Love Inspired Suspense January 2014 (11 page)

“What life is that? I don't think I even know anymore.”

“A life where you can go to work and church without worrying about having a bodyguard tagging along behind. A life where you can take your daughter to the playground.” He took her hand and pulled her a step closer. “A life where you can be Annie or Angel or whoever you want to be.”

For some reason, his words made her throat tight and her chest heavy. “Do you think that's really going to happen? Because, right now, it seems like my life is always going to be just like it is right now.”

“You've been through a lot this year, but it
will
end. I promise you that.”

“I don't need promises. I just need...”

“What?” He looked as if he really cared, his attention completely focused on her, his hand warm and calloused and, somehow, absolutely wonderful.

“To go back in time and start over again.”

That was a truth she hadn't even admitted to herself.

Not until that moment.

“With your marriage?”

“Yes. No.” She sighed. “I don't know. I'd like to think that I'd do things differently, but who's to say?”

“It would be nice if life had a redo button. That's for sure,” he agreed, tugging her back across the room and urging her into a chair. “Tell you what. How about you drink your tea, have a cookie and tell me what you'd do differently if God gave you a do-over.”

He set her teacup on the table and took the seat next to her. Their legs were touching, their arms pressed closer than Annie should have wanted.

She didn't move, though. Didn't back away or try to put some distance between them because sitting there with Hunter felt so much better than anything had in a long time, and she really wasn't sure she wanted it to end.

ELEVEN

H
unter shoved the package of cookies toward Annie and watched while she took two. Her cheeks were flushed pink, her hair spilled over her shoulders. She'd changed into faded jeans and a fitted T-shirt, a well-worn cardigan over it. The sweater didn't look like something Annie would choose. Dark blue with thick black horizontal stripes, it looked more like a man's sweater than a woman's.

Joe's?

Probably, and he wasn't sure why that bothered him, or why he wanted to drag the sweater off her shoulders and toss it into the fireplace with a starter log and a few matches.

Or maybe he did know. Maybe he just didn't want to admit it.

“I love these things,” Annie murmured as she bit into one of the cookies.

“I've noticed.”

“What does that mean?” She watched him suspiciously.

“You asked me to get you some your first day back in town.”

“I did?” She looked at the cookie and frowned.

“Yes. The day after that, you asked for more. I think I've bought six packages of those the past month.”

She shrugged. “As vices go, it's not a bad one.”

“I could help you find a different one.”

“Like?”

“Target practice. Long walks. Hikes through the woods.”

“Are those your favorite activities?”

“When I'm off duty. But we weren't talking about me—we were talking about you and the do-over you want God to give you.”

“The do-over that will never happen, so there's no sense in talking about it?”

“What
would
you do differently, Annie? If you could go back, that is?” he pressed, because he wanted to know. Would she say that she wouldn't marry her husband? Or say that she'd have stayed home the night of the murder, made sure that Joe wasn't alone? Kept him from gambling?

“Why do you want to know, Hunter? What's in it for you?” She looked at him over her teacup, her eyes the crisp bright blue of the summer sky.

“Does there have to be something in it for me?”

“Probably. I mean, you're doing a job, and I'm part of that. Your questions are usually all about helping you do your job better.”

“This time, I just want to know.”

She studied him for a moment, her gaze never wavering. “I'm not sure. I guess that I'd just be a little more honest with myself about things.”

“What things?”

“You're full of questions.” She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. “What about you? Is there anything you would change about your past?”

“No.”

“That was a quick response.”

“Because I'm careful in the choices I make. I want to make sure that I don't have regrets.” And that he didn't give anyone else reason to have them.

“I thought I was careful, too, but I'm still here, sitting in a stranger's house, wide-awake at one in the morning because someone wants me dead.”

“We don't know if there's a price on your head, Annie. We only know that someone is trying to intimidate you.”

“It feels the same to me. Either way, I'm in danger, and I'm hiding out until that changes.”

“Hiding out, but not with strangers. We've known each other for over a year.”

“You're wrong. I haven't known you for a year. At least not in any way that matters. You may know what my favorite cookie is, but I don't know yours. I don't know your favorite color, how many siblings you have, whether you've ever been married.”

“Chocolate chip. Blue. Two. No,” he said.

