Chapter One
“I swear I didn’t see anything.” Her heartbeat thrashed in her ears as Misty Elton backed away. “What in the hell were you snooping around for?” His eyes bulged and his fists balled tightly together. “I was just looking for a sweatshirt because the apartment was cold. I swear. I didn’t see anything.” Misty was almost sobbing. Her eyes darted toward the door, and she inched toward it, away from his deadly fists, trying to lock her shaking knees together in her flight-or-fight response to what she saw in his face. Hatred. Loathing. The very devil resided inside him — she was sure of it. She had no doubt about the way this was going to end. When his voice rose like that, to an almost squealing pitch, when the corners of his mouth tightened and when his fingers firmed, turning his hands into brutal, merciless weapons, it meant she was going to get hurt. The evidence stood out, practically glowing like a neon light. She’d never before had such a great wish to turn back the clock, to undo one mistake. She’d only been searching for a sweatshirt in the trunk in the room — that was all — and instead she’d found his stash. And that was the moment he’d found her. If he’d come in only a minute later, she’d have closed the lid and rushed from the room, and he never would have known. As he took a step closer, her stomach turned over. This was worse than usual — this wouldn’t be a typical punishment. She knew his intentions from the cold fury of his gaze. “I promise I won’t slip up, won’t tell another soul what I saw,” she pleaded. “I swear. It was only a sweatshirt I was looking for!” “Come here, Misty!” he growled, ignoring her plea as she took another step back. “Now!” In the past, such words from him stopped any trace of resistance. She knew that if she ran, it could only end one way: he’d pursue her and give her at least one broken bone. If she screamed or cowered, she’d see his eyes light with pleasure as he continued to pummel her. She’d been with this man for a whole year. In the beginning, she’d thought he was so impressive, a good-looking cop who wanted her. He’d actually wanted her! It hadn’t taken long for her to see his true colors, but from the moment he’d set his sights on her, it was too late. Once Jesse wanted something, he either got it or that something disappeared forever. She’d discovered that the hard way — the painful way. She was trapped. No one and nowhere to turn to. Her only escape from him ever was when she worked part time at a local diner, and even then, he would show up at random intervals to check in on her. If he saw the smallest indication of flirting — and just talking to another man usually counted as flirting to him — Misty would feel Jesse’s fists when she got home. The one time she’d tried to leave him… A shudder passed through her. She didn’t have time to think about that — she needed to stay focused on this moment, on this situation. If she lost concentration for even a second, he would pounce, and she knew that this time she wouldn’t see daylight ever again. He kept his eye on her as he sat on the edge of the bed and untied his work boots, looking as if he had all the time in the world. In his mind he did. Still, the faster he got out of his clothes, the more ready he would be to torture her in the most sadistic ways possible. She thought about running while he was tugging first one boot off and then the other, but it wouldn’t give her enough of a head start. No. She had to plan this just right. Lately the beatings had been worse than ever before — bad enough, in fact, that she couldn’t take it anymore, even if she died trying to escape. And she might. She’d saved some money — money he’d be furious about if he knew what she was doing — and she’d been planning on leaving in two days. That was when he had the long shift. She’d be several hundred miles away before he ever knew. Even with his resources, he wouldn’t find her — not this time. She shuddered when she thought back to the last time she’d tried to leave. She was trying to concentrate on the here and now, but her mind had other ideas. That attempted escape had landed her in the hospital for two weeks in intensive care. She’d even tried pressing charges, but somehow the paperwork had been buried. He’d warned her that if she tried that again, she wouldn’t wake up. She believed him. So now they were in a face-off. She was so close to freedom, so close… “Are you listening to me, bitch?” Misty froze. He’d stood back up and drawn a couple of steps closer to her. “I swear, Jesse, I didn’t see anything. I won’t tell a soul. I was just looking for a sweatshirt.” “Yeah. That’s what my last ex said, too. Then the whore ran to the cops — my buddies. They were good enough to tell me about the lying little tramp. Do you see her around, Misty?” “No,” she practically sobbed. “Yeah, no one will see her around again,” he said, with a glint in his eyes that increased her terror. “And no one will ever run to my buddies spilling lies about me again, either.” “I wouldn’t do that,” she said. What was the fastest escape? If she could get away, she’d be fine. But she couldn’t let her eyes dart around, or he’d see it. And he was still in his police uniform, and she was very aware of the gun on his hip. What would he tell the cops, the brotherhood who would vouch for him? Probably that she’d brought in the drugs, he’d seen them and confronted her, and then she went crazy. She was sure he’d plant a gun on her, make it look convincing. They’d pat him on the back, tell him he was one lucky bastard to have gotten out alive. She’d become nothing but some paperwork, her body cremated because there was no one to pay for a casket and bury her, and because he wouldn’t want even her body to remain on this earth. She’d go up in smoke and never be thought of again. Maybe that was for the best. Her life was one long nightmare. Wait! She was thinking of giving up? The hell she would. Everyone deserved a chance to survive — to really live. She was no different. Her spine stiffened. There was no way she’d just roll over. This man might very well get away with killing her, and he might do it all too easily — it might be a short-lived battle — but at least she’d go down fighting. “Stay here!” And Jesse had no doubt she’d do exactly that. Why would she try to escape? She’d tried that once and it had only made her punishment worse. He moved toward his private room across the short hallway, and she heard the drawer open. Oh, shit! He was planning to handcuff her to the bar he had attached to the solid kitchen table he’d had specially reinforced for one purpose: to inflict unimaginable pain. He’d done this before. He’d ripped off her shirt and beat her — immobilized, with her arms and legs in shackles — until she was unconscious and bloody. To this day, she couldn’t look at her back in the mirror; she was too afraid to see the tangle of scars there. With her eyes filled with tears, she made a silent dash to the living room, grabbed her purse off the small table, and swung open the front door. She ran down the hallway, fleeing toward the stairs of their apartment building as soundlessly as a fawn bouncing through a meadow. Her feet moved full speed ahead as if the hounds of hell were after her. At least one was — that was for sure. She slipped into the stairwell, the fire door making a loud click behind her as she barreled down, making it two levels before she heard the fire door open again. “Get back here now!” She didn’t take the time to lean over the railing and look up the winding staircase. She