Melissa Morgan carried her three-year-old son, Dylan, as they exited the car, following the US Marshals who led them through the hotel kitchen and up the elevator to the sixth floor. Surrounded by men with guns, the widowed single mom was still reeling from all that had happened. The Christmas music playing on the overhead speakers in the elevator only intensified her feeling that her life had become incredibly surreal over the past three weeks.
Dylan’s presents had already been bought and wrapped and were sitting under their tree at home, never to be opened, never to be played with. The thought left her with an odd pang of sadness, but she couldn’t really process it—not when she was still struggling with grief over her murdered mother, and shock over the revelations that had followed that death.
It wasn’t until Melissa had walked in on the killer, a man the US Marshals insisted was tied to a mob boss, that she’d learned her mother had testified against that Mafia leader twenty years earlier, prompting them to enter the witness protection program. Melissa had been raised in the witness protection program. Her entire life was a lie. And up until three weeks ago, she’d had no idea.
It was all too much and now all of this had placed her and her son in danger.
Why didn’t you ever tell me, Mama?
She felt hurt and angry at the secrets—but her questions about her mother and their past had to take a back seat for now while she dealt with the problems of the present. Most notably her mother’s killer. The man she’d seen. The man she had identified, who was tied to the same crime web that had sent her mother into hiding years ago.
Melissa could never forget the face of the man who’d killed her mother, then turned the gun on her. She’d run for her life and been fortunate to escape, but now her life and her son’s life were in danger.
The lead marshal stopped in front of a hotel-room door and opened it before ushering her inside. She put Dylan, who was still sleeping in her arms, onto the bed and covered him up. She placed a gentle kiss on his cheek, thankful for a child who slept through almost anything. He’d been a trouper through all of this, handling it all even better than she was. Of course, to him, this seemed like an adventure, but he’d still been remarkably brave and unselfish, rarely complaining that he missed his toys and his bedroom and, most of all, his gramma.
I miss her, too.
Two marshals remained outside the door while the third, the one in charge, started securing the room. He checked the curtains and locks before turning to her.
“One of us will be outside the door at all times. All you need to do is call out if you need us.”
She nodded and thanked him. “How long will I be here?”
“We have no way of knowing that, ma’am. I was just assigned to bring you here. My boss will designate a permanent marshal, who’ll be in charge of your relocation.” He eyed her neck in a manner that made her uncomfortable. She reached up and touched the necklace her mother had given her for her twenty-fifth birthday, a heart-shaped charm that she never took off.
“You were made aware that you can’t keep anything from your previous life, weren’t you?”
She touched her necklace again and gulped at his implication. “My mother gave me this necklace. It’s all I have left of her.”
“I understand, but it’s also something that can tie you back to your past life.”
She unlatched the chain and let the necklace fall into his hand, tears pressing against her eyes at the thought of severing her last tie to her old life and her mother. She hated to let the man see her cry, but she’d given up so many things already and this just seemed too much. “Excuse me,” she said, pushing past him and rushing into the bathroom as tears slipped from her eyes.
She closed the door and locked it. He was only doing his job and she knew that, but it hurt losing that necklace. It poked right at the sore part of her heart that ached from losing her mother. She splashed water on her face and tried to pull herself together. She had to be strong for Dylan’s sake. She couldn’t allow these bad men, whoever they were, to get anywhere near him. She had to think about him instead of herself now. He deserved better than this, better than being shuttled between second-rate hotels from town to town, but she’d put up with this and anything else it took in order to keep him safe.
She checked herself in the mirror before walking back into the room. The marshal stood and she saw remorse on his face.
“I’m okay,” she assured him. “It’s just...it’s a lot.”
“I do understand that, ma’am.” He held out the necklace to her and motioned for her to take it back. “I shouldn’t be doing this,” he admitted. “But I guess it won’t do any harm to let you hold on to it. Just promise me you won’t wear it. If any of the other marshals see it, they’ll confiscate it.”
Relief and gratitude filled her at his kind gesture. She took the necklace and slipped it into her pocket. “You’re very kind. Thank you. And I promise.”
He picked up the room-service menu and held it out to her. “Should I order something for you and your son?”
She glanced at Dylan, still asleep on the bed. “Not right now.”
He nodded. “Then you should probably get some sleep. There’s no telling when your new marshal will arrive.”
She slipped off her shoes and crawled onto the bed. From between the drawn curtains, she caught a glimmer of the Christmas lights decorating the downtown area of whatever town she was in. She pulled Dylan into her arms and tried to calm herself enough to sleep as she heard the click of the door as the marshal slipped from the room.
