A PROTECTOR FOR HER CHILD

Days away from testifying in a bank robbery and murder case, witness Kari Danville’s safe house is breached, forcing her to run for her life. Scared, alone and pregnant, her only hope for survival rests in the protection of FBI agent Marc Callahan. With everyone in uniform a suspect, Marc goes rogue to keep her alive. Deep in hiding as the holidays approach, the vulnerable mother-to-be proves a dangerous distraction. But Marc can’t lose another witness on his watch. As the Christmastime trial draws near, the killer stalks ever closer. And Marc must find a way to shield Kari—and her unborn baby—long enough for justice to be served.

“Let’s go, but stay to my left, okay?”

They left the motel, keeping close to the building as they rounded the corner to the back.

Kari didn’t say much once she was safe inside his car, and he drove away from the motel, although he could tell she was watching the road behind them for any sign of the SUV that had shot at them. He hated knowing she was so afraid.

He headed for the interstate, but they were on the freeway for barely ten minutes when bright headlights gained on them from behind. Marc tensed when he realized the vehicle was an SUV.

The same one as before? How was that possible?

He hit the gas, determined to put distance between them.

“Gun!” Kari shouted. Sure enough, he could see the narrow barrel of a gun poking through the passenger-side window just like it had earlier.

“Hang on,” he said, pushing the speed limit as much as he dared.

“Not again! Please, not again!”

Kari’s desperate cry stabbed like a hot poker in his gut. He’d promised to keep her safe.

He couldn’t bear the thought of failure. Of losing another witness.

A pregnant witness.

LAURA SCOTT is a nurse by day and an author by night. She has always loved romance, reading faith-based books by Grace Livingston Hill in her teenage years. She’s thrilled to have published sixteen books for Love Inspired Suspense. She has two adult children and lives in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, with her husband of thirty years. Please visit Laura at laurascottbooks.com, as she loves to hear from her readers.

Shielding His Christmas Witness

Laura Scott

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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All the prophets testify about him, that everyone who believes in him receives forgiveness of sins through his name.

—Acts 10:43

This book is dedicated to my cousin Carol Goodfellow. Carol, thanks for always being supportive of me and my books. Love you!

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

EPILOGUE

Dear Reader

Extract

Copyright

ONE

A muffled thud startled Kari Danville, pulling her out of a sound sleep. She froze, heart racing as she blinked in the darkness, straining to listen.

Silence.

She placed a protective hand over her slightly rounded abdomen, trying to tell herself she and her baby were safe. The noise she’d heard was not someone trying to get inside the safe house. It was only her imagination going into overdrive.

Special Agent Marc Callahan promised no one other than the bank-robbery task force members knew she’d been moved here. And there was an officer stationed right outside. Kari forced herself to take a deep breath, letting it out slowly. No reason to think the serial bank robber she was now scheduled to testify against in a week’s time had sent his buddies after her.

The sound of shattering glass made a mockery of her attempt to remain calm. Kari reacted instinctively, leaping out of bed and grabbing her phone as she quickly shoved her feet into running shoes.

She had to get out of here. Now!

Thankfully, she’d been sleeping in a pair of thick stretch pants and a long-sleeved T-shirt. Yanking a sweatshirt over her head wasted a precious moment, but then she quickly made her way over to the window. The sash lifted easily enough, but removing the storm window was difficult. Willing her fingers not to shake, she finally managed to pry the window out of the frame.

She threw her leg over the sill. At eighteen weeks along, she was still fairly flexible, but she couldn’t help worrying the short drop would somehow harm her baby. Halfway out the window, she heard the bedroom door bang open.

No!

She tumbled to the ground at the same time she heard two muffled bangs. Something whizzed past her head.

He was shooting at her!

Her ankle twisted as she landed hard, but she ignored the throbbing pain as she sprinted through the cold winter night, crossing the snow-covered ground in order to reach the protective shadows of the evergreen trees behind the safe house.

Lord, keep me and my baby safe in Your care!

The prayer helped her to remain calm. Where should she go? She needed to call for help, either Detective Monique Barclay or FBI agent Marc Callahan, but didn’t dare stop long enough to use her phone. She had to assume the gunman had followed her footprints in the snow to the small wooded area. From there, the bare areas on the ground around the trees helped hide her trail.

What if the intruder wasn’t alone? Her chest squeezed with fear at the thought of others being somewhere outside, lying in wait for her.

She reached the shelter of a cluster of trees along the edge of the property, but kept going, stepping carefully to avoid leaving footprints. Her breath created puffs of condensation that she feared the gunman might be able to see, so she lifted the edge of her sweatshirt to cover her mouth.

The house where she’d been staying was located at a quiet and secluded dead-end street. Hugging the shadows, she made her way around to the front of the house. There was a policeman sitting in a squad car outside the house. If she could get to him, he’d be able to drive them to safety and call for backup.

Kari took cover behind a huge oak tree, pausing for a moment to catch her breath. From her position she could see the police car parked beside the curb. She frowned, the tiny hairs on the back of her neck rising in alarm. The vehicle looked empty, no shadow indicating a person was seated behind the wheel. No sign of condensation on the windows, either. Where was Officer Wallace? Was he outside making rounds?

Or had something happened to him?

Kari swallowed hard and stepped softly through the brush, going from one tree to the next in a direction far from the so-called safe house. She needed to keep moving. To get as far away from the gunman as possible.

She stumbled and fell to her knees. The cold, wet snow made damp patches on her pants. A sob rose in the back of her throat, but she relentlessly pushed herself upright, wiping her snowy hands on her hips. She swept her gaze over the area, searching for someplace to hide.

The sound of a branch snapping in half echoed through the night, spurring her into action. There was a shed up ahead, but that hiding spot was too obvious. She needed something better.

But what?

She crossed several more backyards in a zigzag pattern, choosing those that were already trampled with kid-sized footprints. She lost track of how many blocks she’d passed when she saw it. A long rope ladder dangling from a thick tree branch. Tipping her head back, she noticed there was a small tree house made out of mismatched wood, nestled in the branches.

Without giving herself time to change her mind, she grabbed the rope and quickly ascended the swaying ladder to the platform of the tree house. Once she was safely inside, she pulled up the ladder behind her, hoping and praying that if the assailant went past, he wouldn’t notice.

The interior of the structure was dark, the gaps in the wood frame letting in the frigid air along with a tiny sliver of moonlight. For the first time since waking up to the sound of an intruder, she felt a modicum of safety. Kari pulled out the disposable phone she’d been given and quickly searched for the emergency contact information she’d been provided. Agent Callahan’s number came up and she quickly placed the call.

“Callahan,” he answered gruffly on the second ring.

She nearly wept in relief. “It’s me, Kari Danville,” she whispered. “I need your help. Someone found me and tried to kill me.”