was still two flights ahead of him, but with three to go. The elevator was slow. If he turned back and took that, she’d make it out way ahead of him. But no such luck. She heard the door shut and she knew he was coming after her. At least he was barefoot. That would slow him down. Almost flying, one hand barely on the banister to keep her from taking a headlong plunge, she made it to the bottom floor, pushed through the door, and then ran down the last hall to the wide front doors of the building. She thrust down the bar, yanked open the door, and rushed into the parking area. It was early morning, the light just beginning to displace the shadows of night, and there would be witnesses. He wouldn’t care, though. Nothing would stop him if he got his hands on her. Once she was scrambling through the huge parking lot, she didn’t slow down as she pulled her car keys from her purse and looked up to see her car, a car he didn’t know about. It seemed miles away. So far! Too far! Time stood still and her lungs burned as she attempted her frantic escape. “The longer you drag this out, Misty, the worse it’s going to be for you.” Damn! He’d made it through the doors. How far ahead was she? She knew she shouldn’t, but she looked back. He was walking, thinking he had plenty of time, but he was too close still for her comfort. Thank goodness for the extra weight he’d put on, making it more difficult for him to run. Her heart thundered in her chest, and she stumbled, but she caught herself at the last second before she crashed onto the broken asphalt. If she fell, it would all be over. He’d drag her back upstairs by her hair. The neighbors wouldn’t even bother calling the cops. They were all terrified of Jesse, and they all knew that any call would be thrown out anyway. Even if he did pound her to a pulp right there, people would turn their backs. She’d received the pitying glances, the incredulous looks. People wondered why she stayed. She wanted to tell them it wasn’t by choice — she wanted to beg for help. But she wouldn’t involve anyone else. This was her misery and she would either be freed from this hell or she’d die trying. Her sides had begun to ache, but the car was now close. She skidded to a stop a moment later, her key ready, her hand unbelievably steady as she pushed it into the lock on the first try. Wrenching open the door, she jumped into the driver’s seat and immediately pressed the key to the ignition — this time not so lucky. She’d missed it. “Please,” she begged whoever might be listening, and this time when she pressed the key forward, thankfully, it slid into the ignition. She turned the key so hard that she was afraid she’d break it, but her car started on the first try. The fates must be lining up in her favor. “Get out of that car, Misty!” So close. He was so very close. She backed the car out of the parking spot and saw him only about ten yards behind her. “Please, please, please…” she begged as she threw the car into drive and slammed the gas pedal all the way to the floor. As she pulled up to the exit from the lot, she glanced into the rearview mirror again, locking gazes with Jesse. A cold shiver of dread passed through her when she saw how near he was, almost to the bumper of her car. A look of murder was in his eyes, and it was clear what would happen if he got his hands on her. By the time he was done, she’d want to die. There was no going back now. There was no need to. She had everything she needed in this little car, her escape a couple of days early, but well planned out. Pulling onto the street, she sped away, breathing heavy as she traveled through Billings, Montana. If he called her car in… If he somehow caught up to her… If… No. She wouldn’t think that way. She’d gotten away. She would stay away. He didn’t know which way she was going — he had no way of finding her. This was her car — it was a junker, a twenty-year-old Honda with more than two hundred thousand miles on the odometer, ripped upholstery and no working heater, but it was hers, debt free. He couldn’t report it stolen — he couldn’t take it from her. He hadn’t even known about it until just this moment, which had given her another advantage. He’d thought he’d be able to chase her down the street, wait for her to tire out. He hadn’t been expecting her to drive off. She just prayed it had been too dark for him to take down her license plate number. His eyes had been connected with hers in the mirror, she reminded herself. He hadn’t been looking anywhere near her license plate. “I’m free,” she said aloud. Maybe she’d actually believe it if she repeated it enough. When she reached the edge of town and jumped onto the freeway, she let out her first real sigh of relief. When she made it a hundred miles away, her white knuckles relaxed on the steering wheel. Her body shaking, she didn’t stop moving until she was in Washington State, where she pulled off the I90 at a truck stop in Spokane. She got out and pumped in some gas, letting the cool wind glide across her. Her nerves were still frazzled, but she was free. For now, anyway. Inside the store, she found a few snacks that didn’t cost too much and poured herself a large coffee to keep awake. She wasn’t far enough away. She needed to keep going. When she stepped back outside, a police cruiser circled by, and her eyes met the officer’s. Terror seized her heart, but she knew it didn’t show in her face. She was prepared for this, and she knew that cops looked for signs of guilt. If she didn’t give this one a reason to talk to her, he would pass on by. Walking with confidence, or what she hoped looked like confidence, she opened her car door casually and slid into the driver’s seat, taking her time situating her food and drink and buckling her seat belt. When the officer drove away, she allowed the breath that had been caught in her throat to rush out, and she sagged in her seat. As much as she kept telling herself she was fine, she wasn’t. She wouldn’t be until she made it to such a big city that Jesse would never find her again. Misty stopped only one more time. A few hours later, she pulled into a rest stop, used the bathroom, picked up another cup of coffee, and then jumped back onto the freeway. “Please give me a little bit longer,” she begged her car, and the old thing must have listened, because just as the sun was starting to sink down in the sky, she entered Seattle — her new home. For a while. This was a city she could get lost in; this was a place he wouldn’t be able to find her — not when there were three and a half million people in the Seattle metropolitan area. It wasn’t like Montana, where Billings was the largest city, with just over a hundred thousand people. She wasn’t thrilled at the idea of living in a big city, but she was excited to escape Jesse, excited to begin her life at the age of twenty-eight. It should have begun a very long time ago, but she wouldn’t dwell on that — she would focus on the here and now. She’d escaped. After checking into a cheap motel, Misty got to work. She took the contents from the bag she’d had stored in her trunk and began her transformation. A couple of hours later, when she looked at herself in the mirror, she was almost unable to recognize the woman gazing back at her. Black hair hung straight down her back, makeup covered the bruises that would finally have time to heal before new wounds were inflicted, and contacts changed her green eyes to brown. With a new name, she wouldn’t be found. With a new life, she wouldn’t be afraid. This was truly a new start.
