefighters are entering the building. We’ve got to get to the back exit and avoid everyone.”

“Okay.”

With his gun just inside his jacket, Levi led her silently past the elevator and detoured into the kitchen. They received one or two suspicious looks from staff who weren’t listening to the fire alarms.
But no one stopped them or pretended to care. Once outside, they stayed close against the building, rounding corners that returned them to the main parking lot.

Her mind moved to the next problem of transportation until an arm circled her neck, yanking her backward to an abrupt halt.

“Drop your weapon,” a muffled voice said past her ear.

Levi raised his hands. His gun still in its
holster.

“I meant what I said. Two finger it to the ground.”

“Not happening.” Levi turned to face her attacker.

What? Didn’t they always give up their weapon in the movies?

“Let her go.”

“That’s not happening either, friend.”

She was hauled back against a body that seemed to be as tall as Levi and just as strong. The gun barrel hot against her skin kept her in check.
She didn’t know what to do. Her mind was spinning so fast she couldn’t grasp anything.

“I’m taking the girl. Stay put.”

The paralyzing moment of fear fled when she lost her footing in the loose gravel. The man jerked her backward to leave with him, cutting off oxygen with his thick forearm. Her feet scrambled to push against something to relieve the pressure against her windpipe. Her
hands dug into his jacketed arm.

Somehow she saw Levi dip his chin, his eyes darting to his hand. Three fingers.
What?
Two fingers. She pushed harder to remove the pressure around her neck. One finger pointing to the ground.
Fall? Choke?

She stopped trying to maintain her balance and went limp. She couldn’t breathe. The man stumbled, let her go. Levi fired and leapt over her. She didn’t
see what happened. Her eyes closed. She coughed. She heard another shot, then Levi was back, lifting her. She latched her arms around his neck and saw a crowd of hotel guests gathering out front as he ran.

He turned behind the next building and they were out of sight.

“You can put me down now.”

“Are you sure?” He released her, facing him, his arms around her, holding her close.
“We can rest a minute. Let you catch your breath.”

“I’m fine. You’re the one who’s been running.” She laced her fingers with his and gave an ineffective push to get started. “Let’s get out of here.”

He raised his free hand and skimmed her neck. “Does it hurt?”

“No, I’m really okay.” His caring touch activated something, making her forget the danger and reminding her how much she
wanted to kiss him. They were still in trouble. “Did you have to...you know, kill him?”

“I might have winged him, but he was running away fast enough to assure he wasn’t dead.”

They walked, hand in hand around the building and watched a police car speed by.

“Thanks for saving my life again.”

“No thanks needed. I’m also the guy who put you in harm’s way...again.”

Levi kept
his hand on his holstered weapon, kept his head surveilling every direction. She’d known they hadn’t been in the best part of Dallas but not many people seemed concerned that fire engines and police cars gathered just down the street.

Jo matched him stride for stride walking the broken sidewalk, beginning to feel winded from the pace or the nerves from being attacked. Looking ahead she saw
a gas station, but better yet, a branch of her bank was across the intersection.

Her idea would work. She just had to convince the Marshal next to her and they wouldn’t have to register at hotels again.

“Motor home, here we come.”

* * *

I
T
HAD
BEEN
an easy decision for the motor home owner. Cash did that to people. It had been risky, but would solve their sleeping arrangements
for a while. Bedroom for her. Couch for him. Noble thoughts he had every intention of keeping. Levi had berated himself for the past several hours. Seemed all he did was take risks with Jolene.

A bank two blocks from where they’d been spotted. A withdrawal from an account the murderer probably knew about—
he
hadn’t known but with their run of luck, the perps probably did. The local paper,
another walk through an unsavory neighborhood, a couple of cabs and wham they’d purchased the first motor home they could drive away that wasn’t the size of a bus.

One stop at a superstore in Mesquite gave them new burner phones and food. They’d even grabbed clean jeans, jackets and T-shirts.

Jo hadn’t been exaggerating about the amount of cash in her inheritance fund. Joseph had been
a very smart man, planning for his daughter’s future or safety. He’d also taught her how to take care of herself. But it wasn’t the first time in the past three days Levi had wished the man had been smarter about looking for Elaine’s murderers.

The call connecting him to the FBI felt like he was exposing them to death rays with every minute that ticked by. The chances that someone could make
a connection between him and an FBI agent he’d met twice were slim, but he still wanted off the phone.