The Innocent Witness (14 page)

His job required he put his life on the line. As he had with the Secret Service and now with her and Mikey. He'd do the same for the next client. And one of these days he wouldn't get so lucky. He could be critically,
fatally
injured.

A whole new kind of fear burned the back of her throat.

No way could she allow herself to fall completely in love with him. She wasn't strong enough. Not when there was a good chance she could lose him.

 

Anthony sat on the edge of the hospital bed in an exam room. Using a handheld mirror, he stared at the stitches in his head. “Nice job, Doc.”

The younger man grinned, his white teeth gleaming bright against his dark complexion. “Now, Mr. Smith, you shouldn't drive or operate any heavy machinery for at least twenty-four hours. If you experience any blurred vision, dizziness, nausea, vomiting or confusion, you need to return right away. I would also recommend you follow up with your regular doctor in a day or so. The stitches will dissolve in about a week's time. If there is any redness, swelling or weeping from the wound, come back in.”

Anxious to see Viv and Mikey, to double-check they were safe, Anthony stood. For a moment the world wavered, then righted itself.

Even though his head pounded, he'd refused pain medicine. He needed to stay alert. While he trusted Joe with his life, Anthony needed to find a better way of protecting Viv and her son. He'd let danger get too close. He wouldn't fail to keep them safe, even if that meant letting someone else from Trent take over. “I'll be fine, Doc. Thanks for patching me up. Can I go?”

“Yes, I signed your discharge papers.”

Anthony found his way to the waiting area where his brother, Barb, Viv and Mikey occupied seats against the
far wall. Joe stood guard, his dark expression clearly intimidating the few other people anxiously awaiting their loved ones.

His gut tightened. It wasn't safe for them to be so visible. He needed to get them out of there to somewhere safe.

Anthony's gaze arrowed straight to Viv. She sat on one of the hard plastic chairs with her back to the wall, her son on her lap. Her drawn expression pulled at his heart. The sharp longing to gather her close stabbed him. He shifted his gaze away to the child sitting on her lap. Mikey clutched his bear to his chest, his sweet young face looking lost. Affection and empathy unfurled and spread through Anthony.

Seeing them both safe eased the constriction in his chest, allowing him to take a full breath. They'd come close to dying tonight. He wasn't going to let that happen again.

Viv's gaze met his. Her whole face lit up. She put Mikey in the empty chair next to her and rushed to meet Anthony in the middle of the room. Anthony's heart did a flip-flop. He absorbed her quick hug, allowing her curves to mold against him. For a brief second, he closed his eyes and savored having her close. But giving in to his growing attachment and affection wasn't going to keep her or Mikey safe.

Action would.

He reluctantly set her away from himself so he could think. Driving to Boston now was out of the question. Too many opportunities for disaster. Even if Trent sent a new protection detail, they wouldn't arrive for hours.

Anthony had to find a safe haven for Viv and Mikey
now. Someplace close. They needed a new plan. Thankfully, they weren't alone.

“Joe, you have any pull in the Department of Justice?”

His little brother eyed him curiously. “I know the Assistant Attorney General. What do you have in mind?”

He stared at the woman and boy who had wormed their way into his heart. He wanted them to be able to live their lives in peace, not on the run and in fear. “Hopefully a way to clear Viv's name and bring down whomever is behind the threat to her and Mikey's lives.”

Joe grinned. “Ah, a family hunting trip.”

 

Viv sat in the middle of the backseat of the Volvo. A headache throbbed behind her eyes. Mikey had insisted on sitting by the window, so she rolled it down a crack. The fresh air was a welcome relief from the lingering scent of smoke on their clothes. Mikey pressed his nose against the glass and watched the passing scenery as Joe drove them through the bustling city.

Barb sat on Viv's other side. She'd insisted on accompanying them rather than finding somewhere to stay until this nightmare was over. Viv was grateful for Barb's friendship. Having a close woman friend was something decidedly lacking before in Viv's life.

Anthony sat in the front passenger seat next to Joe who was driving. The bandage covering Anthony's head wound was a stark reminder of how easily the morning's events could have taken a tragic turn for the worse.

Viv bit her lip with misgivings after hearing An
thony's idea of contacting the AAG. “How can you be sure the DOJ hasn't been compromised?”

Anthony looked to his brother for the answer.

“I can personally vouch for Kevin Jacobs. He's as solid a citizen as they come.” Joe's voice oozed with confidence as he met her gaze through the rearview mirror.

