Christmas In Hiding

“Have you ridden the subway much?”

She shrugged. “Some. I walk when I can.”

“Are you okay?”

She burst into a grin. “Yeah. I love it!”

Jackson couldn’t help but grin back at her. New York might be an acquired taste, but it was good she was flexible and adjusting so well. An adventuresome spirit would make her time in witness protection a bit easier to bear.

The train pulled into the next stop, and Jackson eyed the platform. If anyone had followed them, they should still be stuck on the express. “Come on, we’re getting off here.”

“Already?”

Jackson bit back a smile. Was that disappointment in her voice?

He led her above ground and into the madness of the East Side at Christmas. Hailing a cab wasn’t quite as easy this time, but before too long he had them back in another car. He gave directions for the West Side and watched as Callie stared out the window. “Christmas in New York. Pure insanity.”

She turned to him and smiled. “I still can’t get over the sheer number of people.”

Something about her enthusiasm stirred a response in him. “I’m pretty used to crowds, but every once in a while it amazes me, too.”

Within minutes, the cab pulled up in front of a hotel. After Jackson paid, he took her arm and helped her from the backseat. They walked to the hotel entry and waited under the awning. As soon as the cab turned the corner, Jackson urged her in the other direction.

Callie turned a skeptical gaze on him. “I can’t believe anyone could still be following us—if they ever were. I’m so lost, even I couldn’t find us.”

“Not too much longer now.”

She sighed and started walking. “You seem to know your way around. How long have you lived here?”

“I don’t. I’m just here because of you. Ben probably didn’t have a chance to tell you, but I was scheduled to replace him. He’s needed back in Texas. I’ll stay and take you in to trial.”

Callie paused and rested against an office building. Eyes closed, she drew in breaths. After a minute, she started walking again. He drew alongside her and rested his hand on her arm. “What is it?”

“Nothing.” She shrugged away from his hand. “I’m just still trying to wrap my head around all this. Around the idea that all of your lives are revolving around me. I feel like I should say I’m sorry.”

Jackson’s senses went on alert. “Why sorry?”

“That you have to be here, away from home, just because I am.”

He shrugged. “It’s my job.” That was life as a federal marshal. Holidays were pretty much like any other day. It suited him fine.

“I don’t suppose there’s any chance we can stop for coffee?”

Jackson looked ahead to the familiar green sign that had caught her eye as they turned the corner. He hated the longing in her voice and that he couldn’t do anything to help. “Sorry. Not until I’m sure we’re clear.”

She nodded and kept walking, but Jackson felt a twinge of remorse. She looked exhausted and anxious. Would it have hurt to stop? Maybe not, but he was taking no chances when they were this close to their safe house.

“This way.” He glanced quickly left and right, then led her across the street and up the hotel steps. They crossed a crowded lobby, directly to the elevator bank. “We’ve got a room already,” he said quietly. “You’re going to stay here until we have a better idea what happened. There’s another pair of marshals on duty up there. You’ll be safe.”

He hoped.

After depositing Callie in the hotel room, Jackson headed back out. He needed some information, needed to talk, hopefully to Ben if he was able, definitely to the assistant US attorney and the DEA agent. Once he’d spoken with them, he’d call his home office. They had to figure out what had gone so terribly wrong. Before it happened again.

Jackson reached for his phone to call the hospital but hesitated when he spied the coffee shop logo. The calls could wait a few minutes.

Fifteen minutes later Jackson handed off cups of coffee to the marshals on duty before entering the hotel suite.

Though Callie looked startled to see him back so soon, her apprehensive expression melted into a smile when she spotted what was in his hands. That smile made it worth all the lost time he’d spent waiting behind Christmas shoppers in a long line.

She accepted the cup from him and took a sip. “Ahh, perfect. Just the way I like it. How did you guess?”

Jackson shifted, uneasy with the praise. “It’s in your file.”

TWO

It’s in your file.

The door closed behind Jackson, but his words lingered, sending shivers down Callie’s spine. Of course she had a file. She just hadn’t really thought of it in those terms before. That somewhere there was a folder—most likely on some computer database—with all her information. Even the way she took her coffee.

