Shielding His Christmas Witness. Laura Scott

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СКАЧАТЬ 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 СКАЧАТЬ