Anthony reached across the center console to take her hand. “Trust me. This is the best way to resolve this. James Trent is faxing over a copy of the file at this moment.”

He'd called Trent headquarters before they'd left the hospital. She'd assumed he was requesting more bodyguards or a helicopter to spirit them away or something as equally cloak-and-daggerish. Contacting the DOJ hadn't occurred to her.

“The AAG can place you and Mikey in a safe house while he investigates the straw donor scam and tracks down the people involved.”

Anthony's plan made sense on so many levels. By going to the DOJ and relinquishing her safety to the AAG, Anthony would be out of danger. Relief born of her desire to protect him infused her words. “I think that's a brilliant idea then.”

He'd be safe.

Until his next assignment.

That thought dampened her enthusiasm for the plan. But at least he wouldn't risk being hurt again while protecting her and Mikey. A burden she didn't want to shoulder any longer.

For some reason Anthony's expression darkened. His gaze shuttered closed. “I'm glad you approve.”

His tone was so terse that if she weren't watching the words come out of his mouth, she wouldn't have recognized his voice.

He released her hand and turned toward the front window.

“Air! Want air.”

Mikey's insistent demand drew her attention. She was too tired and upset to fight him. She rolled the window all the way down. Mikey stuck his head out.

“Hang on!” Joe shouted, startling Viv out of her thoughts.

The sudden deceleration as Joe slammed on the brakes sent Viv's heart rate galloping. The seat belt locked, painfully biting into her flesh as it stopped her forward momentum. Mikey let out a strangled “ack” as his belt caught, too. The car skidded to halt. A black SUV blocked their path. The door to the vehicle flung open and masked armed men poured out.

Terror jackknifed through Viv. She grabbed for Mikey, trying to cover him.

“Get down!” Anthony's battle-honed cry overlapped with a barrage of gunfire hitting the car.

Barb screamed. Viv fumbled with the seat belt latches. Free, she dove to the floor with Mikey, covering their heads.

Mikey grew agitated by the noise and chaos. Viv struggled to control her fear. She had to shield Mikey. His high-pitched shrieks filled the inside of the car. His hands flapped like wings of a bird.

“Barb, help me get Mikey between us.” Frantically Viv reached to pull Mikey past her across the floor-
board toward Barb's waiting hands just as he yanked on the door handle. The door popped open.

“No!” Viv held on to his thin body. He kicked, his heel connecting with her abdomen and knocking the wind from her.

He twisted his thin frame out of her grasp. As quick as lightning, he slipped out of the car and ran down the street. Ignoring the dangerous gunfire, Viv scrambled out of the car. Her only thought was to get to Mikey.

“Vivian! No!”

She glanced briefly back in the direction of Anthony's yell. He and Joe were pinned down. There was no way they could help her and Mikey. She had to do this alone. She ran after her son.

The midmorning heat and humidity was oppressive, making her breathing labored. Bullets hit the pavement inches from her feet. Dread tightened her shoulders. The real possibility that any moment a bullet would slam into her almost made her falter, but she kept her gaze fixated on Mikey. Another big black vehicle barreled out from a side street and screeched to a halt, blocking their way. Two more masked armed men jumped out, their weapons raised.

Viv's heart stuttered as fresh fear surged, propelling her feet to move faster. But Mikey stayed just out of reach. Sirens of approaching help added to the chaos.

“Grab the kid!” came a shouted command from inside the vehicle.

A big, muscled man, dressed all in black and wearing a mask, easily snagged Mikey. He turned to carry him to the SUV. Stark terror struck Viv. She couldn't let them take her son again.

She jumped on his back, pummeling him with her fists. “Let him go!”

His forward momentum never ceased. He threw Mikey into the back of the SUV. With one strong arm, he reached back and yanked Viv from his back. “Boss?”

“Bring her,” came the barked command. “Hurry!”

Shock siphoned the blood from her brain. She'd heard that voice before. Had heard an imitation of it come out of her son. Familiarity niggled at the back of her mind, but she couldn't put a face or name to the voice.

Violently, she was thrown into the vehicle. She landed painfully, half on the seat and half on the floor. She quickly righted herself and folded a suddenly-docile Mikey into her arms. He was obviously terrified. A darkened glass partition between the front and back seats kept her from seeing who was in charge.

But she didn't have to see the man in the front seat to know Steven's killer had captured them.

All was lost. She'd put Mikey through all of this only to end up right back where this whole nightmare had started.

