Ellie strode from the restroom to the bank of elevators then jabbed her finger on the up button. She didn’t usually pay much attention to her appearance, but she’d slipped into the bathroom to check her makeup. That morning she’d been compelled to put on her game face, which meant brushing on mascara and applying lipstick she normally didn’t wear. Neither had been smudged, and her hair had stayed back in its tortoiseshell clip. Her marshal’s star hung securely from the lanyard around her neck, and her Glock was safe in its shoulder holster. If she was honest, she’d also made the stop to take a breath and force herself to relax. Whatever happened in this meeting, she would rein in her hair-trigger reaction, and listen before forming an opinion.
She tapped her foot. Waiting sucked, and only served to make her more nervous. She caught herself before she could chew off her lipstick. I can do this. Two other people joined her at the elevator bank, looking up at the progress of each car: a balding man who needed to cut back on the carbs, and a petite Asian woman with stiletto heels. Both, like her, wore professional attire.
The elevator binged and they entered the car. Ellie chose her floor, then waited through stops on lower floors before getting to hers. She’d tried to get information about this meeting, but all she’d been able to learn was that it involved protection for a federal judge. Samuel Creed.
Everyone knew about Judge Creed. Four months ago, a defendant had somehow smuggled a knife into his courtroom and the video of him all but flying over the bench to help take down the guy had been played and replayed on social media and news programs around the world. He’d refused interviews and downplayed his role, but that had only sharpened curiosity about him. It didn’t hurt that there was something about him—his looks, his presence, his steely gray eyes—that made everyone sit up and pay attention.
For over a decade, she’d been able to tuck memories of the man into a corner of her brain labeled “best forgotten.” Hard to do now with social media being what it was.
After his superhero maneuver, other aspects of his judicial career began gaining attention, like the unconventional sentences and statements from the bench that had led one fan to create a blog titled “Creed’s Law,” which had garnered tens of thousands of followers.
At thirty-seven, Samuel Creed was the youngest federal judge in the country, and there was that forceful something about him that had memes speculating about what lay hidden under the judge’s black robes. Not that she paid any attention except in her capacity as a US Marshal, whose responsibilities included the protection of federal judges.
She was counting on him not remembering her.
She exited the elevator, went through the frosted glass doors stenciled with “US Marshals Service, District of Oregon,” waved to the receptionist, and walked briskly to the door of the conference room. Another steadying breath and she opened the door.
The whole team was present. Seth, her eldest brother, was Chief Deputy in charge of the unorthodox group assembled to locate their father, fugitive Richard Jameson, as well as other members of his right-wing extremist group.
Seth stood at the counter with the coffeepot that filled the air with its life-giving aroma, sipping from a cup while her other brother Linc poured coffee into a travel mug. They’d both shed their suit jackets, and wore their holsters under their shoulders and marshal’s stars on their belts. When Linc saw her, he raised a brow and held up the pot, and at her nod filled another cup. Rounding out the team was Marshal Isabella Nikolaev.
There’d been some major pushback from the higher-ups in Marshals Service when the three offspring of Richard Jameson had been assigned to hunt him down. But Seth had argued their case and used every ounce of influence he had, and finally, the brass approved.
Which didn’t explain the presence of the man standing with his back to her, gazing out the window. He stood separate and alone. Outside was a dazzling example of perfect Portland fall weather, but she wondered if Sam Creed even saw the view. He hadn’t turned when she’d come into the room, and she was glad for the momentary reprieve.
Taking the steaming cup from Linc, she sat next to Bella. Ellie and the other female marshal had become fast friends. They needed to stick together to make their voices heard over the two men on the team who thought they were right about every damn thing.
“Let’s get started,” Seth spoke with firm authority.
Creed turned and Ellie braced herself. His gaze rested briefly on her before moving on to the others.
So far so good.
Seth sat at the head of the conference table. “Let’s get the introductions over with.” He indicated the man who sat to his left. “This is Judge Samuel Creed of the US District Court in Pendleton.” Seth gave the team members’ names.
Ellie watched Sam’s face carefully when Seth said her name. Nothing changed in the judge’s expression. No flash of recognition, no confusion over trying to place her. Relief brought a slight easing of her tension. Apparently, thirteen years was long enough to erase any memory of her.
“Here’s the background,” Seth continued. “Judge Creed is the recipient of anonymous threats with a commonality that says they’re from the same or similar sender. We believe the threats are linked to right-wing militias active in eastern Oregon. Our investigation has turned up evidence connecting some of those groups with the larger American Freedom Confederation we’ve been after.”
“What do they want?” Linc asked.
“Primarily, someone freed from prison who we suspect is affiliated with their organization. They’ve included general warnings against US government facilities, then more specific threats against the judge for decisions he’s made that they consider attacks on Second Amendment rights. They claim the country would be better off without traitors who refuse to defend the Constitution, and the judge has been warned to watch his back. You know, typical shit.” Seth sipped his coffee before continuing. “We’ve offered a protection detail, which His Honor turned down.”
Ellie glanced at Sam, whose gaze remained fixed on Seth.
“He’s made a somewhat irregular proposition to deal with the threats.” Seth tipped his head to Sam. “Judge, you want to explain?”
Sam nodded at Seth before running his gaze over the group. “Thank you for agreeing to this meeting.” He spoke in a low, clear voice Ellie thought likely helped him maintain control of his courtroom. “Protection is reactionary. It won’t find whoever’s threatening me. My plan is to lure in those involved, open myself to action on their part, and hopefully trap the bastards before they can harm me or anyone else.”
