Love Inspired Suspense September 2015 #2 (41 page)

Before she could answer, he checked his sidearm and then opened the door.

And that's when the man lunged forward. The attacker was fast, but Max was faster.

Sydney screamed, but Max stayed focused on the threat in front of him. But when a gunshot went off, he instinctively turned to look. And there was Sydney wrestling another man with a gun.

He didn't have time to do a thorough analysis of the situation, so he quickly launched into action. When his attacker landed a blow that connected hard with his jaw, pain shot through his head. But it wasn't enough to lay him out. There was no way was he going to lose his first official witness as a US Marshal. With a swift uppercut he made contact with the attacker's face. Calling on his martial arts training, he followed with a precise kick to the ribs. His assailant landed on the ground with a resounding thud.

He drew his gun and turned, ready to take the shot to save Sydney's life. But somehow she had gotten the other guy on his knees and the man's gun was now in her hand. How in the world had she managed that? “Keep that gun on him, Sydney.”

“You don't have to worry about that,” she said.

He pulled out his handcuffs and secured the original assailant. Then he walked over to her. The other man was on his knees with his hands in the air. He pulled out a second pair of cuffs from his jacket and put them on the perpetrator.

He would need to call this in ASAP, but he also needed to get Sydney to safety. What if others were coming? These guys could have been waiting for them. Which meant additional threats could be in the area.

He pulled out his cell and put in a call. Backup should only be a few minutes away. That would give him a moment with the suspects. He read them their rights since he didn't want to get caught in a legal snafu, and then he looked at the first man.

“Who sent you?”

“I'm not talkin'.” The man's blue eyes weren't filled with fear but determination. Clearly he was a hired gun.

Max walked over to where Sydney stood beside the other man. Her auburn hair had come loose from her ponytail. “You sure you're okay?” She looked shaken as she gripped her hands together, but after a moment answered him calmly.

“Yes.”

He turned his attention to the man. “You got anything to say?”

The guy grunted, and Max took that as a no. No surprises there.

As they held the men at gunpoint he leaned in to her. “Where in the world did you learn to incapacitate an attacker like that?” He guessed her to be only about five feet four, but she was a powerhouse.

Her brown eyes were wide as she looked up at him. “Self-defense classes.”

“That looked like a whole lot more than self-defense class.”

She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “I'd rather not talk about it.”

He was intrigued. Sydney Berry had secrets. And if he was going to be able to keep her safe, he probably needed to find them out. But at the moment he was just glad that her first secret actually worked to their advantage.

He was kicking himself for taking his eyes off of her earlier. She was his first and only priority. Granted, she wasn't officially in the Witness Security Program, known commonly as witness protection, but he had been tasked to keep her safe until everything could be sorted out.

Sirens sounded in the distance. He looked at her. “Why don't you get in the car? I'll handle this, and then we can be on our way.”

She frowned but then got into the sedan.

A moment later the local police arrived, and Max filled them in on the specifics. He'd also looped in his FBI contact. Then he made the call he was dreading. Reporting this incident to his boss, Deputy Elena Sanchez, was hardly the way to make a good first impression, but he had no choice.

Then finally he was ready to hit the road with Sydney. But not to the original safe house. That was too risky now.

He wouldn't feel even an ounce better until Sydney had safely completed her testimony in the morning. And even then the threat of the East River gang still loomed large.

Once they'd been driving for a few minutes, he decided to break the silence. “Want to talk about what happened back there?”

“You think those men were connected to East River or someone else associated with Diaz?”

He decided it best to be open and honest with her about the threat. “I think East River has put a hit out on you.”

“I had a feeling you were going to say that,” she said.

He saw her look out the window and take note of her surroundings. “I know it seems like I'm driving in the other direction now, but given what just happened we're going to an alternative safe house.”

“But we're not staying there long?”

“No. After you testify we'll go to another location. This is just for tonight. We have a list of safe house options already planned for you.”

“I guess I don't get much of a say in this, huh?”