Chapter Two
“It took a long time to find you, Ms. Elton.” Oh, no. Oh, no. Misty looked up into the steady gray gaze of the giant of a man standing in front of her. No! She was safe. It had been a year. A full year. It was only a few months ago that she had let down her guard, had decided it was safe to live again, had gone back to her natural brown color. Jesse had moved on, surely. He wouldn’t have stayed single this long. He had to have a woman to boss around — to beat up on — by now. He would still hate her, still want her dead, but he wouldn’t still be searching for her. There was just no possible way. “I…uh…I don’t know who you’re referring to,” she gasped, and she crept toward the door to the back room. She was working a crappy job at a fast-food joint. The place was nondescript, a bit seedy, in fact, and they hadn’t blinked when she’d given them her false name, her poorly done fake ID. She sure as heck wouldn’t eat the food there, not with their lax views on hygiene. They hadn’t even made her get a food handlers card. But the job was working for her for now, allowing her to save up for her next move — though she wasn’t saving much. If she could just get through the door, get to her locker, then she’d be able to grab her Taser. She’d started leaving it in her purse just a few months ago. Up until that point, she’d carried it on her, keeping the small, but hopefully effective, device in her pocket, just in reach of her shaking fingers. This was what happened when you grew careless. This would be what killed her. “Please don’t be afraid. I’m here to help you.” “I don’t need help. You have the wrong person,” she said, her voice more steady. He was watching her move toward the door, but he wasn’t taking a menacing step toward her — wasn’t reaching for the gun she knew he had to have on him. She was close, so close. Inching a bit closer to the door, she kept her eyes on his hands. Those would tell her his next move. She’d become an expert at reading Jesse through his hands. The second they clenched she’d known she was in trouble. This man’s hands were sitting idly at his hips, just sort of hanging there. “Can I please sit down with you for a few minutes of your time? I won’t ask you to go anywhere alone with me.” His voice, she was sure, was supposed to convey trustworthiness. That made her more suspicious. “Sorry. I have to get something from the back room.” She took her chances and darted through the door, not looking back as she made her way to her locker. Thankfully, it was open, since the only other person on shift was a nice kid whom she actually trusted. She quickly reached into her purse. When her fingers curled around the small Taser, she felt her fear dwindle. The device wasn’t deadly, but it would knock a large man down long enough for her to get away. “Ms. Elton, please…” He’d followed her. And he was grabbing her arm. Misty didn’t hesitate. She turned back to face him and pushed the button on her weapon. His eyes widened with shock —literally! —followed by a shot of pain as thousands of volts of electricity traveled through his skin into his stomach. He released her arm, and Misty took a step toward the door, she was planning to get the hell away — far away from him and this place. It was time to find a new city. She’d stayed too long, far longer than she had originally planned, but her car had died, and she hadn’t saved enough to move again yet. Almost but not quite. The heck with it now, though. She’d jump onto a bus and live in a shelter for a while. She wouldn’t be returned to Jesse. Never again. When the man’s hand snaked out and grabbed her leg, tripping her, Misty let out a gasp of dismay. She got ready to use the stun gun again, longer this time. If at first you don’t succeed… “I don’t think so,” he growled between clenched teeth. He smacked the gun from her hand and pinned her under his huge body. “Let me go,” she screamed, struggling beneath him. “Give me a second,” he moaned, not letting her up as he worked on catching his breath. Yeah, that was going to happen. Sure, she was going to wait until he was back to full strength before she tried to escape. “You won’t get away with this.” She was trying to sound more confident than she actually was. This was bringing back the nightmares of the way Jesse had tortured her. Her struggles against the stranger increased as she got a hand free and punched him in the face. Her hand throbbed from the hit, but it didn’t seem to faze him in the least. “If you hadn’t used a damn stun gun on me, we wouldn’t be rolling around on this filthy floor. Who in the hell told you it was an effective weapon? The things only stun your attacker for a brief moment, and certainly not me. Not someone with training! Now hold on; my damn stomach is rolling.” “Yeah, right, I’ll just wait for you to get all better, because I have a death wish!” She managed to lift her knee and slam it against his groin, though it wasn’t a direct hit — his thigh took the brunt of the impact. “Dammit!” Bryson yelled as his entire body stiffened. No, he didn’t release her. He wrenched her two hands above her head and held her legs down with one of his own as he breathed heavily against her neck. “Am I interrupting?” Bryson Winchester groaned again, this time in utter embarrassment, as he turned to see his partner standing in the doorway with a grin on his face. “Can you give me a hand here?” Bryson growled. “Yeah, that five-foot-nothing girl looks like a real handful,” Axel said with a laugh. “Who are you people?” Misty fired off. Their attitudes confused her. Jesse had never acted that way — almost offhand — when he was about to beat her. Deadly, yes, offhand, no. The man staring at the human pretzel that she and the giant were making on the floor looked amused, not deadly. “I knew I should have brought some popcorn,” the guy said, not even trying to hide his enjoyment at his partner’s struggle. “Would you shut the hell up and give me a hand, Axel?” Bryson snapped, then turned back to glare at her. “I was trying to tell you who I am before you did your best to inflict permanent damage on certain body parts.” He was finally starting to catch his breath again, but just as the pain began to dwindle, he found he was starting to have another problem. Oh, this was so not good. How in the hell could he even think of getting aroused? His groin was throbbing, his stomach still rolling from the Taser, and she was still fighting him. There had to be something immensely wrong with him if he could get even the slightest bit turned on