“What?” Agent Callahan’s harsh voice made her wince. From the moment they’d met, there was something about his stern demeanor that put her on edge. Oh, he was handsome enough, tall with dark hair and strikingly green eyes. His broad shoulders gave her the impression he worked out a lot, too. But she’d found it difficult to warm up to a man who never smiled.

“Where’s the officer guarding your house?” he demanded.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “The squad car is still out there, but I didn’t see anyone inside.”

“Where are you?” he asked. She could hear rustling sounds as he moved around.

“Hiding in a tree house,” she whispered.

There was a long pause. “A tree house?” he echoed in surprise. “Where?”

“I’m not sure. I went through several neighbors’ yards to get away.”

More background noises. “Stay where you are, understand? Don’t contact anyone else. Wait for me... I’ll be there as soon as possible.”

“Okay.” She didn’t want to disconnect from the call, wanting, needing human contact. But she forced herself to push the end button before sliding the phone back into the pocket of her hooded sweatshirt.

She shivered and once again placed a protective hand over her belly. “We’re going to be all right,” she promised her unborn baby. “God is watching over us. He’ll make sure Agent Callahan finds us and takes us someplace safe.”

Kari closed her eyes, struggling to hold on to the thin thread of hope.

Truthfully, her life had fallen apart shortly before the bank robbery. Discovering that her fiancé had suddenly vanished had been difficult enough, but then she found out Vince had also cleaned out their joint bank account, taking every last dime they’d been saving for their wedding. Angry and destitute, she’d taken her modest engagement ring to a jeweler, only to be told it was fake and completely worthless.

Finding out she was pregnant was an even bigger shock, but after the first wave of hopelessness had washed over her, she’d decided to treat this baby as a blessing. Yes, the baby’s father had abandoned her, but obviously she was better off without Vince Ackerman. She still had her job at the bank, and her boss had been kind enough to grant her a leave of absence in order to testify at trial. When this mess was over, she would be able to provide a loving home for her baby.

The same way her mother had raised her.

Kari huddled in the corner of the tree house, wondering if it was time to tell Agent Callahan she was expecting. Not that her condition mattered to him one way or the other; all he needed was for her to testify at trial. A trial that had been moved up to the first week of December after her name was leaked to the press.

If only she hadn’t gotten such a good look at the bank robber’s yellow-gold eyes and intricate chest tattoo. If only she wasn’t a graphic artist, noticing every detail of the tattoo to the point she’d been able to draw an exact replica of the complicated design. Of course it was Terrance Jamison’s fault that he shot and killed a bank patron, increasing the charges against him.

She hadn’t known until Agent Callahan showed up later that day that any bank robbery was a federal crime. Or that Jamison and his cohorts were believed to be responsible for almost a dozen heists that took place in a two week time frame. The robbers had hit hard and fast, sending them soaring to the top of the Milwaukee FBI’s most wanted list.

The FBI had only one of the bank robbers, Terrance Jamison, in custody, but the Feds and local police suspected there were at least two others involved, maybe more.

But Jamison wasn’t talking.

Knowing that his friends had found her location at the safe house made her both upset and angry. It wasn’t just her life at stake. She desperately needed Agent Callahan to do a better job of protecting her.

For her sake as well as her baby’s.

* * *

FBI agent Marc Callahan jammed his key into the ignition, hardly able to comprehend that the location of the safe house had been breached.

First Kari’s name had been leaked to the press, now this. Only a few people knew where he’d stashed her. His key witness should have been safe.

Punching the gas, he shot out of his underground parking garage and up onto the street, anxious to reach the safe house as soon as possible. Had Kari Danville imagined someone breaking in? Trying to kill her?

No. To be fair, she didn’t seem the type to give in to hysterics. When he’d watched the tape of the bank robbery, he’d been impressed by her cool head and logical thinking. The way her artist’s eye had picked up every intricate detail of Jamison’s chest tattoo had been an added bonus, making her a very credible witness. The fact that she’d gotten a glimpse of the tattoo at all had been a freak accident—one of the bank patrons had foolishly decided to rush at Jamison during the robbery. Jamison fought him off, but the customer had grabbed on to his hoodie, dragging it to the side enough to reveal the tattoo. Of course Jamison shot the bystander, killing him. Despite the customer’s efforts, Jamison had managed to get away with a significant amount of money.

Fortunately, they’d been able to apprehend Jamison shortly afterward, thanks to Kari’s drawing of the tattoo. A sharp patrol officer had pulled Jamison over on a routine traffic stop. At the time he was no longer wearing the hoodie, just a tank top, which enabled the officer to recognize a portion of the tattoo and to arrest Jamison. Unfortunately, the perp wasn’t talking, so they didn’t have any leads on his accomplices.

Time was running out, since Jamison’s attorney had convinced the judge to expedite the trial.

Which brought him back to the present situation. How had Kari been found? A mistake on her part? Or a leak from inside?

And how was it that the press had gotten her name? A fluke...or was it something more sinister? Too many questions, not nearly enough answers.

He clenched his jaw so hard it ached. No way was he going to lose another witness.

Not this time. Not on his watch.

Marc pulled up in front of the safe house and parked behind the squad car. The area looked deserted, but he approached carefully, his gun drawn as he peered inside the vehicle. The officer was slumped against the center console, halfway lying on the passenger-side seat, clearly dead.

He scowled, his gut clenching at the needless loss of life and swept another gaze over the area. Kari Danville hadn’t been exaggerating after all. She’d been smart enough to get away. Hiding in a tree house no less.

Spinning around, he headed back to his car. There was no point in going through the house; his main priority right now was to find his witness.

After executing a tight U-turn, Marc reached for his phone and called Kari.

“Hello?” Her voice was a thready whisper of sound.

“I’m on my way, but I need your help. Can you see any landmarks? Something to clue me in as to where to find you?”

“Give me a minute.” The phone went silent for an incredibly long moment. He drove down the street located east of the safe house, searching for any sign of a tree house. “The tree house is in the backyard but I can see there are two houses on either side of me. One is a Cape Cod with white siding and black trim. The other is a ranch home in dark brown. I think the ranch has Christmas lights out front—I can see a red and green glow.”

“That’s good,” he said encouragingly. “What about the house where the tree house is located? What can you tell me about that?”

“The angle makes it hard to see. Almost as if the tree house was built in a way to hide the occupants from being seen from the house. It’s small, but I can’t quite make out the color. Maybe white, or something light. The roof is dark. That’s all I can tell you.”

Great. If the tree house was located in the backyard, then he wouldn’t be able to see it from the street.

Not necessarily a bad thing, since no one else could see it from the road, either.

“Agent Callahan?” Her soft voice dragged him from his thoughts.