“You always have a say, but you should know that I have your best interests in mind. Also, I'm sorry about what happened back there, however, I'm thankful that you were able to defend yourself.”

“Me, too,” she said quietly.

He looked over at her. As she stared out the window he could see the tension tightening her features. He tried a different topic of conversation. “How long have you been a sketch artist?”

She turned to look at him, and her shoulders immediately seemed to relax. “I've been drawing forever, but I started taking it seriously during college. I didn't finish school and instead took art classes with my tuition money. Then I started with small jobs and it grew from there. Referrals are very important in my business. But I do more than just draw faces. That's what you think of when you think of a sketch artist. I'm a forensic artist. I can do a lot more, like crime-scene reenactments and stuff like that.”

“I imagine the work comes and goes.” He wanted to engage in conversation to try to calm his own building nerves, as well.

“Yes. I've been very busy as of late, but those first few years were tough. I took other odd jobs to make ends meet. I worked at a library for a bit and as a server at a restaurant. All to pursue my real dream.” She shrugged. “With all the high-tech advancements, the field is changing a lot, it's really exciting. Computers can do a lot, but there's still something to be said about a human hand.”

“I'm a big fan of using technology in investigations. I had an experience with a traditional sketch artist in the past who wasn't on point.” That was an understatement, but he didn't think it was the best time to go into his misgivings about sketch artists right now.

“Don't get me wrong. The technology for doing things like facial reconstructions or accident simulations is absolutely amazing,” she replied. “But I still trust my abilities to use pencil and paper and sketch based on the eyewitness interview for the purposes of identification.”

He didn't reply because it only would have led to an argument that he didn't think she would want to have right now.

“You said you were at the FBI before. How long have you been a marshal?”

He didn't really want to give an exact answer. “Not very long.” He could feel her gaze on him as he drove.

“Hey, don't tell me I'm your first witness.”

He smiled. “Okay, I won't tell you that.”

“Wow.” She blew out a breath. “I
am
your first witness.”

“That's true, but I'd been with the FBI for a decade. It's not like I'm new to law enforcement, so I'm not a true rookie.”

“I can imagine that working as an FBI agent in the gang unit is a lot different than guarding a witness, though.”

“Don't give it another thought. You're safe now, and you'll stay that way.”

“No offense, but we just met. You're asking me to put a lot of faith in you.”

“I know. But that's the way it has to be. No one else on our team has the same knowledge of the threats to you like I do. I'm thankful that I got assigned to your case and was able to connect the dots, or this afternoon might have ended very differently.” He paused as he pointed to a house up ahead. “We're here on the right.”

“This looks like a regular neighborhood.”

“That's exactly the point. We're trying to blend.”

He'd actually never been to this safe house before during his training, but he was getting the idea that they were all generally the same. This was a two-story house, painted a pale blue on a nice-size lot.

He pulled the sedan all the way into the driveway and stopped the car.

“Can I get out?” she asked.

“Yes, but first let me just do a quick security check. You stay here and keep the doors locked.”

Before she could answer he had jogged up to the front door and opened it. He quickly surveyed the house, conducting a security sweep. Satisfied it was all clear he went back outside to get Sydney. Her expression appeared unreadable as she sat in the passenger's seat. He really wanted to know what was going in that head of hers.

He opened the car door for her, and she stepped out bedside him. She was a pretty woman, no doubt, with a simple and natural beauty about her. But she gave off a very strong vibe. One that said loudly, “Back off.”

“This way,” he said. He took her arm and escorted her to the front door, even though he got the feeling she didn't appreciate him invading her personal space. “Another marshal will be over in a bit with dinner and everything you'll need for tonight and tomorrow.”

“You aren't leaving, are you?” she asked as she made direct eye contact.

“No. I just didn't want you to think we were going to be totally shut off from the outside world without the things you would need.”

“What I really need is to be at my own home.”

“I understand. Let's get through your testimony in the morning, and then we can reevaluate.”

“I'll hold you to that.”