She offered a real smile but shook her head. “Those are easy things, Hunter. Telling me about them is like telling me that the sky is blue or the sun is shining. It's all generic and simple. The hard stuff is the stuff I want to know.”

He should have ended the conversation then. Told her that it was time to go back to her room and her daughter, but it had been a long time since he'd sat next to a beautiful woman, caught a hint of her perfume in the air, felt the warmth of her body close to his and really noticed it the way he was noticing Annie.

She was a witness. There were lines he couldn't cross, lines he wouldn't cross, but sitting at a table, talking to her when she was anxious and worried...that wasn't one of them.

“Then ask the hard questions. I'll answer them,” he said.

“All of them?” she laughed, grabbing another cookie and peeling the top off it.

“
Some
of them. What do you want to know?”

“Why you're a U.S. marshal.”

“That's easy. The work is interesting and every case is different. I like the mental and physical challenge, too.”

“So, it's not about the people?”

“It's about justice, and it's about the people. Usually not the people I'm protecting, though. Most of the time, they're criminals who are hiding from people that they've betrayed.”

“I see.”

“What do you see, Annie?” he asked, because he was curious. He wanted to know how he looked to her.

“That you're not what I thought you were.” She frowned and wiped a wet spot off the table.

“What did you think I was?”

“Someone who didn't really care. Someone who was all about the job. All about getting the witness to trial so you could put another notch on your work belt.”

“Ouch,” he said mildly. He didn't blame her for thinking that. He wore the persona, and he was happy to let people believe it was a real representation of who he was.

“I'm sorry,” she responded. “It's the way you act, though.”

“I know.”

“And you don't want to do something about it?”

“Why would I?”

“Because you're giving yourself a bad reputation.”

“Like I said, most of the people I'm protecting are criminals and thugs. I'm not really all that concerned with their opinions of me.”

“What about the people you work with?”

“They know me well enough to know where my heart lies.”

“Where is that?” she asked, reaching for another cookie.

He snagged the package before she could grab one, pulling it out of her reach. “With the people I care about. My family. My friends. You and Sophia.” He admitted the last because he thought she needed to hear it.

Her eyes widened, a small frown line appearing between her brows. “Is that why you took the cookies?”

“What?”

“Did you take the cookies because you care about my health? Because if that's the case, you can give them back. I'm not going to drown myself in a package of vanilla sandwich cookies. Tempting as it might be.”

“I took the cookies because I don't think a pound of sugar is going to do much to help you fall asleep.” He stood and offered his hand, pulling Annie to her feet. Heat shot up his arm, and he took a quick step back. “The prosecuting attorney rescheduled the meeting you were supposed to have yesterday. We have to be at his office at ten. You're never going to be able to drag yourself out of bed if you don't get some sleep soon.”

“I won't have to drag myself. Sophia will manage to get me out of bed just fine.” She rubbed her palm against her jeans, must have realized what she was doing and stopped.

He knew how she felt.

He could still feel the warmth of her skin. In all the years he'd worked as a marshal, he'd never been attracted to a witness. Never been tempted to cross the line. He'd never thought he
could
be.

He'd been wrong.

Annie was becoming a problem. If he wasn't careful, she'd become a really big one.

“But you won't be happy about it if you don't get some sleep,” he responded, keeping his tone light and professional. What he was feeling had nothing to do with the job, and he wouldn't let it affect him.

“Probably not, but I'll get up anyway. I'll even be nice to Mr. Antonio and practice answering all the questions that I've already practiced answering dozens of times.”

“I'm sure Antonio will appreciate it. Seeing as how you've been so difficult to work with up until this point.”

She laughed. “I've been trying to hold on to my patience, but after answering the same questions so many times, I'm getting a little tired of our meetings.”

“They'll be over soon,” he assured her.

“I know.” She smoothed her hair, rubbed the back of her neck. “Can Sophia come with us tomorrow?”

“She'll be safer here.”

He thought she'd argue, but she nodded instead. “Okay. Who's staying with her?”

“Whoever you want me to get.”

“Come on, Hunter.” She smiled. “You don't think I'm going to believe that you don't already have someone lined up, do you?”

