Chapter Seven
Sam glared at her captor. The same the man she’d served a cheesesteak and talked to for nearly an hour. The same man she’d kissed.
Shit. He really was a serial killer.
Why hadn’t she ignored his sexy blue eyes?
Garrett had put his gun away, but she knew it was still there. At least he wasn’t pressing it to her head anymore.
Anger swept through her. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Saving your ass,” he answered hotly. “It would’ve been a lot easier if you’d just agreed to go for drinks with me.”
Her jaw dropped incredulously. “Right. I should have been more considerate and made it easier for you to abduct and murder me.” She lurched for the door.
He stepped in front of it and shook his head. “No one’s getting murdered, I assure you. At least, not by me. Though, no guarantees after the tune-up those guys gave your car,” he informed her as he took out a phone and hit the screen a few times.
“What do you mean?”
Instead of using words, he spread his fingers wide to indicate an explosion. “Boom.”
“A bomb? Those guys put a bomb in my car?” Her voice rose.
“Not a bomb exactly, but they cut your fuel line and set an igniter. It would’ve looked like an accident.”
He lifted a finger at her to wait while he spoke into his phone. “I have her. We’re locked down at Location C. Send a team. I saw two, so probably four.” He paused and looked her over. “She’s unharmed. Shaken up a bit.”
That was an understatement.
When he hung up, she asked, “Why would they want to blow up my car?”
“To kill you.”
She swallowed at his bluntness. No shit. She’d understood that part. “But why me?”
“You saw something you shouldn’t have, I assume.”
The events of the previous night flooded back in startling detail. “Yeah.”
“What did you see?”
“You don’t know?” She frowned. “Who do you work for?” It was obvious from the phone call he was reporting to someone.
“The U.S. Marshals.”
She relaxed slightly at that, though she wasn’t sure why. Maybe she’d been conditioned to think people in the government were safe. Obviously, not all of them were.
“I saw Congressman Howe shoot a woman. Murder her in cold blood.”
Garrett leveled her a gaze. “And you told the police.”
“Of course I told the police. That’s what you do when you see someone shoot another person.”
“And what happened with the cops?”
“They didn’t believe me. They had another guy who fit.”
“Isn’t that convenient,” Garrett mused.
“I knew it wasn’t that guy. I saw Ashton Howe. I know it was him.” It would be easier to believe what the detective had told her, and she really wanted to, but she knew it wasn’t true.
“And that is the reason we’re here hiding right now, and people were shooting at you.”
“Oh, God,” she said as Nikki’s voice echoed in her head. What if he comes after you to shut you up? It all made sense now. “What am I going to do?”
“As I said, it would’ve been a whole lot easier if you’d left with me when I suggested it.”
“You kissed me,” she pointed out. He claimed to be there to help her. But kissing her? Had that been part of the job?
“It’s easier to protect you if I’m close.”
“How close were you intending to get if I’d gone with you?”
He waggled his eyebrows. “It’s not too late to find out.” He left her hanging for a second, then laughed. “Kidding. Relax.”
Her lips started to quiver and she felt the sting of tears. “Relax? People are trying to kill me.”
“Don’t cry.” He held up his hands. “Pull it together. Please,” he added the last word as if it were an afterthought.
Her anger focused her enough that she was able to calm down. She wiped the moisture from the corners of her eyes, but no tears had fallen.
“Here’s what’s going to happen next,” he said authoritatively. “When I get the call that it’s clear, I’m going to move you somewhere safe for the night. Tomorrow, a team will come in to take over your protection detail. I’m going to need your jewelry.” He said it like she wouldn’t even question him.
“Why?” she demanded. “What team?”
“My job is extraction and cleanup, not babysitting or inquisitions. If you could hold all your questions until tomorrow, they’ll explain everything. Right now, I need you to be quiet and give me your jewelry.”
Without thinking, she pulled off her ring and handed it to him. He put it in his pocket and held his hand out for her necklace.