in this situation. But he’d been so busy trying to defend himself from this shockingly strong woman that he was just now realizing that the two of them were lying flush against each other, and though she might be petite, she carried some killer curves. Yeah, great self-defense, bozo! Bryson would absolutely never hear the end of this if he stood up with an erection. Breathe! he commanded himself. Think of mom, grandma, the damn Yankees. Yeah, that would deflate him. “Help!” Misty screamed, and Bryson could now add a splitting headache to his list of injuries. Her voice could have shattered glass, and it was aimed right into his ear. “That’s it,” he snapped, and he moved off her so quickly that she was stunned into immobility. He didn’t wait for round two. He jerked her body up and twisted her arms behind her back. He slapped a pair of handcuffs on her. “See, you got it under control,” Axel said. He was laughing again. “I’ll remember this,” Bryson grumbled at his partner while leading the woman out of the back room. “Stop! I’m calling the police,” said a pimply-faced teenage boy who stood frozen in all his bravery by the front counter. “Took you long enough to check on your co-worker, son,” said Axel, his hazel eyes twinkling. “I was cleaning the bathroom,” the kid replied. Then he realized he was making excuses for himself to the men kidnapping his co-worker. He was obviously terrified, but Bryson had to give it to him — he wasn’t backing down. “Call the CIA,” Misty shouted. There was no way she trusted the cops. She didn’t know whether a person even could call the CIA, though. “Uh, shouldn’t I just call 911?” William asked as he wavered at the counter. “No!” Misty cried. That one word revealed more to Bryson than anything else she’d done — and in the span of about five minutes, she’d done plenty. “I’ll…uh…call the CIA,” her co-worker said with doubt. “It’s OK, kid. We’re the FBI,” Bryson told him. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his badge. “No, they aren’t, Will,” Misty broke in. “Those are fake badges.” The young man’s head snapped over to her. “Okay.” He’d only just turned eighteen, and he had no idea what to believe. Nothing like this was supposed to happen to him. Axel spoke next. “Trust me, kid. We’re the real deal.” He also pulled out his badge, and, approaching Will cautiously, he handed him his card with the phone number of headquarters on it. “Look at it. And you can call this number to verify.” Will took the card and walked to the phone, keeping an eye on all three of them. Bryson had a difficult time not laughing. He’d humor the kid. He didn’t want to admit it, but his groin area was still throbbing, and he was grateful to be able to just stand there a couple of extra minutes. The last thing he wanted to do was limp to the damn SUV. Will dialed the number, and Bryson knew when the call was connected, because the kid’s eyes bugged out. Yeah, that tended to happen the first time a person reached FBI headquarters. Bryson still remembered when all that had impressed him. Axel grabbed Bryson’s badge and shoved it over so the kid could ask whether both of them were agents. When Will was satisfied, he hung up the phone and faced them. “It’s legit, Marcy,” he said, his eyes shining with sudden hero worship. At least he was using the fake name she’d come up with, one close enough to her own name that she wouldn’t confuse herself. But Misty knew she was sunk anyway. “Thanks for trying, Will,” she said, more sad than anything else. This was the end. They were now going to take her to their car and drive her out into the woods, and then her body would never be found. “I really liked working with you.” Bryson was confused by the change in her tone, but he didn’t focus on it. He just started leading her outside after telling Axel to collect her belongings. The fight had left her, and she didn’t wrestle against him as he moved to the vehicle and opened the back door. “Watch your head,” he warned her, and she slid inside. When he climbed in with her, she looked straight ahead. One tear slid down her cheek, but other than that, not a sound or reaction. “Now, Ms. Elton, can we speak?” he asked. “Why not?” she said, her voice defeated. “If I take off the handcuffs, do you promise not to attempt to hit me again?” “What good would it do? The Taser didn’t even faze you,” she replied. “Oh, it fazed me. I may not work properly for a while,” he said, a mocking grin lighting up his face. “I won’t struggle anymore. Just get this done, please. I’m tired of being afraid, anyway.” “Good. We believe you are a witness to the activities of Jesse Marcus. We would like any information you can give us.” Yep. This was it. They wanted to see what she knew, whom she’d told, and whether there was anyone else they had to kill. And then they’d off her. “I haven’t told anyone anything,” she said, a tiny but unquenched hope in her chest making her plead for her life, no matter how useless it was. “I believe you, Ms. Elton. I promise you, I’m not working for Mr. Marcus. On the contrary. I’m going to make sure the bastard doesn’t hurt anyone ever again.” Maybe it was his tone, maybe his words, but Misty slowly lifted her eyes and met his gaze. Questions stared back at him. He waited, looking at her without blinking, trying to convey to her that he was, indeed, the good guy. “Who are you?” she finally whispered. “I’m Special Agent Bryson Winchester, and this is my partner, Special Agent Axel Carlson. We’re the men who are going to lock up the man you’ve been running from.” He didn’t break the connection of their eyes, didn’t move as she processed his words. Then it was all over. Misty sagged against the back of the seat as she let herself go for the first time since she’d run from Jesse a year ago. She let go of the fear, let go of the pain, let go of it all, and cried. She didn’t know if she’d be able to stop — didn’t know if this was it for her. She’d gone so far holding it all in, staying strong, and now that the dam had a crack in it, maybe she would just burst apart and be like that forever. At some point, she found herself cradled against this stranger’s chest, her tears soaking his once pristine shirt. She didn’t even have the energy to care. She just let it all out, every single emotion she’d been bottling up for so long. He stopped talking, and just ran his hand through her hair. Somewhere in the middle of all of this, the SUV began moving, but she didn’t care. She couldn’t care. She just kept on crying — out of relief, out of pain, out of hope.