R
aw and primal desperation flooded Anthony. He had to stop them from taking Viv and Mikey away from him. Quelling his panic he raised his weapon and sighted down the barrel, aiming for the back tire. His finger squeezed the trigger. The SUV swerved. The bullet hit the rear wheel well. A cry of impotent fury burst from him. He sent another round into the taillight. Tires squealing, the vehicle rounded a corner then disappeared out of sight. Anthony fell to his knees in overwhelming anguish. He'd failed.

Behind him sirens wailed as the scene filled with police and Secret Service agents. Useless. Especially him.

“We'll find them,” Joe said as he put a hand on Anthony's shoulder.

Anthony flinched; he hadn't heard his brother and Barb approach. This was his fault. They were gone because he'd let his emotions get in the way and cloud his judgment. He never should have allowed her or Mikey to be exposed. He should have foreseen this scenario.

Failure choked him. He couldn't speak to his brother's assurance, couldn't put voice to the fear that he
would be too late if he did find Vivian and Mikey. He'd botched the most important assignment of his life. To protect the woman and child he loved.

He dropped his face into his hands as the truth spread through him. He loved Vivian. With a love that defied reason.

He'd started out prepared to not like the beauty queen, had in fact at first considered her a spoiled woman who'd thought she could get away with murdering her husband. But Viv had turned out to be so much more than he'd even dreamed.

Kind, courageous, intelligent. A woman to be admired and respected. A woman who loved with a fierceness that Anthony longed to have directed at him.

This emotion, this love, was so different than what he'd felt for Becca. They'd shared a comfortable, easy kind of relationship but he'd never felt the urgency, the passionate need to bind himself to her. Not the way he did with Viv. With Viv he wanted to jump into the relationship with both feet and face the future together.

His hands fisted. He lifted his gaze heavenward. Rage filled him. Words of anger and blame surfaced and lay trapped on his tongue.
Why! Why did You let them take her away from me?

Viv's words came back to him once again, spearing his tortured soul.

It's convenient and easy to blame God.

The truth in her wise words resonated with him now like never before. Putting the blame on God kept Anthony from facing the truth.

He was the one to fail, not God.

Guilt, ugly and harsh, reared up and stabbed him.

The Kashmir delegate. Anthony had hesitated when he'd seen the gunman aiming at the man he was protecting. For that split second he'd remained frozen, not believing what he was seeing. And that had been all it had taken to end a life.

A new guilt sliced through him, leaving gaping wounds in its wake. Viv. Mikey. He'd let them down. He hadn't kept Viv or Mikey safe from the killer. Now they were lost to him. She was lost to him. Another life, two lives, in jeopardy of ending because of him.

I cling to Him.

So much courage, so much faith in her conviction. He wanted to be like her. To have the same strength of character, the same depth of faith.

A deep-welling need rose and wouldn't be denied.

Oh, please, God in Heaven, forgive me. Help me find them before it's too late.

The prayer rose from his soul, releasing the strangling guilt. Determination shoved aside the self-pity trying to overtake him.

He pushed to his feet, his mind working all the angles. He had to find them. He couldn't give up. Wouldn't give up. Viv was a fighter. He had to fight, too.

Yanking his cell phone from his pocket, Anthony called Trent Associates. Lisa answered on the first ring.

“Carlucci here. I need to speak with Simone or James.”

“Neither one are here. I can patch you through to Donavan Cavanaugh.”

Anthony's hand tightened around the phone. “Fine.”

A second passed before a man came on the line. “Hey, Carlucci. This is Cavanaugh. James and Simone are on their way to D.C. as we speak. Their landing estimated time of arrival is ten minutes.”

Surprise washed over Anthony. He hadn't expected James himself to join the ground troops, but he was grateful. “I need the contents of a file I sent to James and the list I sent Simone.”

“They're bringing them. Can you get to the South Capitol Street Heliport?”

“I'm on my way.” He hung up and relayed the information to his brother.

“We need new wheels,” Joe pointed out.

Anthony's gaze searched for available transportation. “Come on.”

He took off running toward a Suburban parked behind a police car. As Anthony approached, a man disengaged from a group of uniformed officers and way-laid him.

“Carlucci! What do you think you're doing? First you break protocol and evade your team. Now you're involved in a shootout?”

“Gorman, I need you to put out a ‘Be On the Lookout' on that SUV.”

Agent Gorman frowned. “Already done.”

