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The Littlest Witness
Jane M. Choate
To protect a childWhen Delta Force soldier Caleb Judd’s brother and sister-in-law are murdered, the killers turn their attention on his orphaned nephew. Caleb’s new mission: protect little Tommy—who hasn’t said a word since witnessing his parents’ deaths—and figure out who’s targeting his family. He needs help, and security expert Shelley Rabb is perfect for the job. But Caleb’s used to calling the shots, not taking orders…even when they come from a beautiful ex-Secret Service agent. Shelley knows firsthand what can happen when business becomes personal, so she vows not to get too close to Caleb and his nephew. She will risk her life to make sure they’re safe, but will that mean risking her heart, too?


TO PROTECT A CHILD
When Delta Force soldier Caleb Judd’s brother and sister-in-law are murdered, the killers turn their attention on his orphaned nephew. Caleb’s new mission: protect little Tommy—who hasn’t said a word since witnessing his parents’ deaths—and figure out who’s targeting his family. He needs help, and security expert Shelley Rabb is perfect for the job. But Caleb’s used to calling the shots, not taking orders…even when they come from a beautiful former Secret Service agent. Shelley knows firsthand what can happen when business becomes personal, so she vows not to get too close to Caleb and his nephew. She will risk her life to make sure they’re safe, but will that mean risking her heart, too?
“Each of us, no matter who we are in life, can make a difference.”
“Is that why you do what you do? To make a difference?”
“I like to think I am,” Shelley said softly, at last. “Helping people who are in trouble. Sometimes I succeed. Sometimes I don’t. But at least I know I’ve tried.”
Caleb wasn’t surprised at her answer. He was beginning to realize that Shelley Rabb was a special kind of woman. A warrior. A believer. She was all those things and more.
“For what it’s worth, you’re making a difference to me. To Tommy.” He hesitated. “Why is that so important to you? Making a difference.”
She didn’t answer right away, and he wondered if he’d gone too far, asking something so personal. She stilled, as though searching her heart as to how much she should reveal, how much she wanted to reveal.
As a man who guarded his own privacy, he understood. Giving away too much of one’s self left a person vulnerable. That was something Caleb had promised himself he’d never be.
JANE M. CHOATE dreamed of writing from the time she was a small child when she entertained friends with outlandish stories complete with happily-ever-after endings. Writing for Love Inspired Suspense is a dream come true. Jane is the proud mother of five children, grandmother to seven grandchildren and the staff to one cat who believes she is of royal descent.
The Littlest
Witness
Jane M. Choate


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Be still, and know that I am God: I will be exalted among the heathen, I will be exalted in the earth.
—Psalms 46:10
To all of America’s servicemen and women,
past and present, especially those wounded warriors. Thank you for your courage and service.
America owes you a debt that can never be repaid.
Contents
Cover (#ud5236524-0c50-5a1c-a8d2-e63c9830faec)
Back Cover Text (#ud6b76c7d-4602-5e2b-bf57-0c1552a2c631)
Introduction (#u877791d0-8be6-5d32-b473-a1cba16960c8)
About the Author (#udcfa5a28-d38e-5189-97fe-ec669f67a3b7)
Title Page (#ub451fbf3-d9e6-530b-82ab-791fe4e92c3d)
Bible Verse (#ucdb5818a-4e55-5458-8377-41d6fbd3fb85)
Dedication (#ue0eea04b-1ebb-56af-9fc6-c83822cc7e94)
ONE (#u7142dc63-413d-5262-9983-c6715cf55132)
TWO (#u7402292e-7f9f-5e3f-a22e-998041a18ebb)
THREE (#ubc54557f-fbe7-51b0-8935-2df5ae8c5e41)
FOUR (#u3ae67dd6-8c4f-5325-a985-80468f6cbd42)
FIVE (#udbfb2e60-30e7-561b-a22d-0ef3985d2cb8)
SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
NINETEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
Dear Reader (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
ONE (#ulink_4de461bb-2ab1-5922-944c-9e1afe31e2c2)
A muffled footstep awakened Caleb, setting him on high alert. There was no reason anyone should be here. No good reason, that is. Calmly, he slipped from the bed and stepped behind the draperies, just as an intruder entered the bedroom.
Another man might have panicked, but Caleb Judd was not just another man. Instinctively, he clicked into Delta mode, a heightened sense of awareness overtaking him, his vision sharpening, his hearing growing more acute. His breathing remained regular, his pulse steady, courtesy of training from the United States Army.
No one should have gotten in. Alfred Kruise had boasted about the state-of-the-art alarm system when he’d offered Caleb use of the guesthouse, insisting that both he and his nephew, Tommy, were safer here than they would have been anywhere else.
Kruise had been wrong.
The alarm system hadn’t gone off. Probably disabled.
A pro.
The stranger’s movements were nearly silent as he made his way toward the bed, his intentions clear. He wanted Caleb. But why? He had his share of enemies, but they weren’t personal. Fighting his country’s enemies was what he had been doing when he’d gotten the call about Michael and Grace’s murders.
But now here he was in Atlanta, Georgia, eight thousand miles from Afghanistan, facing a gunman who clearly wanted to eliminate him. The only reason Caleb could think of was connected to his brother Michael, but that made no sense.
With his own weapon packed in his duffel bag, he had no chance of going for it. If he were going to take the man down, it would have to be with his hand.
Recognizing the disadvantages of his position, he relied on the faith that had sustained him through countless encounters with the enemy. It had never deserted him, even upon learning of the deaths of his brother and his wife.
Caleb registered the assailant’s weapon held in a steady hand. A Walther. A good choice for an assassination. He’d probably appreciate it more if he weren’t the intended target. He stepped out from behind the draperies and kicked out, knocking the weapon from the man’s hand.
The would-be killer, who had to be several inches taller than Caleb’s own six feet and weighed at least two hundred and twenty pounds, recovered quickly and grabbed for the weapon. Caleb spun, delivered a roundhouse to the man’s chest, but fatigue and unrelenting grief had taken their toll upon him, making his effort lack its customary power.
The man gave a loud whuff. Caleb rammed a fist into the assailant’s jaw. He must have had an iron jaw because he didn’t buckle. The intruder pivoted on one foot and slammed the other against Caleb’s chest.
Caleb dodged the worst of it but couldn’t completely escape the punishing blow. He spun, presenting his profile, a smaller target for the next attack. The assailant had obviously had close-quarters combat training, since he didn’t move away from Caleb’s fists but, instead, closed in.
Just as the stranger raised his fist, a look of consternation passed over his face. And then Caleb noticed it. The man was wearing earbuds. Someone, a handler probably, must have been issuing orders.
After casting Caleb a look that promised retribution, the man took off. What had his boss said that had caused him to give up so easily? He feared that the man realized he had the wrong target and Tommy was the intended one.
Caleb should have never left his nephew alone in the main house. Alfred and Irene Kruise had insisted it was best for Tommy, yet another instance where they had been wrong.
Whoever had sent a killer after Caleb might have also sent another after Tommy. But why? The boy didn’t know anything. Fury built in his chest at the idea of anyone hurting Tommy. Smother the rage, Caleb told himself as he retrieved his weapon. He didn’t have the luxury of giving in to it. Not now. Not when Tommy needed him.
Besides, there were bigger things he needed to concentrate on at the moment.
Three nights ago, Michael and Grace Judd had been gunned down in their own home while Tommy had watched. Caleb still shuddered at the thought of what his young nephew had endured. It was no wonder Tommy hadn’t said a word since witnessing the shooting of his parents. Some grief was too deep for words.
The next few hours were a blur as Caleb had made arrangements to leave his unit in Afghanistan and fly to Atlanta.
He was beyond exhausted, at a time when he couldn’t afford to make a mistake through a snap decision. One of the great ironies of life, though, was that in moments like these, snap decisions were all he had time for.
A different kind of fear settled in his heart. What was he to do with a seven-year-old boy? With no other family outside of a cousin, Michael and Grace had named Caleb Tommy’s guardian in the event of the unthinkable. And now the unthinkable had happened.
Ideally, a child needed two parents, a mother and a father. Where was Caleb supposed to come up with a mother? With one bad experience under his belt, he had no desire to get on the romance merry-go-round again.
Impatiently, he shoved those worries aside. Right now he had enough on his plate, including staying alive and protecting Tommy.
With the weapon he had retrieved from his duffel held close to his chest, Caleb sprinted to the main house to check on the boy. The humidity of the Georgia night pressed against him, stealing the breath from his lungs, but he scarcely noticed. Nothing mattered other than keeping his nephew safe.
Silently, he admitted what he’d refused to acknowledge since he’d learned of the murder of his brother and sister-in-law: he needed backup.
* * *
Shelley Rabb lifted the heavy brass knocker and rapped it against the door to the guesthouse of the Kruise estate. Set in an exclusive neighborhood that shouted old money, the estate was a showplace, filled with dark, waxy magnolias, stone fountains and an air of gentility that had her wondering if she should genuflect before presenting herself.