“Hmm. March,” he noted, taking in the aquamarine.
She nodded as he crammed it in his pocket and pointed at her watch.
“No.” She covered it with her hand. Like she could really stop him from prying it from her wrist. He looked extremely capable of taking anything he wanted from her. Anything. “Not the watch,” she begged. “It’s the only thing I have from my dad. He died before I was born. Please?”
Garrett tugged at his bottom lip but shook his head. “I’m sorry, but I’ll need to take it. It’s for your own good.” At least he sounded remorseful.
This man had saved her life. She didn’t want to make his job more difficult, but this watch was the most valuable thing she owned, even though it had probably only cost a hundred bucks.
“Why? What do you need it for?”
“Remember the part about holding your questions until tomorrow?”
“But this could all be a trick so you can steal my jewelry.”
He blinked, then laughed. “Seriously? You think I went through all that trouble, leading you around for blocks while getting shot at, for your wristwatch? Hell, it’s not even a Rolex.”
Okay. When put like that, it didn’t seem likely. “Will I get it back?”
“No,” he answered flatly. Something about his tone and the fact he hadn’t lied made it easier for her to give up her watch.
Holding back more tears, she slid it off her wrist, and dropped it mutely into his open palm. She’d never known her father, but losing the watch felt like losing him.
It was ridiculous. It was only a watch, but it hurt to give it up.
“I’m sorry.” He stared down at the watch for a moment before tucking it in his pocket. “Really.”
She nodded and went to sit in the chair in the corner farthest away from him. Not that she could get too far; it was a small room. And chilly. Now that she wasn’t running for her life, she felt the cold settle in and rubbed her arms with her hands. Her T-shirt didn’t offer much in the way of warmth.
Without a word, he shrugged off his leather coat and wrapped it around her. It held the heat from his body and she warmed up quickly. He went to the thermostat and pressed a few buttons. Immediately, the metal radiators ticked with the flow of heat.
“How’s that?” he asked after a few minutes.
She nodded. “Good.”
“If it makes you feel any better, after I got you back to my hotel room, I would’ve explained everything, and then I would’ve stayed until tomorrow when your protection detail arrived. I definitely would not have touched you inappropriately.”
She didn’t know him at all, but something in the way he looked at her when he said it made her believe him. But she still had to ask. “So you wouldn’t have held a gun to my head?”
He sighed. “People move faster when their life is in danger. I needed you to move faster. As I keep saying, it would’ve been better if you’d just taken me up on my offer to get a drink.”
“Maybe your kissing needs some work,” she suggested tartly.
Definitely not true. His kissing was perfect.
“Hey,” he protested. “No need for insults.”
His comment made her feel bad, which in turn angered her. Why should she feel bad about hurting his feelings when he’d just held a gun to her head and stolen her only family heirlooms?
“What was wrong with the kiss?” he asked after a few minutes of silence.
She sniffed, softening a bit, though God knew why. “It was a little too perfect to be convincing.”
“Too perfect?” He shook his head with lifted brows. “I’ve never heard that before.”
“Well, they should have sent a marshal who was a little less—” She gestured toward his body.
“Senior inspector,” he said.
“Huh?”
“I’m not the marshal. Technically, I’m a deputy marshal, but my title is senior inspector because of my specific job.”
“Ah.”
“Anyway, a marshal who’s less…?” He tilted his head to the side, clearly not understanding what she’d been inferring.
“Never mind.” She didn’t want to talk about her attraction to the sexy marshal. Er, inspector. “By the way, the name Garrett is a little pretentious. Next time, you should go for something normal, like Todd or Steve.”
“I’ll tell my mother you said so.” He checked his phone.
“It’s your real name?” She’d thought government agents always used aliases. Was nothing she’d seen on TV real?
“Yep.”
“God, just kill me now,” she muttered.
He chuckled. “My middle name is Steven, though, if that helps.”