There would be no Christmas for her and Dylan this year. And no Christmas with her mom ever again. But there would be Christmases to come for her son, if she could just get the two of them through this.
God, please watch over us and keep us safe.
She stroked her son’s hair as she lifted up prayers for their safety and for God to give her strength to endure this nightmare.
WITSEC Inspector Deputy Marshal Miles Avery parked his SUV in the basement garage then entered the hotel lobby and spotted his boss waiting for him. Deputy Director Griffin Sheffield stood as Miles approached and reached for his hand.
“It’s good to see you, Miles. It’s been a while.”
Miles had spent six weeks at his family’s ranch in Texas over the summer after his father suffered a heart attack, then another several weeks providing around-the-clock security to a witness during an out-of-state trial so he and his boss hadn’t been face-to-face for more than a few hours in quite a while. But his dad was now on the mend, the trial was over, and Miles was anxious to get back to a normal routine with the United States Marshals Service. “It’s good to see you, Griffin. What do we have?”
Griffin handed him a file and Miles flipped through it as his boss explained his current assignment. “Sixteen days ago, a WITSEC client was murdered in her home. Her daughter witnessed it. Thankfully, she escaped, but she identified the killer from a mug shot. His name is Richard Kirby. He’s a known associate of Max Shearer, a mob boss the client helped put away. Shearer has just been granted a new trial by the courts and our victim was supposed to be the prosecution’s main witness.”
Miles understood the implication. “Now the daughter can tie him to this killing and witness tampering.”
“Exactly. And Kirby managed to get away before the police or the marshals arrived. Our intel says he’s gone into deep hiding for fear of being arrested, but that doesn’t mean the threat against Melissa is over. Shearer still has dangerous men on his payroll. We immediately took Melissa and her son into protective custody, only we’ve had compromises in her security. We’ve been forced to move her three times.”
“Is she breaking protocol?”
“We can’t find any evidence that she is. That leads me to only one conclusion—we might have a leak in the US Marshals Service.”
He stared at his boss, hoping he was pulling his leg, but the man’s expression was dead serious. “A leak? How is that possible?” He couldn’t believe anyone who signed up to protect witnesses would turn on one of them.
“I don’t know, but we can’t take any more risks with her safety. Now, I trust all my deputies, but you’ve been away for a while so I know for certain that you’re not the leak. That’s why I’m handing her and her son’s protection over to you. Report directly to me, but otherwise keep any information about this case quiet from the other marshals. I had her and her son brought here late last night. No one’s going to know that you’re on this case. I’m going to tell everyone that your father took a turn for the worse and you’ve gone back home to care for him. That’ll explain your absence from the office.”
Part of his job was keeping secrets in order to protect witnesses, but he didn’t like keeping secrets from his friends. He trusted them all, especially his partner, Lanie, and best friend, Adam. Because of the necessary restriction of information surrounding his job, they were the only people he could share his work life with. It was that kind of secrecy that had caused his last girlfriend to end their relationship, forcing him to accept the truth that he might never have the family he so desperately desired. But if his boss was correct and there was a leak in WITSEC, he couldn’t take any chances with this witness’s safety. He had to keep this assignment a secret from everyone—even those he was closest to.
He assured Griffin he would do his best, then walked upstairs with him to meet his new charge. She turned out to be a pretty, young woman with brown hair and sad eyes. She was doing her best to rein in a rambunctious little boy with the same dark eyes as hers.
“Melissa, this is WITSEC Inspector Deputy Marshal Miles Ackerman. He’s going to be taking point on yours and Dylan’s protection.” Miles was too well-trained to even blink when Griffin used his false name. Ackerman was the name he gave witnesses to hide his true identity. It was just one of the security measures they went through in order to keep his personal life private. “Miles, this is Melissa Morgan.”
She started to reach for his hand, but the child in her arms slipped through her grip and ran to jump on the bed. She hurried after him, pulling him off and trying to settle him down. “I’m sorry about that,” she told Miles. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“You, too,” Miles responded.
“Melissa was only five years old when her mother entered WITSEC,” Griffin explained. “Her mother never told her. She had no idea she was raised in the program until the marshals showed up at the police station after her mother’s death.”
He felt for her having to learn the truth that way, but that was the nature of WITSEC, hiding the truth from everyone you loved.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Miles told her.
She gripped her son tighter and bit her lip. “Thank you.”
Griffin turned back to Melissa. “Sorry, I know it’s difficult. But Miles is one of our top WITSEC inspectors. He’ll take good care of both you and Dylan.” Griffin turned his focus to Miles. “I went ahead and dismissed the previous marshals, the ones who transported Melissa and Dylan here. That way, no one can tie you to her protection detail. That also means you’ll be on your own once I leave.”