Everyone in Atlanta knew of Alfred and Irene Kruise, who were featured on the society page of the paper at least once a week and were considered Atlanta royalty. Kruise was a federal prosecutor, and his wife sat on the committees of a half dozen or so charities. An invitation to the estate was a coveted ticket, although this wasn’t exactly a social call. She was here as a favor to her brother, Jake.
“A buddy from Delta—Caleb Judd—called. He needs help,” her brother had said in a phone call early that morning. “I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t important.”
She knew that. Just as she also knew that she couldn’t refuse. Jake was on his honeymoon with his bride, Dani. No way would she drag him from that, not after what he and Dani had gone through.
“I owe him, sis,” Jake had said. For Shelley, that said it all.
If not for that, she wouldn’t have taken the case. She had enough on her plate as it was, including handling the protection for a state senator who had received threatening emails from someone opposed to his stand on environmentalism.
But Jake had played the brother card, and the truth was, she’d do just about anything for him. She’d felt protective of Jake ever since he’d returned home from the Middle East, broken in body and in spirit. Love had made all the difference, and it had been Dani who had made him take those first steps toward trust and love. For that, Shelley would always be grateful to her new sister-in-law.
She straightened her blazer so that it hung smoothly over the SIG-Sauer 9mm she carried in a custom-fit shoulder holster, and prepared to lift the knocker again when the door was yanked open by a man who looked ready to do murder.
He matched the description her brother, Jake, had given her of Judd. “You’re early.”
“Is that a problem?”
“Yeah, it is,” came the blunt answer. Annoyance had drawn lines in his forehead, but she sensed she wasn’t the real target of his anger. “Come in.” He pointed to a small room off the main hallway. “In there. I’ll be with you in a minute.”
Shelley narrowed her eyes. She didn’t take orders. From anyone.
Setting aside her irritation, she opened a set of French doors leading to a small office and took a seat on a navy leather sofa.
The sound of raised voices caught her attention. Unashamedly, she listened. If there was one thing she’d learned in the security/protection business, it was that there were many ways to glean important facts, and eavesdropping was one of the best.
“You’re making a mistake, taking Tommy away from here. This is the only place he’s been safe since it happened.” Frustration and worry sharpened a man’s cultured voice. Alfred Kruise, she guessed.
“Last night proved that it’s not safe.” The words, though quietly spoken, held the unmistakable ring of authority, and she recognized the voice of the man who had answered the door.
“We’ll tighten up security.” The first voice grew more strident with each word.
“It’s already settled. Tommy comes with me.”
“You don’t know what you’re doing. Tommy is Irene’s and my godson. We would do anything to protect him. Anything.” A pause, followed by a tremulous sigh. “Michael and Grace were family.”
“Maybe so, but I’m his guardian and I’m not leaving him here. I’ve already lost my brother and his wife. I’m not about to lose Tommy, too.”
“Have it your way. I only pray you don’t live to regret it.” The slam of a door emphasized the other man’s displeasure.
The man returned to Shelley. “I’m Caleb Judd.” He gestured to the slightly built boy with dark hair and eyes at his side. “My nephew, Tommy.” At Judd’s nod, Tommy settled in a corner and pulled a couple of miniature cars from his pocket.
“Shelley Rabb.”
Accustomed to sizing people up, Shelley studied S&J Security Protection’s newest client. In a black T-shirt, dark jeans and Frye combat boots, he looked dangerous and deadly. In her job, she’d come across plenty of influential men, men who wielded the kind of power that came with money and connections and political clout. Caleb Judd carried a different kind of power, the kind that came from within. There was an underlying current of energy to him, and though banked now, that raw force was evident in how he moved and the clipped cadence of his speech.
His posture shouted his military background, as did his closely cropped hair. The tanned, weathered face had the hard lines of a man who did not spend his days in the office or the gym. And his battle-ready stance and sharp gaze were so like her brother, Jake’s, that she almost did a double take.
Judd looked as out of place as she felt in the sumptuous surroundings. Score one for him.
“Thanks for coming.” His words sounded as though he’d just gargled with cut glass, and Shelley winced at the pain underscoring them.
“Thank me when I’ve done something.”
Shelley chose her clients carefully. S&J—her and Jake’s initials—was her company. The clients didn’t have to be wealthy, but they did have to be honest. At least with her. A recent client had been megarich, but he hadn’t been trustworthy. She’d returned his retainer and suggested he find someone whose ethics were as challenged as his own.
The tightening of Judd’s jaw and the impatient tapping of boots on the hardwood floor reminded her that he was Delta, a man who understood action. Still, she had a duty to him, as a client, and to herself, to make certain she could handle the job.
On a silent sigh, she acknowledged she was only postponing the inevitable. Of course she’d take the job. She didn’t have a choice.
She looked into his blue eyes and resisted the urge to flinch when she saw nothing but ragged grief staring back at her. She supposed he might be considered attractive if his mouth were smiling. As it was, it was a hard line that compressed his lips together.
It looked as though he was holding himself together just as tightly. Tension radiated from him in palpable waves. From the harsh cast of his face and sleep-deprived features, he’d obviously gone through unspeakable pain since learning of the murders. But pain was not the only thing she read in his gaze. There was guilt, as well. She ought to know. She saw it every time she stared at herself in the mirror.
“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I can only imagine what you’re feeling.”
“Can you?” Judd retorted. “Do you know what it is to lose a brother?”
“I came close with Jake,” she said, unoffended. “There were times when I didn’t know if he would make it back.”
Judd scrubbed a hand over his face, the rasping sound drawing her attention to the whiskers that darkened his jaw. She watched as he struggled to temper his voice. “Sorry. That was uncalled for.”
“Don’t apologize. We’ve got more important things to discuss.”
“Like how I should have been there for him.” Self-loathing coated his voice. “I told Michael he was in over his head. If he’d listened...if I had been there...”
She nodded to herself, confirming her earlier supposition that he was suffering from a crippling case of guilt. She didn’t try to talk him out of it. Guilt exacted its own price in its own time.
Movements she suspected were normally smooth and economical were jerky, awkward, as though he didn’t know what to do with the adrenaline instigated by fear and worry. “Jake told you why I need help?”
After making sure that the little boy wasn’t within earshot, she turned back to Judd and answered in a low voice, “He said your brother and his wife had been killed and that you were attacked last night.”
Other than the tightening of his mouth, Judd failed to react to the bald recitation of facts. He was probably in shock. The man had lost his brother and sister-in-law, had taken on the care of his nephew and had faced down a probable assassin, all within the space of a few days.
“You probably have the same questions I do,” she said. “Was someone trying to kill you? Or just scare you off? What makes you a target?”
Judd didn’t immediately answer. His gaze strayed to Tommy, who was still crouched on the floor, playing with his miniature cars. Of course his first concern was his nephew.
“I wish I knew.”
Shelley paused. What was she doing, taking on a case that involved a child, a traumatized one at that? Every instinct in her told her that it was a mistake, but Caleb Judd had saved Jake’s life. S&J owed him. She owed him.
And she always paid her debts.
Honor, plus an unwavering faith, was the cornerstone of how she conducted her life and ran her business.
She knew clients wanted promises that everything would be fine. She longed to give them just that. However, she couldn’t give what she didn’t have. If she’d learned anything in her years as a cop, then as an agent with the Secret Service, it was that life didn’t come with guarantees.
Bad things happened to good people. She ought to know. The nightmare had resurfaced last night, and she’d beaten herself up over it, just as she always did. She’d awakened covered in sweat, guilt-laden and hurting.
She forced that aside and concentrated on Judd, who was rubbing two fingers above his nose as though to relieve a deepening headache.
A soldier’s soldier was how Jake had described Caleb Judd. “The man doesn’t have a single nerve in his body. He’s totally cool no matter what’s going on around him.” Jake didn’t hand out praise easily. If he vouched for Judd, that was good enough for her.
Judd wasn’t looking totally cool now, though, she noted with a wave of compassion. He was beside himself with worry.
“I did some digging on the man your brother was prosecuting,” she said. Upon promising Jake she’d provide security/protection to Caleb and his nephew until Michael and Grace’s killers were caught, she’d crammed for this meeting, wanting to know everything she could find about the case. Caleb nodded impatiently, so Shelley took a deep breath and went on. “Jeremy Saba. He’s never been convicted, never even been indicted. But he stands to go away for a long time if he’s found guilty this time.” Though Shelley had never worked on a RICO case before, she knew enough to understand the seriousness of the charges. “Is there anybody else I should know about?”
“One time Michael said something about a new player making a name for himself.”
“Did he give you a name?”
“Ruis Melendez. My brother said he was a big shot in a Florida crime family.”
Shelley digested that. “Anything else?”
Caleb shook his head.
She darted another concerned look in Tommy’s direction, but he still appeared oblivious to what was going on around him. Nevertheless, she lowered her voice. “But even with your brother no longer on the case, nothing really changes. The charges still stand. So why target Michael?”
