SHELBY (Second Chance Novels Book 4) (22 page)

I look up from our maps to a stunning vision. Shelby is in a sharp gray suit, tailored and crisp. Her slender form with its gentle curves looks phenomenal in anything, but the sight of her body standing tall sends me reeling. Every version of Shelby is sexy, and I appreciate the self-respect she carries as she readies herself for the trial. Her strength and resolve shine brighter than her appearance.

I can't help but walk to her and kiss her cheek with reverence. "So beautiful," I whisper.

Engle clears his throat, and I couldn't care less. I tilt Shelby's chin to me and kiss her gently. "You're going to do great."

She smiles in spite of her nerves. I turn her attention to the maps on the conference room table. She listens as I show her the routes we've vetted as the two best possible to keep her safe. Her intelligent, mathematical eyes scan the maps, and again I'm entranced to see her returning to her true self. Even Engle and Lyons notice the shift.

"Won't he expect you to take the safest route?" she asks.

We all stop and look at her.
 

"You know…every system I hacked has hidden paths, parts not really available to what most people see."

We all look back to the map, wondering what she sees that we don't…until she flips the city map two pages back.
 

"There's tunnels under the whole city…hidden paths. This guy wouldn't expect you to think outside protocol."

Our eyes search the blueprints in front of us and my chest nearly swells with pride and a new confidence. Not only is this a solid plan for evasiveness, but the ability to remove any threat is easy in a contained environment. Unfortunately, however, there is little chance of escape if we're pinned down in a tunnel. Ultimately, we all see more benefits to Shelby's plan than detriments.
 

This
is Shelby in full force, and I love every part of her.

"Set it up," West says.

Within two hours we have our route chosen and being scouted by two of the many marshals who have joined our party.
 

Within another hour we're prepping Shelby for her testimony in our final minutes before taking her to the courthouse. I pull her into West's office.

"We're sending two cars along each route we vetted, hoping to keep the hitman distracted by our shell-game."

She nods and her zen calm amazes me. This woman is stepping up to the pressure like a pro.
 

"And if there are hit
men
?"

I nod gravely. "We've got two agents scouting the tunnels now. So far there's no sign of anyone, but we're taking all precautions."

"How soon do we leave?" she asks with determination. I swear I'm more in love with her now than I have been yet. I pull her in an kiss her hard. When I finally let her go, I keep her face in my hands.

"You are an extraordinary woman. You will kick ass today."

Shelby smiles and shakes her head at me before she kisses me sweet. We manage to straighten ourselves before West comes back in, which takes incredible restraint. I'd love nothing more than to push her against the wall and experience this confidence and power up close and personal.
 

"You two ready?" West interrupts.

Shelby walks directly to him and holds herself high. "Ready."

"Good. Because it's game time. Teague and Mathis are in the tunnel already. The four agents you met this morning will be walking in diamond-formation around you, and Roarke will follow in cleanup position. Any questions?"

She takes a quick breath and nods her head.
 

"Good. We're leaving in two. One of the scout cars just left, the other will follow three minutes after we leave. We're staging in the subbasement now," he says as he gestures toward the door. "Let's go."

I take Shelby's hand and walk her to the stairs. "Wait—" she says.

She takes off her shoes and holds them in her hands. "There's no way I can walk down four flights of stairs in these shoes and expect to run if anything goes wrong."

West nods and allows four fellow marshals to take position around my witness. I pull my Glock into a double-grip and follow walking half-backward to secure her six.
 

The first hundred yards or so pass under our feet without event. Each of us remains vigilant, but we're all confident in the strength of Shelby's plan. She'd make a good marshal, I think randomly to myself. I want to ask her if she's doing all right, but the tunnels echo loudly and we agreed on silence.
 

We make it all the way through the tunnel and into the courthouse without incident, but I refuse to relax. When we are about ten feet from the courtroom door, I hear a loud scuffle, shouting, and gunfire. God damn it!
 

I turn to pin down the shooter, but he's already gone. I shout for Teague to follow, and I check over Shelby. I don't see any wounds, but she's knocked out cold.
 

No…no! God fucking damn it! Goddamn fucking West.
 

Shelby is being tended to by paramedics who got to her a little too quickly. I nearly tackle bystanders and firemen to stay with her, but I'm repeatedly pushed back.

"Shelby!" I shout, along with random epithets to the men blocking me from her, no doubt on direct instruction.
 

She's carted into an ambulance which I try desperately to follow until I'm cuffed from behind by Mathis. "Come on man, you know they weren't going to let you go with her. It's better this way."

What the HELL! "Take me to West," is all I can grit out.
 

By the time I'm standing, handcuffed, in front of my boss, I'm shaking with anger and the physical need to get to Shelby. I don't care if she's fine and protected and assumed dead by everyone who matters.

"You fucking faked her death and didn't tell me?" I shout him in pure, white anger.