“Yes?”

“Should I climb down to meet you someplace?”

“No, stay where you are. Don’t worry, I’ll find you.” The last thing he wanted was for her to leave the sanctuary of the tree house. He was surprised she’d even suggested it, especially since the temperature outside was below freezing. Hopefully, the structure would provide her some shelter from the wind. He couldn’t help admiring Kari’s strength and determination. “I’ll call again when I find the two houses you mentioned.”

“Okay, thanks.”

The phone went dead and he had the insane urge to call her back, to keep her on the line. Which was ridiculous since he needed to concentrate on finding the Cape Cod and ranch home she’d identified. Blazing Christmas lights were an added bonus.

Driving up one street and down the next had stretched his patience to the limit, when he abruptly found them. She’d been right about the Christmas decorations; the brown ranch had red and green spotlights outside shining on the birch trees in the front yard. On the other side was the white Cape Cod she’d mentioned. And nestled between them, a small house with either gray or light blue siding.

Marc pulled over to the side of the road and threw the gearshift into Park. Kari had run farther than she’d realized, since this place was a good ten blocks from the safe house. He glanced around, making sure no one else was lurking nearby.

The area seemed quiet, peaceful and deserted, not entirely surprising considering it was nearly three o’clock in the morning.

He grabbed his phone then slipped from the car, closing the door as quietly as possible behind him. He walked up the driveway of the white Cape Cod, before making his way across the snow to the backyard of the grayish-blue house.

There was a huge tree located dead center of the grassy area. It wasn’t until he was directly underneath it that he could make out the roughly constructed tree house.

How on earth had Kari noticed it?

He called her phone, smiling grimly when he could hear a low buzz from up above. Smart girl, she had her phone on vibrate.

“Agent Callahan?”

“I found your tree house,” he said in a hushed tone. “How did you get up there, anyway?”

“There’s a rope ladder. Stay back. I’ll climb down.”

He disconnected from the call, slipping his phone in his back pocket. When the rope ladder appeared through a square opening in the base of the tree house, he waited until it hit the ground before grabbing it with both hands and holding it steady. He felt the tension on the rope when she began climbing.

When she was close enough, he stepped back, giving her room to maneuver. She stepped off the ladder, then stumbled sideways as her legs gave out.

Marc instinctively reached out to catch her in his arms. “Easy, you’re safe now.”

Her entire body shook; her fingers curled into his black leather jacket as if holding on for dear life. “I know. But I twisted my ankle climbing out the window,” she confessed.

He tightened his grip on her slender frame, biting back a flash of frustration intermixed with anger. This poor woman shouldn’t have had to climb out a window and then run for her life in the snow and cold. Of course, a good cop shouldn’t have been shot, either.

None of this boded well for the upcoming trial.

She let out a squeak of surprise when he swept her into his arms. “What are you doing?” she asked, her arms clamping tightly around his neck.

Ignoring the obvious, he swiftly retraced his previous route between the two houses, carrying her to the street. When he reached his car, he gently set her down, waiting until she was steady before releasing her.

“I could have walked,” she protested, leaning against the vehicle in a way that took weight off her left leg.

He shrugged and opened the passenger-side door. “Walking on a bad sprain delays healing,” he muttered, wondering who he was trying to convince. Once she was safely inside the car, he shut the door and then jogged around to the driver’s side.

For some odd reason her cranberry-vanilla scent seemed to cling to his clothing. He gave himself a mental head-smack to snap himself back to reality.

He hadn’t been this acutely aware of a woman in a long time. A full two years had passed since his wife’s death in a terrible car crash. He’d locked his emotions away in a deep freeze; no reason for the ice in his heart to melt now.

Kari Danville might be pretty with her chocolate-brown hair and deep brown eyes, but she was also his witness. Once the trial was over and she was relocated with a new identity, he’d never see her again.

A fact that suited him just fine.

“Where are we going?” Kari asked, breaking the strained silence between them.

He cleared his throat. “Somewhere safe.”

She scowled and crossed her arms defensively across her chest. “Yeah, that was what you said two days ago.”

Knowing she was right didn’t make things easier. “I know.”

“I don’t understand. How did they find me?” she demanded. “I thought no one knew where I was staying?”

The same question had been badgering him since the moment he’d answered her call. And he hated to admit the implication of the night’s events was staggering. “If you haven’t called anyone—”

“I haven’t!”

“—then there must be a leak somewhere.”

Her mouth opened, shut and then opened again. “What department? The police? The FBI?”

“I’m not sure,” he admitted, trying to hide the weariness in his voice. “The bank-robbery task force has both Milwaukee Police detectives and FBI agents involved. Either way, I intend to get to the bottom of this.”

“It doesn’t make sense,” she murmured. “No logical reason that anyone working within law enforcement would attempt to protect a bank robber.”

He was inclined to agree. “You’re right, but I don’t have any other explanation. Do you?”

“No.” She turned away, staring out the window in a way that made him frown. Had he imagined the flash of guilt in her eyes? Was she hiding something?

Trust didn’t come easily, especially when it came to women. His wife’s secret had killed her, leaving him reeling from the extent of her lies.

“Kari, tell me the truth. Did you call anyone other than me?” he asked.

“No, I didn’t. Check my phone if you want.” She pulled out the disposable cell he’d given her and dropped it in the cup holder between them.

Marc picked up the phone and tucked it in his pocket. He could check her calls, but he doubted they’d found her via a throw-away phone.

No, it was more likely that one of the officers involved in protecting her had leaked the safe-house location. On purpose? By accident?

“Maybe they traced me through your phone calls,” she said in a frost-tinged voice. “I might be better off alone.”

He couldn’t argue her logic about the possible trace on his calls, especially if the leak was someone within the task force. But abandoning her was out of the question. “You’re not better off alone. For one thing...you need to testify in court, or all of this would be for nothing. Remember, an innocent man has died because of Jamison.”

She sighed, but didn’t say anything.

“I promise you’re safe with me. And you’re right, I have no way of knowing where the leak is coming from.” He opened his window and tossed out his work cell phone, wincing a bit when it shattered on the asphalt. Then he tossed out her disposable phone, as well.

“I—I can’t believe you did that,” she gasped in surprise.

“Yeah, well, I promised to keep you safe, didn’t I?” He headed for the nearest on-ramp, intending to take the interstate in a northwest direction. He needed to find a motel, preferably off the beaten track.

“Yes, you did,” she murmured in a subdued voice.

They drove in silence for a good ten minutes. He kept his eyes peeled for an appropriate place to stop for what was left of the night.

“Agent Callahan?”

“Call me Marc,” he suggested gruffly. No reason to stand on formality, not when they were going to be spending the next five days together.