“Do you know how long it takes to build a case of this nature?” Judd demanded, his tone as sharp as barbed wire. “Michael got closer than anyone else to nailing this creep. Saba has to know that if he could get Michael off the case, everything slows down, maybe even comes to a complete standstill.”
“I get that. I wondered if you did.” Shelley nodded in satisfaction. “You’re okay, Judd.”
“So I passed?”
“Yeah. You passed.” She gave a half smile. “Now you’re wondering if I will. You don’t know what I can do. I get that, too. I won’t let you down.”
His expression grew hard. “If you do, I’ll cut you loose so fast your head will spin.”
“Fair enough.”
Still, she figured they’d better get the chain of command out on the table. “A couple of things up front. Nonnegotiable. When I give you an order, you do it. No questions asked. You do what I say. When I say. How I say.”
If possible, Judd’s mouth grew even tighter. “The other?”
“If things get rough, you don’t go all macho on me and try to protect me just because I’m a woman. I’m the professional, and you’re the client. I know you’re Delta, but this is my op and I’m team leader.”
He folded his arms over his chest but he nodded. “Agreed.”
Shelley understood no man, especially a soldier, liked taking orders from a woman, but she had a job to do. She’d already made the mistake of allowing a man to tell her how to do her job. She wouldn’t be doing that again. Not for anyone.
“Then we’re good to go. Are you and Tommy ready to leave?”
“Yes.”
She stood. “Let’s do it.”
“Where?”
She looked around the guesthouse, a haven, she supposed, for some. It had not been a haven for Caleb Judd. “I’ll let you know. Later.”
A knock at the door had her tensing. Reason told her that an enemy wasn’t likely to announce his presence that way. Still, she motioned Caleb to stay where he was. She withdrew her weapon, held it at her side as she answered the door.
A man in an austerely cut black suit, a starched white shirt, and a rigid bow tie stood on the front step and held an envelope. “Ma’am. This arrived for Mr. Judd. Mr. Alfred directed me to deliver it.”
After slipping on latex gloves she’d pulled from her blazer pocket, she accepted the envelope. “Thank you.”
Caleb joined her. “What is it?”
“It’s addressed to you. Make sure Tommy stays in the other room.” She started to open the envelope.
Judd stopped her. “My name. My responsibility.”
The stern gaze he sent her convinced her to let him open it. Before she could hand him a pair of gloves, he’d torn open the envelope.
Inside lay a copy of a newspaper clipping with the headline Boy Dies in Pool and the crudely printed words Back off or it could happen again.
Shelley quickly scanned the clipping, inhaling sharply when she saw that it referred to Caleb’s younger brother Ethan, who died before his second birthday. The accompanying note was a chilling warning.
She had taken this case because of Jake. But now that she’d met Caleb and Tommy, she was determined to protect them at all costs and go after the killers who had targeted them.
TWO (#ulink_31193c01-6b2b-583b-835c-3256fef41905)
Caleb was grateful that Shelley hadn’t interrogated him about the contents of the envelope, though he saw the questions in her eyes when she read about Ethan’s drowning.
He wasn’t up to explaining his role in the accident that had claimed his baby brother’s life. Not now. Maybe Shelley would chalk up his silence to his concern for his nephew at the implied threat.
Caleb wasn’t ready to relive the horror of that time in his life. He never talked about what had happened that day, the day that had changed his life forever. He shook away the memories and focused on the present.
Though her eyes had glittered with a take-no-prisoners ferocity, Shelley had remained calm and then called a friend at the Atlanta PD and explained the situation.
“One of my operatives will take the envelope to a friend in the Atlanta PD,” she’d said. “He’ll check for fingerprints, though I don’t expect there to be any, especially after it’s been handled by who knows how many people.”
After the operative had shown up to retrieve the envelope, Shelley had hustled Caleb and Tommy out of the guesthouse and into her car.
Shelley Rabb’s brown sedan was boring in the extreme.
Not so the woman, who couldn’t be boring if she tried. Despite the black pantsuit she wore and her understated makeup, she was striking with her sleek dark hair and intuitive gray eyes that seemed to see right through him and strip away the protective layers he’d built around his heart. A smattering of freckles across her nose belied her otherwise professional appearance.
Shelley Rabb was a walking contradiction—understated, graceful, yet athletic, and, given her Secret Service background, lethal when and if the circumstances warranted it. She was no bigger than a minute, but she made up for it in the sheer determination that radiated from her. The severe pantsuit revealed a toned and disciplined body, despite her small size.
It was obvious that she downplayed her looks, another leftover from her years in the Service.
Caleb liked what he saw, but it was the energy she carried with her that caught and held his attention. Her no-nonsense manner coupled with a fresh vitality was like a brisk breeze that swept all other impressions aside.
Her background was evident in the way she moved, her arms swung slightly away from her body, a sign of someone who wore a gun for a living. If anyone looked closely, he’d see the outline of the weapon she carried beneath her jacket, but it wasn’t bad camouflage. Caleb’s own weapon, a Glock, was tucked in the waistband of his jeans with his shirt pulled over it. He missed the heft of his Colt M4A, a mainstay of the Special Forces, but the Glock made an acceptable substitute.
He hadn’t missed her earlier study of him, the shrewd gaze which weighed words and expressions. Nor, he guessed, had his study of her gone unnoticed. It paid to know who you were working with, especially when lives were on the line.
Jake’s recommendation not withstanding, Caleb had done his homework on Shelley. He hadn’t realized that Jake was on his honeymoon until he’d called his buddy and Jake had suggested Caleb contact his sister. From all he’d learned, she was good at what she did. Great at it, if the glowing reports from clients posted on S&J’s website were any indication.
“Rabb delivers the goods,” one client, a CEO of an electronics company, had written.
Caleb returned his attention to the boring, nondescript car and wondered if she had chosen it precisely because it would attract little, if no, attention. A good choice for someone trying to become invisible.
Conversation was kept to a minimum. Caleb had a feeling that it had more to do with the lady’s preference than it did with the SDR she conducted. He’d been on enough protective details to recognize the employment of a surveillance detour route. Though tedious, SDRs were necessary to make certain no one was following them.
They left the city, heading north, thick woods bordering the ribbon of highway. Shelley kept to the speed limit, another tactic, he guessed, to avoid attracting attention. Everything she did was low-key. The flashy moves one might expect from a Secret Service trained bodyguard were conspicuously absent.
His approval rating of the lady climbed steadily. Even so, he wasn’t about to hand over the reins to a woman he’d just met. Shelley might call herself team leader, but when it came to Tommy’s safety, Caleb was in charge.
He refused to compromise on that.
When mile after mile had flown by, Caleb roused himself enough to ask, “Where are we going?”
“A safe house Jake and I bought a year ago. We keep it for clients who need to keep a low profile.”
“You mean clients with someone trying to kill them?” he asked dryly.
“Something like that.”
The heat of the day had abated, if only slightly, and the evening slid into a purple-hued dusk. Caleb glanced at Tommy, saw that the boy’s face was gray with fatigue. Caleb couldn’t deny that he was exhausted, as well. After chasing off last night’s midnight visitor, he’d spent the remainder of the night in Tommy’s room, watching over his nephew while doing some research on the bodyguard.
As though Shelley had read his thoughts, she pulled off the road at a bland motel that would never earn a five-star listing. At the registration desk, she asked for adjoining rooms.
Inside, Caleb looked about the cheaply decorated room. A television was bolted to the fake paneling of the wall. Carpet that might once have been a light green was now faded to a sickly yellow. The puny efforts of the room’s window air-conditioning unit scarcely made a dent in the late afternoon heat.
“Burgers and fries okay with you?” Shelley asked.
“Sure.”
Shelley returned within ten minutes and placed a white paper bag, redolent with the smells of grease-laden food, on the room’s one table.
“Thanks,” Caleb said.
“No problem.”
He opened the bag and pulled out a burger, then handed it to Tommy. “Seems I remember you could put away two of these,” he teased, “and still have room left over for a chocolate shake.”
Tommy made no comment but took the burger and began to eat automatically. Though Caleb tried to pull him into the conversation, the little boy only stared at him blankly.
Don’t let him see your pain, Caleb told himself. Keep it casual. So he ate his burger and kept his worry to himself, praying Tommy’s inability to speak was temporary.
Shelley, likewise, said little during the impromptu meal, leaving Caleb feeling as if he was talking to himself. Curiosity about his lovely bodyguard tugged at him. He knew the bare bones of her background. Ex–police officer and Secret Service agent. But he wanted to know who the lady was, why she did what she did. “What made you leave the Service?”
Her jaw slid to one side, as though she was considering her answer. “It was time to move on.”
That told him nothing. From what Jake had relayed to him, she had been on the fast track to the presidential detail, the most coveted job in the Service. There had to be more to this story.
“Do you ever miss it?”
“Sometimes.” She squared her shoulders and, at the same time, lifted her chin, making it clear that she wasn’t going to be expanding upon her answer. “I think we could all do with a rest. I’ll be next door if you need me.”