Chapter Three
Bryson paced restlessly through the suite as he waited for Misty to finish her shower. It seemed much easier to bring her back to the hotel, get her a room, and let her take some time to compose herself before they questioned her. It had taken over an hour to convince her that they were really from the FBI and they were there to help her. Well, if he had to be completely honest, they were there to help their case. But, by getting Jesse behind bars, they were helping Misty. That was important. She had more information stored in her brain than she realized. Jesse Marcus was the true definition of a bad cop, and Bryson was going to bust his ass. The man was mixed up in drugs, prostitution, and murder. He was going down. At first, Bryson had thought that Misty might be involved in it all, but after reviewing the surveillance tapes, checking into her tragic history, and basically learning everything he could about her, he knew she was innocent. Sometimes his radar was wrong, but he didn’t think so in this case. She’d simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time, and she was now paying a high price for crossing paths with that man. Misty Elton was lucky to be alive. And Bryson intended to keep her that way. “What do you want to eat?” Bryson turned to find Axel leaning quietly against the door, a bored smirk on his face. This was a part of their job they both hated — babysitting. “Is everything secure?” he asked, ignoring the question. “Yep. We’re all clear outside. I had a nice stroll,” Axel said. “Good. I want to keep the local law enforcement out of this. She doesn’t trust them, and frankly, I understand why. We’ll never get her to talk if the men in blue show up.” “Yeah, it’s cases like these that make me appreciate my job more. I don’t know how men like Jesse ever pass the tests to become police officers.” “We both know it happens,” Bryson said with a sigh. “Okay, I’m starved. What should I get?” Axel asked again. “Burgers will be fine,” Bryson said. He had no appetite at the moment. “Nah. We had those the last few nights. Let’s do Chinese.” “Why ask my opinion, Axel, when you’re just going to get whatever you feel like?” “’Cause it’s always fun to annoy you.” Axel grabbed his coat and headed from the room. The two men had been colleagues for the past five years, had been through some less than ideal cases, and they knew each other well enough to keep alive. Axel was his best friend, his confidant, his brother-in-arms. The shower clicked off and Bryson tensed. He didn’t understand why this woman was getting under his skin. She was just another victim in a long line of them — just another case. There was no reason to take any of this personally. No reason to get worked up over it. It was a standard case, pretty much cut-and-dry. They get her testimony; they lock her slimy ex up. A doubt nagged at him. What if she was too afraid to get up in the witness box? Well, his job was to give her confidence, make sure she knew she was protected. It wasn’t an easy task, because they didn’t know how many of the policemen Jesse was working with were corrupt. He had no doubt that if Jesse got his hands on her again, he would kill her. However, if she pulled out, they had quite a few other witnesses. It was just that they didn’t want this case to fall apart for any reason, and if all the witnesses got jumpy and bailed, Jesse would walk. That was unacceptable. He was really just worried about the case. That was all. So why this immediate need to take this woman’s burdens upon himself? He’d held many women while they sobbed in his arms. And nothing. He’d never felt the slightest trace of emotion stirring inside himself. Walking over to the patio door, frustrated, he flung it open, and a strong gust blew inside the room, flipping his tie over his shoulder and cooling the room instantly. Seattle was definitely a cold place in February. He’d rather be home in Montana, truth to tell — though the winters were harsher, rain wasn’t as constant a presence there. First choice? His place in L.A. The women wore far less clothing, which was always a plus. Especially since those women went for him in a big way. Bryson’s deep tan never had a chance to fade, because he did a lot of work in warmer climates, and the bright gray eyes in his lean face and his solid jawline set him apart from other men. He wasn’t someone easily ignored. Bryson could certainly turn on the charm, and he knew when to use it to his advantage. The intense, almost animal light that would enter his eyes when he was interrogating a suspect had elicited more than one confession. His smile could either inspire confidence or inflict terror, depending on the mood he wished to set. Though Bryson could be frightening as hell, he normally left the bad-cop routine to Axel. His colleague enjoyed it more than he did nowadays. Turning thirty-five last year had seemed to be a pivotal moment for him — he must be mellowing in his old age. Sheesh. He wanted to kick himself. He was thinking like he already had one foot in the grave. What was the matter with him? It had to be this city. Seattle was so damn gloomy, always messing with his mind. The sooner he could persuade Misty to hop on a plane with him, come home and give her deposition, the better off they would all be. Yes, he could force her into testifying, subpoena her, keep her locked up, but he’d rather not put her through more trauma. She’d been abused enough. If he could get her to do this willingly, it would be so much better for them all. What was unusual in this case was that he cared. Normally, it was very black and white, and Bryson didn’t bother with a witness’s fragile emotions. But he’d seen what Jesse had done to some of the other women, had heard their stories — when they were alive to tell them — and he just couldn’t make Misty suffer any more than she already had. The quiet rustle in the bathroom made him aware that Misty was now slipping on the clothes Axel had bought during a run to the local Walmart. They probably weren’t the most comfortable, but they’d do for now. Because he and Axel had found Misty, that meant Jesse most likely knew where she was, too. It was only a matter of time before the man either showed up or sent someone to silence her permanently. That bad cop had to know that his game was almost up — and he