She could feel her face burning. “I’m sorry.”
“I had a friend in third grade named Todd,” he said as he typed something into his phone.
Either because she was exhausted or because she was terrified—or maybe both—she burst out laughing. She couldn’t stop. She was almost to the point of hysterical.
He laughed, too, but she was sure any second he would get tired of her hilarity and slap her out of it. She took a few deep breaths, and after a couple of extra snickers, she wiped her eyes and shook her head. “Sorry about that,” she said.
“Much better than crying.”
“I had a friend named Todd, too.” She took another deep breath, and the crazy moment passed.
She was suddenly exhausted. She rested her head on the table and closed her eyes. While she focused on her breathing and tried not to doze off from the adrenaline drain, a few things became clear to her.
When she raised her head, he was watching her. He looked away when she caught him.
“This team…my protection detail, you said?” she asked. She really needed more information.
“They’ll explain it all. I don’t get involved in that end of things.”
But she was piecing it together from the crime shows she’d seen. “You’re putting me into witness protection? You took my jewelry so you can fake my death, right?”
“Yeah,” he admitted quietly. “You’ll be in temporary protection until after Congressman Howe’s been arrested and gone to trial. Once it’s over, they’ll find a new place for you to live. New name. New life.”
“And my old life?”
“Sorry.” That word alone explained everything better than the team would the next day. Her old life was gone. Forever.
“My friends will think I’m dead?” She was cold again, despite the warmth of the coat.
“Yes.”
“Nikki will be so sad.” Sam was already sad just thinking about how much she was going to miss her best friend.
“She’ll be safer, and you’ll be safer, if everyone thinks you’re gone. At least you don’t have parents.”
She frowned. “What makes you say that?” She watched his face for a reaction, but there was none. She’d told him all about her fake parents, as well as her imaginary brothers and sisters.
“I know everything about you. It helps when I’m bringing someone in.”
She skipped over the whole “bringing someone in” part because she knew if she asked, he’d just tell her the “team” would explain it. “Everything?” she demanded.
He pushed out a breath. “Samantha Elizabeth Hutchinson—God, that’s a long name. Twenty-six. You’ll be twenty-seven on March ninth. You were named after your father Samuel Hutchinson, who died two months before you were born in a car accident.”
“Wow.” How on earth—
“You’re originally from Chicago, but you moved to D.C. when you got a full scholarship to Georgetown. You studied psychology and marketing, and you took a job at a newspaper in sales three months ago. Your mother died while you were in college, and you’re dating Lance Weaver.”
“Fuck me,” she mumbled as she covered her face with her hands.
“Yeah. You took some liberties with your backstory.” He smiled. “Why’d you say your father was a fireman? You could have told the truth on that one.”
Her father had been a decorated police officer. A hero. But she didn’t know him. To her, he wasn’t real, so why not make him anything she came up with?
She snorted and ignored his question, focusing on the one thing he had wrong. “You obviously don’t know everything. Lance broke up with me yesterday.”
“Good,” Garrett said tonelessly. “You’re better off without him.”
Her mouth fell open, and she didn’t know how to respond.
“You think you’re so smart,” she said, poking her finger at him angrily. “You think you know me because you read some file? Well, you thought I was going to run off with you tonight when you asked, and you were wrong about that, Mr. Perfect Lips.”
Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.
Her lip shook a little, but she bit it to hold it in place. She put her head down again, tasting blood. “How much longer do we have to stay here?” she asked into the table.
“I don’t know. I’ll let you know when I hear back.”
She nodded against her arm and let her eyes close. The adrenaline crash had left her exhausted, but her mind was still flitting from one insignificant thing to another. Like how she was leaving Anthony short-handed. How she’d left half a sandwich in the refrigerator at her new job. How she’d just filled her car with gas and it was probably leaking all over the street.
She should have been thinking of more important things, like where she would live.
If she lived.