After her departure, Caleb put Tommy to bed. To combat the sweltering heat, he splashed water on his face. The unending grief was so heavy upon him that he scarcely recognized the features staring back at him in the bathroom mirror.
His eyes appeared sunken in a face churning with torment, scars grafted into the angles and planes. He fought against the desperation that soured his gut and the abject fatigue that threatened to draw him into a black pit.
Caleb pressed his fingers against his nose in an attempt to press back the pain, but some things could not be willed away. No matter how much he might want to. His knees nearly buckled.
Michael.
His brother’s name echoed through Caleb’s mind. “I’m sorry, little brother. I should have been there for you.” His words came in ragged whispers, like worn-out remnants. “I should have been there for you,” he repeated. “I should have been there for Ethan.” He pushed memories of the little brother who had tragically drowned to the back of his mind where guilt couldn’t flay his conscience raw. “I should have...”
Should-haves didn’t count.
* * *
With a sigh of relief, Shelley withdrew to her own room. There was no sense in denying it: Tommy unnerved her. What was she supposed to say to a child who had lost both parents, who stared right through her as though she were invisible?
And what was it about the newspaper clipping that had caused Caleb to withdraw as he had? The death of a brother was horrible, especially when coupled with Michael’s murder, but Ethan’s drowning had been an accident.
Caleb’s eyes had narrowed, his mouth assuming a tight-lipped expression that had warned her to keep her inquiries to herself.
There were too many questions and not enough answers. Later, she promised herself, she’d get the intel she wanted. For now, she, Caleb and Tommy needed rest.
Shelley stretched out on the thin mattress that managed to be both hard and soft at the same time and willed herself to sleep. In this business, you slept when you could because you never knew if it would be the last rest you’d get in who knew how many hours.
Two hours later, she heard it—a faint noise outside her door. The noise could be a stray cat or dog. She listened intently. There it was again. The snick of metal against metal, as though someone were trying to access the card-coded lock without the card.
Grateful she hadn’t undressed, she slipped her shoulder harness back on and clicked the latch. Silently she made her way to the doorway connecting the two rooms, opened the door to Caleb and Tommy’s room, and saw that Caleb was also dressed. He nodded, acknowledging that he’d heard the same noise.
She inched toward the window, did a turkey peek over the sill and saw two men with guns drawn. Crooking her finger, she gestured to Caleb to join her. The grim look in his eyes was confirmation that he understood they were under attack.
He was braced, his stance that of a warrior ready to defend what was his. The idea of running was foreign to him. At the same time, they couldn’t afford a gun battle, not with Tommy in the room. Protecting an innocent child was what mattered now.
“We’ve got to get out of here.” Her words sounded overly loud to her sensitized ears. “I’ll go first.” She pointed to the bathroom window above the toilet, indicated she would climb out, that Caleb should pass the sleeping Tommy to her. She wondered if Caleb’s broad shoulders would fit through the narrow window, but there weren’t a lot of options.
Another nod.
When she was on the ground, Caleb handed Tommy to her, then climbed out himself, angling his shoulders to make it through the opening. Once they’d made their escape, she pointed to the car, which she’d parked at the back of the motel.
Quietly, the threesome stole through the Georgia night. When they reached her car, Caleb started for the driver’s seat.
She shook her head. “I’ll drive. You see to Tommy.”
A shout from the front of the motel alerted her that whoever had followed them had discovered they had escaped.
There was no more need for silence. Shelley yanked open the car door and slid behind the wheel. Caleb secured the seat belt around Tommy.
“You up for this?” she shouted as Caleb buckled himself in the passenger seat.
“Are you?”
“We’ll see.”
A black SUV with tinted windows, a cliché, Shelley thought contemptuously, rounded the corner. She punched the gas, took the driveway out of the parking lot and sped into the night. At the same time, she said a silent prayer, asking for the Lord’s protection and help. She knew she couldn’t do this on her own.
When she didn’t immediately see the SUV behind her, she allowed herself a small sigh of relief.
Then she saw it.
Another SUV, black like the first. She didn’t bother hoping it was just a high school boy and his date out for a late night drive. No, this was the backup vehicle, and it was heading straight for them.
At that moment, the first SUV reappeared in her rearview mirror. A real-life car chase was nothing like what was portrayed on television. There was no dramatic music, just the relentless knowledge that the enemy was closing in. And unlike on television, there would be no hero riding to the rescue. If she were to get Caleb and Tommy out of this, she had to depend on herself. And the Lord.
“Make sure your seat belt is pulled tight. Then hold on.” Breath hissed between her teeth even as cold sweat trickled down her back, signaling her body’s response to stress. The reaction was physiological. Over the years, she’d learned to use it, releasing anxiety while allowing her to function at peak performance.
Shelley didn’t bother making sure Caleb complied with her orders. She was up to her neck in crocodiles, or, in this case, SUVs, and needed all of her attention for the road.
The driver of the second SUV would expect her to slow down, perhaps to turn away. She did neither. Instead, she laid down some tread until the car was nearly adjacent to the SUV, the first in hot pursuit.
Tommy let out a startled cry.
It was a life-and-death game of chicken, one she was determined to win. Her smaller vehicle didn’t have size or power on its side, but it had maneuverability, and, in this instance, that trumped size.
She didn’t let up on the gas but punched it until she was mere inches from the second vehicle. She spared a glance in the rearview mirror and saw the first bearing down on her.
Good.
Close enough that she could see the startled expression on the driver’s face, she nearly smiled. Would have, if the circumstances hadn’t been so dire. At the last minute, she veered sharply, shooting the car around the SUV. Sweat, cold only moments ago, now burned through her shirt and blazer.
Shelley held her breath. Could she make it? She pushed that from her mind. She had to make it. Caleb and Tommy’s lives, not to mention her own, depended upon her doing just that.
“Don’t let up now,” Caleb said. “Keep going.”
Tires left pavement, bumping along the uneven ground, kicking up hunks of dirt and grass, until, with a twist of the wheel, she muscled her way back onto the road.
A screech of tires and the inevitable crash told her that her ploy had worked, the first vehicle ramming into the second with a satisfying crunch of metal and glass.
A grunt from Caleb and small sob from Tommy had her checking her rearview mirror once again. At Caleb’s grim nod, she refocused on the road. They weren’t out of the woods yet.
“Hold on,” she shouted once more.
After she let up on the gas, she spun the wheel, then executed a perfect J-turn, one even her driving instructor at the Service would have given her full marks for.
While the occupants of the two SUVs scrambled out of their ruined vehicles and managed to get a couple of shots off, she came out of the one-eighty and had the car pointed in the direction she wanted to go.
She gunned it. With a squeal of tires and the spit of gravel, it shot forward.
“Jake was right,” Caleb said. “You’re the real deal.”
Shelley didn’t waste time responding. They’d managed to escape their attackers this time. But what about the next?
The fight wasn’t over. It had just begun.
THREE (#ulink_c0afd851-c57c-5603-83c2-a11e4dad385e)
“That was some driving, lady.” Caleb’s voice cut through the night.
“Thanks. I think.” Energy continued to pump through Shelley, even though the crisis was over, at least for the moment.
From habit, and need, she mentally repeated a scripture from Psalms: Be still and know that I am God. Calm flowed through her at the familiar words. Her breathing leveled, and her heart rate gradually returned to normal.
“Maybe we can go back another time and pick up my heart,” Caleb added. “I think it popped out of my chest around the time you almost lost that game of chicken back there.”
Shelley flicked a glance over her shoulder. “Liked that, did you?”
“I don’t believe that’s what I said,” he corrected dryly.
The muted light of the dashboard revealed a hint of a smile in a jaw that was darkening with beard shadow. Once again she was struck by the masculine appeal of the man that managed to combine bold, rugged good looks with incredible blue eyes that could warm with tenderness when he gazed at his nephew or turn glacier cold when that same nephew was threatened.
She wondered what it would be like to meet him under normal circumstances. Nothing about the past twelve hours could be called normal.
While she appreciated his humor, Shelley was keenly aware of the chance she’d taken. Risking her own life was one thing; risking that of Caleb and Tommy was something else. But what choice had she had?
The protection/security business had only two rules. Rule number one: protect the client. Rule number two: refer to rule number one.
“I was praying the whole time,” she admitted in a low voice.
“Me, too. A soldier quickly learns that prayer is the only real protection.”
She stored that away, to be taken out and examined later. “How’s Tommy?”
“He just keeps staring out the window,” Caleb said.
She was no expert in child psychology, but she knew enough to recognize that Tommy was not responding in a normal manner.
“What’s going to happen to him?” she asked softly. “After this?” It was as if Tommy were in some kind of trance.
“I don’t know,” Caleb admitted.
“There’re people who can help.”
“I know. But first we have to protect him.”
“And you,” she added.
His nod was brusque. She knew his own safety mattered far less to him than that of his nephew. He glanced out the window at the passing scenery.
“How long until we reach this cabin of yours?”
“Another hour if we were going straight there. Which we’re not.”
“Care to enlighten me?”
