Now if backup would get here so they could flank this guy and end this thing without anyone firing a weapon. “I could use a hand here. If you could point me in the right direction, you’d be doing me a solid.”
Casting aside all pretense of civility, the man glanced at Amy and strode toward Sam’s car, anger flushing his cheeks and narrowing his eyes. “I told you to move. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll find your gas pedal and use it now.”
Before Sam could respond, a black sedan slipped around his car and into the space next to the one where Amy sat, a hostage to her captor. Another sedan slid behind Sam and into the spot on the other side.
Sam almost sagged in relief. Deputy Marshal Vince Wainwright slipped out of his car, drawing the man’s attention as another deputy Sam didn’t recognize stepped up from the other side.
Amy’s attacker reached for the pistol at his side, but Sam lifted his own weapon and aimed it at center mass. “United States Deputy Marshals. And I wouldn’t even think about touching that gun if I were standing in your shoes.”
The man’s head whipped toward Sam and he hesitated, then flicked his gaze back and forth between the three US marshals who had hemmed him in. In an instant, his posture melted from defiant anger to sullen resignation.
Sam’s stomach unclenched, but he kept his expression hard. “You’re done. Lace your fingers behind your head.”
The man obeyed, and the deputy Sam didn’t know took him into custody.
Sam eased out of his car and turned to Wainwright. “Deputy Edgecombe’s car is right in front of you. I have a bad feeling about what you’re going to find.” Sam would have checked himself, but Amy was his responsibility.
Deputy Wainwright nodded grimly and disappeared around the SUV as the other deputy hauled their suspect off.
Sam headed straight for Amy. As soon as he pulled the door open, she dropped her head to the back of the seat. “You got him?”
“We did.” He had to get her out of here quickly, before any more of Grant Meyer’s goons showed up, but she was pale and shaking. She likely needed a minute to gather herself before he tried to move her. It was probable her legs wouldn’t hold her until she’d caught her breath. Sam knelt beside her, slightly below her eye level. He rested a hand on her shoulder. “Take a minute. Get your bearings, and then we need to move you.”
“This isn’t over, is it?”
“No.”
“It’s bad, isn’t it?”
Movement at the front of the car caught Sam’s attention. Wainwright, his phone already pulled to his ear, caught Sam’s eye, his face tight. He shook his head.
No words needed to be spoken. Edgecombe was gone.
Shoving his emotions to the side, Sam turned his attention to Amy, who was still watching him. “There’s a vest in the front seat of my car. When you get in, I want you to put it on.” His own was hot under his shirt, but in a retrieval like this, he wasn’t taking any chances.
“Deputy Maldonado?” Her face paled, almost as though she’d heard what the two deputies hadn’t spoken. “How bad is it?”
He wanted to answer her. He really did. But the truth was worse than anything she could imagine. If he’d arrived forty-two seconds later, Amy’s blood would have been on his hands.
The deputy standing at the front of the car disconnected his call and shoved his phone into a holster on his belt. He seemed to listen to something in his earpiece, then walked over to stand on the other side of the car, watching the entrance to the parking lot.
Amy didn’t have to ask about Deputy Marshal Edgecombe’s condition. The silent conversation between the two men confirmed her suspicions.
Shutting her eyes against the pressure of tears, Amy did her best to swallow the pain in her throat. Deputy Elijah Edgecombe had been her main point of contact since she’d been relocated to Georgia over three years ago. He’d been the one to deliver news, both good and bad, to answer her questions, to check on her in those dark moments when she was certain she’d never be safe again. He was a good man, although she had no idea what his life outside of their occasional interactions looked like. It was certain someone out there would grieve the loss of a son or a husband or a brother.
If only her phone hadn’t been on vibrate. If only she’d answered the first—
“Amy.” Deputy Maldonado’s hand on her shoulder tightened. “You’re okay. We’re going to get you out of here.”
The other marshal spoke. “Two local detectives are pulling in to secure the scene. Deputy Kline is on his way with a team. Two local officers will escort our suspect out. I’m to follow you. We have to get moving though, before we draw a crowd.”
Amy opened her eyes, the full implications of his words bringing the truth back like a slap to her face. Her identity had been compromised. She turned to Deputy Maldonado, who pulled his hand from her shoulder and stood. “I can’t go home, can I?”
He glanced at the other deputy, then back to Amy before holding out his hand to her. His brown eyes were sad, either because of Deputy Edgecombe or because of her situation. “I’m sorry.”
The adrenaline that had been keeping Amy upright ebbed and left her entire body aching. Coupled with the weight of what was about to happen, she wasn’t sure she could move. She lifted her hand and placed it in Deputy Maldonado’s. He helped her out of the car, his support the only thing keeping her on her feet. When the other deputy handed him a bulletproof vest, she let Deputy Maldonado help her into it, the entire scene playing out from a distance.
She grabbed her bag. The other deputy rounded the car and held his hand out over the top of the door. “I’m going to need your bag along with your cell phone.”
Amy opened her mouth to argue, then closed it. She’d done this before and had awakened too many times to count in a cold sweat from nightmares that this moment had come again.
Well, this was no bad dream. This was her reality...again. Surrender everything she owned, leave her entire life behind, become someone completely different.
Silently, she passed the bag to the deputy, then drew her cell phone from her pocket and handed it over as well. All she had left of Amy Naylor—and of the real Amy Brady—were the wedding ring she wore around her neck and the antique watch on her wrist. The ring was the only thing she had left of her deceased husband and the watch was the only memento of the friendship that had landed her in this mess in the first place. If her other watch hadn’t died two days ago and she hadn’t replaced it with this one, she’d have likely been forced to leave it behind.
Amy let Deputy Maldonado lead her to his car. He opened the door and ushered her in, shutting it behind her before he turned to have a quick conversation with the other deputy, the one who was holding what was left of her life in his hands.
With a cold fury, she despised the nameless deputy and she didn’t even know him. He represented the
