Chapter Eight
It felt like Sam had only been out for a few minutes when Garrett shook her awake. He was gentle about it for someone who was capable of holding a gun to her head.
“It’s time to go.”
She nodded, wanting to get out of the cramped little room. “I’m awake.”
“We’re going to hold hands and walk casually to the car at the end of the alley. We’re not going to run or look around like we’re up to something.” His breath stirred the hair that had come loose from her ponytail. “If I tell you to get down, do it immediately without hesitation. Okay?”
“Yeah.” She nodded to reinforce the word.
“Let’s go.”
He slipped his hand into hers and gave it a reassuring squeeze. With the other hand, he put the gun in the front of his jeans. He’d told her not to run or look around, but he was walking awfully fast and looking around quite a lot.
A silver sedan was parked where he’d said it would be. When they reached it, he opened the passenger door for her before walking around the back and sliding into the driver’s side.
“Good job,” he said.
“It was walking. How badly could I mess it up?”
He gave her a look as if to say it was both possible and expected. “We’ll be on the road for a while. You can sleep some if you’d like.”
Not a chance. She was wide awake with her second wind and a new supply of adrenaline. “Is this your car?”
“No.” He frowned.
“What kind of car do you drive normally?”
“I don’t have a car.”
Really? That was weird. Who didn’t own a car these days? “A motorcycle, maybe? You look like the type who has a motorcycle.” Great. Now she was babbling.
“Sam?”
“Yes?”
“Remember how I told you I don’t deal with questions?”
“Sorry. I’m nervous, and I talk a lot when I’m nervous.”
“Stop being nervous. Everything is going to be fine.”
“If you say so. You’re not the one who has to start over.” She let her head rest against the glass.
“At least this way you have a life to start over. If you’d stayed, you’d be dead. Which would you prefer?”
“Alive,” she said and shut up. A few minutes later she let out a sigh. “Thank you for saving me.”
“It’s my job.” He reached over and patted her arm. “But I was happy to do it. The cheesesteak was really good.”
She smiled into the darkness at his joke, feeling a little better.
An hour or so later, he stopped at a motel and told her to wait in the car while he went inside to get them a room. She ran her fingers through her hair and smoothed her hands over her shirt. It was stupid that the idea of sharing a room with Garrett was making her even more nervous. As if he cares.
He was everything one would expect in a hot government agent. From the muscles and the flat hard chest, to the grin and the gruff demeanor, he was totally sexy and in control. She shook her head. He wasn’t interested in her, other than in keeping her alive so he could collect his paycheck.
“Ridiculous,” she said out loud, and tried to stay calm.
He came out and motioned her out of the car, went to the trunk, and removed a backpack.
Once inside the room, he set the bag on the bed and pulled out some women’s clothes. He tossed a pair of jeans and a T-shirt on the bed, along with two pairs of sweatpants. They appeared to be her size. He went to the window, pulled the curtain back to look out, and started texting someone.
“Are these for me?” she asked.
“I doubt they’d fit me.” He winked before checking the window again. “Keep the backpack. There’s toothpaste in the front pocket.”
She wanted to hug him, but she didn’t. “Thank you.”
“No need. It’s protocol. Your team will be here soon.”
“Are you leaving?” she asked.
“Yeah. I only do the extractions and cleanups. I don’t babysit. Besides, I still have a lot to do tonight.”
Like staging her death?
For a moment she wondered how he might do it, then realized it didn’t matter. Dead was dead, and as far as her friends would ever know, it was real.
“Right. Well, thank you for everything. You know, for stealing my jewelry and holding a gun to my head.” She smiled so he would know it was a joke.
To her surprise, he snorted, which seemed pretty close to a laugh. “Still nervous?” he guessed. “Your handlers are Deputy Marshals Tom Benson and Wendy Shultz. I’ve met Tom twice, but never Wendy. Tom’s a good guy. I’ve heard Wendy is kind of snooty, but competent.”
Sam nodded, but was still stuck on being dead. “Why do you need to fake my death? Once I testify and the congressman is behind bars, I would be able to be me again.”
Garrett was already shaking his head before she got all the words out. “Someone like Howe will be ready to petition for a retrial before the gavel is down. If something were to happen to you before a second trial, he could get off. That’s if we can get him behind bars in the first place.”
She frowned at him. “Why wouldn’t we? I’m telling the truth. He did it.”
“Proving that might be more difficult than you think.”
“If I’m supposed to be dead, how can I testify? Won’t I be on the news?”
He shook his head. “No. There are special procedures for protected witnesses. No one will know you’re still alive, except for the people who have to be in the courtroom.”
“Won’t Congressman Howe need to be in the room?” She seemed to remember something about having the right to face an accuser.
“Yes, that’s unavoidable. But everyone else takes an oath of secrecy. And you’ll be gone again before anyone can start a rumor about you being alive.”
She shouldn’t have asked. “Can I go change?” She pointed to the bathroom.
“Sure.”
She locked the door before washing her face and slipping on the comfy clothing. She sighed at her reflection.
How on earth had she gotten here?
A few days ago, she was happily serving pizza and had a boyfriend.
Now, she was all alone in the world, and everyone she knew and loved would soon think she was dead.
And if Howe ever found her, she really would be dead.