“We’re heading back to Atlanta to pick up another car. Those guys had to see what we’re driving, maybe even the license number if they had infrared capabilities. Which I’m pretty sure they did. They’ve probably already reported back to whoever they’re working for.” She’d spent the past few minutes working things out in her head. Once it had stopped spinning, that is.
“How’re we going to get another vehicle?” Caleb asked.
“I’m going to tag Sal, one of our operatives, to meet us with a car.”
“Salvatore Santonni?”
“Yeah. He works with Jake and me. Did you two serve together?”
“I never had the honor, but I heard plenty. He’s got a rep for doing whatever it takes to get the job done.”
Shelley allowed herself a small smile. “He’s the best.”
Caleb was silent for several long moments. “How did they find us?” he asked abruptly. “You’re the only one who knew where we were heading.” Was there a whiff of accusation in his voice?
When she didn’t reply, Caleb had the decency to apologize. “Sorry. I know you didn’t lead them to us. But how did they know where we were?”
“I don’t know. But I intend to find out.” Shelley prayed she could make good on that promise. The truth was, she had no idea how the men had found them at the motel.
She always checked her car for any tracking devices. Caleb had tossed his cell, and she had a burner, so there was no way anyone could ping their location from their phones.
Using her Bluetooth, she called Sal, explained the situation. “Thanks, Sal,” she said when he agreed to meet her with a different car.
“We’re set,” she said to Caleb.
Twenty minutes later, she pulled into the parking lot of a convenience store where Sal was waiting with a blue minivan.
“Really?” she asked with a raised brow. “A minivan?”
Sal lifted a massive shoulder. “Who’s going to look for you in a soccer-mom mobile?”
He had a point. She made the introductions and then watched as the two warriors acknowledged each other.
“It’s a pleasure,” Caleb said at last. “You’re a legend.”
Sal shook his head. “Nah. I’m just a good ol’ boy. Jake tells me that you saved his bacon back in the day.”
“Let’s just say we took turns saving each other’s bacon.”
Sal slapped Caleb on the shoulder. “Don’t I know it. Serving in the Sandbox, you learn who your friends are.” His expression sobered. “I heard about your brother and his wife. I’m sorry, man. No one deserves that.”
Grimacing, Caleb gestured to the backseat where Tommy slept. “Especially him.”
Sal’s mouth hardened. Shelley knew he had a soft spot for the innocents of the world. Jake had told her that his gentleness with children had earned him the nickname Gentle Giant.
“Yeah,” he said thickly. “Especially him.”
Caleb transferred Tommy from the car to the van. Tommy didn’t stir but slept on, his soft snores adding an air of normality to the situation.
Shelley supposed they should be grateful that he didn’t wake up, but she continued to worry about the boy’s lack of response. An unwelcome childhood memory surfaced. When she’d turned ten, she’d finally accepted that her mother, who had abandoned Shelley and Jake years earlier, wasn’t coming back.
For days, Shelley had shut down, going so deep inside herself that nothing had registered. The only thing that had pulled her out was Jake’s tears. Seeing Jake, the big brother she adored, crying had shocked her to the core.
What would it take for Tommy to find his way out of the numbing pain that encased him?
Not her problem, she reminded herself. Her job was to protect Tommy and Caleb. Getting Tommy the help he so obviously needed was his uncle’s responsibility.
“Thanks, Sal,” she said. “Tonight you saved my bacon.”
“All this talk of bacon saving is making me hungry. Be careful,” he added with a tap to her cheek. “Good bosses are hard to find.”
* * *
To Caleb’s surprise, Shelley didn’t immediately start the van after Sal drove off.
“We need to go through Tommy’s things,” she said.
“You think someone’s put a tracker in his stuff?”
“It’s one way of knowing where we’re going practically before we do.”
Together, Caleb and Shelley started going through Tommy’s belongings. Systematically, they searched his clothes and the few toys he’d brought with him.
“There’s nothing,” Caleb said in disgust thirty minutes later after they’d gone over each item twice. “Nilch. We’re back to square one.”
“You couldn’t have told anyone,” she mused aloud. “You didn’t even know where we were going. I was the only one.”
“Yeah.” The suspicion was back. Shelley was the only one who knew where they were had been going. So how had the shooters found them?
His feelings must have shown on his face, for she said, “Hey, they were shooting at me, too. I’m not the target. You are.” She paused. “That clipping was meant to scare you off.”
“I’m sticking. I owe it to Michael and Grace.”
How had anyone known about Ethan’s accident? It had happened almost thirty years ago.
As she had on the first leg of the journey, Shelley performed multiple SDRs. It ate up valuable time, but Caleb understood the necessity. No one could have followed the convoluted backtracking and lane changes she employed without being spotted.
They reached the cabin three hours later. Fashioned of split logs and stone, the structure was a perfect complement to its rural mountain setting.
While Caleb carried Tommy inside, Shelley brought in their bags.
“There’s a bedroom off that first door,” she said, gesturing to a hallway. “You and Tommy can bunk in there.”
“After what happened at the motel, I’d feel better if we all stayed together. In case...”
Shelley’s nod was one of warm understanding. “Of course.”
Caleb settled Tommy on a sofa, covered him with a throw he found on the back of a chair, then took the opportunity to check out the cabin. It wasn’t spacious but looked comfortable and clean. The soldier in him approved of the compact size. Small was easier to defend and control than large.
After noting the location of windows and doors, he nodded to Shelley. “Looks good.” He sat next to Tommy and then propped his feet on the stone coffee table.
“We’re both exhausted,” she said and sank onto a matching sofa. “Let’s get some sleep. There’re still a few hours before daylight.”
But she didn’t close her eyes. Neither did he. Adrenaline was still flowing through his bloodstream, making sleep impossible. He figured it was the same for Shelley. His thoughts were a quagmire of questions and self-recriminations. Like rowdy children, they refused to behave and leave him in peace.
Caleb didn’t like wasting time, so he decided to use it to learn more about his savvy bodyguard. She’d been both cunning and bold in outwitting and outdriving the SUVs.
“Jake said you were a top scorer in shooting competitions in the Service,” he said, recalling what Jake had told him about his sister. “Since the Service hires only the best of the best, that’s pretty impressive.”
Her elegant brow rose at his words, but she didn’t confirm them, her lips folded so tightly together that there was no hint of softness there. At the same moment, something raw flashed through her gaze. The darkness behind her eyes hinted at something he hadn’t expected. Sorrow. Regret. Guilt.
“You’d think so, wouldn’t you?” she said at last. With those cryptic words, she turned away from him.
“Did I say something wrong?”
“No.” But the word was muffled.
Caleb puzzled over her reaction. What had he said to make her stiffen up as she’d done?
Shelley came off as secure in who she was and what she did with her take-charge attitude and brash confidence. As much as he told himself he shouldn’t be curious, he couldn’t help wondering why her eyes were so filled with shadows. Or had he imagined it because he was looking through his own veil of pain?
Not his business, he reminded himself. His only business was in protecting Tommy and finding out who had killed Michael and Grace.
Caleb noticed his hands were fisted and forced himself to unclench his fingers.
Never had he felt so helpless, so powerless. That wasn’t something a Delta soldier was comfortable with. Give him an enemy to defeat, a munitions dump to take out, a rescue mission to perform, and he was your man. He knew what he was doing in the field.
Time had given him regrets. It had also forced him to accept the truth about himself. He had deserted Michael when his brother needed him the most, not because he believed he could save the world—no soldier who had served believed that after the first day of combat—but because he was good at what he did. Because he relished the challenge. Because when he did the job right, he felt good about himself.
Was that so terrible to want to feel good about himself? His childhood had been spent knowing he hadn’t measured up, would never be able to redeem himself after letting his baby brother die. Wasn’t he entitled to have this one thing to feel good about?
He hadn’t exactly deserted Michael, Caleb reminded himself. Michael had sent him away, the harsh words he’d uttered still echoing in Caleb’s mind. It was scant comfort, though, when he struggled to accept that his brother was dead.
Forcibly, he pulled his thoughts from the mire of pain, and, without volition, returned them to the feisty bodyguard.
“You’re staring,” she said, and he realized she’d turned back to face him.
Her words jerked him back to the here and now, and he wondered if he’d imagined the roiling emotions he’d read in her gaze only moments ago. “Sorry. I was trying to get a handle on who you are.”
“No problem.” Shelley lifted a shoulder in a careless shrug, but the intensity in her lovely gray eyes belied the casual gesture. “What you see is what you get. Ex-cop, ex-Secret Service agent.”
He had a feeling there was much more to Shelley Rabb than that. She thought fast on her feet, kept her cool under fire and didn’t back down from a challenge. She said what she meant and meant what she said. The old saying described the woman perfectly. There was no pretense about her, but he sensed a well of pain beneath the no-nonsense exterior.
“What about you? You’re Delta. What about the man under the soldier?”
Caleb had no answer to that, at least none that he was willing to share. He’d buried the part of him that wasn’t a squared-away soldier long ago.
“Is there someone special?”
“Not anymore.” The words were out before he could think better of them.