If her file included minor details like coffee preferences, what else did it hold? The idea that Jackson, a man she’d just met, knew her personal information, even secrets she guarded from the rest of the world, left her feeling vulnerable in a new and profound way.

Did they know who her mother was? The thought struck from out of the blue. Callie’s fingers curled into fists as she fought to contain the rising dread. Wouldn’t that be ironic if they knew more about her life than she did?

Callie crawled up on the sofa. Cradling the coffee cup in her hands, she gently rocked, seeking calm. How had her life come to this?

Sometimes she thought she’d been asking that same question for three straight months. How had her life gone from being ordinary—her days spent teaching kindergarten—to this constant danger? Three months ago she’d been sitting at her kitchen table writing lesson plans. Now she was in hiding from the kind of dangerous men she’d thought only existed in movies.

She couldn’t even begin to comprehend all she had lost. Not long ago she’d been wondering if she and Rick had a future together. Now he was buried in his family’s plot in a remote Texas graveyard, and she was left to deal with the fallout.

She didn’t doubt her decision to break up with him. If nothing else, everything that followed had proved the wisdom of that choice. But with each day in witness protection, her dream of a family seemed farther and farther away.

For the umpteenth time in her life she was alone.

As a former foster kid who’d been bumped around from house to house during her childhood, she should have developed a thick enough skin to handle it. Should have. But the ache never went away. The longing for a real family remained. It especially hurt at this time of year.

Restless with the memories, Callie rose and drifted around the hotel room. It was too fancy, almost sterile. She couldn’t even find a safe place to set the coffee down without fear of leaving a ring. The suite was more luxurious than any place she’d ever stayed before. New York was so far removed from her small-town Texas life.

She wandered over to the window. If Ben were here, he’d make her step back. Feeling defiant, Callie pressed her head against the glass. Fifteen floors below, people hustled along the street. For a brief time she’d been a part of that. She’d begun to settle into a new job and a new life and had actually thought it would be fun to be in New York for Christmas. She’d tried to look forward to the season, enjoying the lights, the windows, the tree at Rockefeller Center.

Now, that, too, was gone.

Heat poured from the vent, but Callie shivered as she stared at the crowds below. Evening was falling, dusk beginning to shroud the people from view. She wrapped her arms around herself, pulling her sweater tight. It wasn’t exactly a hug, but it was the best she could get at the moment.

She’d allowed herself to be lulled into a false sense of security. There was no safe place for her anymore. Not only could she never go home again, but apparently she also couldn’t trust that she would ever find a home that was safe. For the girl whose only dream had been a home and family of her own, that was a bitter pill to swallow.

Enough of this. Giving herself a shake, Callie turned from the window. She could wallow in sadness, or she could choose to focus on the good. And there was good. She just needed to remember it.

Callie rooted through her bag for her Bible. Focusing on reading scripture had been a tool of self-preservation in the early days of this ordeal. It was a way of reminding herself that God was good all the time. Even in the midst of all the turmoil, she had much for which to be thankful. So many people had helped her, starting with the marshals, like Ben, who were willing to sacrifice their lives to keep her safe.

Regret twisted in her belly. She wished she could have gone with Jackson to check on Ben. He’d helped her get her footing in her new life. At first he’d been a friend, protector and father figure all rolled into one. Once she’d been moved to New York, she hadn’t seen him often, but he’d kept in touch. She should be there for him. Since she couldn’t be, she would pray for him.

Dear Lord, I pray to You in thanksgiving for all You have given me. Jesus, my Lord, healer of the sick, please shine Your love on Ben. Protect him and keep him safe from harm.

Callie paused in her prayer. Ben had been her protector, and now Jackson had that role. She was grateful to God for sending Jackson to rescue her. Whether or not she was grateful for Jackson himself was another matter. She was going to have to get to know him better. A smile tugged at her lips as she turned back to her Bible. Buying her coffee definitely weighed in his favor.