“I— There’s something I need to tell you.”

His gut tightened with apprehension. Had Kari done something that caused the leak after all? “What?”

She twisted her fingers in her lap, clearly nervous. “I’m pregnant.”

“Excuse me?” He shook his head, certain he hadn’t heard her correctly.

“I’m pregnant,” she repeated. “I’m due in about six months.”

Whatever he’d expected her to say, this wasn’t it. He struggled to pull his scattered thoughts into some semblance of order. “Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

“My personal life wasn’t any of your business. But now I need you to understand how important it is for me to be safe. Plus, I had to leave my prenatal vitamins behind, so we’ll need to stop at a drugstore so I can pick up another bottle.”

Pregnant? Vitamins?

The knowledge that Kari was expecting shouldn’t affect him like this, but somehow the nightmare of his past collided with the present.

No one knew the truth about his wife. How Jessica had been pregnant when she’d died.

Or the fact that DNA testing had proven he wasn’t the baby’s father.

He shook off the overwhelming sense of failure with effort. Jessica’s lies didn’t matter right now. He needed to focus on the situation at hand.

He gripped the steering wheel tightly. A dead cop and a breached safe house. Things couldn’t get much worse than that. He needed to get control of this situation and fast.

Before any more innocent people were placed in harm’s way.

TWO

A thick, heavy silence stretched between them, to the point Kari felt as if she might suffocate. Tension radiated off Marc’s body in waves, battering her already-frayed nerves.

She didn’t know what he was thinking. Was he upset with her for some reason? And if so, why? She was the one who’d been forced to run from a madman shooting at her. She was the one who’d almost been killed.

Her baby that had been placed in danger.

Five minutes passed, then ten. Finally, she couldn’t stand it a moment longer. “What is your problem? Why are you mad at me?”

He relaxed his grip on the steering wheel, glancing over at her in surprise. “I’m not.”

“Really? Then why are you scowling?”

He grimaced. “Because a good cop died tonight and someone almost killed you. Isn’t that enough of a reason to be angry?”

“I guess.” She turned to stare blindly out the passenger-side window, wondering when Agent Callahan, er—Marc—would find a place to stop. The aftermath of adrenaline left her feeling shaky and weak. Exhausted.

Of course her fatigue could just as easily be related to her condition.

He fell silent again, maybe brooding about the case. A few minutes later, he exited the freeway. He waited for the light to turn green before heading down to a parking lot located in front of a small single-story motel. No fancy names here, just Ravenswood Motel located in the nondescript and unincorporated town of Ravenswood.

When he pulled up in front of the lobby, he turned off the car and took the keys out of the ignition. “I need you to wait here.”

She sighed. “Not like I have much choice considering my ankle is swollen and hurts like crazy.”

He barely looked at her. “If it’s just a sprain, I’d rather not risk taking you to an emergency department.”

Yeah, she wasn’t really keen on that idea, either. “I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

He gave a terse nod, then pushed open his door and slid out from behind the wheel. The moment he disappeared inside, she was nearly overwhelmed by a wave of loneliness.

Ridiculous, because she wasn’t alone. Marc was here with her. But the sense of camaraderie she’d experienced earlier seemed to have vanished.

Where was the nice, chivalrous guy who’d carried her to the car so she wouldn’t have to walk on her bum ankle? The man who’d tossed out his own cell phone as a way to keep her safe?

She blew out a breath, realizing that his changed attitude was likely because she was pregnant and not married. From the moment she’d discovered she was expecting, she’d run into some of the same judgmental sneers, especially from the older generation.

Not that she was proud of the fact she’d given in to temptation. At the time she’d justified her actions by the fact that she and Vince were engaged to be married in a few short months. They were in love, or so she’d thought.

Until he’d disappeared without a trace, leaving her high and dry. And pregnant.

Shame tasted bitter on her tongue, but she refused to let it get to her. Her baby was a precious gift, one she was determined to cherish, no matter what.

Ironically, the place she’d found solace and acceptance had been in her friend Amy’s church. The people there had been wonderful, including the pastor. Someday, soon, she’d have her baby baptized there.

Something to look forward to.

The thought of raising her baby alone was both thrilling and terrifying. She wished her mother were still alive to offer some advice. Especially since her own father, much like Vince, had disappeared, leaving her mother and her to survive on their own.

Despite being abandoned, her mother had always maintained a sunny outlook on life, while providing a loving, stable home environment for Kari. Not that things had been easy, because they hadn’t. Still, she couldn’t complain. In fact, she hoped and prayed she’d find a way to do the same with her own baby.

Marc returned to the car, interrupting her thoughts with his intimidating presence, even as he wordlessly slid behind the wheel. He drove the short distance to park in front of room number seven. He climbed out again, then came around to open her passenger-side door. “Ready?”

“Of course.” She summoned the strength to swing her legs around, wincing when she placed pressure on her left ankle. Marc surprised her by holding out his arm. “Lean on me.”

The radiating pain shooting through her foot didn’t give her much choice. She braced herself on his arm and hobbled the few steps it took to reach the door. Then she rested against the wall of the building, waiting for him to use the motel key card to open the door.

He held out his hand again, so she leaned against him, making her way inside. By the time she collapsed on the bed, her ankle felt as if it might explode. She closed her eyes, fighting a sense of helplessness.

Not being able to walk made her dependent on Marc for more than just keeping her safe.

Her eyelids sprang open in surprise when he lifted her swollen ankle up off the mattress. “What are you doing?”

“You need to keep this elevated on pillows,” he said calmly, untying her shoe and stuffing two pillows beneath her calf and heel. He gently probed the skin around her ankle, emitting a low whistle from under his breath. “This looks worse than I expected.”

She wasn’t sure what to say to that. He disappeared into the bathroom, ran water and then returned with an icy cold towel, which he wrapped tightly around her ankle. She had to admit the coolness against her swollen joint offered a bit of relief.

“I’ll get some ice.” He grabbed the plastic bucket off the small table and disappeared again, the door of the motel room closing loudly behind him.

She let out her pent-up breath in a heavy sigh. Was it normal for FBI agents to blow hot and cold so quickly? One minute he’s scowling and brooding, the next he’s fetching ice for her ankle.

Men. Who could figure them out? Vince had already fooled her once; she refused to be gullible again.

She placed a protective hand over her abdomen. She’d dreamed of having a large family, a future Vince had conned her into believing he wanted, as well. Unfortunately, it wasn’t meant to be.

She was facing her future, alone.

Please, Lord, give me strength.

The door opened a few minutes later and Marc walked in, bringing the familiar sandalwood scent with him. She didn’t want to be so aware of him, but she was. He wrapped some crushed ice in a towel and then pressed it against her ankle.

“Thanks,” she murmured.