“What happened?”
“You ask a lot of questions, lady.”
“Comes with the territory. If you don’t want to tell me, say so. My feelings won’t be hurt.”
How did he explain what had gone wrong between him and Tricia to Shelley when he could scarcely explain it to himself? He’d met his former girlfriend on one of his rare leaves home. She was beautiful, intelligent, sophisticated. It was obvious that she was going places. And she wanted to take him with her.
Through an encounter with a buddy who worked in the private sector, Caleb had learned that Tricia had interviewed for a job with an oil company and that her getting the job was contingent upon his signing with the company, as well.
Not wanting to believe it, he’d confronted her.
“I’m sure your friend misunderstood,” Tricia had said with the smile that had bewitched him into silencing the little voice that had so often told him she had been lying to him from the start.
“The only misunderstanding was in my believing that we had something real. I was just your ticket to a six-figure job.”
“Darling, what difference does it make why they want you? We’ll have such a great life,” she said with forced gaiety. “You can name your own price. Security is a hot ticket in the business world.
“You did your time for your country. Now it’s time to do something for yourself. You could go anywhere, do anything,” she said with another winning smile. “Delta’s holding you back. Together, we make an unbeatable team.”
He’d shrugged off her hands and looked at her with something akin to revulsion. “That’s where you’re wrong. We’re not a team. We never were.”
Caleb had known it was over from the moment she’d lied to him. Without trust, there was nothing. He’d put his faith in the wrong woman. He wouldn’t make that mistake again.
Shelley hadn’t said anything while he took a stroll down memory lane, and Caleb resisted the urge to squirm under her unwavering gaze.
“It didn’t work out, okay? I moved on.” He shrugged, as if to say it hadn’t mattered. But it had.
“You don’t owe me any explanations.”
“What about you?”
Her laugh was hollow, her smile congealed. “Let’s just say it’s complicated.”
Complicated could mean a whole bunch of stuff, he reflected. But from her tone, it was clear she didn’t want to share that whole bunch of stuff, so he swallowed his questions.
He figured Shelley would share when and if she was ready.
A chunk of silence slipped by as darkness enveloped him. Caleb didn’t attempt to sleep during those quiet hours. Arms folded behind his head, he stared up at the ceiling. It didn’t feel awkward to spend the time listening only to the soft sound of Tommy’s breathing and to absorb Shelley’s presence.
Despite her energy, she had a restful quality about her. He appreciated it, and it didn’t take much figuring out to know why. His life was filled with noise and action, and though he had chosen that life, couldn’t imagine another kind, he found solace in the quiet shared with this beautiful woman.
He wanted to reach out and stroke her cheek. The knowledge pulled him up short. He had no business thinking of Shelley in any role except that of bodyguard.
He shook off the uncharacteristic reflections and wondered at their next move. Shelley was a top-notch operative, but despite her prowess, the threat hadn’t stopped.
His thoughts came to an abrupt halt. Why come after a seven-year-old boy? Because Tommy knew something? But he was certain Michael wouldn’t have shared anything about his work with his son. So what made Tommy so valuable?
Caleb gave a snort of disgust. Speculating was worse than useless, especially when he lacked information. He was no closer to having any answers than he’d been a day ago.
His heart clutched. “Lord, what am I going to do?” he whispered hoarsely. His voice scratched against a throat raw from unshed tears, his words releasing more pain than he’d felt in a long time.
Not even in Afghanistan when his unit had taken fire from all directions and they’d lost three men had he felt so completely helpless. With incoming fire pouring from the surrounding mountains, he and his unit had sought refuge in the scant shelter of a rock overhang.
Slugs ricocheted off the rocks behind and to the left of him and his men, and Caleb felt bits of shrapnel striking all around him, deadly pellets that tore through and destroyed flesh. The machine guns had to be spitting out .50 caliber ordnance, each round the length of a man’s finger and undoubtedly armor-piercing.
It wasn’t hard to determine the weapons used against him and his unit, not with the supersonic sound made by the guns and the distinctive muzzle flash. And then there was the unmistakable vapor trail of a .50 caliber. Once you’d seen one, you didn’t easily forget.
It was a slaughter. Only by the grace of God had he escaped with his life. Others hadn’t been as fortunate.
Prayer had come instinctively from his lips then. As though in answer to that prayer, the reassuring sound of Browning machine guns opened up as American forces came to the unit’s aid.
He’d made it through. Would he make it through his brother’s death, as well? He honestly didn’t know. The self-doubt was unaccustomed, but nothing he’d felt or done in the past few days was like him.
Michael had been everything that Caleb was not: quiet, patient, slow to anger. The qualities had served him well in his job as a federal prosecutor.
Caleb knew little about the case Michael had been trying, only enough to understand that it was a high-profile one. If anyone should have died, it should have been him, he thought bitterly. He was a soldier, one who put his life on the line every day. Not Michael, who had chosen the law as his way to fight for justice. The law was safe.
Or it should have been.
Despair moved within him, and, beneath it, like a toll of a church bell, came the pain. His grief was so dense that he felt as though he couldn’t draw a breath, that his lungs had forgotten how to work. At last a wheezing gasp escaped his chest. He listened to the gurgling sound, an acknowledgment that he was still alive despite his doubts.
He looked up to find Shelley watching him.
Her softly spoken words surprised him. “Grief is a work that must be done.”
* * *
Tension simmered in the homey room, skirted across the plaid rug and wrapped its way around Shelley. She couldn’t move, pinned by the stark despair in Caleb’s blue gaze. Her stare lasted a heartbeat too long before she looked away.
She realized how quiet she and Caleb had grown, how still they’d become. It was as if all the sound had been leached from the room.
A sob erupted from Tommy, breaking the silence. Compassion stirred within her, but she resisted the urge to go to him, though she longed to give him the comfort he needed.
Shelley understood grief. She understood loss and fear and heart-wrenching pain. She understood all of them and still didn’t know how to offer comfort to the small boy.
“It’s all right,” Caleb murmured and managed to quiet Tommy, to soothe whatever nightmare had caused him to cry out, and soon the boy was asleep again.
This time it was Caleb who turned his back to her. Whether he was feigning sleep or not, she understood that there would be no more sharing now.
It was too dark, and she was too alone, even with Caleb and Tommy in the same room. Without warning, her mind filled with reel after reel of pain-filled pictures. Her mother looking at her with a contempt bordering on hatred. Her disastrous last assignment with the Service. Her inability to forgive herself coupled with her gut-wrenching despair.
The memories speared through her, opening up pockets of bewilderment, outrage and heartache.
She’d believed herself to be in love, only to find that the object of that blind devotion had deceived her in the worst way possible. Jeffrey’s betrayal had cut to the core of her being. After that, how could she trust herself to know what was real and what wasn’t?
Caleb hadn’t confided the details of what had gone wrong in his relationship; then, neither had she. But she felt an affinity with him. Though it had remained unspoken, it was apparent that they both understood the importance of always moving forward, because if you remained in one place for too long, you risked being crushed by the weight of regret.
Her regrets came with two dead men, one she’d considered a friend, one she’d hoped to marry.
Still lost in thought, Shelley released a quavering breath. If they managed to find who had killed Caleb’s brother and sister-in-law while keeping Tommy safe, would that allow him to forgive himself for not being there when his brother needed him? And if she helped him, would that make it easier for her to visit the graves of the two men who had died during the botched mission?
Or were they both chasing the impossible?
She shook off the questions that had no answers and closed her eyes. Thankfully, the nightmare didn’t return.
The sun was barely making its ascent when she awoke with a start, Caleb’s question drumming through her mind. How had the gunmen found them?
Caleb had stretched out on the floor, next to the sofa where Tommy slept. She swept her gaze over the big, ruggedly handsome soldier as he kept guard over his nephew, even in sleep.
She stood and padded to the table. Once more, she searched Tommy’s belongings. She and Caleb had examined the contents of the backpack, but they hadn’t looked at the backpack itself.
Now she did so.
Painstakingly, she went over every inch of it. It was then that she found it: a tracker, so small as to be nearly invisible, sewn into the lining.
The implications sank in immediately. Shelley thought fast. Were the men who were after Tommy and Caleb already on their way? She didn’t want to wake the little boy and drag him from yet another safe house.
But could she afford not to?
An indistinct rustling from the outside caught her attention. A zing of apprehension jolted through her. It could be nothing, she told herself.
The woods where the cabin was nestled were alive with rabbits, opossums, raccoons and even a hungry bear or two. But every instinct was telling her to get Tommy and Caleb out of there. Those instincts had saved her life upon more than one occasion.
Hypervigilant, she listened closely and now heard the fall of footsteps. Careful to keep out of the line of sight, she crept toward the window. A man moved stealthily up the porch steps. A second followed.
“Caleb,” she whispered as she shook him awake. “Get Tommy. We’ve got to get out of here.”
He came to as she would. Calm. Alert. Ready to act. Or fight. “What’s going on?”
“Two men...outside...found the tracker...there all the time.”
