CHAPTER 2
Glaring rays of light danced on Daisy’s face, waking her with what felt like the worst hangover ever. Grabbing her head in an effort to stop the pounding, she struggled to open her heavy lids and see what was so offensively bright. An open window with white, gauze-like curtains billowed in the light cool breeze as they let in the source of her assault. Her memory kicked in, and she shot out of the bed she was in, instantly on the defensive.
Big mistake. The room spun, her head exploded, and her stomach rolled. She hadn’t had any alcohol the night before and didn’t remember the last thing she ate. Daisy sat at the edge of the bed, holding her head, willing the tight, vice-like pain to ease. Where was she, and how had she gotten there? Events from the previous evening flashed through her head like a highlight reel in reverse: the man in the van with the blonde woman, the needle in her neck, running from the Senator’s mansion. The dead Senator. It was like a bad movie playing on repeat, haunting her every thought.
If there was anything good she could pull from everything taunting her mind and challenging her emotions, it was that she was not dead. They didn’t kill her. But why?
There would be time to answer all the questions at the forefront of her aching mind. Now, she needed a plan. She still had a chance to get herself out of this mess and run like hell to the nearest police station.
From the corner of her eye, the contents of the bedside table caught her attention. Still in a fog, it took her a minute to catch up with her own thoughts and catch on. There was a bottle of water, a small plate with a few pastries, and a white business card sitting there, waiting for her attention. Afraid the water may be poisoned, and pastries tainted, she elected to forgo the food and drink, despite the sudden cottonmouth she wished to quench.
Perhaps this was all part of the game and her demise – torture – through various forms of poison. Rolling her eyes at her own dramatic thoughts, Daisy made a silent vow to stop watching gritty crime shows. Especially since her life had managed to become one, and it was less than entertaining.
When she read the business card and its significance settled in, she didn’t know whether she should have felt relieved or more frightened. Carter Landry, US Attorney. Scrawled below the name in small, neat handwriting were the words: Big Scary Guy. A US Attorney – that meant things like the White House, Capitol Hill, Washington DC. Finding herself in the hands of one of the land’s highest powers meant whatever she witnessed must have been more than an assassination. Daisy wasn’t an expert, but she didn’t think it was common practice for a US Attorney to hide her versus going to some sort of facility – whatever the federal equivalent to a police station was.
Slow to her feet, unwilling to make the same mistake twice and tempt vertigo, she made her way to the window. Outside, she saw a balcony-like deck resting above a tree-lined river. From her vantage point, there didn’t seem to be any other homes around them.
“A river house,” she whispered. “Why does that sound like it should mean something to me?”
Figuring the pastries and water were indeed safe – he was a federal officer of the court, after all – she grabbed a scone and the bottle before making her way out of the room in search for more answers. The long hall led to an open space of rustic charm with windows all around, boasting stunning views of the surrounding wilderness. There was a man and woman standing with their backs to Daisy just outside the open sliding glass door, each with a steaming coffee mug in hand.
“Good morning, sunshine,” the blonde said without turning in Daisy’s direction. “Have you calmed down, or are you going to pick up where you left off last night?”
The man, Carter, Daisy assumed, chuckled before turning her way. “Ignore her, Daisy. Sheridan’s not very nice until she’s had a few gallons of coffee.”
“You’re…Carter.” A statement, not a question. “US Attorney, Carter…Landry?”
“She can read,” the woman chided, her back still turned to Daisy.
Carter gave the woman a sharp look before turning his attention to Daisy. With a warm smile that lightened his hard, chiseled features, he suggested, “Let’s go inside, have a seat, and…talk. You up for that?”
With a nod, Daisy made her way to a nearby sofa and sat, pulling her legs under her. With her pastry and water on the side table, she grabbed the throw pillow to her side and hugged it for comfort. Though she knew she was probably safe – there was no guarantee she was – she’d seen enough of those crime shows to know even the good guys can be bad.
The dead Senator was good, or seemed to be, but given what went down in his house, at his party, he kept bad company. What did that say about him? Maybe nothing, or maybe she should do herself a favor and keep her guard up until she knows she doesn’t have to.