He pulled up a chair and sat down beside her. “We need to talk.”

What she really needed was sleep, but she turned her head to look at him. “Okay.”

“Where’s your baby’s father?”

Huh? She frowned, wondering why it mattered. “I have no clue. I haven’t seen him in a long time.”

His green eyes were skeptical. “Are you sure? He’s probably worried about you. Give me his name and contact information. I’ll find a way to keep him informed.”

She stifled a sigh. “Vince left me three months ago. He doesn’t even know I’m pregnant.”

He lifted a surprised brow. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, Vince what?” Marc picked up the motel pen and notepad.

“Ackerman. Vince Ackerman.” She rattled off the last phone number she had for him. “You can try to call, but trust me, the line has been disconnected. I honestly don’t have any idea where he is.”

“I believe you.” His tone was considerate, but that didn’t stop him from writing Vince’s name and number on the sheet of paper. “Did Detective Monique Barclay do a background check on him?”

She shrugged. “I have no idea.” She wasn’t sure why anyone cared about Vince. It wasn’t as if he was involved in the bank robberies.

“Try to get some rest, okay?”

“Sure.” Easier said than done with the way her ankle throbbed.

“I’ll be in the connecting room right next door.” He rose to his feet, then hesitated, staring at the motel phone that sat on the bedside table beside her.

Her stomach clenched. Was it possible that he still didn’t trust her? She half expected him to disconnect the phone from the wall, but then he walked past the device toward the connecting door between their rooms. “I’m going to leave this open an inch or so. Just give a yell if you need anything.”

She nodded. “Good night.”

“Good night.” Marc disappeared into his own room, leaving her to stare helplessly at the four walls surrounding her. She fought the urge to call him back.

Maybe she trusted him to keep her and her baby safe, but she couldn’t afford to allow herself to depend on anyone but herself.

Hadn’t Vince already taught her not to trust her instincts? Bad enough that she’d been foolish enough to fall for his act.

Tears pricked at her eyelids, evidence of hormones running amuck.

Five days. She needed to remain strong for the next five days. Once the trial was over, things would get back to normal.

Whatever her new normal might be.

* * *

Doing his best to keep quiet so he wouldn’t disturb Kari, Marc pulled his laptop computer out of its carrying case and set it on the small table. His witness deserved her rest, especially considering the condition of her ankle.

He wished there was more he could do for her, but it was better for him to focus on the case.

He’d gone through the bank-robbery case file more than once, but didn’t remember seeing anything about a former boyfriend named Vince Ackerman. Even if Detective Barclay had cleared the guy, shouldn’t she have at least mentioned Vince in the report?

Marc also needed to try to figure out who could have possibly leaked the location of the safe house. He doubted Kari had done anything on purpose, but he couldn’t ignore the tiny voice in his head telling him she might have let something slip by accident.

Maybe at the drugstore? When buying her prenatal vitamins? Or had she been followed?

He could almost hear his sister Madison’s voice in his head, admonishing him for being so cynical. And maybe he was. Not just because of his line of work, but learning the truth about Jessica and then losing the witness in his last case. A case that was eerily similar to this one. A young man from last year, who’d also witnessed a bank robbery.

Only Joey Simmons had been shot and killed on the way to the courthouse the morning of the trial, rather than a week before. They’d eventually proven that the man their star witness had been about to testify against had hired the gunman to kill Simmons. To this day, Marc felt guilty about that. As if he should have known or done something to avoid the outcome.

Was it any wonder he didn’t trust anyone?

His sister, Maddy, was a prosecuting attorney in the DA’s office, working hard to bring perpetrators to justice. She met all sorts of low-life criminals, yet still managed to maintain a positive outlook on life.

How she managed that feat was beyond his comprehension.

He booted up the computer, then drummed his fingers on the table as he waited for the operating system to kick in. As soon as the wallpaper image bloomed on his screen, he opened a browser and began a background search on Vince Ackerman.

He found several, but none in the right age range. Or what he thought was the correct age range. Somehow he couldn’t picture Kari with a guy fifteen years her senior.

Although what did he really know about her? Other than the basics?

Kari Ann Danville was twenty-six years old, grew up in Oakdale, Wisconsin, a suburb just outside Milwaukee. She’d been working at the Oakdale National Bank for the past four years, since graduating from college with an associate’s degree in graphic arts.

Graphic arts and banking didn’t necessarily go hand in hand, but he’d also found a freelance graphic-arts website hosted by KariAnn’s Designs. Maybe she was using the regular paychecks from her day job at the bank while she worked on getting her design business off the ground.

He wondered what she’d do once the baby was born. Not that Kari’s life or career prospects were any of his business. He couldn’t afford to let the aching loneliness in her eyes get to him.

Which brought him back to the baby’s father, Vince Ackerman. He scowled at the federal database he was logged in to. There were a few possibilities, but all of them were located on the other side of the country.

He sat back with a sigh. He should have asked for the guy’s age, and his last known address, but couldn’t bring himself to go next door to wake her up.

Marc scrubbed his hands over his face, knowing he should follow her lead and get some sleep, too. But he needed to figure out his next steps, not least of which involved contacting his boss.

The dead cop and empty safe house would raise an alarm when the relief officer arrived on the scene, in roughly—he glanced at his watch—two-and-a-half hours. His boss, Special Agent in Charge Evan White, would demand answers.

Unfortunately, he didn’t have any.

Since he’d ditched his phone, he had to use the motel phone. He reluctantly lifted the handset of the motel phone and dialed the main office number. No one would answer, but he could use a passcode to access Evan’s mailbox.

“This is Callahan reporting in,” he said into the voice mail. “I have our witness in custody, but the safe house was breached and the officer watching over her is dead, the result of a gunshot wound inflicted at close range. I don’t have my phone... I’ll let you know as soon as I secure a replacement.”

He disconnected from the call, relieved to postpone the inevitable confrontation with his boss.

They were safely isolated here for the moment, but they couldn’t just hang out here until the trial. He needed help from someone he could trust.

His family.

As the oldest, he didn’t like turning to his siblings for help. His brother Miles was the next in line, and also happened to be a detective with the Milwaukee Police Department. There were six Callahans total, and thanks to his parents’ crazy sense of humor all their names started with the letter M.

Marcus, Miles, Mitch, Michael, Matthew and Madison. Matt and Maddy were twins, Matt the elder by three minutes. Maddy hated being the baby of the family, constantly lamenting the fact that she had five older brothers. His father had been thrilled to finally have a daughter, and while they were always protective of their baby sister, they’d all also spoiled Maddy a little too much.

He swallowed the painful lump in his throat when he thought about their father. Max Callahan had been a cop, and the acting chief of police, before he was killed six months ago, in the line of duty.

