Marshal On A Mission. Ryshia Kennie
took a step forward. Her beautiful brown eyes were dark, almost stormy, like she sensed trouble. “What are you doing here? Why—”
He glanced at Siobhan. He didn’t want to admit why he was there. Not in front of the woman who seemed determined to protect her.
“It’s all right, Siobhan,” Tara said. “You can leave us alone to talk. I know him.”
As Siobhan left, he pulled out a chair for Tara.
“I can’t believe you’re here and I can’t imagine why,” she said as she accepted the seat he offered.
“I’m a US marshal,” he said.
Her face became pale beneath her light tan. “Like you always wanted to be,” she whispered.
“I did, didn’t I,” he said with some relief at the temporary diversion.
She laced her fingers and her lips pinched together. She refused to meet his eyes as she asked, “Why are you here, Trent?”
“You witnessed a bank robbery in Pueblo, Colorado.” This time it was his official voice speaking.
She looked at him with eyes that seemed weary and doubtful at the same time. Their sheen only reminded him of all she’d been through. He was grateful that he’d put himself forward for this. Grateful that it was him here and not someone else who didn’t know her as he did. Seeing her like this only told him that she needed him.
“Tara.” He reached over and took one of her hands in both of his. Her palm was clammy. It was as if the very mention of what had happened, what she had run from, threw her into an immediate panic. He hoped that he was wrong, that his assessment was off but...
“I can’t believe they sent you all the way here,” she said in a voice that was tired, drained even.
The act of keeping it together seemed to have slipped, like she was too tired to care. He was glad of that. Playing games would only lengthen the process. He wanted to fast-track this and get her home, where he had more resources.
“There wasn’t a choice,” he said, pushing his thoughts aside.
“What do you mean?”
“You’re the only witness. Which means that you could put a notorious bank robber behind bars.”
“I know but I’m scared. After what happened to my dad.” She took a breath. “He had police security assigned.”
“A marshal,” he corrected.
“And it didn’t matter. He was the witness that could put a drug dealer away and he was shot in public.” Her voice choked off and it was a moment to regain her control.
He waited, knowing that there was nothing he could do or say that would change any of it.
“I just know that I’m safe here.”
“No, Tara, you’re not.”
“I don’t like where this is going,” she said.
“It was a mistake to run, Tara. You’re safer at home, under my protection. Your testimony will be needed should this ever go to trial. And...”
She was shaking her head. He tried not to be mesmerized by those dark soulful eyes that saw everything, or so it seemed. He’d forgotten that about her. As he’d grown up and forged an adult life, there were things he didn’t want to remember. But now with her here, no longer a memory and with her eyes fixed on him, he couldn’t look away. He remembered everything about her, eclipsing what he’d forgotten. He pulled his thoughts back to reality, to the situation and not the girl he’d once thought he’d loved. That girl was now a woman he had to protect.
“I’m flattered that you took on this assignment, Trent, but it wasn’t necessary.”
Her look said that because she knew him, she also knew what he was about. Some of that was true. But if that was what she thought, she had a whole lot wrong—dangerously wrong.
“Flattered?” He bit back a knot of anger. What the hell was she saying? She thought he did this out of kindness or some misguided gesture of goodwill? “There’s men who will kill you for what you saw.”
Her face lost what color it had. “That’s why I’m here, Trent. Where no one can find me. I’ll stay until this all blows over and then I’ll go home and give my testimony.”
“It’s not going to blow over. You need—”
“I don’t need your protection, not here. I’m far enough away. I’ll be safe.”
“Tara...”
“No, Trent.” She looked distraught.
On the nearby street, a guitar began to softly chord a melody that was as strange as it was beautiful. He glanced over and saw a man sitting with his back against the dusty red stone wall of a building, one leg stretched out as he played his guitar. In another situation, it would be romantic.
He turned his attention from the guitarist and to Tara. He needed her cooperation and he needed it quickly. There was no time to mince words. And yet, contradictorily, he didn’t want to frighten her. She’d been through enough but... The thought broke off. She needed to know. He had to tell her to keep her safe.
“You’re in danger. Mexico might be another country, but despite that, you didn’t run far enough.”
“What do you mean?”
“Someone broke into your house after you left, Tara. We can only assume that they saw the same note we did. Your flight information was easy to find, left on the kitchen counter.”
“Someone? What do you mean? What are you implying?”
He brought his hand flat on the table. “Damn it, Tara. Do you have any idea your value dead?”
“No.” Her voice was barely a whisper.
“The stakes are high, Tara. These thieves have a lot to lose. If they take you out, they keep the money, their freedom and carry on with their crime spree. Essentially, they profit from your death.” He paused, hating the brutal truth to his words. “We won’t let that happen. That’s why I’m here.”
“They found me?” her voice was soft.
“There’s no indication of that,” he said.
“What if they do?”
“Then I do my job. I keep you alive.”
“I thought running was enough,” Tara said and her voice trembled. Her fingers were interlaced in front of her as if that would keep her steady.
“I’m sorry, Tara. I know that was harsh. And no, it wasn’t that you didn’t run far enough, it was that you tried to do it alone. The truth is that you’re a witness who could threaten a man’s freedom. You can’t put a price on that.”
Trent regretted laying the facts out so bluntly. But he desperately needed to get her to see how grave the situation was and how much she needed him.
“At home it’s different—I can protect you more easily. I have more resources and I can carry a gun.”
“Back to Pueblo?”
“Not necessarily. Definitely the States,” he said. “Witness protection is being set up. I came after you before getting the details on where you’d be located. You’ll be in witness protection until the trial is over.”
She shook her head as a tremor seemed to run through her.
“Think about it, about going home to the States.” He paused. “With me,” he finished. “I know you just got here but this was a mistake. Running