knew Misty was going to be the final nail in his coffin. The only way Bryson could fully protect her was if she agreed to testify, and if her testimony was crucial to the case. He hated the politics, hated that they would have no choice but to leave her to sink or swim if she wasn’t useful enough. Did that make them no better than the dirty cop they were dealing with? When the door from the bathroom opened, Bryson took a double look. With the heavy makeup she’d sported at the fast-food joint now gone and the dull brown color contacts out, she was breathtaking. Her eyes, which were a little too large for her sunken cheekbones, were definitely her best feature, a compelling dark green with specks of silver shining in them. Her full lips were more relaxed than they’d been earlier, though pointed just a bit downward, and her hair had disappeared into a towel on top of her head. The clothes were too big, hanging loosely on her small frame, but as she fiddled with the hem of her shirt, he could see that she preferred the larger clothes to something too tight. His colleague had no clue how to shop for women, but it looked as if Axel had done all right. After taking his time memorizing every single feature on her slim face, he found himself gazing at that luscious mouth. He wouldn’t mind taking a taste — just one little taste. Of course, he wouldn’t. Shaking his head, he looked down and inhaled deeply. This was getting more bizarre by the second. It was time to rein himself in and take care of his witness — not scare her all over again. If she noticed the way he was gazing at her mouth, she was sure to run. He was acting no better than her ex right now. And to be compared to that man was a definite insult, even if he was doing the comparing himself. “I hope the shower helped,” he said a bit awkwardly after they’d both stood in silence for too long. “Yes, thank you.” She moved over to a chair and sat, pulling her legs up to her chest and hugging them close. Her body language spoke volumes — the telltale signs of someone needing to protect herself. “Do you want to sleep first, or can you talk?” They had a lot to accomplish and he hoped she’d talk. But he wasn’t sure what would be said right now. It was going to take her at least a day or two to trust him. “What do you want from me?” This time, she looked up, right into his eyes, and he saw a measure of strength that made him oddly happy. She might be afraid, might be out of her element, but there was a strand of steel running up her spine that was keeping her alive — the only thing, it seemed. “We need to talk about your ex, Jesse Marcus.” Her eyes narrowed slightly before she suppressed her emotions and took a long intake of oxygen. She paused for a moment to choose her words. She had to be careful not to reveal too much. It was a game — and she intended to be the winner. She wouldn’t give him anything that he didn’t drag from her. “I don’t know who you’re talking about,” she said, lifting her hands and undoing the towel wrapped on her head. The wet strands of her hair fell down past her shoulders, hanging over the front of the knees still pressed up against her chest. The long, dark brown strands were a perfect complement to her delicate features and green eyes. She was truly a beauty, and after a few months of security, that beauty would be like a beacon on a cold, foggy night, drawing people from near and far. “Let’s make a deal not to lie to each other, Misty. Why don’t you make yourself more comfortable by asking me some questions?” He gave her a smooth smile that was supposed to instill trust. “Where did you come from?” she finally asked. “I’m based in Montana, but I travel all over the U.S.” “Doing what exactly?” “I mainly look for major drug dealers, the men and women who are killing people with their product and their ‘cutthroat’ business practices. I’m not interested in the small-timers, and not in the people who are hurting only themselves or trying to take care of their cancer. The locals can handle them. I like to make sure the big players are all set up in their new homes for the next twenty-five to life.” “You’re good at your job, aren’t you?” “Very good.” This was an area he was sure of — there weren’t any blurred lines. The people were either guilty or not. He’d never found a criminal dealing tons of cocaine who had a valid excuse for breaking the law. “Obviously, then, you enjoy your job,” she said, her shoulders loosening up just a bit as she let go of her hold on her knees. She crossed her legs and began to run her fingers through her hair; fiddling with it seemed to calm her. “I love my job. It doesn’t get much better than stopping the bad guys.” “I can see you’re also rather humble,” she said, her first hint at a joke. This was progress! “Yeah, in my line of work, humility is a must,” he said, his lips turning up in a blinding grin. “I remember when I was so impressed with anyone who worked on the so-called right side of the law,” she told him with a bitter sigh. “That was before I learned how the world really works.” That knocked him down a peg or two, and his smile faltered. “And how is that, Misty?” “It isn’t the good guys and the bad. There are only those with power — some with too much power. The more they get, the more they want. The more they need. I used to think that when you put on a uniform, strapped on that gun belt and held that badge, it meant you were someone people should look up to. Now I know that’s not always the case. Don’t get me wrong. There are plenty of men and women who know the sanctity of that uniform, but there are also a lot who use it to get whatever they think they deserve.” “I couldn’t agree with you more, Misty. There are a lot of rotten men and women out there. That’s why I need your help to keep one of them off the streets. If we lock Jesse up, he can’t hurt you, and he can’t hurt anyone else either, ever again.” “Do you really believe that?” “With my entire being.” “How did you find me?” Ah. Her question revealed that he was getting somewhere. She wasn’t denying that she was Misty. Finally. “It wasn’t easy. Took me a long time, but persistence pays off.” “That wasn’t an answer. I mean, how did you find me? How did you know who I was?” “I shouldn’t divulge my secrets…” he began, but as the shutters began closing over her eyes, he decided to give