Moving Target (4 page)

Tears spilled down her cheeks as she came back to the present.

Flashback. It was just a flashback, a part of her PTSD from the horrible things she went through when her family got murdered. Post-traumatic stress disorder, the therapists called it.

Screwed up was what
she
called it.

Shuddering, she rubbed the old bullet wound on her shoulder. The images of her mother's burning body wouldn't leave her mind. Her father, her sister . . . The heat, the house going up in flames so fast. So fast.

Ani ground her teeth. She had to make the Mafia pay for what they'd done to her family.

Her throat went dry. What if that man across the street was part of the Russian Mafia?

The back door handle jiggled.

Her heart stilled.

It jiggled again, harder this time.

Ani started shaking so badly her teeth chattered. She looked around the room for something to use as a weapon. As if anything could protect her from a gun if someone
was
after her. There wasn't even a place to hide.

Sirens sounded in the distance, coming closer in a hurry.

The door handle stopped moving.

Ani's heart pounded like crazy.

The police
. Thank God.

The screeching of tires and the piercing wail of sirens let her know the cavalry had arrived. The sirens cut out and blue, red, and white lights flashed and illuminated the back room through the single window. To think she'd caused all of this with one phone call.

A knock at the metal door about made her jump out of her skin.

"Police," a deep voice shouted.

She tried to stand, but her legs were shaking so badly she couldn't get to her feet.

"Open the door," came the voice again. "This is the police."

Somehow Ani got her legs to work, made it to the back door, and unlocked it.

"Are you alone?" the officer at the door asked and she nodded. "Step aside."

She did and a couple of officers came into the room, sweeping it first with their guns.

Ani took a few steps back and dropped into the chair. She tried to swallow down her panic, but her eyes were wide and her breathing shallow. She was starting to hyperventilate.

One of the officers made her stand and patted her down for weapons, as if she were a criminal. When the officer finished, he said she could sit, but away from the desk, probably to keep her from going for a gun if she
was
a criminal.

After scouring the back room thoroughly, a pair of officers stayed with her while several others went into the antique shop to check it out.

One officer came up to her. He was a tall man, probably six two, about Daniel's height. She held her breath as he squatted down to face her eye to eye. "Name," he said in an authoritative voice.

At first her mouth wouldn't work. "Ani Carter," she finally got out. To the world, to everyone but Daniel, Anistana King no longer existed. Until the trial.

The police officer placed his hand on her shoulder, causing her to jump. "Are you okay?"

Ani gave a slow, jerky nod. "I'm fine," she whispered, just before she passed out.

Yegor Borenko pushed his bulk off his mistress, Mashka, and she groaned. He'd just fucked the hell out of her, taking out his anger on the bitch. She would have bruises on the insides of her thighs and her nipples would hurt as hard as he had bitten them.

Good. She craved the punishment. Masochistic slut.

His men had better find that bitch Anistana King before she testified. The frustration he had taken out on Mashka had done nothing to alleviate the anger he felt.

A knock came at the door of the back room of his office.
"Zahodi,"
he growled. None would dare disturb him but his top in command.

Piterskij came into the room, a stoic expression on his face. He ignored Mashka and addressed Yegor.

"We have a lead on the King woman," Piterskij said as Yegor rolled out of the bed, grabbed his clothing, and started pulling on his Armani slacks.

"Go on." Yegor had heard this far too many times. He fastened his pants below his large belly. Mashka remained on the bed, naked and not covering herself. She knew better. He liked looking at her bruises. He liked showing off her hot, naked body—and his power over it—to anyone who cared to look.

"We believe she is in a small town in Arizona," Piterskij said while Yegor pulled his sleeveless undershirt over his head.

"With the trial so close, our intelligence has been almost completely focused on finding the woman. We have people inside the telephone companies, of course, who have the technology to constantly scan phone records of all of Anistana King's known former friends and contacts."

