why we’re moving you and Sophia out.”
“But—”
“Annie,” he said quietly. “I’ve been doing this for a long time, and I haven’t lost a witness yet.”
“There’s always a first time for everything.”
“This won’t be it,” he responded with confidence.
“Hunter, I—”
“Trust me, okay? That’ll make it a lot easier for me to do my job.” He led her down the stairway and into the lower-level apartment. Unlike the upstairs, it was sparsely furnished. Just a couch and a couple of chairs, a desk set up with a computer monitor. Two people hovered near it, watching an image on the screen. She knew both of them. U.S. marshals Burke Trier and Joshua McCall. They’d been part of her twenty-four-hour protection for the past month.
“No movement,” Burke said, his dark gaze shooting to Annie. “Whatever he tossed into the yard is still there. The bomb squad will be here in five.”
Hunter was glad to hear it. In the month since Angel Delacorte, now called Annie, had returned to St. Louis, they’d kept her and little Sophia locked away in the safe house. As the lead witness against Luke Saunders and John Fiske, Annie had the potential to bring down an organized crime ring that had been working out of St. Louis for the past several years. The FBI suspected that Saunders and Fiske were low-level members of the group, and the marshals had been asked to get Annie to trial safely. They’d changed her name to Annie Duncan, flown her to Milwaukee and kept her safe there.
So far, things had gone according to the plan Hunter helped create.
It looked as though that was about to change.
“We’re going into the garage,” he said, meeting Annie’s dark blue eyes. “I’ll put Sophia into her car seat. You get into the backseat beside her.”
She didn’t question his orders.
Good. They didn’t have time to argue or to go over the plan again. He took the baby from Annie’s arms. Not really a baby. A toddler with her mother’s thick dark curls and big blue eyes. Pretty and delicate and filled with childish enthusiasm. After a year of working the Delacorte case and a month of spending most of his working hours protecting them, he knew little Sophia well. She didn’t make a sound as he set her into the car seat, just stuck her thumb in her mouth and smiled around it.
“Good girl,” he murmured, snapping the straps into place. Making sure Annie made it to trial and didn’t change her mind about testifying was his job. Simple as that. He’d done the same with dozens of other witnesses.
There was something different about this assignment, though.
Maybe the little girl who went along with it. Maybe her mother. Despite the trouble Annie was in, despite losing her husband, giving up her job, giving up all contact with her family, she’d managed to hold on to a positive attitude. That made it easy to guard her. It had probably also made it easy for her husband to pull the wool over her eyes.
Her vision was clear now, though. After months of investigation, Joe Delacorte’s secret life had been revealed. Joe’s murder hadn’t been random. He hadn’t walked in on a robbery; he’d been killed because he couldn’t pay back what he’d owed. Annie hadn’t said a word when the prosecutor told her how much money her husband had borrowed to feed his gambling addiction.
Hunter was pretty sure she’d cried that night.
Her eyes had been red-rimmed the next day, but she’d still had a smile on her face when she’d greeted him.
She wasn’t smiling now.
She looked terrified, her face stark white.
He almost patted her arm and told her everything would be okay, but he liked to keep some distance between himself and the witnesses he protected. He didn’t want to ever have his judgment and instincts skewed by useless emotion.
He tapped his finger on the steering wheel, waiting impatiently for the all clear. Serena Summers should be outside by now, checking the perimeters, making sure that it was safe to leave.
He frowned at the thought. She’d changed since her brother’s murder. A fellow marshal, Daniel Summers had been killed in the line of duty. A year after his death, they still had no suspects, no useful leads, nothing that would bring his murderer to justice.
“What are we waiting for?” Annie asked quietly, her tone soft and easy, just the way it always was. Whatever stress she was feeling, whatever fear, it wasn’t in her voice.
“Just waiting for an all clear,” he replied, shifting in his seat to look her in the eyes. “You and Sophia won’t be coming back here.”
“I know.”
“I’ll grab some of your things later. What do you want me to get?”
“Sophia’s going to want the stuffed dog her daddy gave her. The little brown one with the floppy ears. It’s on her bed.”
“What about you?”
She shrugged, thick strands of dark hair sliding across her shoulder. “I have a small suitcase in the closet. It’s packed with clothes and baby supplies.”
From what he’d observed in the past month, that was typical of Annie. Organized, prepared. “I’ll make sure to grab it for you.”
“Thanks. Why do you think it’s taking so long for the all clear? Do you think someone is outside waiting for us to leave?” she asked, glancing at the garage door.
“I don’t know, but we’re not going to take any chances.” He kept the answer brief, his body tense and ready for whatever action he needed to take. Drive away or go back into the house—either option would work. As long as it kept Annie and Sophia safe.
His radio crackled, Serena’s voice filling the quiet SUV.
“It’s all clear,” she said. “No sign of trouble out front.”
“We’re on our way. You’re following us to the next place?” He didn’t give any indication of where they were going, didn’t want to take a chance that someone had somehow tapped into their conversation.
“I’ll be right behind you,” Serena said.
He stabbed at the garage door opener and pulled out of the garage. Darkness pressed in on the SUV windows, the trees and grass white with ice. It was the first morning of the New Year, the streetlights pouring soft yellow light onto the road and the ice-coated foliage. It would have been beautiful if Hunter hadn’t been so convinced that danger was lurking just out of sight. He could feel it, his skin tight with adrenaline, his senses alive. Every shadow, every swaying branch or rustling leaf hinted at trouble.
Across the street, headlights flashed. Serena signaling from her unmarked car. They’d worked as a team before. Despite her grief and anger over Daniel’s death, Hunter trusted Serena to do her job and do it well.
He glanced in the rearview mirror, met Annie’s eyes.
“It’s