* * *

Jackson gripped the edge of the hospital room door, trying to drain the anger from his body before facing his colleague. Ben didn’t need to deal with Jackson’s baggage. He had enough fighting of his own to do. According to the doctor, the knife had missed anything vital but not by much. Another quarter inch... Jackson shook off the thought. Supposedly Ben was just sleeping. Good. He’d wait.

He sank into the chair beside the bed and scrubbed his face with his hands, fighting back emotions that threatened to swamp him. Ben wasn’t just his colleague. He’d been a friend, a mentor and the closest man in Jackson’s life since his family was murdered.

Minutes ticked by with nothing but beeping machines and bustling nurses. Finally there was a slight movement in the bed. “You might as well spit it out instead of sitting there making angry faces.”

Jackson jolted at the whispered words. Tension slid off as he looked up to see Ben staring back at him. Those sun-crinkled eyes weren’t quite sparkling, but there was a light in them that eased something deep within Jackson.

He reached over and gripped Ben’s hand. “Nice of you to wake up.”

Ben grimaced. “You got her away?”

Jackson nodded. “Safe and secure.”

Ben closed his eyes and let out a slow breath. “Thanks. I owe you.”

“Nope.” Jackson shook his head. Ben had it backward. Jackson owed him everything. The senior marshal had taken a wet recruit under his wing and trained him and molded him into the man Jackson was today. He didn’t even want to think what would have become of the angry young man he’d been after the massacre of his family if Ben hadn’t intervened. Jackson had been drifting, aimless and angry. Ben had taken the bitter youth and helped him find a purpose in life. For that alone, Jackson owed him more than he could ever repay.

For that, if nothing else, he would see that the men who’d done this paid.

“What happened?” Ben’s voice melded with Jackson’s.

The two men shrugged as they simultaneously asked the same important question. It would have been funny if the situation weren’t so grave.

“I was hoping you could tell me,” Jackson urged.

Ben frowned, trying to push past the pain. “I remember coming out of the elevator, crossing the lobby. I told Christine to let me go first, but she pushed past and went into the revolving door.” Ben made a wry grimace. “She was annoyed because Callie had no answers. Said she was in a hurry. I went through the side door. That guy from DEA, Quint, followed me.”

Ben shifted, focused on breathing for a minute, then continued. “Someone was waiting. I took a knife. Quint must have seen them making a grab for Christine because he shoved me aside and lunged at her. Probably saved my life, too, because the minute he got his hands on her, the car took off, and the guy who’d stabbed me disappeared into the crowd. I never even saw him.”

That was not what Jackson wanted to hear. “Did you get a look at the car?”

“Quick. As I was falling. Dark blue, tinted windows.” He closed his eyes for a minute, apparently drawing on his training to try to dredge up a memory. “There was a dent in the right rear bumper. Some sort of decal right above it. White and blue. I couldn’t read what it said. Maybe Quint saw something else.”

Jackson would check, but from the report he’d gotten earlier, Mr. DEA hadn’t seen anything. He’d been totally focused on keeping hold of Christine Davis, the assistant US attorney.

“Any idea how they found her here?” Ben asked.

“Callie?” Jackson shook his head. “So you think it was her they were after?”

“Has to be. If they knew she was there, they would have expected her to be coming out with me. With Christine in that winter coat, hat covering her head, all you’d see was the blond curls. Easy to mistake.”

“Still doesn’t explain how they found her,” Jackson muttered. “Unless someone tracked Christine or Quint.”

“Possible, but we went to a lot of trouble to avoid it. That was the whole reason for bringing them here rather than taking Callie to them. Seemed safer. You came up with them, didn’t you?”

Jackson nodded. “We took separate flights from San Antonio and Austin into Atlanta but got stuck on the same connecting flight because of weather delays. Never acknowledged each other in the terminal or in the air and we made sure to take cabs to different hotels. No one would have had any reason to suspect we were together unless they knew.”

Their gazes met and held, neither wanting to be the one to say the words, admit that one of their own must have leaked information.

Ben finally broke the silence. “Get her out of town.” He swallowed hard, as much from the pain of betrayal as from physical injury. “Don’t tell anyone. Just go.”

“There’s one other possibility,” Jackson offered.