Seth commented, “The Marshals Service sees value in this plan, but is unwilling to leave him undefended, so Judge Creed’s girlfriend is moving in with him. That will be you, Ellie.”
Ellie could almost hear the click as Sam’s gaze locked on her. Panic had her sitting up straight. “Ah, I’d make a terrible girlfriend. Bella’s a much better choice.”
Ellie shifted when Bella’s heel came down on Ellie’s toe. Way to throw a friend under the bus. Moving her foot out of range, she continued, “I’d like to follow up on the leads I’ve uncovered on the AFC.”
Seth never gave much away, but over thirty years of knowing her brother allowed her to read the slightly raised brow to mean What the hell, Ellie? as clearly as if he’d said the words out loud.
His voice held cool authority. “Sam and I discussed the options, and we agreed you’re the best choice to act as the girlfriend, in part because you both attended University of Oregon at roughly the same time so it’s plausible you could have met there. Bonus, you have a law degree, so you come from the same background.”
Damn. Seth was right. No way out of this without giving herself away. Ellie forced a nod of agreement. “Okay. What about the rest of the team?”
“Bella, Linc, and I will relocate to Pendleton for as long as you’re providing the judge’s protection. In addition to adding to the judge’s security, we’ll continue working on our ongoing investigation of the anti-government movement in eastern Oregon and Idaho. We think the threats against Sam are connected.”
“Four marshals in Pendleton, Oregon?” Bella’s brow furrowed over her exotic eyes. “Something else must have happened to justify that level of protection.”
“Correct. You want to tell the team what you found on your car, Sam?”
A flash of some emotion crossed his expression, but his tone remained dispassionate. “C-four attached to an inside wheel well of my vehicle.”
Linc leaned forward in his seat. “No shit? How’d you find it?”
Sam shrugged. “This was two weeks ago. I was parked on dirt. It’d rained, and I noticed fresh boot prints around my car. There were indications someone had knelt by the rear passenger tire. I took a look and saw a brick of plastic explosive, complete with a detonator, attached with duct tape.”
His voice had deepened, become richer in the years since he’d been in law school. Ellie ignored the shiver snaking down her spine. Focus was the word of the day. “Where was your car parked? Were there any witnesses?”
“I was parked along the River Parkway. The chief deputy can better answer your question about witnesses.”
“The investigation is ongoing, but as of now we have no witnesses,” Seth affirmed. “The C-four had a motion-activated detonator. We’re looking into possible sources for the bomb materials, but it appears likely the C-four is from a batch stolen from a military base near Portland. Part of our investigation is determining whether there was inside help at the base.”
Someone attempting to blow up a federal judge was serious business and added a layer of urgency and danger to the job of protecting Judge Creed. “What are the details of my cover?”
“We’re keeping it simple. You and Sam were long-distance boyfriend and girlfriend, and decided to take your relationship up a notch. You’ve come to Oregon to live together. You’ll use the name Rachel Sinclair. Cover documents are being made. You’re a lawyer and have been working for a firm in San Diego. Your plan is to spend your time studying for the Oregon bar exam.”
“And what will you be doing while I’m moving in with my boyfriend?”
“We’ve procured a short-term rental, a residence not far from the judge’s house. Linc will be the marshal assigned to the courthouse, and since a marshal’s job is to protect federal judges, that won’t be remarkable. To keep anyone from being tipped off by the large number of marshals assigned, Bella and I will pose as lawyers representing a client. Our cover will allow us access to the courthouse and keep our investigation under wraps.”
Bella set down the mug she’d been sipping from, the string from the teabag trailing over the side. “Why keep our mission to protect Judge Creed secret? As federal marshals, it shouldn’t be so unusual to see us at the courthouse.”
“True,” Seth replied. “But we’re going to maintain cover so we don’t tip off the court staff about what’s going on. We can’t assume the threat is only from the outside.”
“You think the messages could be a misdirection,” Ellie surmised.
“Actually, I don’t think they are, but we can’t ignore the possibility.”
“Wouldn’t locals, court staff included, already know about the threats to the judge? People tend to pay attention when a bomb is found attached to a judge’s car.” This question came from Linc.
Seth shook his head. “You’d think, but Sam did us a favor. Instead of calling local law enforcement, he called ATF to deal with the bomb. They defused it and the locals are none the wiser.”
“Except for the bomber, who must have wondered why his toy didn’t work,” Ellie pointed out.
Seth nodded. “We control what we can control. Here’s our immediate plan. Bella, Linc, and I will travel separate from you and the judge so no one sees us together and connects us.” Seth turned to the judge. “Sam, you flew here?” At Sam’s nod, Seth said, “We’ll arrange a rental car so you and Ellie can drive back to Pendleton.”
A woman wearing a marshal’s star came in and passed an envelope to Seth. He opened it and tipped out the contents. “Here’s your new identity, Ellie. You’re now Rachel Sinclair, so give me everything for Eleanor Jameson. You can keep your weapon, but don’t wear it.”
Ellie transferred her new identity into her wallet and couldn’t help feeling that she was being stripped bare as she handed over her badge and ID.
“I need to go back to the hotel to pack.”
Sam spoke directly to Ellie for the first time. “Did you drive here today?”
She shook her head. “I took a rideshare.”
He nodded. “We’ll pick up the rental and stop at the hotel to get your things, then we’ll get on the road.”
They had a good, sensible plan, but she couldn’t help feeling she needed a little alone time to fortify her defenses before she and Sam Creed were thrown together as lovers.