His mother, Maggie, and their grandmother, Nan, still lived in the house where they grew up. Sunday church service followed by brunch was a steadfast Callahan tradition.

Max Callahan had instilled a strong sense of duty and commitment to serving their community in all of his children. And the Callahan legacy lived on, as they’d followed in his footsteps in one form or another, well, except for Michael, who worked as a private investigator. Their father hadn’t been thrilled with Mike’s choice and had constantly badgered him to go back to the police academy.

It still burned Marc to know their father’s case remained unsolved. Especially since his father was murdered by a sniper during an investigation into a police shooting of an unarmed teenager. It wasn’t normal for the chief of police to go to crime scenes, but his dad had wanted to make a statement that they were taking these types of incidents seriously.

Only to be shot and killed for his efforts.

Marc had recently begun his own personal investigation into his father’s death, hating the thought that the person responsible might get away with the crime. But it was as if the shooter had vanished into thin air, without leaving so much as a shell casing behind as a clue to his, or her, identity.

Marc must be more tired than he thought, to allow his thoughts to be sucked back into the past.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t allow his father’s death to become a distraction.

Not when faced with an immediate threat to his witness.

He picked up the motel phone again and punched in his brother’s number. Several rings went by before Miles answered in a raspy voice.

“Who is this?”

“Marc. I need a favor.”

As if by magic the sleepiness in his brother’s voice vanished. “What’s going on? Why are you calling me from an unknown number?”

“That’s the favor,” he said, avoiding a direct answer. “I need two new untraceable phones. Are you in the middle of something? Can you get them to me ASAP?”

“That depends on where you are,” Miles said. “Is this related to your serial bank-robbery case?”

“Yeah. The safe house where I stashed my witness has been compromised. I don’t want to call the Feds or the locals for help. Not until I have a better understanding as to what’s going on.”

Miles was quiet for a long moment. “That’s not good,” he finally said. “Okay. Prepaid phones, check. Anything else?”

He knew his brother would come through for him. “Not at the moment, but I’ll let you know if that changes.”

“Where are you?”

“Ravenswood Motel. It’s off Highway WW—on the right. You can’t miss it.”

“Okay, but it will take me some time to get there and I have to wait for the stores to open.”

“Understood. Thanks, I owe you.”

“Yeah, and don’t think I won’t collect,” Miles shot back. “Later, bro.”

Marc hung up the phone then glanced up in time to see Kari standing in the opening between the connecting doors. He was surprised to see her up and moving around on her injured ankle.

“Who was that?” she demanded.

“My brother.” Marc slowly rose to his feet. “How’s the ankle?”

“Don’t try to change the subject,” she said, narrowing her gaze. “Why are you calling your family? I thought we were supposed to stay off the grid.”

“We are. Relax. My brother would never betray me.”

“That doesn’t necessarily make me feel better.”

The edge of desperation in her tone made him frown. “You’re my witness,” he pointed out. “Of course Miles would protect you, too.”

“Really? I’m not so sure.” Sarcasm didn’t seem to be her style, but she appeared to be on a roll. “First Vince disappears without a trace, taking every cent out of our joint account, then I get robbed while working at the bank, and then end up running away from a gunman...”

Whoa, wait a minute. He backtracked a bit. “Vince stole money from you?”

Her eyes widened as if realizing what she’d said. With an awkward turn while leaning heavily on the wall, she disappeared inside her room, shutting and locking the connecting door behind her with a loud click.

Marc stared at the closed door, his thoughts whirling. Maybe the reason he hadn’t been able to find Vince Ackerman was because the guy didn’t really exist. His name, his entire identity, was likely fake.

A chill snaked down his spine.

Was Vince just another con man, out to score off naive women? Or was it possible Vince was involved in something more sinister?

THREE

Bracing her arm against the wall, Kari hopped on one foot over to the bed. When she’d gotten up earlier to use the bathroom, she’d heard voices. Seeing Marc on the phone had made her see red.

Now that the initial flash of anger had passed, she could admit that she’d overreacted. It was probably better that he’d called his brother, rather than anyone within the police department or FBI. He was right about one thing—his brother would likely do whatever was necessary to help them out.

If only she’d managed to control her temper. The slip she’d made revealing how Vince had taken all their money, most of which had been hers, anyway, hadn’t gone unnoticed.

Then again, she doubted that there was much that passed by Agent Marc Callahan. For some odd reason, knowing he had family, at least one brother, made him seem more human.

Plopping back down on the bed, she lifted her injured ankle and set it gently on the pillows. The ice inside the towel had melted, but she wasn’t in the mood to ask Marc for more.

Later, she’d find the energy to get up and get more ice herself.

There was nothing worse than feeling helpless, than being at someone else’s mercy. But that was the situation she was in, at least for now.

She managed to fall asleep, despite the throbbing in her ankle. The next time she opened her eyes, the sun was shining brightly through the narrow opening between the curtains hanging over the window. Gingerly taking her leg off the pillows, she rolled onto her side and sat up, pushing her dark hair away from her face.

Gathering every ounce of strength, she took another hopping trip to the bathroom, making use of the shower this time. When she emerged fifteen minutes later, she felt better.

Hungry.

She limped over to the bed, threading her fingers through her damp hair, wondering if she should open the connecting door and wave the white flag of truce. There was no reason to be at odds with the man protecting her. Especially considering they would likely be in close proximity for the next five days.

A knock on the door startled her. Not the connecting door, but the main motel-room door. Before she could hobble over to open it, she heard the lock disengage. The door opened, revealing Marc holding a tray of takeout food.

The enticing scent of bacon, eggs and coffee made her mouth water.

“Good morning,” he greeted her cautiously, as if trying to gauge her mood. “I thought you might be ready for breakfast.”

“I am,” she agreed with a tentative smile. “Thanks.”

Marc set the tray down on the table and then pulled a white drug-store bag out from beneath his arm. “I bought a bottle of prenatal vitamins as well as some ibuprofen for your ankle.”

“I’ll take the vitamins,” she said, making her way over to the table. “But nothing else.”

He opened his mouth as if to argue, but then must have decided against it. “Okay. What about coffee?”

“Decaf,” she said with a sigh. She really, really missed regular coffee.

Marc nodded, then crossed over to the small coffee pot located on the dresser to prepare a cup of decaf. Her stomach was rumbling, but she waited for him to return to the table before bowing her head in prayer.

She thanked God for keeping her safe and for the food they were about to eat. She was still new at this prayer stuff, and tried not to fidget beneath Marc’s intense gaze.

He waited until she’d opened her disposable container before digging in to his. She unwrapped her plastic silverware and then dug in to her scrambled eggs.

“Delicious,” she murmured between bites.