Carter took a seat across from Daisy on the matching club chair while the woman – Sheridan he’d called her – sat on a wooden barstool at the nearby wet bar. With that friendly smile back in place, she couldn’t help but feel safe with him. He had that big brother vibe going for him…not that she had her own brother to compare – but if she did, she was sure it would be like that.
“Where are we?” Daisy asked. “Why am I here?”
“We’re in a small town on the Mississippi River, about six hours from Nashville.” Carter paused to see how she handled the information, given the hysterics the previous night. “You’re officially off the grid and under our protection.”
“I’m in the witness protection program?” Daisy questioned.
“Pffft. The goal is to keep you alive, sweetheart. Not feed you to the lions.” Sheridan chuckled.
Daisy’s brow furrowed. “But…witness protection. It’s…government, right? Like FBI or something?”
Sheridan nodded with a dramatic eyeroll. “Exactly.”
Confused for a moment, Daisy stalled before what Sheridan was suggesting dawned on her: a corrupt government. “Oh. Ohhh.”
“Senator Martinez was just another high-profile casualty of something bigger than we understand at the moment,” Carter began. “It seems each of the witnesses who have been put in protection, somehow turn up dead or missing. The Senator had information for me – information we’ll never get now.”
“This time, we’re doing things our way,” Sheridan said. “There is something dirty in Washington, and we aren’t risking another eye witness. You’re with us until this is over – the feds don’t even know about you.”
Daisy was shocked, to say the least. Her simple life of odd jobs and music was suddenly very complicated. “You…grabbed me right away. You weren’t inside the mansion, so how did you know the Senator was murdered and I was there to see it so quickly?”
The sliding door suddenly opened, and a man walked in – a man she recognized. On instinct, she grabbed the closest thing she could use as a weapon and stood in defense. “Oh my God. He…he found me! He…he was there…in the hallway! He chased me.”
“Freeze, asshole!” Sheridan jumped to her feet, pulling a weapon from the holster at her waist and aiming at the man in question. “Are you sure that’s the guy, Daisy? He’s the one who killed the Senator? Say the word, and I’ll save everyone some trouble and put a bullet in his head right now!”
“Knock it off, Sheridan. You put a bullet in my head and Ma will have your ass,” the man said before turning his attention back to Daisy. “I’m Ryker O’Reilly. I wasn’t chasing you to hurt you, I was trying to protect you. Put the…banana down, and we can talk this out.”
Daisy looked at her chosen weapon, then the bowl of plastic fruit it came from. She lowered her arm, disappointed with her faux weapon. When a second man entered through the same door, her banana went back up, ready to strike. The man laughed, and she nearly lost it until she saw who walked in beside him.
“Do you want me to shoot that one too?” Sheridan asked. “He probably deserves it more than the other one.”
“Jesus, Sher, put the gun away already,” Ryker said. “Meet my kid brother, Ronan.”
“His twin brother. He’s only a half hour older,” Ronan said. “He likes to hold it over my head. And our sister over there is always trying to shoot both of us. Ignore them. They’re both assholes.”
“Twin? You two look…nothing alike,” Daisy replied.
Sheridan holstered her weapon and offered her two cents. “They act just alike though – sometimes they even get that twin ghost pain thing and have simultaneous thoughts. They’re…weird.”
“And you,” Daisy began, “you don’t look like you’re related to either of them. They’re so…big. And you’re so…well, not big?”
“What Sheridan lacks in size, she makes up for in attitude,” Carter added, locked in a near awkward stare with Sheridan. “She grew up an O’Reilly, surrounded by big O’Reilly boys. She can hold her own.”
“Oh, so you’re the older brother?” Daisy asked of Carter.
Ronan and Ryker laughed as if they were in on some sort of joke, but the heated stare between Carter and Sheridan remained. “Oh. I see.”
Breaking the awkward silence, Daisy tossed her plastic banana aside and made her way to where Ronan stood with her dog. Kneeling, she wrapped her arms around the mess of a dog’s neck and hugged it while scratching its back. “You brought Gibson. How did you know…?”
