The Marshal's Runaway Witness. Diane Burke

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      Angelina raised a hand to her forehead. A thick gauze bandage made her pause.

       What?

      She opened her eyes. A lightning bolt of hurt shot through her head and she squeezed them closed again.

       Okay. Stay still and think. Where are you? What happened?

      It didn’t take long for her mental fog to lift. Everything came rushing back and she wished it hadn’t. The shooting. Her best friend, Maria, dead.

      She shot up in bed and instantly regretted it. The room spun like an amusement park ride out of control. Her stomach turned over. She held her head with both hands and groaned aloud.

      “Good. You’re awake.”

      Angelina froze like a person who had stumbled upon a deadly rattler. She’d recognize that voice anywhere.

       Dylan McKnight.

      How had he found her? The last time she had seen US deputy marshal Dylan McKnight he was conspiring to have her killed.

      She hadn’t wanted to believe it. Wouldn’t have believed it if she hadn’t witnessed it with her own eyes.

      Angelina had been sitting in a holding room waiting to testify before the grand jury. She knew her testimony would go a long way in helping them determine whether there was enough evidence to indict her father for murder.

      Nerves had skittered up her spine. Her legs had bounced up and down and her hands wouldn’t stop shaking. Unable to sit still another second, she sprang up from her chair and paced the room. On one of her passes she glanced out the door into the hall and saw Dylan slip the bailiff a piece of paper. Minutes later the bailiff, who had a sinister look in his eyes and a sneer on his lips, passed that note to her.

      Do you really think you will live to testify? I own cops. I own judges. I own the marshals that pretend to protect you. You will never be able to hide from me.

      The note had broken her heart. If she hadn’t seen the exchange she would not have believed it. During the few short months they were together in the witness protection program before she fled, she’d started to have feelings for Dylan and had believed they were returned.

      How could she have been so wrong?

      She’d tried to give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe Dylan had given the bailiff a different note. Or maybe Dylan hadn’t read the note and was just a go-between passing it from an outside source to the bailiff.

      Maybe.

      But could she trust her own judgment anymore? She’d trusted her father, believed him when he claimed to be a successful businessman who was the brunt of vicious rumors by envious competitors. She’d believed Dylan when he told her he cared about her and promised to keep her safe.

      She’d been wrong about both the men closest to her.

      Her father had turned out to be a cold-blooded murderer.

      And Dylan...

      Even if Dylan hadn’t known the contents of the note, he’d still let the bailiff come close enough to give it to her, close enough to kill her if he had wanted. She couldn’t trust Dylan to keep her safe. The note proved she couldn’t trust the marshals, the cops, even the bailiff! A heavy lead weight had formed in the pit of her stomach and with sickening clarity she’d known the truth. She couldn’t trust anyone anymore except herself—not even God.

      And for the past three years that was exactly what she’d done—protected herself.

      Until last night...

      Dylan approached the head of the hospital bed. “What’s the matter, Angelina? Have nothing to say to an old friend?”

      The warmth of the US marshal’s breath fanned her cheek when he spoke. She couldn’t be sure whether it was his words causing her pulse to trip or if it was the proximity of the man himself, the man who long ago had made her pulse race for reasons that had nothing to do with fear.

       Did he have to stand so close?

      There was a time when she would have welcomed his nearness.

      But that was a lifetime ago. Three years had changed her. Three years had changed everything.

      “Did you really think you could pull it off?” Dylan crossed his arms like an angry sentinel blocking all means of escape.

      One glance into his dark, penetrating, hostile eyes brought her back to her senses. Her nerve endings danced in fear. What was he going to do with her now? She had betrayed him—and the years had not erased the memory.

      She needed to run again—now, this minute—as far and as fast as she could. If she could only stop the shooting pain in her head and clear her blurred vision.

      “Please...”

      Please what? Even she didn’t know what she was trying to say. Where did that empty plea come from? Did she really think he could forget what she’d done?

      A sense of dread cloaked her body like a heavy blanket. She inhaled deeply, exhaled slowly, trying not to panic. Somehow she needed to buy time while she tried to figure out her next move. She didn’t know what to do. She didn’t even know where she was. Her gaze skittered about the room.

      Okay. She was in a hospital.

      A tightness drew her attention to the bandage squeezing her right arm. An IV was connected to her left hand and a steel rail guarded the left side of her bed.

      A dull throb claimed the space right between her eyes. Sluggish, unfocused thoughts made her head spin as if she was trying to resurface from deep waters.

      The pounding in her head became a full-fledged gallop of pain as the significance of the night’s events slammed into her. Every cell in her body screamed.

       You’re in danger. Get out of here. Run!

      She threw the covers off and tried to swing her legs from the bed.

      Her head swam and her eyes refused to focus.

      “Where do you think you’re going? You are in no shape to be getting out of bed.”

      She ignored Dylan’s words and tried a second time to stand. When her feet hit the floor, her legs, shaking as if they didn’t have a bone in them, stubbornly refused to hold her weight.

      Two familiar, strong hands clasped her waist, supporting her, keeping her from hitting the cold linoleum in the white-washed room. Angelina knew she shouldn’t but she welcomed the strength of his sturdy male torso and leaned heavily against him.

      The sound of his heartbeat beneath her ear soothed her. The warmth of his body made her want to burrow deeper in his arms. The woodsy aroma of his cologne mingling with his own masculine scent brought a smile to her lips and stirred pleasant memories.

      Seeking reassurance she lifted her head, СКАЧАТЬ