Miles nodded. “I understand.”
“You have my number if you need to reach me.” He said goodbye to Melissa, then walked out.
Miles surveyed the room. First things first. He needed to make certain they were secure. He went to the door and locked it, then checked the windows.
Melissa watched him then shook her head. “The other guy already did that. And the guy before him.”
“I’m sure they did, but I like to make sure of things myself.”
She stood. “So far, I’ve had six marshals watching over me and every one of them did the same thing. Is that something you learn in training—not to trust each other?”
He shrugged. “It’s not a question of trust. Just good security measures.”
She fidgeted with her fingers. “Well, they didn’t turn out to be so good, did they?”
He saw the fear and frustration in her face and wanted to say something to reassure her. “You’re still alive, aren’t you, ma’am?”
“We were nearly killed several times.”
“You know what they say, don’t you? ‘Nearly only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades.’”
He spotted the little boy now clinging to his mother’s leg, his eyes wide with fright. All his energy seemed to have evaporated in an instant. Miles kneeled and addressed him. “Hello there. My name is Miles. What’s yours?”
The boy dug his face into Melissa’s leg rather than reply.
Melissa gave a half-hearted smile. “He’s not usually shy, but these past weeks have been hard on him. So many new people in and out.”
“I understand.”
“His name is Dylan. He’s three.” She shuddered again. “Nearly the same age I was when my mother entered the program. How could she not tell me?”
He stood and turned his attention to her. “I’m sure she was just trying to protect you. By the time you were old enough to understand, a lot of time had passed since the trial. She thought she was safe.”
Melissa sat down and handed Dylan a toy giraffe to play with. “She was always so cautious. I used to tease her about how uptight she was. Now, I understand why she was like that. I just wish she had told me. My entire life has been a lie.”
“Your mom loved you—that’s always been true,” he said gently. “From what I just read in her file, she gave up everything to protect you, to keep you safe.” He glanced at Dylan, who had started bouncing on the bed with the toy giraffe. “He’s an active little boy, isn’t he?”
“He is. He’s hardly ever still except when he’s sleeping. It’s tough for him to be cooped up in hotel rooms for weeks—away from all of his things, not allowed to go outside and play. It’s hard on both of us.”
He reached for her hand, intending only to reassure her that things were going to be okay, but the way her petite hand felt in his sent him reeling. He tried to push down the feeling. Yes, this woman was innocent and she and her son didn’t deserve what was happening to them. But he had to remind himself that life wasn’t fair. If it was, he would be out of a job. It was only natural that he feel some sympathy for them, but he couldn’t let that cloud his judgment. They needed him to stay sharp.
“Let’s just get through this one day at a time, okay?”
She nodded and turned her attention back to Dylan.
Miles walked to the window and tried to regain his own composure. It wasn’t his job to get close to his witnesses, but he’d found offering a sympathetic ear helped them to cope with the abrupt changes happening in their lives. It also built trust between them. But he had to be careful with this one. He’d protected mothers before, even single mothers and their children, but something about this pretty, young woman and her child was tugging at his heartstrings like no one ever had before. He suspected it had more to do with his recent breakup than with his witness. He’d come home from helping to care for his dad only to discover his girlfriend had left him. Even though his absence hadn’t been connected to work at all, she’d decided she couldn’t build a relationship with a man whose frequent absences made him incapable of sharing his life with her.
It wasn’t the first time his job had gotten in the way of his love life, and he doubted it would be the last. But he couldn’t regret his commitment to his work. Not when there were people like this woman and child, who deserved all the help and protection they could get.
He was ready to settle down and start a family, but it seemed that particular dream wasn’t going to happen for him anytime soon...if at all.
He rechecked the room to make sure everything was secure. It gave him something to do besides sit and wait, but it failed to keep his mind busy. He was still thinking about Dylan and how difficult it was going to be to keep an energetic little boy from running off and attracting attention. They needed someplace safe, where they could go so Dylan could run and jump, a safe house with a large living room perhaps or... No, he couldn’t go there. He’d never taken anyone back to his family’s ranch and he couldn’t see himself starting now. He wasn’t going to ask his family to put themselves at risk.
A knock on the door grabbed his attention and his hand instantly went to his gun. Melissa grabbed Dylan and pulled him to her as Miles walked to the door.
“Who is it?” he asked.
A voice replied, “Room service. We have your dinner, sir.”
Miles frowned. He hadn’t ordered anything, but he supposed it was possible Griffin had placed an order. He’d let the waiter in...but he’d stay on his guard.