A tiny corner of his mouth lifted in what she suspected was his version of a smile. “I’m glad you like it. I wasn’t sure what you preferred, so I got a little of everything.”

“I love all breakfast foods,” she confessed, nibbling on a slice of toast. “Especially now that I’m not having very much morning sickness.”

Instantly, any hint of a smile vanished. “Listen, I think we need to talk about your ex-boyfriend, Vince Ackerman.”

Her eggs suddenly tasted like papier-mâché. “Why?”

“I don’t remember seeing his name in Detective Barclay’s report.”

She grimaced and sighed. “So what? I don’t see what Vince has to do with anything.”

“Didn’t any of the officers who questioned you ask about him? Do any sort of investigation into his background?”

“Not that I know of.” She was beginning to get annoyed. “They only asked about the robbery details. Then I was only questioned by Detective Barclay and you. No other detectives questioned me. And you were the one who told me that there were almost a dozen bank robberies in a very short time frame. And they all took place after Vince left me. What kind of connection could there be?”

“I’m not sure, but I think we should try to find out.”

She wondered what it was like to go through life being suspicious of every little thing. Not the way she wanted to live, that’s for sure.

“You can do whatever you like. Personally, I wish that idiot hadn’t chosen my window to demand the money. And that the customer hadn’t jumped him, jerking his hoodie aside and revealing the tattoo.”

“I’m not trying to be difficult,” Marc said, obviously sensing her irritation. “It’s my job to anticipate the worst-case scenario, every single time.”

“I get that. But I don’t think Vince is involved.”

“What did he do for work?” He finished his eggs and bacon, then started in on the hash browns.

“He was a salesman.”

Marc frowned. “What did he sell?”

“Party supplies, trinkets. You know, the kind of thing you might see in corner drugstores.” She lifted a brow. “Not exactly the bank-robber type.”

“Probably not. But we also don’t know who Terrance Jamison’s accomplices were. I can’t ignore the remote possibility that Vince was one of them.”

“I guess, but I can’t see him doing something like that.” Although simply talking about what Vince was capable of ruined her appetite. She dropped her half-eaten piece of toast back into the container. “What exactly are you suggesting? That Vince used me to case the bank? That he actually went out to every city where his buddies targeted a bank for the sole purpose of getting one of the tellers to fall in love with him? To propose marriage? That doesn’t even make sense.” She huffed out a breath. “I’m telling you, the timing is off. He left me days before the first bank was robbed. And from there it was almost another two weeks before my bank was robbed.”

“True.” Marc took a thoughtful sip of his coffee. “How long were the two of you together?”

“Four months,” she murmured. “Don’t even say it. I know that’s not enough time to get to know a person, but we met at a corner café and he seemed nice, normal, courteous...” Her voice trailed off. Saying the words out loud made her feel like a fool. “I honestly never thought he’d up and disappear along with all the money in our joint account.”

“How old is he?”

She grimaced. “Twenty-eight, two years older than me.”

“Where did he grow up?”

What was with the twenty questions? “Here in the area—why does it matter? He’s gone. His phone has been disconnected, so I don’t have a way of contacting him, even if I wanted to.”

Marc eyed her over the rim of his cup. “Would it surprise you to know there isn’t a Vince Ackerman aged twenty-eight who grew up in the Milwaukee area?”

She stared at him in shock. “How do you know?”

“I did a background check. The only Vince Ackerman in the area is forty-one years old.”

That didn’t seem possible. Vince might have lied about his age, but no way was he forty-one.

If he hadn’t lied about his age, then he must have lied about his name. Or his background. Nausea swirled in her stomach. Just when she’d thought things couldn’t get any worse. No doubt the man she’d naively trusted had lied about everything. Including his feelings toward her.

“I’m sorry,” Marc said, reaching out to cover her hand with his. “I’m sure this isn’t easy to hear.”

Yeah and wasn’t that the biggest understatement of the year? The gentleness of his hand was reassuring and when he let her go, she missed his warmth. “No, it’s not. But none of this means Vince was involved in the bank robbery. Why take all the money out of our joint account if that was part of his plan?”

“Why not? Easy money,” Marc said with a shrug.

She swallowed hard, rubbing a hand over her belly in an effort to soothe herself as much as her baby. Stress wasn’t good for either of them. Whether Vince was involved in the bank robbery or not didn’t matter. She’d already decided to move on with her life.

Once Terrance Jamison was convicted of robbing her at gunpoint and killing the bystander, he’d probably give up the rest of his cohorts in crime in order to get a lighter sentence.

At least, that was the plan.

So why did she feel as if the threads holding everything together were beginning to unravel?

And that Agent Callahan was the only one with the ability to keep it together?

* * *

Marc watched the myriad of expressions cross Kari’s face, trying to squash a flash of empathy.

He knew, only too well, what if felt like to be betrayed by someone you loved.

Rising to his feet, he stacked their empty breakfast containers and tossed them in the garbage. When he heard the phone ringing from inside his room, he quickly unlocked the connecting door and rushed over to answer it.

“Hello?”

“It’s me,” Miles said. “I’m sitting outside the lobby of the motel. What room number are you in?”

“Eight—it’s connected to number seven. You have the phones?”

“And extra cash,” Miles replied. “I’ll be there in two minutes.”

It was actually less than that when he heard a sharp rap on his door. Marc opened the door and stepped back, allowing Miles to come in and giving him a brotherly slap on the back.

Miles handed him the bag containing the phones. Marc opened them up and began the tedious process of activating and charging them. They were decent smartphones, with the usual bells and whistles, for which he was grateful.

“Where’s your witness?” Miles asked, gesturing toward the open doorway between their rooms. “Is she pretty?”

Marc stifled a sigh. “We’re not in high school anymore,” he answered drily. “She’s a witness, not a potential date.”

Miles flashed a knowing grin. “Hey, no reason she can’t be both, right?”

Marc shook his head, annoyed by his brother’s antics. Girls had generally flocked to Miles instead of him, probably because Marc had always been über-responsible, even back then.

“I’m surprised she didn’t come over to meet me,” Miles continued.

“She twisted her ankle pretty bad,” Marc said. He finished activating the phones then plugged them in, scowling when Miles crossed over to Kari’s room.

“Hi, I’m Miles Callahan,” he heard his brother say. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Kari Danville,” she answered in a bemused tone. “Nice to meet you, too.”

Marc had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from lashing out at his brother. So what if Miles was flirting with Kari? It wasn’t as if Marc was interested in a personal relationship.

Considering her pregnancy and past history with her ex-fiancé, he doubted she was, either.

“Marc didn’t tell me how pretty you are,” Miles said with a wink.

“Then we’re even, since Marc neglected to tell me how much of a flirt you are.”

“I’m not,” Miles protested, putting his hand on his chest in protest.