"Use your goddamn head for one minute!" he shouts back. "As soon as she came back to testify, the guy flipped. The prosecutor doesn't need her, but she's still knows too much. The other members of the theft-ring would never let her live to further the hack. Our thief is in protective custody now. He's singing about an entire black market set up to avoid jail time. You knew this could happen. It almost always does."

"You should have told me!"

"So you could what? Ride off into the sunset together? Grow the fuck up, Roarke."

He walks around to un-cuff me and blocks my attempted swing at his jaw.
 

"Go home," he says. "Take a cold shower. Get laid. Take a week to gather your head, and come back as the Francis Dade Roarke that remembers how to do his goddamn job."

"Where are you taking her?"

He shakes his head and walks out of the room.

I press the heels of my hands into my eyeballs. I have to find her, but she's more protected in witness relocation than she even was in the safe house. She could literally be anyone, anywhere by tomorrow.
 

My heart is being ripped out of my chest, and I can only imagine how Shelby will deal with this. I hope to God she stays strong and knows I'm going to move heaven and earth to find her. If she falls back into self-destruction…

I'll pull in every favor owed to me, I'll make every promise in return, but I doubt anyone will let me near her. The irony is I'm glad she'll be so well secured.
 

Fuck
.

SHELBY

My eyelids are too heavy; my brain is too groggy. Nothing makes sense as I try to grab onto my last few moments of consciousness. I remember gunshots…Dade…oh, no, is he ok? My eyes work desperately to open so I can see him and know if he's alright. He has to be alright.
 

My brain flickers to the vision of men huddling over me, protecting me from danger. That's right, I'm a witness.

"Miss Keene," a voice interrupts me as I try to make sense of the flashes of memory. "Miss Keene…"
 

The voice repeats my name again. "Shelby?"

The voice is cool, detached, familiar…but not Dade.

"Where's Dade?" I question. "Where am I?"

I suddenly panic that I've been taken by the men trying to hurt me. I jolt upright only to see the face of Dominic West looking at me with a stern, untrusting look on his face. Screw him.

"Where's Dade?" I ask again.

"
Marshal Roarke
is no longer on your protective detail."

I shake my head to jostle my brain into functioning. "Where am I?"

"You are in the cabin of a private airplane, being taken to Utah, where we are relocating you under a new identity to keep you safe."

"What?"
 

Confusion still reigns.
 

He brings me a glass of water. "Do you want some coffee?"

I gape at him. "What about the trial?"

I can see him trying to keep his patience with me, and I can see his dislike of me coming off him in waves.
 

"There will be no trial. The defendant has turned state's witness."

"Then why am I here? And where is Dade?"

My brain won't clear.

"Miss Keene, relocation means a blank slate. Only two people will know where you are, and Marshal Roarke isn't one of them. Not even the pilot knows who's on this plane. So it's just me and the new marshal assigned your case. You'll be meeting him once we get to Utah, where you will be living."

A tear falls down my face without my permission.
 

"No," I shake my head. "No! You can't do this! No trial? This was supposed to be over! If I don't testify, what's the point?!"

"The
point,
Miss Keene, is that you are still a threat…you know how this ring operates and you have the skill to find out more. We may need you down the line for testimony against them. We faked your death with a fictional hitman of our choosing. We played the rouse perfectly, and now you're safe. You'll be where no one will recognize you, while no one is looking for you. We've arranged for a job, a house, and a full back story. The folder on the table has your life in it."

A
folder
has my life in it?
 

"Where! The hell! Is Dade!" I shout. No matter how strong I've become, no matter how brave I've found myself to be, Dade is the half of me that taught me how. He's the love of my life —
real
love based on knowledge, trust, intimacy, respect, beauty, meaning, frustration, and every other emotion which creates a bond unbreakable.
 

West wants my life to exist in Utah? From a goddamn folder?

"You can't do this!"

"We're done talking, Miss Keene. There is no debate. Your choice is protection or jail for your felonies, neither of which allows you contact with anyone. Understood?"

I hate him. I hate this plane. I hate computers.

I love Dade.

If I thought it would change anything, I'd throw my shoe at Dominic West and the entire Marshal service and everything else in the world keeping me from Dade. But I realize, suddenly,
nothing
will keep me from him.
 

All that strength he woke up in me, I'll use it to create my own destiny and find a way back to him. There's no other option. We need each other. I woke him up, too.
 

West must sense my new resolve because he sighs in frustration. "You can't run, Shelby. If you do, you'll be arrested. If you contact anyone you know, you'll be arrested. We watch you closely. You'll need to check in with your case officer. Your phones will be tapped, and we'll put a goddamn ankle tracker on you if we need to. This is for your safety."

I clench my jaw and glare. "Fuck my safety."

"And Shelby," he starts more compassionately, "every witness goes through this. Each one of you has to allow your old life to die off, and you need to allow yourself to experience the grief of that loss. The sooner you begin that process, the better off you'll be. So please, think of this as moving forward. You will find new friends in your life. Look in the folder. You'll see we found a good place for you."