To his credit, Caleb didn’t waste time asking questions of her disjointed explanation.
“Take Tommy out the back door,” she hissed.
“What about you?”
“I’m right behind you. Go!”
“Not without you.”
“I’ll catch up.”
“We go together.” His tone brooked no argument, and he carried his nephew into the bedroom, shutting the door behind him before rejoining her.
She didn’t have time to argue with him. By now, the men were not trying for stealth.
The men burst through the front door. The fact that they didn’t wear masks alarmed her more than did the military grade KA-BAR knives sheathed at their sides and the snub-nosed revolvers they wielded with casual expertise. They didn’t expect anyone to survive.
“Remember...no one hurts the boy,” one said.
Shelley revised her assessment. The men didn’t expect her or Caleb to survive, but they had other plans for Tommy.
The first man advanced on her, the grim look on his face as foreboding as the weapons he carried.
Caleb faced off against the other opponent. He didn’t wait for the assailant to make a move, instead snapping out his right arm in an arc and knocking the weapon from the man’s hand. He followed up with a blow to the chest with the heel of his palm, knocking his opponent backward a couple of steps.
Before the intruder could regain his balance, Caleb threw a deadly combination of jabs and crosses to the face. So rapid were his punches that it was all the intruder could do to protect his head as Caleb rained down blows.
Another time, Shelley would have admired Caleb’s skill; now, she was too busy dealing with her own attacker.
The hard gleam in the would-be killer’s eyes promised he wouldn’t go down as easily as his teammate. “Let’s see what you’ve got, little girl.”
“Yeah.” She let her teeth show. “Let’s.” Quick as a snake, she brought the edge of her hand down on the wrist of his gun hand, sending the gun flying. She moved in fast, hooked her right leg beneath his, toppling him to the floor. With scarcely a pause, he rolled backward and jumped to his feet.
He wasn’t even breathing hard and looked as though he were enjoying himself. “That the best you got?” His mouth twisted in an ugly sneer.
She didn’t bother with an answer.
He’d obviously had top-notch military training, and deflected her flying fists and feet with little effort. She feinted to the left, spun on one foot, then struck out with her right fist. It connected with a bone-jarring crunch to his jaw. Pain sang up her arm.
She spun, hitting his throat with the toe of her boot.
He groaned but didn’t go down and withdrew his knife from its scabbard, the honed edge gleaming menacingly. She had to stay out of its reach, and, at the same time, take him down.
Knives were a man’s weapon, requiring skill, strength and, above all, reach. Though she was skilled enough with a blade, she lacked the necessary power to be really effective. Instead, she relied on moves that Jake had taught her.
When the man reached for her throat, she drove the ball of her hand upward under his nose. His agonized cry told her she’d broken it.
Good.
But self-congratulations were premature. He was still standing, still a threat. He swiped his hand across his nose, scowling when it came away bloody.
“You’ll pay for that.”
He shifted position, and she saw her opening.
“No. But you will.”
She kicked out with her leg, striking his knee, causing it to bend in a way nature never intended. The knee, a particularly sensitive spot in the body, was crucial to standing, to movement, to balance.
Injuries to the knee could reduce the toughest of men to howling babies. Her assailant was no different. He screamed in rage and pain as he crumpled to the floor, clutching his injured leg.
“This ain’t worth it,” he muttered, spittle flecking his face. “Nobody said she was some kind of ninja.”
“Better than ninja,” she said and delivered the final blow to the back of his neck.
Shelley and Caleb made short work of tying up the assailants with zip ties she carried in her backpack. But she didn’t delude herself into believing that this would put an end to the threat to Caleb and Tommy, if anything, she was more worried than ever. The enemy had upped the stakes, making it clear that Caleb was expendable. Even more chilling, what did they have in store for Tommy?
FOUR (#ulink_c1227e36-becd-568c-9390-693e26ff7986)
“When do you leap over tall buildings in a single bound?” Caleb drawled as they sped down the highway after Shelley had hustled them out of the cabin.
The Georgia countryside was a blur as Shelley coaxed the minivan to maximum speed. If he weren’t mistaken, they were heading back to Atlanta. After settling Tommy in the backseat, asleep with his stuffed bear in his arms, Caleb had climbed in the passenger side. He didn’t like not driving, didn’t like turning over that control. But clearly Shelley believed she should drive, so he held his tongue. Barely.
A dark cloud smeared the sky gray. The humidity was thick enough to slice and serve up on a platter. Much as Caleb had detested the sand that blew with unrelenting persistence in Afghanistan day and night, he preferred that to the clamminess that crawled over his skin now like a million wet ants.
She flashed a grin his way. “Haven’t perfected that skill yet. I’ll let you know when I do.”
“Seriously, is there anything you can’t do?” He ticked items off his fingers. “You drive like a NASCAR champ. You take down a man who’s twice your size. I was beginning to feel as useless as a snowball in Alaska.”
Her smile died. “I told you to grab Tommy and get out.”
“You really think I’d leave you to take out two armed men by yourself?”
“Your first responsibility is to your nephew.”
“Don’t preach to me about my responsibilities,” he said, voice cold as the desert night in Afghanistan he had only moments ago been feeling nostalgia for. “I’m well aware of my duties.” Duty had defined him for as long as he could remember. Now it lay with Tommy. And it terrified him.
“Then why didn’t you go? I can handle myself.”
“So I saw. But Deltas don’t leave anyone behind. Ever.” The lash in his voice was unlike him. He chalked it up to a combination of fear, exhaustion and worry, but it was guilt that nagged at him unmercifully.
Ignoring his tone, Shelley retorted, “I’m not just anyone.”
“Duly noted.” He turned slightly so that he could see her profile. The softness of her features was belied by the firmness of her jaw. “You handled yourself like a pro back there.”
“I am a pro, Judd. Get used to it.”
Caleb didn’t argue. He had met Shelley less than twenty-four hours ago, and in that space of time, she’d spirited him and Tommy out of a motel, engaged two SUVs in a deadly game of chicken, then taken down an armed assailant who was bent on killing her and Caleb.
She had done all this with such dispatch that he could only marvel at the woman’s skill and courage. She was the real deal.
She hadn’t drawn her weapon. He had a pretty good idea why, but he asked anyway. “Why didn’t you use your gun? You had an opening.”
“I would have if I’d needed to, but I figured the police will have plenty of questions for those yahoos. There’s a chance they may even answer,” she said, confirming his guess. “Plus, taking a life, even when it’s justified, changes you. I didn’t need that. Not again.”
Caleb didn’t mind using his gun. But, like any soldier who understood what that meant, he liked not using his weapon better. Then the last part of her comment registered. He shot her a questioning look, but she only shook her head.
After securing the gunmen with plastic flex-cuffs she’d pulled from her backpack, she’d called Sal and directed him to call the local police and have the men picked up. She’d fished in the men’s pockets and had come away with nothing. “It figures.”
“What?”
“No ID. Not even a burner phone to tell who they called last.”
Caleb understood what she meant. There was no way to know who was giving the orders.
At that moment, a deer leaped from the woods, bounded over the guard rail and onto the road. Shelley braked sharply, avoiding the animal by mere inches. “Do you know that Bambi kills more people every year than Smokey the Bear?”
“I’ve heard stories.”
The clouds of earlier spilled forth in a drizzle, which quickly turned into a heavy rain. With the beat of the rain a counterpoint to his thoughts, Caleb tried to digest the events of the past day and a half. Questions swirled in his mind, questions that led only to a quagmire of more questions. Nothing about this made sense. If the killers thought Tommy could identify his parents’ murderers, why hadn’t they disposed of him when they’d killed Michael and Grace? Why try to kidnap him now?
They rode in silence for thirty minutes until Shelley broke it. “I was afraid of this,” she said, gesturing to what appeared to be an accident scene just ahead.
He got it immediately. An accident on this isolated stretch of road was too much of a coincidence to ignore. The punch of fear was not for himself, but for Tommy. “We’re not stopping.” He made a statement of the words.
“You got that right.” Her smile was hard and tight. “You boys better say a prayer.”
* * *
Shelley gunned the engine and maneuvered around the so-called accident. Angry shouts ensued, followed by the sound of car doors slamming and the roar of an engine.
“They’re on our tail,” Caleb said.
She didn’t bother answering.
The road narrowed just ahead in a series of sharp curves. The rain had worsened, sheeting down the windshield and making visibility a wishful thought.
Gunshots rang out, peppering the rear of the van like a swarm of angry bees.
Caleb twisted in his seat, stuck his head out the window and fired off two shots. The shatter of metal hitting glass told her that he’d hit the windshield. She’d expected no less.
He was Delta, after all.
In a Hollywood thriller, he would have shot out the tires, but this wasn’t Hollywood, and shooting out a tire from a speeding vehicle wasn’t as easy as the movies made it look. In fact, it was nearly impossible.
Caleb looked over his shoulder. “That slowed them down, but they’re still coming.” His grim tone echoed her own apprehension.