Yeah, he was. Marc hid a smile as he joined them. “Miles was just leaving, weren’t you?”

His brother cocked an eyebrow in his direction. “Uh, yeah, sure.” Miles grinned. “Do you want me to tell Mom you’ll be there for brunch on Sunday? Or do you think the trial will keep you away?”

Marc narrowed his gaze, giving Miles a warning glare. Since their father’s murder six months ago, they always tried to get together for church service followed by Sunday brunch. Maybe he hadn’t felt God’s presence at church, but he always attended anyway. Their mother and Nan expected it. “Not sure, but either way, I’ll let Mom know my plans. Thanks again for your help.”

“Suit yourself.” Miles threw one last smile over his shoulder at Kari. “Nice to meet you, Kari. Hope I see you again sometime soon.”

Kari didn’t look too impressed. “I doubt it but it’s been nice to meet you, too.”

“Ouch,” Miles muttered, joining Marc in his room. “Shot down in a ball of flames.”

Marc wasn’t about to waste an ounce of pity for his brother. “Your ego will survive. Take down my new number, in case I need some more help.”

Miles jotted down the information, then slipped the scrap of paper into his pocket. “You know, it’s been two years since Jess died. It’s okay to start dating again.”

“What makes you think I haven’t?” Marc countered, having no intention to discuss his personal life, or lack thereof, with anyone. Even his closest brother. “I’ll be in touch, okay?”

“Sure thing.” Miles opened the door and stepped outside, tossing one more parting shot over his shoulder. “Kari’s pretty. I like her.”

I like her, too. But of course, he didn’t say anything of the sort. Instead he closed the door behind his brother and dragged a hand through his hair.

He knew better than to let Miles get to him. At some point in the last few months, each of his siblings had attempted to play matchmaker.

Efforts that had always backfired.

He was too busy with work to have anything leftover for a relationship, anyway. Hadn’t that been the main reason Jessica had cheated on him? Because he was too intense, too serious, too responsible.

The antithesis of fun.

He glanced at his watch, realizing it was almost time to either check out or pay for another night. Considering Kari’s ankle, he thought it was probably better to stay put. They hadn’t been followed here, and it wouldn’t hurt to give her a chance to rest.

The sound of a muffled thud came from her room and he wasted no time in barging over there to see what was going on.

Kari stood on one foot, her injured foot tucked up as if she were a dark-haired stork, staring morosely at the bucket he’d filled with ice a few hours ago. It was lying upside down on the carpet. He ignored the water and bits of ice to reach for her. “Are you all right?”

“You mean other than being a klutz? Yeah, I’m fine,” she said, leaning against him.

“Here, let’s get you back on the bed to elevate your ankle.” He had to fight the urge to lift her into his arms again, making do with anchoring his arm around her waist and helping her close the gap to reach the bed. He found it hard to believe Kari was pregnant, but maybe it was too early for her to show.

He hadn’t suspected Jess was three months along, either.

“I was trying to get more ice for my ankle,” she said, stretching out on the bedspread.

“I’ll get it,” he assured her. “Are you sure you can’t take some ibuprofen?”

“I’m sure.” She tilted her chin stubbornly. “I don’t want to take anything that might harm the baby. Besides, it doesn’t hurt that much.”

He shook his head, knowing that couldn’t be true. The skin around her ankle was not only swollen but beginning to turn back and blue as bruising set in. He’d picked up an elastic bandage from the drugstore, along with her vitamins, but he didn’t want to use it yet. Better to keep icing it, for now.

“You and your brother seem close,” she said as he pressed a towel over the wet spot in the carpet.

He glanced up in surprise. “Yeah, I guess. Miles is just a year younger than me, and there’s two and a half years between him and Mitch.”

“How many brothers do you have?” she asked, her brown gaze curious.

“Four brothers and a baby sister,” he answered, wondering why he was sharing his personal life with her. Maybe because he knew from reading her file that she was all alone in the world. As much as he’d kept to himself over the two years since Jessica’s death, he’d always known his family was a phone call away and would drop anything to help him.

The way Miles just had.

“Six in total,” Kari echoed in awe. “It must be nice to have so many people in your family.”

“Yeah, they’re not nosy, bossy, meddling or annoying at all,” he said drily.

“Sounds wonderful to me,” she said in a soft, wistful voice.

“They are, most of the time,” he agreed, silently acknowledging that he wouldn’t give up his family for anything. They were the reason he’d taken a position here at the Milwaukee branch of the FBI, when there were other, more prestigious places to work.

He finished cleaning up the mess, then tossed the towels on the bathroom floor before picking up the empty ice bucket. “I was thinking we should stay here another day,” he said. “Give your ankle some time to rest.”

“No complaints from me.” Kari smiled and he knew his brother was wrong. She wasn’t just pretty.

She was beautiful, especially when she smiled.

“We’re safe here, right?” she added, her brow puckered in a tiny frown.

He pulled himself together. “Yeah, we should be. I’ll get some ice, then go to the lobby to pay for another day.”

“Sounds good.”

He left the motel room and approached the cubicle housing the ice and vending machines. Spending another day here was good for Kari, but not necessarily for investigating the source of the safe house break-in. Although he was fairly sure he’d hear from his boss any minute.

A confrontation he’d rather avoid.

He swept his gaze over the small motel parking lot, taking note of anything out of place. There wasn’t so much as a new car parked in the lot, and the traffic on Highway WW seemed light for a Thursday morning.

Satisfied, he carried the ice bucket back inside. After filling a clean towel with ice chips, he draped it over her ankle.

“Be back in a few minutes,” he said, turning to retrace his steps. When he opened the door, he paused as a dark SUV complete with tinted windows came flying down the freeway exit ramp, going through a red light. Then he caught a glimpse of the barrel of a gun through the open passenger-side window.

No! They needed to move.

Now.

He barged back inside the hotel. “Kari, grab your stuff. We need to get out of here.”

To her credit she didn’t argue. She sat up, tossed the ice pack aside and then grabbed her vitamins. Instead of putting her shoes on, she carried them, wincing as she limped toward him.

He grabbed the laptop computer and his keys. They exited the motel and jumped into the car.

Marc hit the gas and sped out of the parking lot.

Despite his sixty-second head start, he could see the SUV was hot on his tail.

How had they found him? Not through Miles.

His boss? He didn’t want to believe it.

“They’re gaining on us,” Kari whispered, as she struggled to get her left foot into her shoe.

Crack!

The sound of gunfire had him planting his foot to the floor, pushing the car engine as fast as it would go.

Another gunshot echoed and he gripped the steering wheel tighter.

He couldn’t bear the thought of failing Kari and her baby. He had to figure out a way to keep them safe from harm.

Because there was no way he could cope with another death on his conscience.