Ben shook his head slowly. “Nope. Makes no sense.”

Jackson didn’t respond.

“It’s not what you’re thinking.”

“How do you know what I’m thinking?” Jackson demanded.

Ben rolled his eyes. “Because I know you. She’s not in cahoots with them.”

“You still want to say that? You’re lying in this hospital bed because someone stuck a knife in you.”

“They were trying to get to her.”

“So you say. How do we know they weren’t trying to help her escape?”

Ben gave him a look of disgust.

“Why wasn’t she with you anyway? Why did you have Christine instead of Callie?”

Ben closed his eyes briefly. “Christine had come down really hard on her. Basically accused her of withholding evidence. Made all sorts of threats. She had Quint there giving his best DEA glare, trying to intimidate her.”

“Did it work?”

“Depends on your point of view. Poor kid was shaking in her boots. But she didn’t have any information to give.”

Jackson leaned back in the chair and studied Ben’s expression. Had his mentor gone soft?

Ben shrugged self-consciously. “I wanted to give her some time to settle down. It’s been real hard on her. So I left her in the office and took Christine and Quint down. I figured I’d ask them to lay off terrorizing the witness—at least until the holidays were past, you know?”

Jackson nodded. He knew. That was just the kind of thing Ben did. Going above and beyond to be sure his witness was not only safe physically but emotionally, too.

Jackson was careful with his words. “That doesn’t mean she wasn’t involved.”

“Gut instinct says she’s innocent.”

Jackson snorted. “Is that your healthy gut speaking or the one that was knifed?”

Ben laughed weakly. “Good one.” He closed his eyes.

“You’re tired and I’ve got to get back to my witness.” Jackson stood and rested his hand lightly on Ben’s shoulder. “Take care. Don’t worry—I’ll keep her safe until you come back.”

When Jackson turned to leave, Ben grabbed his sleeve. “Seriously, man.” He paused, dragged in a breath. “Don’t go into this thinking she’s guilty. If you do, you might make a mistake that costs her life.”

Jackson looked down at his friend. He couldn’t say the words, but he nodded his promise.

As he made his way back to the hotel, Jackson replayed the scene in his head. Ben was right, of course. He had to keep an open mind. Honestly, it didn’t matter at all to WITSEC if she was innocent or guilty. She was a protected witness who could provide testimony to convict the real bad guys. For that reason alone, she had to be kept safe.

It was a job he took very seriously.

THREE

By the time he reached the hotel, Jackson was envisioning dinner. He could have stopped to pick up something for them, but he decided to indulge his witness and let her choose. Maybe that would put them on a better footing.

The lobby was mobbed with Christmas revelers, so Jackson ducked around back to the lesser-used elevator bank. He squeezed in with a couple of bellhops and a room-service cart. The news was playing on the elevator television screen, and Jackson immediately recognized the scene from this afternoon.

He could just barely make out the news anchor’s voice over the chatter. “In other news, the Christmas season took a dangerous turn this afternoon when armed robbers tried to mug a woman exiting an office building in midtown. The woman escaped unharmed but her companion is hospitalized with a knife wound. Police are asking anyone with information about a late-model, dark blue SUV to contact the number showing on the screen.”

So that was the story they were giving out. Innocent mugging. Jackson shrugged. It wasn’t like they could reveal the truth that the assistant United States attorney responsible for prosecuting the biggest drug cartel of the past decade had almost been abducted on a Manhattan street. Not good PR for New York or the Texas justice system.

Jackson was turning his focus back to dinner plans when another conversation caught his attention.

“Dude, look.” One waiter nudged the other and pointed at the screen.

Jackson glanced up in time to see a quick flash of Christine Davis’s face on the screen. Uh-oh—someone would not be happy that picture had been released.

“The blonde? Nice.”

“No, man. The car. See the car? That looks like the one I saw parked right outside on 55th when I went for my smoke break.”

“I thought you stopped smoking.”

“Forget that. The car I saw. It looks like the one they showed in the picture. Even had the same dent.”

Jackson froze. Ben said the car had a dent. He looked up, but the news had moved on to another story.

