Marshal On A Mission. Ryshia Kennie
lived.”
“Oh no.” Her hand gripped his wrist as if the very touch would give her strength. “When my things dropped out of my purse that day, I lost my artists’ guild card.”
“What!”
“My things scattered onto the sidewalk and I lost my guild card. It had my picture, my address—everything he’d need to find me. And he was right there when I dropped it.” She looked at him with terror in her eyes. “That’s why I couldn’t stay. There was no way it was safe. They know who I am and you’re suggesting that there’s a chance they know where I am?”
Her hand flung sideways. The coffee cup fell over, sending the remains of her coffee across the table. Both of them ignored the trail of liquid that dripped off the edge. Their eyes were locked on each other.
He didn’t know what to say, not at first. What she’d said shocked him. It could bring the worst-case scenario to fruition. Her lips were pinched and her whole demeanor was troubled and yet there was something in the way she looked at him, in the way she no longer looked ready to bolt, that he hoped hinted at trust.
But the reality was that she also looked like she might be sick. “I was in such a rush.” She looked at him with a mixture of sorrow and fear. “I played the odds and unfortunately, I was right. They found my home.” Her lips trembled.
He nodded. Not that he agreed with her action, but he could understand why she’d run. He wasn’t so sure that in the same circumstance, without a law enforcement background, that he might not have done the same, or at least considered it. It didn’t matter whether he agreed or not. Now he had to ensure her safety and to do that he needed her to be in complete agreement that she needed his protection.
“It was bad timing,” he said. “Fortunately, nothing was taken and the house wasn’t trashed. That leads to the conclusion that they were looking for something specific, or someone. That they were looking for you.”
Her hands were clenched in front of her and she looked more frightened now than anything else.
“I plan to bring you home, to a safe house, without delay.”
He knew his mistake as soon as he saw her look of panic. She wasn’t ready to be pushed this hard. It didn’t matter what she now knew—it wasn’t enough. She needed what little time he could give her to let reality set in. He’d seen witnesses react like this before, like the truth was overwhelming when provided all at once. Sometimes it had to be fed to them in small pieces, bit by bit, and then they needed what little time could be offered to digest their situation.
“No, Trent. No, I won’t go. Not yet.” She shook her head. “You’re wrong.”
Cripes, he thought. What did she need? Her denial was too adamant. He needed her buy-in, or at least the start of a buy-in. “They saw your travel itinerary. If it was anyone associated with the robbery, they’d know you’re in Mexico. It would be that easy.”
She folded her arms and there was a set to her chin that wasn’t there before.
“They’ll find you, Tara. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but if they want you bad enough—”
“But they don’t know I’m here in San Miguel de Allende. Mexico is a big country.”
“Don’t they? A mention of San Miguel de Allende being an artist mecca was all it took for me to remember that you’d been here before—twice. I saw that on your social media feed posted three and four years ago. I found both references to San Miguel. That’s wiped now but anyone else could have seen it. They could guess that in Mexico you might return to a place that was familiar.”
“I never thought of that. I—”
“And now if they have your flight itinerary...” He let the sentence drop, let her reach her own conclusions.
“If...” But there was little resistance in the word.
“Mexico City was easy. You gave that one away. It’s clear you don’t know what you’re doing and that is going to spell trouble. They’ll find you.”
He paused, locking into those brown eyes that even in this situation seemed to do something to him. They made him more aware of her as a woman and not the girl he had long left behind. He took her hands, squeezing them between his.
“There are two options here.”
“Don’t give me an ultimatum.” There was anger in her eyes and a shake to her voice. “This is all just speculation. Besides, like I said, Mexico is a big country.”
He remembered that about her. How she’d use anger as a shield. “Not big enough,” he said.
Her eyes were huge in her pale face.
He knew that despite her bravado she was very afraid. He felt bad. He didn’t want her afraid, but he needed her to know that eventually, home was exactly where he’d take her. He also knew this was a lot thrown at her all at once. He needed to give her time. Still, he kept pushing.
“You come home with me now or, like I said and I’ve already got your landlords’ approval, I sleep on your couch until I convince you otherwise. Your choice.”
“Damn you, Nielsen,” she said as she got up and turned to walk away. “The couch is all yours. Have at her because I’m sure as hell not going home.”
“Not yet,” he said in an undertone to her retreating back. “But soon.”
He chuckled as she turned around and gave him a bright smile and a sign that told him exactly where he could go. For a second, he felt like he’d hit Rewind and they were back in Pueblo so many years ago.
If only he could go there. Back to the past would be the safest place of all. Before this, before the tragedy, before any of it. A time when life had been innocent kisses and promises of forever love.
It was a time that would never return and one that he would never forget.
The next morning, Tara woke up earlier than usual. What little sleep she’d gotten had been broken by troubling dreams. She’d finally drifted off in the early hours. She was troubled at Trent’s presence as much as she was by the nightmare that he’d so recently resurrected. Him being here, him finding her, had completely thrown her. What he’d told her had terrified her. As a result, she’d had one horrifying dream after another.
Thoughts of him had kept her awake the majority of the night. He still made her heart race, but in a different way than he had all those years ago. She’d had to stop herself from staring at his confident stance as he stood taking in the activity in the street, or noticing how his hair curled dark and rich over his collar.
This was not the boy she had left behind when her family had moved all those years ago. She hadn’t seen him since he was seventeen and there was no comparison. His physique was that of a man who worked out. His manner was poised. He was a man used to winning and that both frightened and attracted her. And still she stumbled on memories of the past.
She remembered it all. She’d never forgotten. Six months out of their life—she’d been fifteen and he’d been seventeen. He’d been her first love, part of the magic of Pueblo. It was what made Pueblo different, and because of that, the city had lured her back.
She smiled as details of their relationship flooded back to her. They’d been so young, so naive. She remembered talking with him for hours, lying on their backs in the park, sharing their dreams and aspirations. He’d wanted to be in law enforcement. She’d never doubted him. But she’d never thought that one day he would not only succeed but become the United States marshal she needed.
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