He unlocked the door and opened it, positioning himself behind the door with his hand on his gun just in case as a waiter pushed a cart inside with several trays on top. The man flashed Melissa and Dylan a smile then turned to Miles, handing him the receipt to sign.
Once Miles took it, the waiter then reached under the cart, pushed aside the tablecloth and grabbed hold of something.
He was going for a gun.
Miles dropped the receipt book and pulled his weapon. “Don’t move!” he shouted as the man spun around. Miles kicked him, sending him sprawling backward over the cart and to the floor on the other side of the bed. He raised his gun and shouted for Melissa to grab Dylan and run.
Without hesitating, she swooped up the child and took off down the hallway toward the elevators. Miles backed from the room, keeping one eye on her and the other on the attacker. When he poked his head up, Miles fired and the man ducked for cover again. Miles heard the elevator door ding, indicating it was there, and he didn’t wait around to see if he’d hit the attacker. He took off running, dashing into the elevator just before the doors slid closed. He hit the button to the basement and willed the elevator to move quickly.
Melissa tried to comfort Dylan, who was frightened and crying. Miles quelled a desire to tell her to quiet him. He knew how difficult that would be. Still, a crying child was a dead giveaway to their location. He could only hope Dylan would calm down on his own before the elevator doors opened again.
They had to get out of here now. If Shearer’s men had infiltrated the hotel, there might be more than one attacker coming after her.
The elevator reached the basement and Miles braced himself for a fight. He raised his gun, ready to fire if anyone was waiting for them. The doors opened and he breathed a sigh of relief that no one was there. Either the shooter was working alone, or his backup was staking out the lobby or some other exit. Still, Miles wouldn’t let down his guard. They needed to get out of this hotel before he came after them.
He hustled Melissa and Dylan toward his SUV and hurried them inside, glad to see that Griffin had had the forethought to install Dylan’s car seat before he’d left. Melissa crawled into the back seat with Dylan as Miles slid behind the wheel.
“Put your head down until I tell you it’s clear,” he ordered as he sped out of his parking space and toward the exit.
Their attacker emerged at the exit ramp. He raised a gun at them, but Miles wasn’t going to be deterred. He hit the accelerator and sped toward the man. The guy fired several shots that hit the windshield but the bullet-resistant glass didn’t break.
He rammed the accelerator and aimed the car right for the exit. If this guy wanted to get out of his way, fine. If not, he was going to get hit.
The guy jumped out of the path of the car just in time as Miles turned out of the garage and headed for the interstate.
“Are you both okay?” he asked as he merged into traffic and checked his mirrors to see the attacker running after them on foot. He wouldn’t catch up to them, but Miles kept an eye on him, anyway, to make sure he didn’t enter a vehicle of his own and give chase.
“We’re okay,” Melissa told him, but her voice sounded shaky with fear. That was to be expected.
“Stay low for now.” He pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed his boss’s number. “Griffin, they found us at the hotel.”
“What? Already? How?”
“I don’t know, but there was an attacker. He came in, pretending to be bringing room service. Get down to the hotel and see what you can find out. I’m taking them to a safer place. I’ll let you know when we land somewhere.”
He ended the call. He didn’t tell Griffin where he was going. He didn’t know himself yet. There were two other backup safe houses. One of them was only six blocks away, but when he checked his mirrors and spotted a car that looked suspicious, he questioned going there just yet. He made a left turn and the car followed him, so he tried more evasive measures. The car kept on their tail.
They were definitely being followed.
It seemed the attacker had an accomplice after all.
He hit the redial button on his phone. “I have a black SUV following us. I’m nixing the West Street safe house.”
“I’ll call the local cops and have the car stopped. Where are you?”
“Eighth and Main Avenue, turning right onto Riverside.”
“I’ve got cars headed to your location now.”
He turned and again the SUV kept up. He glanced into the back seat. Melissa was crouched on the floorboards, her body tucked around her son’s and her eyes wide with fear. He had to keep them safe. Dylan was still crying, but she was doing her best to comfort him and keep him quiet. At this point, it wouldn’t put them in any more danger whether he screamed or not, but it sure would help Miles’s concentration if he was quiet.
He turned again and screeched to a stop. Traffic was bumper-to-bumper. He grimaced. This wasn’t good. The black SUV pulled up behind him. He drove aggressively and managed to move up two spaces in the other lane, but they weren’t going forward anytime soon and the SUV had blocked their way backward.