her this one. “Another agent came in and had lunch at the place you were employed. You were working the counter. Though your disguise is good, we’re trained to see past the mask of makeup, the makeshift disguises, and see who is behind it all. He had a good feeling it was you. When he snuck a picture and sent it to me, I knew.” “It was that simple?” Her shoulders slipped, and she stopped combing her hair. “Hey. It’s been almost a year since you disappeared off the face of the planet. I wouldn’t exactly call that simple. I’ve had your picture on my wall that entire time, so I would hope that I could recognize you.” She waited. He hadn’t asked her another question. Those green eyes looked somewhere over his shoulder, and he knew she’d rather be any other place than sitting in this room with him. It was time to drop the “good cop” role. “Are you seeing anyone, Ms. Elton?” Where in the hell had that question come from? It hadn’t been what he’d been expecting to say. Her personal life was none of his business, and it certainly had no impact on the case in any way. “I… What does that matter?” she asked, but he just looked back at her, his expression impassive as he waited for her answer. “No,” she finally murmured. Good. He didn’t know why that pleased him — she was a witness, dammit. It would be breaking every sort of ethical rule he knew even to consider asking her out. He’d known the moment he’d asked that question that he was crossing a line. He should have retracted it. But he’d be showing her a chink in his armor, and that wasn’t a wise move at this point in the questioning. “How long did you date Jesse Marcus?” There. That was a legitimate question. At least he was reining himself in. “It was a while ago, and I’d rather not discuss him.” She lifted her hands to fiddle with her hair again. The way she tugged at the strands was a good gauge of her feelings, Bryson found. The faster she pulled, the more distressed she was. When she slowed down, she was relaxing. He was already learning her moves — learning what made her tick, or at least a part of it —and he’d been with her only a few hours. She had slender hands. They were also the hands of a woman not afraid to work, not afraid to get her nails dirty or broken, but still, her fingers were slim and pretty, and they looked as if they should be adorned with gold and jewels, not rough from scrubbing pots and pans and using industrial cleaners. This was now past irrational and into the Twilight Zone. He’d never before had such a difficult time focusing on a witness and on keeping an interrogation going in the right direction. Pull yourself together. “Did you participate in any criminal activities with Mr. Marcus?” Her head snapped up and fire lit up her eyes. That had certainly pushed a few of her buttons. Good. He didn’t want her to be guilty. “Do I need a lawyer, Mr. Winchester?” Her tone was strong as she once again met his gaze. Though it was foolish of him, he felt pride for her strength, pride for her ability to stand strong in the midst of all this terror. This woman would fight — fight to put Jesse behind bars where he belonged. Bryson just had to convince her that the fight wouldn’t kill her, that she could be kept safe. “You are certainly entitled to one,” he said, reaching into his pocket. He saw that the movement made her tense up. Did she honestly think he’d be reaching for his gun? Maybe. That was the only kind of law she was familiar with right now. He’d have to show her that not all men who carried a gun liked to terrorize others. He pulled out a business card and walked over to her slowly, holding it out, and waiting for her to accept it. “He’s good — very good.” Bryson stepped back and waited. She held the card, running her fingers along the edge, across the face, feeling the way the expensive lettering rose from the surface. The lawyer was a personal friend of his, and the man hadn’t lost a case in…well…ever, at least that Bryson knew of. “He’s one of the attorneys who have been secured for the witnesses on this case, to answer questions, address concerns, and to take statements when you’re ready. He’s not on the prosecution’s team; he’s just offered his services for witness questions. If you don’t trust him after you meet, you can get a referral for another attorney, but I’m telling you, he’s good, one of the best I know, and I don’t trust a lot of lawyers. You don’t have to take just the word of our team on this, Misty, but please give him a chance and speak with him.” “I did see some…stuff…” “That’s good, Misty. Tell me what you know,” he said, keeping his tone smooth, polite, trustworthy. “I just don’t know if I can do this.” Her fingers began to tremble. “You can, Misty. This is the right thing to do. I’ll keep you safe and then that man will never hurt another person again — will never hurt you again.” It was a vow he hoped to keep. If his agency said she wasn’t needed, his hands would be tied. After only a few hours, he felt a need to keep her protected, and the only way would be if she talked. She looked up, paused a couple of heartbeats before barely whispering: “Not everything is so black and white. There is very much a gray area when it comes to the law.” Bryson knew this. He hated it, but he was well aware. “We need to stay on track, Ms. Elton. I think that is wisest.” He’d reverted to her last name when he felt a flash of desire to pull her into his arms — to comfort her. Focus on the freaking job. “I agree, Mr. Winchester,” she said rigidly. “I’m very tired now, though. Would you mind if we continued tomorrow?” He wasn’t going to get anything else from her tonight. She was finished with talking, and to push it now would probably be pointless. “Axel will be back at any time with dinner.” “I’m not hungry, but thank you.” She stood up and moved toward the door to her room. “Ms. Elton,” he called out, and though her back stiffened, she turned her head and looked back at him. “I’ll be right next door, in the morning.” His last remark was meant to reassure her that she wouldn’t be alone, but it was also a warning so she wouldn’t try to run. He was a good guy — he took pride in that. But it would be a mistake to think that made him weak. Bryson had an edge of pure danger running through his veins. He thrived on it. And that’s probably what made him one hell of an agent.