He walked over to where she stood in the living room. “I promise. And I won't make you promises I can't keep. I hate it when people do that to me and—”

A loud crash rocked the room as glass flew against his body. His face burned and he felt blood trickling down his cheek. Smoke surrounded him. He dove toward Sydney, hoping it wouldn't be too late.

TWO

S
moke filled Sydney's lungs as she tried to draw a breath. Max was on the ground beside her, and his face was bleeding. Then she noticed the shards of glass littering the floor around them, and realized he must have been hit by one.

Max gripped her waist and pulled her up off the floor. “We've got to move.”

Trying to catch her breath, she took a step and pain shot through her leg. Blood covered her right arm as it throbbed at her side. But now was not the time to worry about that. They were literally under attack.

The smoke was clearing a little so that she could see. But that also meant they could be seen by whoever had attacked them.

A gunshot rang out, and Max pushed her back down to the ground.

“Where did that come from?” she asked.

“I'm not sure, but it sounded like it was from outside. We're going to move farther in to the interior of the house.”

Her heart raced as, on their hands and knees, he guided her further away from the windows and toward the center of the house.
I don't want to die.
She'd been through so much in her life. She wasn't going to give up now. She could handle this, too. Taking a deep breath, she crawled toward the bathroom door.

Pulling her in, he shut the door and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. She couldn't help but flinch as he touched her—but it wasn't from the pain.

“What hurts?” he asked.

“My arm and my leg. But I don't think it's too serious.” She paused and looked up at him. “Your face is bleeding.” She reached up and touched his cheek, trying to determine where the blood was coming from. “Looks like you got hit on the side of your face with a piece of glass.”

“Yeah, I think it's just a nick. I'll—”

His remark was cut short by a deep male voice that rang throughout the house. “Anyone here?”

Max put his fingers to his lips indicating that she should not respond.

“Preston, are you there? It's Davies.”

She watched as Max's shoulders visibly dropped. “He's one of ours,” he told her.

“Back here, Davies.”

Max helped her to her feet and opened the bathroom door.

Through the clearing smoke she saw a man and woman both dressed in suits approaching them. “The suspect was able to flee,” the tall blond man said. “We wanted to make sure the package was secure.”

“Are you okay?” the woman asked.

“A bit sore,” Sydney replied. “But I guess it could've been much worse.”

The woman looked at Max. “So, what happened?”

Max wiped the blood from his face with a handkerchief. “They broke through the window with a smoke bomb. Probably planned to use that as a diversion to grab Sydney.”

The blond man stepped closer. “Ms. Berry, I'm sorry, ma'am. We should've introduced ourselves. I'm Phillip Davies and this is Elena Sanchez. We work with Max and are both deputies with the US Marshals.”

They shook hands with Sydney.

“I'm sorry to rush you,” Elena said. “But we need to address any immediate medical issues, and then you two need to move. It's not safe here.” As she ushered them down the hall, she said, “Ms. Berry, I've got a bag for you in our car. Given these attacks, we have to assume our system has been compromised in some way. An electronic security breach is unlikely, but it's more possible in my mind than a mole within the US Marshals.”

She led them into the living room with the blown-in window and assessed the surroundings. Then she turned to Sydney. “Ms. Berry, you're going to be taken to a safe house that wasn't in the list of those assigned to you. Deputy Preston, this is officially need-to-know right now. Meaning you, Deputy Davies and I are the only three people to know the locations of any future safe houses. Keeping the circle this small will ensure Ms. Berry's safety.”

Sydney noted Elena's take-charge attitude. She liked the tall dark-haired marshal with welcoming brown eyes already.

Elena took her arm. “I'll get you safely to the vehicle while they secure this area. Deputy Preston, we'll switch cars and you'll take mine.”

“Roger that,” Max said.

Elena led her out the front door and to the driveway. “Are you sure you're not hurt?”

“Not badly. Probably just superficial wounds.”

“I've got a med kit in the car. I'll take a look at your arm.”