Yegor slid his arms into his starched white shirt and began buttoning it. "Good, good."

"Krutov thought it well to look into this call that came from a cellular phone, as no calls have come from Arizona to any of these contacts. He called the mobile phone and recorded the female voice of the woman who answered. Alkash, who was present when her family was taken out, is certain he recognized her voice. We followed the cell phone's signal and believe it came from a small antique shop in that town."

For the first time in two years, Yegor felt a stirring in his gut. He would like to put a bullet into the head of the bitch himself. She'd identified his son, Dmitry, as her family's killer and put Dmitry behind bars for a day before Yegor had paid the exorbitant bail bond. She was also set to testify with damning evidence that could send his son to prison.

That would never do.

Yegor stepped into his Gucci loafers. "Do we have operatives close enough to get to her?"

"One in Phoenix, four hours from the town where she is hiding." A pleased look came into Piterskij's eyes. "Lev is on his way as we speak."

A good fuck and the good news picked up Yegor's spirits immensely. They would take out this Anistana King before she even testified. Charges dismissed. No one had the depth of information that the woman had.

Anistana King was their final target.

Daniel Parker ground his teeth and clenched the steering wheel of his black SUV with one fist while he pushed his other hand through his hair.

Goddamnit
. Ani
knew
better. After two years she'd screwed up, and just a few days before the trial.

Jesus Christ
.

He slammed his palm on the steering wheel as he sped down the I-10 freeway from Phoenix. The darkness was only illuminated by his headlights and the occasional lights of passing cars. The speed limit was seventy-five but his speedometer was pushing ninety.

At least the local cops had Ani. First call he'd made after talking with Ani was to the Bisbee Police Department. Not much later, an officer called back. They'd had three units, a car on each side of the three-sided end building, securing it. The cop said Ani was safe and they were waiting on orders from him. Daniel told the officer to take her to the police department and keep her under tight guard until he arrived.

Daniel had made it through Tucson and was closing in on Benson, but that was still a good fifty miles from where Ani was.

An hour away.

The Russian Mafia was loaded with former KGB operatives as well as former Soviet military intelligence, GRU, operatives. They had people employed everywhere, and he had no doubt they had informants at the telephone company.

If Ani's call did get the Russians' attention there was a chance their own contacts in Tucson or Phoenix could get to the scene long before he did. A sniper could've taken her out the moment she walked out of the police cruiser to head into the department headquarters. The Russians wouldn't let any cops surrounding her stand in the way. No, they'd be picked off one by one.

The Russians were absolutely ruthless.

He hadn't told Ani, but the Russians had recently stepped up the search for her by plastering her picture all over the Internet, claiming she was a missing "heiress" and offering an obscene reward for her recovery. The info had passed from person to person by many who forwarded e-mail chain letters.

As soon as the Russians found her, they'd put a bullet in her head.

No way in hell was that going to happen. It went beyond what drove him to protect those he was assigned to.

When he was in the Judicial Security Division of the U.S. Marshals Service, he'd failed a judge whose courtroom he'd been assigned to. If he hadn't been distracted . . . If he'd seen the gun . . . If he could have thrown himself in the way . . .

He hadn't gotten to Judge Moore fast enough—but he wasn't about to let it happen again.

He wouldn't lose Ani.

After Daniel went on a leave of absence, a colleague had recommended Daniel to WITSEC, and he had transferred to the program to be trained as an Inspector, a Deputy Marshal who had the responsibility of keeping in touch with the witnesses he'd been assigned to and making sure they stuck to the rules and didn't break their contracts.

Most of the people in the Witness Security Program were basically thugs. They'd been involved in organized crime, drug trafficking, and other criminal activities, and were now testifying against those higher in the organization, usually to save their own asses.

But Ani . . . she was one of the few innocents forced into the program.