“You think there’s a reward?”

The first guy hesitated. “A reward is nice, but not if it costs me this job.”

“I thought you were on break. It’s not like you were sneaking out or something. Talk to the boss.”

“Yeah. Let me just deliver this burger to 1408 first.”

Jackson fiddled with his phone, pretending to read a message, then reached over and pressed a different button to get off at the floor below Callie’s.

He took off down the corridor, through the fire exit and up the flight of stairs, taking the steps two at a time. He dashed down the hall and flashed his badge at the man standing guard. “Inside. We’ve got trouble.”

The marshal took one look at Jackson’s face and started defending himself. “No one saw her, sir.”

“What?”

“The room service. I placed the order and I accepted the food. She stayed in the bedroom. No one saw her.”

“That’s not the problem, and it’s not your fault.” Jackson wanted to kick something. The only person at fault was him for leaving her. How had they managed to find her again already?

He burst into the room, calling to Callie to grab everything. “We’re leaving.”

“Again?” She sighed. “Can’t we wait until I finish eating?”

“No. Staying to finish could cost your life.”

“Don’t you think that’s a little extreme?”

“I just rode up in the elevator with hotel staff who recognized the car that was used this afternoon. It’s parked outside the hotel.”

She looked confused. Little wonder.

“Which means that somehow they know that you’re in the hotel.”

Jackson began searching the hotel room for anything to use as a disguise. When he returned to the main room, Callie was still standing there looking dumbstruck and on the verge of tears.

“Look, Ms. Martin. You can think about this all you want later. Right now, we need to disguise you and get you out of this building before they figure out where in the hotel you are.”

He asked the other marshal for his coat and hat and shoved it at her. “Here, take this. Turn it inside out and stuff your hair up into the hat. Where’s your scarf? Wrap it around your face.”

He watched impatiently as Callie did as he’d directed. “Make sure there’s no hair showing and let’s go. We can’t disguise anything else now. We have to get moving.”

He turned to the marshal. “Once we’re clear, say five minutes, call it in. If anyone else shows up or asks about her, tell them—” He looked down at the tray. “Tell them she went out to dinner.”

Jackson opened the door and scanned the hallway. “Come on.”

He took her by the hand and led her down the hall away from the elevator. “We’re taking the stairs.”

“Fifteen flights?”

He stopped long enough to recognize the panic settling over her. “No,” he reassured. “Down four and then I’ll wait for an empty elevator.”

Once they reached the eleventh floor, Jackson kept her hiding in the hallway until an empty elevator arrived. He pulled her into the corner, shielding her from view as other guests got on. When they reached the fifth floor, they got off and he led her through a maze of conference rooms and down a series of escalators until they came out in a back alleyway onto 54th Street. He was tempted to swing around the block and take a look at the car, but it wasn’t worth risking his witness. A sudden peal of sirens in the distance told him the call had been placed. Now to make good their escape.

A line of cabs was waiting, but Jackson didn’t want to leave a trail from the hotel. Grabbing Callie’s hand, he dashed through traffic, crossed the street and ducked into the lobby of another hotel. He turned to face her. Callie was gasping for breath.

“It’s okay. We’ll get a cab from here to the airport.”

She looked upset, on the edge of breaking down. Once he had them settled in a cab, he wrapped an arm around her and rested her head on his shoulder. “Hang on,” he whispered. “We’re almost clear.”

By the time they arrived at JFK, Callie had recovered her color and some spunk. Jackson led her into the terminal, where they ducked into a shop to buy some tourist gear and cheap reading glasses. He sent her into the bathroom to fix up while he called to arrange a rental car.

His phone rang just as the car arrived. A quick glance at the display revealed his boss on the line.

“Walker here.” He juggled the phone while he traded car keys for a tip. He considered moving to another space, but Callie should be out soon. He’d use his badge if necessary to keep the space.

“I hear you stopped by to see Ben.” John Logan’s voice held more understanding than censure.

“Sir. I don’t like operating blind. Just wanted some answers.”

“Which is why I’m calling. Figured you couldn’t come in for an update.”

“I’m better off on the move.”