Marshal On A Mission. Ryshia Kennie
in recent years. There’s also the possibility of a domino effect. Them turning on each other. In that case, you could put them all behind bars. They’ve killed for money, I don’t think killing for their freedom would be a stretch.” He was going for the shock factor now. He needed her to get on board with going home and he needed her to do it quickly.
He’d give her a day, two at the outside. She’d see things his way soon enough. For now, it wasn’t a bad decision to spend a couple more days than he planned. Inconvenient for him but it was something that could have her more solid in her decision than if he rushed her back. He’d roll with it, but he had one more tool in his arsenal.
Before he could say anything more, however, Siobhan brought out a coffee for each of them.
Trent had to fight to hide his impatience. He’d made an impact on Tara and an interruption was the last thing he needed. Besides that, he’d been going in fast-forward since he’d been assigned the case.
But as he glanced at Tara, he realized how selfish his thoughts were. He was thinking in terms of the end result, not in terms of how this was affecting her. She was safe enough for now. They had time—not a lot, but more than he’d initially allowed for. His being here was shock enough. He reminded himself that as usual, he was coming on too strong. But it was like a clock was ticking in his head. He needed to take a step back. It was clear in the fact that she had run in the first place that she more than realized the danger she was in. His immediate task was to convince her that she couldn’t do it on her own. He had found her and that only made it clear to him that the scuzbag who might be coming after her could find her, too. She needed not just him but the resources that backed him.
“Thanks, Siobhan. I can never get enough. There’s nothing better than a good cup of coffee in the moring.”
“Thanks,” Trent said only because it was expected. In reality he had no desire for coffee. Caffeine was something he didn’t want. But he took the cup. He might not drink it, but he could not ignore the gesture.
“How’s it going?” Siobhan asked.
“Fine,” Tara said. “Trent is an old friend. From high school,” she said with a grimace. “We’ve kept in touch. Although, I sure didn’t expect to find him here but—”
“But here he is,” Trent added, impressed with her bit of improv. Maybe this would work out better than he thought. “We follow each other on social media.”
He could feel Tara’s gaze on him.
He glanced over at her and an understanding seemed to pass between them. For what he’d said was a flat-out lie.
Siobhan looked doubtful, but she didn’t ask any questions.
“How’s it with you?” Tara asked. “Any better?”
Sioban shrugged. “No. Like I said the other day, the place is near empty much of the time. I’m not sure why they keep me on. Not only that, but I saw Carlos turn down potential renters more than once. I’ve heard him and Francesca fight about it and I have absolutely no idea what’s going on but it’s not making this job look too secure.”
Tara turned to Trent. “That’s sure changed since the last time I was here. In fact, I wasn’t sure that I wouldn’t be turned away, they were so busy.”
“No chance of that now,” Siobhan said before returning to work.
“Have a drink with us this evening,” Tara said to her.
Trent had to bite back his surprise and disappointment. She was putting a buffer in place. It was the oldest trick in the book.
“Sure,” Siobhan said with an appreciative look at Trent.
“Okay,” Tara said. “Gloria’s Vino and Tacos at seven.”
A minute later a phone rang and Siobhan headed inside.
Shortly after that, a man who Trent pegged to be approximately sixty came out of the main house. His taller-than-average height and heavier build half hid the thin woman behind him until she moved slightly ahead of him. The woman’s high-heeled sandals and sundress, and his pale blue cotton pants and golf shirt completed a put-together look that made it clear they were going out.
The man’s dark eyes seemed to rake over Trent. But it wasn’t just a look, it was an assessment, an analyzing of who he was or who he might be.
“Carlos, Francesca, this is my friend Trent. Trent, my landlords.” Tara paused as they shook hands and exchanged a few pleasantries.
“He’s here for a few days.”
“Where are you staying?” Francesca asked.
Trent didn’t look at Tara for he didn’t know what her reaction would be to what he was about to say. But now that he was here, there was no way he was not going to do his job and protect her. That meant being nearby. “I thought I’d bunk on Tara’s couch. A night or two,” he clarified.
He could almost feel her outrage. But to her credit, she said nothing.
He didn’t look at her but instead addressed the one thing that he was sure would be uppermost in her landlords’ minds—rent.
“I’ll pay...”
“No,” Carlos said. “I’m not charging for a few days on a hard couch. If you stay longer than that, we’ll work a deal.”
Carlos’s words seemed casual but despite that, Trent felt like he was under a spotlight in the way Carlos looked at him. He seemed to see through him as if he knew a secret about him, as if... The thought trailed off but not his suspicions about Carlos. He wasn’t a regular civilian despite his looks, dress and current profession. There was a look of assurance about him combined with cynicism that Trent had seen before and that piqued his interest.
“You’re sure you’ll be comfortable on her couch?” Francesca asked.
“We have rooms available,” Carlos said.
“I...” He squeezed Tara’s hand as she began to speak. He guessed that finally, she was about to contradict him. He leaned over and kissed her full on the lips. He didn’t have time to think about what he did or how it impacted her. He was just trying to swing things his way.
The kiss was short and his attention was just as quickly turned to the couple, who were now officially his landlords.
“Empty rooms because you refuse to advertise.” Francesca looked at Carlos with a frown.
Carlos laid a hand on his wife’s shoulder. “We’ve already talked about this, Frannie,” he said with a tone of gentle resignation. He turned his attention back to Trent and Tara.
“We’d visit with you,” Carlos said. “But Frannie and I will be late for the show.”
“What do you mean you’re staying on my couch?” Tara asked a minute later when the couple were gone. “You’re kidding me. We’re long over, Trent.”
“It’s not about that,” he said patiently. “I don’t think you understand the seriousness of this. Your life could be in danger, even here. What you saw... These men could come after you. We can’t take the chance that whoever broke into your house isn’t tied to that robbery. If it was, they have your travel information, Tara. They know where you are.”
Her hand stopped in midair with the cup in her hand. She’d admitted an addiction to coffee only a few hours ago. He remembered her comment that had tailed the admission.
THERE’S NOTHING BETTER than a good cup of coffee in the morning.
Now she set the cup down with a bang. Coffee sloshed over the edge of the cup, but her eyes remained on him. “You think they’d find me here?” Panic etched her words.
“It’s a possibility,