In the two years he'd known Ani, he'd admired her intelligence, her bravery—hell, everything about her. He didn't know when it happened, but something about their relationship had gone far beyond program participant and contact. She was off-limits, but he'd needed to talk to her weekly. Needed to hear her sensual voice.

He could still imagine her flowery scent and picture her full curves and vivid blue eyes. And her lips. He'd escorted her from the burn center, to rehab, then to different safe houses, including the one in Bisbee, where she'd been living up until now.

With the feelings she stirred up inside him, being around her was a bad idea. A real bad idea. He'd have to get another Inspector to take over the case once he got her to New York City to testify.

Without glancing down, Daniel slid his cell phone out of its holster on his belt. As he drove, he flipped the phone open and punched the speed-dial number for Ani without taking his eyes off the road. He'd pushed that button so many times he didn't have to look at his phone to call her.

He brought the phone to his ear as he caught up to a pair of red taillights and switched lanes to pass the vehicle, then moved back into the right lane. In moments he came up on the exit to Benson. If he was going to do any kind of fast driving through the small towns from here to Bisbee, he'd have to use his lights.

A ringing tone started on the other end of the line, but immediately the generic recording came on telling him to leave a message. Looked like she was listening to him in one regard—he'd told her not to talk with anyone.

When he took the exit, he slowed down but switched on his flashing red and blue strobes. He went a bit faster than he should have through the forty-five-, thirty-five-, then twenty-five-mile-an-hour zones. All of the small towns on this stretch of highway were speed traps, and he couldn't waste time being pulled over.

After the three small towns there was a long stretch of highway and a good thirty-minute drive to Bisbee. It felt as if he were driving a boat against a current.

When he finally reached the Mule Pass Tunnel he should have felt some relief, but he remained as tense as a coiled spring.

Ten more minutes and he'd be there.

Agonizing minutes.

Daniel finally reached the police department. He pulled out his credentials, shut off his flashing lights, then stepped from his SUV and headed into the department building.

"U.S. Deputy Marshal," Daniel said to the officer manning the front desk and showed the cop his creds.

After checking them out, the cop motioned him on.

Daniel strode to the back of the building where he'd been directed. In one glance he saw Ani wasn't in the room. Only one woman was there, other than a female police officer. The civilian woman was talking with a paramedic.

What the hell were paramedics doing here?

And where the hell was Ani?

His voice came out in a growl, carrying over the discussions in the room. "Where's Ani Carter?"

"I'm right here, Daniel." The familiar feminine voice came from the left of him—from the woman sitting next to a paramedic.

"Ani?" He narrowed his eyes, taking in the slender woman who looked so unlike the Ani he knew that he hadn't recognized her. But her crystalline blue gaze, her dark brown hair, small nose, and fair complexion were familiar even though her face was much thinner. What clinched it for him were her full lips. Lips he'd wanted to kiss way too many times.

Goddamnit
. He had to get those thoughts out of his head and now.

She offered him a nervous-looking smile and he pushed his way past the officers in the room and past the paramedic. He crouched in front of her, wanting to take her in his arms, though he knew he couldn't. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine." She looked down at her hands in her lap. "I'm so sorry."

He hooked his finger under her chin and forced her to look at him. "Everyone makes mistakes, honey," he said in a low voice that likely couldn't be heard by anyone but her. "But yours could get you killed. You can't take chances with your life."

A tear trickled down her cheek. "I just had to help that boy."

The desire to take her into his arms and hold her was so strong he found it difficult to restrain himself. He dropped his hand away from her face. "We've got to get you out of here."

"All right," she said quietly. "What do I need to do?"

"Wait here for a few moments." He couldn't be mad at her, no matter what had happened. "I'll be right back."

Daniel rose from his crouched position and turned away from her. He talked with a couple of officers before heading out to his SUV, then drove up so that the passenger side door was next to the rear door of the police department. He brought in an extra set of body armor for her to wear for protection. If he could, he'd make her wear a helmet—anything to protect every inch of her.