“I know.” They approached a sharp curve. She made the turn too swiftly, cut the wheel in the opposite direction, and realized she’d overcorrected. A rookie mistake. For a few breath-stealing moments, the van spun out of control.
At any other time, she’d have wrestled the vehicle back on the road, but the tires failed to gain purchase on the rain-slick asphalt, sending them skidding to a hard stop against the safety railing.
The impact sent Shelley hurling forward, but the air bags cushioned the blow for Caleb and herself. That was both good and bad news, as the deployment of the airbags meant that the vehicle was now disabled. She glanced in the rearview mirror at Tommy, noted with relief that he appeared okay.
“Get Tommy,” she yelled to Caleb and jumped out. “We’ve got maybe ten seconds before they’re on us.”
With Caleb carrying Tommy tucked under his arm, they ran for the trees as the pickup bore down on them and plunged into the dark greenness. The woods could be an unfriendly place, but they were a refuge now. The heavy smell of moss, wet leaves and soaked clothing swam through her senses.
The second the three of them hit the trees, bursts of gunfire sounded. With his free hand, Caleb grabbed Shelley’s arm. He dove and rolled, somehow managing to take both Tommy and Shelley with him until they were hidden beneath the dense underbrush of kudzu and ivy.
In the scramble of arms and legs, her ankle twisted beneath her. She didn’t have time to worry about it as she worked to make herself as small as possible.
The darkness was their friend, as was the storm, no matter how wretched the cold and wetness were. No light found its way through the forest where each tree struggled to find a wedge of sunlight at the expense of its neighbor.
With a finger to his lips, Caleb motioned Shelley to keep quiet, though the reminder was hardly necessary.
The gunmen trampled through the thickly wooded area, their voices loud in the otherwise still air.
“We ain’t gonna catch them now,” one of them said, disgust ripe in his voice.
“The boss isn’t going to be happy.” The second man swung his arm through the bush, coming within inches of where Shelley lay hidden. He was so close that she could see the brand of sneakers he wore.
“I’d like to see him do any better,” came the heated reply. “Are there snakes in these woods? I can’t stand snakes.”
“Suck it up. The boss wants the kid real bad.”
“Well, he ain’t gonna get him today.”
The two men argued back and forth for another few minutes. They made another halfhearted attempt at beating the bushes but eventually gave up.
Shelley didn’t let out her breath until the men had passed by where she, Caleb and Tommy were hiding.
Caleb motioned to Shelley and Tommy to remain where they were. “I’m going to follow them,” he whispered in her ear. “I wouldn’t put it past them to pretend to leave, then circle back.”
She’d had the same thought, but it was her job to protect Caleb and Tommy. “I’ll do it.” She couldn’t keep the stiffness from her voice.
With his face only inches from her own, Shelley made out the cold composure and resolution in his features, the anticipation of the hunter barely concealed beneath the surface.
“You know E and E?” he asked.
Shelley recognized the shorthand for the evasion and escape part of SERE’s training. Though she hadn’t had the same training in survival/evasion/resistance/escape that Deltas underwent, Jake had taught her enough that she wasn’t a total novice.
Not waiting for her answer, Caleb melted into the deepening shadows of the woods. He moved so quietly that she didn’t hear even the crack of a twig or brush of a branch. He was in warrior mode, she recognized, his instinct to defend, to protect, on full alert.
Alone with Tommy, Shelley took a moment to assess her condition. Her hands and arms were scraped and bloody, but nothing serious. More troubling was her ankle, which was beginning to throb.
Shake it off, she told herself. Except that she couldn’t very well shake off anything when she was supposed to stay as still as possible.
Though it caused her stomach to do a jittery dance, she drew Tommy close. He neither resisted nor welcomed her embrace. It unnerved her that he remained so unresponsive. Anger welled inside her at the men who had traumatized an innocent child to the point that he couldn’t even cry out in fear.
How were they supposed to fight an enemy with seemingly unlimited resources? A foe vicious enough to gun down a father and a mother in front of their son. How could such an enemy be defeated?
Shelley had seen her share of death, had witnessed the violence gang members visited upon each other with careless cruelty, but never had she encountered the scope of organization and communications network these killers possessed.
Every time she, Caleb and Tommy escaped one set of killers, another set popped up. It was time to try a different tack. She had an idea about that, if only they could get out of these woods alive.
All of this went through her mind as she huddled in the brush, praying that their pursuers had given up and that Caleb returned shortly. Much as she hated to admit it, she liked knowing he was close by.
Minutes ticked by.
Caleb returned, as silently as he’d vanished. “All clear.”
Shelley drew a silent breath of relief, not recognizing until that moment how anxious she’d been while waiting for him. That annoyed her more than she wanted to admit. She wasn’t some helpless damsel who needed a man to rescue her.
“It took you long enough.” The snap in her voice annoyed her further.
He slanted a curious glance her way but didn’t respond to her jibe.
“That was close,” she said at last.
“Too close,” he agreed.
His face was a scant inch from hers as he knelt to help Tommy and her from their crouched positions. Time hung for what seemed an eternity as Caleb held her gaze.
A shiver coursed through her.
“The van’s toast, even if we dared return to it,” she croaked, wanting, needing, to break the spell and bring some semblance of order to her scattered thoughts. “Which we don’t.” She squared her shoulders and resolved not to think about her injured ankle. Or the thing, she didn’t know what else to call it, that had just passed between her and Caleb.
She climbed out from the bushes, winced as her ankle gave way. It was most likely twisted, maybe sprained.
Fortunately, Caleb had turned away. The last thing she wanted was for him to know she was injured.
FIVE (#ulink_62a1602b-1bd0-5c81-b227-637f1821c729)
If it had been only himself to consider, Caleb would have gone on the offensive, taking on the assailants, but he had Tommy to consider. His nephew had to come first. Evasion was the order of the day.
His mind sifted through details about the men who had run them off the road. They were clearly the second string brought in only because the first had failed to complete the mission. Everything about them, from their heavy aftershave to their constant bickering while searching, marked them as amateurs.
Pros would have left off the aftershave and maintained strict silence while conducting a grid search.
Caleb chafed at the knowledge that he couldn’t take them out, every fiber in him protesting the decision he’d been forced to make. He liked to hunt. He didn’t like to be the one who was hunted.
No Delta did.
He picked his way over fallen trees and vines that snaked over the forest floor, ready to trip the unwary. Out of habit, he walked on the balls of his feet, the spongy ground absorbing any sound. The pungent odor of rotting vegetation was ripe in the air. Birds cawed and chirped, sending out warnings of an intruder’s presence.
The smells and sounds took him back to conducting an op in Central America. Though the terrain was jungle rather than forest, the atmosphere was much the same: thick and damp and dark.
Caleb had worn a Ghillie then, a camouflage suit of burlap and Cordura. Each man in the unit had personalized his Ghillie, covering it with mud, dirt and whatever else he could find to mask not only his appearance but also his scent.
Nothing gave away a man’s presence more than the smell of deodorant or soap or aftershave. Once, Caleb had lain in the midst of a group of guerilla rebels, and not a one of them had seen him until he’d risen from the jungle floor, a green-and-brown figure ordering them to drop their weapons and raise their hands.
Tommy had given out after the first mile, and Caleb was now carrying him. He turned back to where Shelley was trailing farther and farther behind.
He frowned. “You’re limping.” It came out as an accusation. Why hadn’t she said anything?
“Yeah. So what?” With a few more steps, she caught up to him and Tommy and leaned heavily against the trunk of a tree.
He dipped his head toward her foot. “What happened?”
“I twisted my ankle.”
“When I threw you into the woods?” Why hadn’t he realized she’d been hurt?
She took a breath, tiny lines of pain bracketing her mouth. “Maybe.”
“Why didn’t you say something?”
“And accomplish what? We can’t stop. You can’t carry me. So we keep going.” She made a face. “Besides, complaining is for wimps.”
“You’re no wimp.” Why did everything he said sound like an accusation? “You’re going to fall on your face in another minute.”
“Give me some credit, Judd,” she snapped. “I’m not some Southern miss who’s going to swoon in your arms because I have an owie.”
He let out a hiss of exasperation. “I never said you were.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll keep up.”
“That’s not what I said.”
“Did you stop whatever you were doing in Delta because one of your team had a boo-boo?”
“Of course not, but—”
“Then give me the same respect and let me take care of myself.”
“Have it your way.”
Caleb turned his back to her and resumed walking. If he slowed the pace a bit, well, he was carrying an extra sixty-five pounds, wasn’t he, conveniently ignoring the fact that he’d carried much heavier weights for much longer times. It had nothing to do with Shelley’s injury. Nothing at all.
Within another hour, it became obvious that they weren’t going to make it out of the woods anytime soon.
Shelley’s pace had slowed to a near crawl. Though she hadn’t said anything, and he figured she’d die before she’d complain, the labored breaths she took told their own story.
He assessed the circumstances as he would any op, his brain already starting to break down the situation. Consider the options. Weigh the pros and cons. All in under thirty seconds. Deltas were trained to act quickly and decisively. A delay of even a minute could cost lives.

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