Miles rammed the vehicle into Park and reached for his phone and his gun. “We have to move now.” He crawled across the front seat to the passenger side and pushed open the door. He raised his gun, then opened the back door for Melissa and Dylan. She emerged carrying the boy in her arms and he pushed her forward, through the mass of motionless cars, positioning his body between her and the SUV.
The men in the SUV saw them and got out, revealing their own weapons.
“Run,” Miles shouted as he raised his gun and fired, hitting the black SUV. The two men began returning fire and Miles turned and ran after Melissa.
People in their cars began to scream and jump out of their vehicles at the sound of gunfire, trying to get to safety. Miles stopped every few feet and fired off a few rounds, shooting high to keep from hitting anyone. He didn’t like putting innocent bystanders in danger, but he couldn’t do anything to stop the bad guys from firing their weapons into the crowd. Nothing except giving up, which he wasn’t prepared to do. The chaos was good for them, though. It helped give Melissa and Dylan cover as they ran. And he was sure to keep up with them.
He heard sirens, and moments later several police cars appeared. The men went in opposite directions, but stopped pursuing them. Miles saw one disappear into a store and the other into an alleyway. The police called for Miles to stop, too, but he didn’t. He couldn’t lose Melissa in the crowd. He had to remain with her. He turned and took off running, hoping the cops wouldn’t fire in a crowd of people like the bad guys had.
They didn’t, and soon their shouts to stop were nothing more than voices on the wind. Catching up with Melissa and Dylan, he pushed them into a crowded restaurant, through the kitchen and out the back door into an alleyway, ignoring the protests of the restaurant staff. He took out his phone and called Griffin again.
“Any news?”
“The shooters got away, but the local police department has their car. Maybe we can get some answers from that.”
He doubted it. It was probably stolen or had been rented under a false identification, and the men were almost certainly wearing gloves to avoid leaving fingerprints. These guys weren’t amateurs.
“Where are you?” Griffin asked.
“Still on the street, but I haven’t seen any signs of the shooters. They scattered after the cops arrived.” He ended the call, then motioned for Melissa to crouch behind the dumpster in the alley. “Let me check out the street.”
She nodded and ducked down, pulling Dylan with her.
He walked to the end of the alleyway. People were milling around, coming and going, oblivious to the commotion they’d caused, which had been several blocks away. He didn’t see any sign of the shooters or anyone who appeared to be looking for them. He spotted a cab turning from the opposite direction and silently sighed in relief. He walked into the street and hailed it, leaning into the driver’s window to check his identification against the driver’s face before he motioned for Melissa and Dylan to come out.
She hurried from the alley and climbed into the cab, seating Dylan on her lap. Miles slid in beside them and told the driver to head to the airport. The driver turned the cab around and headed back in the opposite direction.
“Are we taking a flight?” she asked Miles.
He shook his head but lowered his voice. “We’ll rent a car at the airport.”
Once the cab dropped them off, he headed toward the car-rental desk.
“I also need to rent a car seat,” he told the clerk. Dylan’s car seat was back in his SUV and they were not going back that way.
His mind was already ticking as he tried to figure out how Shearer’s men had found her at the hotel. Griffin had made those arrangements and Miles had double-checked everything to make certain they were secure. She should have been safe. Unless...
The clerk handed over the keys, along with the car seat, and Miles led Melissa and Dylan toward the vehicle, keeping a hand on her back and his eyes on a constant scan, making sure no one was watching them. He helped install the car seat and stood guard as Melissa buckled Dylan in, then crawled in beside him. Miles slid into the driver’s seat of the rented SUV, but before he started the engine, he turned to Melissa. He needed to see her face as he asked these questions. “Have you made any calls? Phoned anyone? A friend, a relative, Dylan’s day care?”
She shook her head. “No one. Why?”
“I’m just trying to figure out how they found us at the hotel.”
Her brow creased and anger lit her eyes. “I didn’t call anyone. I haven’t broken any of the rules. Those other marshals tried to accuse me of making a mistake, too, but I wouldn’t do anything to put my son in danger. Trust me, I know the risks.”
He believed her. She’d witnessed her mother’s murder. She knew the risks all too well. But that didn’t explain how yet another safe house had been compromised, especially when such precautions had been taken. He didn’t like what that indicated. No witness assigned to his office’s detail who’d followed the rules had ever been killed, and he wasn’t ready to change that statistic. He was proud of it. But he was baffled by her case and understood why Griffin wanted this protection detail kept quiet from the rest of the office.
He hated even considering it, but he couldn’t ignore the facts. If Melissa had followed the rules—and he believed she had—then the only ones who could have known her location were the agents who had guarded her before Miles arrived.
And that meant Griffin was right—someone in WITSEC was a mole.