Her words trailed off when she remembered exactly how they knew she had a dog. She’d let that question go unanswered and forget her hysterical behavior the night before ever happened. “Were you scared, Gibson? I bet you were.”
“He didn’t want to be found, but he also didn’t hide to well – under a blanket on the couch,” Ronan said, patting the dog’s head. “What happened to his fur? Some kind of rash or something? He sure likes to run.”
“Actually, he’s a she,” Daisy corrected with a giggle. “She’s a licker. Nervous. Just licks patches of fur off. She looks so much better than when I adopted her.”
“Didn’t you call him – her Gibson?” Ronan asked.
“Sure did. Gibson, like the guitar. It suits her.” Sitting on the floor with her legs crossed, the dog laid down, as much of her on Daisy’s lap that would fit. “I used to call her Dolly, like Dolly Parton. But she never responded. She was having a panic attack one night, so I played a soft song with my guitar and sang to her. Calmed right down. So, Gibson it was. She prefers it.”
With tears in her eyes, Daisy looked up at the two men towering over her. “Thank you for bringing her. We are all each other has besides Gran.”
“Wait—” Daisy hurried to her feet, “my gran, she’ll worry if I’m not there to visit every day. I have to tell her I’m safe and…”
“You can’t tell her anything, Daisy,” Carter interrupted, his tone near menacing. “You can’t tell anyone anything. No calls, no emails, no texts, no…anything. Understood? It’s your life on the line, and the people we are dealing with will go to any lengths to get to you. Reaching out to someone puts them in danger.”
Daisy’s face paled, and for the first time since meeting them, she was speechless. Sheridan stepped in with a rare display of kindness. “Your grandmother is safe. The boys had her moved last night to a place where no one will find her, and she’s under an assumed name, just to be extra cautious. We have people posted in the area too, just to watch over her.”
Daisy nodded her head and gave a weak smile. “Thank you. When…when can I see her?”
“You can’t. In fact, you can’t know where she is either. It’s safer for you both this way.” Somewhat out of character, Sheridan shared a semblance of a smile. “You have to trust us, Daisy. The only way you both survive this is if you trust us and do everything we say without question. Can you do that?”
Running her hands through her wild, honey-colored curls, Daisy stared at the floor for a moment, as if the answers were laying there, waiting for her. With a quick nod, and a lone tear trailing her face, she agreed. She’d do whatever she had to to stay alive…for Gran.
“Okay. We all have places to be and things to do,” Carter ordered. “Grab a quick shower, change your clothes, and let’s hit the road. I need to keep you moving.”
“Clothes. I…don’t…”
“There’s a bag in your room on the chair. The boys brought it in with them this morning,” Carter informed.
A look of surprise flooded her expression. “My…clothes?”
“Don’t worry. Ryker is really good at matching up bras and panties,” Ronan teased.
Eyes wide and jaw dropped, Daisy gasped. “You went through my…uh, you went through…those?”
“Relax. I didn’t look,” Ryker ribbed.
Ronan waggled his eyebrows, chuckling. “But I did.”
In a bit of shock, and clearly overwhelmed, Daisy left the room with flushed cheeks and her dog. It was time to get ready for the road.
Hair still damp, Daisy wandered outside with her dog and small bag when she didn’t find anyone inside. There were two different SUV’s in the driveway with escorts standing around, waiting for her.
“Where’s the flower truck?” she asked.
“Gone. And don’t get used to this truck, we have four more vehicle switches along the way. Can’t be too careful,” Carter explained.
“Why don’t we fly?” If they were in a hurry and trying to get as far from Nashville as quickly as they could, driving didn’t seem logical to Daisy.
“We fly, we’re found,” Carter said sharply, like some kind of warning. “With the kind of technology the government has, we’d be found through facial recognition alone in no time. We stay under the radar. That means no major highways or freeways, toll roads – anything with security cameras that can capture us. Back roads, small towns, and anything…dated won’t have the kind of tech that’s easily hacked.”
“Hacked?” Daisy chuckled. “You sound paranoid. It can’t be that easy to…”
“It is,” he cut her off. “You’re about to see just how easy with where we’re going.”
“Which is?”
Carter smiled. “Portland.”