“Maybe you know me better than you think,” he joked, but it wasn't all that funny. She shouldn't know him at all because he was supposed to be background to her life. Not part of it.

“I know that you don't leave anything to chance. So, who is it going to be?”

“Serena will be here. She's good with Sophia.”

“All of you are good with her, but I'm her mother. I want to be the one to take care of her.”

“She was in day care in Milwaukee. That went okay, right?” he asked even though he knew it had. He'd done the research before she'd left St. Louis, found a good neighborhood and a good day-care facility for Sophia. He'd been the only one of the team who'd known her location, and he'd kept it quiet, too, so that she could have exactly what she was describing—a feeling of security and safety.

“That was different.”

“How?”

“I wasn't afraid that every time I left her, I might not return.”

He hadn't thought about that. Probably because he wasn't a father. He didn't have someone waiting for him to come home. He wouldn't be missed if he didn't return. There was something a little sad about that. Something that made him wonder if he'd made the right choice when he'd decided to opt for a career over a family.

“I'll bring you back to her. I promise you that.”

“Promises are easy, Hunter. It's keeping them that's hard. You were right. I need to get some sleep. Good night.” She nearly ran from the kitchen. Her feet pounded on the stairs. The floor creaked above his head.

He didn't hear the door to her room close, but he knew she'd closed it.

He dropped back into his chair, scanning the computer monitor for any sign of trouble. Nothing, and he hadn't expected there to be. No one but the immediate team knew Annie was there, and as long as Hunter had anything to do with it, no one would.

The wind howled through the eaves and rattled the windows, cold air seeping in through the windowpane. Because the house was a rental, he and Burke hadn't done much to improve the place, despite the fact that the landlord had told them they could make any changes they wanted. They'd spent so little time there, it hadn't felt important.

Now he wished they'd paid to have new windows put in, done some weatherproofing, sealed the little cracks in the old wooden panes. The upstairs rooms had once been the attic. The walls weren't insulated well. The floors were icy in the winter. Not a good place for a little girl to sleep.

Annie would keep her daughter warm. Even if that meant giving up her own blankets. That was as good an excuse as any to go upstairs. He walked up the stairs and opened the linen closet, dug through it until he found a blanket that his niece had left behind. It was small and pink with tiny flowers.

The door to Annie's room was closed. Just like he'd known it would be. He knocked softly, not sure if Annie would answer.

She'd been in a hurry to leave the kitchen.

To leave
him.

The door opened, and Annie appeared, the black Bible clutched to her chest. He wanted to ask her why she didn't buy a new one, get something that had no connection to her husband, but it wasn't his place or his concern.

“Is everything okay?” she asked, her face pale as paper, her eyes deep blue.

“I was afraid that Sophia would get cold.” He held up the blanket, and she took it.

“Thank you.” She would have shut the door, but he put his hand on the wood, holding it open.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Why wouldn't I be?”

“Because...there's something happening between us that neither of us expected?”

“I don't—”

“You know exactly what I'm talking about.” He cut her off. He didn't believe in playing games, and there was too much riding on her trusting him to ignore what they'd both felt. “How about you don't pretend otherwise?”

“All right. I won't pretend, but it doesn't mean anything.”

“You're right. It doesn't, and I don't want you to do anything foolish to prove that.”

“I'm not planning to.”

“No matter what, Annie, you've got to stick with the plan and stay with the program. For your sake and for your daughter's.”

“You don't have to keep reminding me. I know what's at stake.” Her knuckles were white, her grip on the Bible and the blanket so tight, he thought she'd leave nail gauges in the leather cover and holes in the blanket.

“But do you trust me to do whatever it takes to keep you and Sophia safe?” That was the real question. The one he needed an answer to.

“I don't know, but I trust God, and this is where He's put me. Until things change, it's where I'm going to stay.”

“What things?”

“How can I know, Hunter? I just know that for now, I have to stay. If that changes, I'll let you know. Now, do you mind if I try to get some sleep? I really am exhausted.”

He let go of the door, and she closed it, the lock clicking loudly in the sudden silence.

She'd said she was going to keep cooperating, but Hunter couldn't shake his concern as he walked back to the kitchen. All of her acquiescence wouldn't do any good if she suddenly decided she was finished being part of the program.