“Thank you.” She paused and tried to gather her thoughts. “Am I still going to be able to testify in the morning? Because I think that—”

“Wait a second, Ms. Berry.” Holding up her hand, Elena cut her off. “Since you've been sworn in as a witness already, you shouldn't say anything about your testimony. I don't want you to get in trouble with the court. I understand that you want to testify, and we will do our best to make sure that happens. Deputy Preston will continuously conduct a threat assessment, and it will ultimately be his call as to whether it is safe to bring you into the courtroom tomorrow morning.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.” Elena removed the medical kit from the trunk. “Sit in the car while I see to your arm. Ask away.”

“How long have you known Max?” She tried not to yelp as Elena pushed up her sleeve to reveal a nasty cut that was still oozing blood. Elena opened the kit and started to clean her wound.

“Just about a month.”

“A month? That's it?”

“He's recently transferred from the FBI. But don't worry. He has a stellar reputation. Word is that he took on the toughest assignments in the gang unit, including a stint of deep undercover years ago that proved to be invaluable in a number of convictions.” Elena finished cleaning the cut and then bandaged it. “So you should have no concerns about him.”

“How long have you been with the US Marshals?”

“For quite some time.” Elena gently pulled Sydney's sleeve down over the bandage. “And I wouldn't change a thing. Best decision I ever made. I thank God every day for opening up the opportunity for me.”

She received a measure of comfort from Elena's words. If it weren't for the Lord, she wouldn't have made it through the past few years. And now she needed Him more than ever.

“I'm sure Deputy Preston has mentioned that given the attacks, the prosecutor and the FBI will want to talk to you about your safety and your options. One of those options is witness protection. I just didn't want you to be surprised when those discussions started in case he hadn't given you all those details.”

“I understand,” she said softly.

“Here, take these.” Elena handed her a package with two pain relievers and a bottle of water.

“Thank you.”

“The perimeter is secure,” Max reported as he approached the vehicle with Davies beside him. Sydney had to admit the two men were quite a formidable presence.

“Great. Then you two should get going,” Elena said. “Here's the address.” She handed Max a piece of paper.

Sydney shook Elena's hand. “Thank you for everything.”

“You're more than welcome. Deputy Preston, she's in your hands now.”

“Understood.”

Elena gave Max the car keys, and they spoke in hushed tones for a minute. Sydney couldn't make out what they were saying, but she knew enough to understand that she was in danger. A danger that was coming from multiple fronts.

She pushed down the fear deep inside of her. Every fact indicated that Max Preston was a professional who would do his best to keep her safe. But her insecurities and mistrust ran deep.

Max got in the car and started the engine. Then he looked over at her. “I know you want to testify, but I think that would be a very bad idea until we get more security in place.”

“How would that work?”

“We'd have the prosecutor ask the judge for a short continuance based on the very real threats and actions that have been taken against you.”

“We don't even know who is behind all of this.”

“You're right. It could be people working directly for Kevin Diaz. Or it could be the gang. Or both. But all of the signs point to East River. If Diaz had his own hired guns, I don't think they would've gone about it in the same way.” He checked behind him and pulled out of the driveway.

“Wouldn't it be better for me to testify and get it over with? That would at least neutralize one of the threats. After I testify the sketch I did and my testimony are in front of the jury. Even if Diaz and East River are sending people after me, it won't matter at that point.”

“Except for revenge.”

She shuddered at the thought. “I think their primary goal would be to stop me from testifying in the first place. Which is why I need to testify in the morning. The sketch I created will help substantiate the testimony from the eyewitness. The prosecution is concerned about how the eyewitness will hold up on the stand. But if my sketch is entered into evidence, that will provide support for the reliability of the witness.”

He smiled. “You're a very tough woman, Sydney, and I respect your tenacity. But my job is to protect you. I'd feel a lot better if we were authorized to have additional security in and around the courtroom. I think we'll get it, but we'll need a short continuance from the judge to get that all set up.”

She prayed that she could trust this man. “So what kind of delay are you thinking?”

“Just a day or so.”

“And for now?”