Chapter Four
“Do you think that Jesse Marcus constitutes a threat to your life?” Misty looked up at the two agents and wondered if they were mentally unstable. How many times and in how many ways had she already told them that Jesse would kill her the first chance he got? “I know this seems repetitive, Misty, but if we are to put you in the witness protection program, there has to be a direct threat against you. We need this on record that you are in danger,” Bryson said, his tone gentle. “I don’t think Jesse will try to kill me. I know he will, Agent Winchester. Jesse told me that when he was through with me, he’d make sure I was never able to divulge his secrets. He told me he’d killed former girlfriends. He won’t hesitate to take my life. I don’t want to testify, but if you are going to force me to do this, then I won’t agree unless you can guarantee my safety. I think that’s a fair trade-off,” she said, her arms crossed as she looked at both men. “We agree. There have been witnesses not in protection who have come up missing. I’m not telling you this to frighten you; I’m telling you because Jesse is not locked up at this point, and you need to be aware of that. You’ve done an excellent job so far of keeping away from him, but he knows we’re closing in. He knows it won’t be much longer until we issue the arrest warrant.” “I understand that. But is there any way for me to just continue to hide out until this is all over? Can’t you get him behind bars without my testimony?” This would be ideal for her. “I wish I could, but from what we’ve found on you so far, we believe that you’re a valuable asset to this case. We don’t need the whole story right now. We encourage you to speak to your lawyer, look at your options. This process isn’t short. It takes months, even years sometimes, but if you want our help, we need you to sign notarized statements that you will testify if you are called upon to do so.” Bryson wasn’t being cruel as he sat across the table from her in the local FBI offices. She’d absolutely refused to go to the police station. There was no way Jesse wouldn’t hear about exactly where she was if that happened. She didn’t trust the cops, and she barely trusted the FBI. She’d rather this entire mess were behind her, that she was on the other side of it, finally living a somewhat normal life. “Then what happens if I sign the document?” “We get you set up in a new location. You use an alias, get a job, go on living your life. We will check in on you, make sure you’re fine, and that’s where you’ll stay until the hearing. When it’s over, you can either keep the name, stay in the location, and resume your life as the new person, or you can go back to who you were,” Axel said. “I don’t get any time to think about this?” “I’m sorry, but you need to decide now.” They’d already told her this several times. If she didn’t do what they wanted, they were well within their rights to lock her up, and she’d be locked up in a county jail, a place where Jesse would have much easier access to her. Looking at the two options before her, she decided that testifying was the lesser of evils. Still, speaking to the attorney seemed a really good idea, even if that frightened her, too. She was so sick and tired of being afraid. How dare Jesse do this to her, make her into such a weak woman? It wasn’t okay, not okay at all. She was sick of the men in her life having such power over her. It had been that way since she was a small child. None of it was her fault, but that’s just the fate she’d been handed. “Fine. I’ll sign your piece of paper,” she finally said. “I’m really glad to hear that, Misty,” Bryson replied, and their eyes connected for just a moment, a moment that had her stomach tightening. It wasn’t attraction. She couldn’t possibly feel that toward him. It was fear. That had to be what it was. She lowered her eyes quickly, unwilling to look too deep. There was a knock on the door, and then an intern stepped in with their lunch and set it on the table. Misty’s stomach rumbled, surprising her. She hadn’t eaten in over twenty-four hours, but her nerves had been tied in knots, making it impossible. Now that she’d made a solid decision, even if it wasn’t an ideal solution, her stress levels were actually going down and the thought of food was heavenly. “I’m going to get the paperwork,” Bryson said. He stood and followed the intern out, leaving her sitting there with Axel, who made her much more nervous than Bryson did. She didn’t know why, as he was the one always cracking jokes, but the guy seemed more lethal to her. Maybe it was the almost cold look in his eyes. She just didn’t know. But as he passed her a cheeseburger, fries, and a shake, she made sure not to brush his fingers with hers. After several minutes passed, and her hunger pangs eased, she grew more curious, and she found herself wanting to talk. “How long have you and Agent Winchester worked together?” Nerves shot through her as he looked over her way. Damn, this guy was intimidating. Axel stuffed a few fries in his mouth, chewed and swallowed, and then answered her question. “Five years.” Taking a deep breath, she asked him the question of the hour, one she should have already asked. “Why am I so important in all of this? I don’t understand. There must be a hundred — a thousand — other women who would love to testify against Jesse. I just want to live my life, put all of this behind me. I just want to be free of these stupid mistakes I’ve made.” Her voice gained force and clarity during her impassioned speech. One look from his cold hazel eyes and she backed down. Damn, this man’s interrogation tactics must be out of this world. “Not all cases are so black and white, Misty. The more evidence we obtain on this piece of scum, the more likely we are to lock him up and throw away the key. If he stays on the street wearing a badge — carrying a gun — then no one is safe. Don’t you understand that?” He seemed genuinely perplexed that she wasn’t taking this more seriously. It wasn’t that she thought it was a joke; it was just that she didn’t want to face the giant, and that’s what Jesse was to her — a giant man with a giant fist, and an even bigger temper. It would take Jesse only seconds to kill her. He could have her neck snapped before she ever got the chance to call out for help. He could leap across a table and strangle her before anyone even thought about stopping him. If Jesse knew he was going to jail anyway, what would it matter to him if he killed her? The man was that crazy — crazy enough to get in one last victim before being locked up for good. A courtroom full of witnesses would be neither here nor there to him. “I don’t trust people,” she said as she sipped on her vanilla shake. Her stomach was feeling much better now. “I figured that out when you Tased my partner,” he said with a chuckle. “You didn’t seem in a hurry to help him,” she countered, feeling only a bit guilty over the whole Taser incident. Bryson had grabbed her, after all… “Nah, Bryson’s a tough guy. We’ve been Tasered before.” Her eyes widened at his words. He’d said them so casually. “You have? Why?” Maybe it was another crazy witness, she thought. “It’s all part of the training,” he said casually, as if getting thousands of volts of electricity shot into your body happened all the time. She shook her head, then continued with the questions. “Does Bryson ever give up?” She knew the answer before Axel spoke. “Not once since I’ve known him, and that’s been a lot of years. He will win this case. He doesn’t know the meaning of losing. We have a powerful attorney who wants Jesse’s head on a platter. None of us will stop until that happens.” The victory in his eyes seemed to say the case was already won, though Misty knew that was far from true. For the moment, at least, Jesse was very much free — free to come after her any time he wanted. The conversation must have been over, because Axel stood and took their garbage to the wastebasket. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.” With that, she found herself alone in the interrogation room. When the two men came back in, everything seemed to move at warp speed. The documents were placed before her, and she was left alone again as she read through them. After an hour, she found there really wasn’t a good reason not to sign. Once she’d turned the papers over, she was escorted outside, transferred to a jet and on her way to her new life with a new identify. Well, a new identity until this was all over. And no longer than that, she vowed. Because as she sat down in her small home and looked at her new driver’s license, with the name Magnolia Linhart and a different date of birth, she knew she didn’t want this to be her. Yes, her life had been anything but perfect, but Misty Elton was who she was; it was the name the children’s services department had given her, anyway. It was all she knew, and she didn’t want to start again. This would only be temporary, right? Misty was about to find out how slowly the wheels of justice turned.
There are limited chapters to put here, click the button below to continue reading "Beautiful Tomorrows"
(It will automatically jump to the book when you open the app).
❤️Click to read more exciting content❤️