“We go to the new safe house. Then we'll have some dinner and settle in for the night.”

She noticed him looking in the rearview mirror. She turned around but didn't see any cars. “Did you see something?”

“No. Just being extra cautious.”

“Do you have a theory about who that was at the first safe house?”

“I have a lot of theories. But it would be logical to hypothesize that all of these threats today have been from the East River gang. That's what I think is most likely. If Diaz is involved, I think it's through his connection to East River. He's a powerful man with a lot of resources.”

“How closely have you looked at the possible connection between Diaz and his cousin Lucas Jones?”

“Not deeply enough. While you were outside with Elena I put in a quick call to a former colleague at the FBI asking him to work that angle. The shooting at the courthouse was something the gang would definitely do. Your testimony threatens to convict Diaz of murder. Someone with his power and influence can't be underestimated. Even if Diaz and Jones aren't on the best terms, Diaz could've provided him with a huge payout to get the job done.”

“I agree with you on that.”

“I know it's hard, but just try to relax. We'll be at the next safe house soon.”

But how could she when his eyes kept darting to the rearview mirror?

* * *

Morning light filtered through the closed blinds as Max paced the first floor of the safe house, clenching and unclenching his fists in an effort to calm his nerves. Fortunately, last night had been uneventful. Not that he'd slept much. It had stormed most of the evening. According to the weather report, there was no end in sight to the line of powerful storms moving across the South. The strong summer rain pounded down outside and thunder roared.

He'd decided that even though she was determined to testify, it would be too dangerous to get Sydney into the courthouse today. His first order of business then was to talk to the prosecutor and the FBI to try to get a security-based continuance. Given the circumstances he had no doubt that the judge would grant it.

When he walked into the kitchen Sydney sat at the table with a cup of coffee. Her long hair was loose and flowed down around her shoulders. She was attractive, but she wasn't just a pretty face. He'd seen her take down that attacker with strength and determination.

Sensing his presence, she looked up. “Good morning.”

“Were you able to sleep?”

“Not very well.” She paused. “But probably a bit more than you did.”

“I'm able to function on very little sleep.”

“From all those years undercover in the gang unit?”

“Well, that's a big part of it.” He paused. “Elena must have told you about my background.”

“Yes, she did. She spoke very highly of your track record at the FBI.”

“After a while, you learn how to operate without much sleep.”

“Whatever it is, I thank God that I'm still alive today.” She looked up at him.

“You're a believer, I take it?” he asked.

She nodded. “My faith is tied to who I am. I honestly wouldn't have made it to this point in my life if it hadn't been for my faith.”

He supposed he shouldn't have been surprised. She was an artist, after all, and in his experience they were emotional, empathetic. Both things he was not. Things he had rejected years ago. In fact, he was the complete opposite. Some people even called him cold and calculating. But it came with the turf, and it made him good at his job.

She stood, walked to the cabinet and pulled out a cup. “Coffee?”

“Thank you. Black, please.”

She poured him a cup and then turned around, her eyes full of life. “I'm not judging you, but I take it by your silence that you don't share my views on faith?”

He sat down and wondered for a moment how he should answer. The last thing he wanted to do was alienate this woman. But he also had to be truthful. “I'm not a religious person—at least not anymore. I rely more on a rational and scientific approach to life these days.”

She smiled. “Saying you are or aren't religious carries a lot of connotations with it.”

He sipped his coffee and considered his response carefully. He decided to take the direct approach. “I don't go to church, Sydney.”

She cocked her head to the side. “Is that how you were raised?”

“Actually, no. My parents were both churchgoers. I was expected to attend church with them every Sunday until I left home to go off to college. When I was young I considered myself a Christian and felt good about it. I enjoyed going to church. As I grew up, though, I started having second thoughts. In my experience, just because people went to church didn't make them better people. Actions speak a lot louder than words. By the time I got to college I had a healthy and logical skepticism about the entire thing. I took a few classes on different religions in college. I viewed them in the same way as I did my other coursework in philosophy.”