Thankful for that small favor, Anthony pointed to the brown Suburban. “Yours?”

Wariness entered Gorman's hazel eyes. “Yeah.”

Anthony grabbed him by the arm and led him to the vehicle. “We need it.”

Gorman jerked out of Anthony's grasp. “Why?”

“I'll explain on the way,” Anthony said and yanked open the passenger-side door. “Let's go!”

“On the way where?” Gorman hesitated only a moment before hurrying to the Suburban. He climbed into the driver's seat. Joe and Barb slid onto the backseat. Gorman spared them a glance. “What's she doing here?”

“She's with me,” Joe stated firmly.

Impatience and fear knotted Anthony's stomach muscles. “We've got to get to the South Capitol Street Heliport. Now!”

Gorman started the engine, shifted the vehicle into gear and took off. “Okay. Explain.”

Feeling each second ticking by in agonizing slowness, Anthony gave his former coworker the details. Emotion clogged his throat when he talked of Viv. He cleared his throat and tried for a detachment that wasn't anywhere to be found.

Gorman glanced back at Joe. “How is ATF involved?”

“ATF isn't. Just me helping out my brother.”

Taking the streets at a fast pace, they reached the heliport just as a black chopper with the red Trent Associates logo painted on the door flew overhead and hovered to a landing on the flat blacktop.

Anthony jumped out, not waiting for the Suburban to come to a full stop. The information Trent carried could be the only way for Anthony to find Vivian. Pressure built in his chest as he ran out onto the blacktop, ducking low to avoid the rotators. Debris and dust swirled in the air from the blades.

Shielding his eyes with one hand, Anthony yanked
open the helicopter's door and reached in to help Simone climb out. She wore black pants tucked into tall black boots. A black duster flapped against her legs. Kyle climbed out behind Simone, looking so grim Anthony hardly recognized him as the same jocular guy he'd met less than a week ago.

James Trent jumped out last. He carried a metal briefcase in one hand. Exuding frenetic energy, he gestured for Anthony to follow him to the large square hangar just off the landing pad.

Once they were situated in the passenger lounge of the hangar, Trent removed the file and Viv's list of names from his briefcase along with a slim laptop. He spread them out on the Formica tabletop.

“It's a good sign they were taken rather than mowed down in the street. Though why the change in M.O…” Trent's expressive face showed a lively intelligence as he contemplated his own words. “It's becoming personal. Our unknown subject wants the honor of killing them himself.”

Sharp daggers of pain pierced Anthony. “It has to be someone on these lists.”

He hated how desperate his voice sounded, but he couldn't control the tide of dread filling him. Every second brought Viv and Mikey that much closer to death.

“We've narrowed it down to three. Senator Harold Braverman from Kentucky,” Trent read off the names. “Lobbyist Marshal Kent and Congresswoman Rita Alavarez from Ohio.”

“We can rule out the congresswoman,” Anthony stated.

Trent raised an eyebrow. “Do tell.”

Anthony recounted Mikey's imitation of the voice he'd heard the night his father was killed.

“But could that voice belong to someone close to the congresswoman? Someone who's using her position to further some unknown agenda?” Simone asked.

“It's possible,” Anthony conceded with rising apprehension. Finding the person whom Mikey heard was tantamount to finding a piranha in the ocean. The scope of where to look was vast, with too many variables.

Joe pinned Anthony with a look. “If
you
heard the voice, based on Mikey's impression, would you recognize it?”

“Maybe. I'm not sure.” He'd only heard the imitated voice once, and briefly at that.

“It's worth a try,” Trent stated, his fingers clicking on the keys of the laptop. “Okay, here we go. Senator Braverman.” He turned the screen so it faced Anthony. “Gotta love YouTube.”

The screen filled with a tall, gangly man addressing what appeared to be a town hall meeting. The baritone voice spoken in a distinctly country twang wasn't the voice that Mikey had imitated. Anthony shook his head in disappointment and frustration.

Trent turned the computer back toward him and clicked the keys. “I'm going to assume that hearing the Congresswoman won't help, but if we can rule out the lobbyist then we'll start combing through the congresswoman's life.” A frown creased his forehead. “Hmm. Our lobbyist doesn't appear to have any video uploads.”

Kyle held a smart phone in his hand. “I've got his
office number here.” He dialed and asked for Mr. Kent. A second later he hung up. “Mr. Kent is away from the office. And no, Miss Snotty on the other end wouldn't give out her boss's whereabouts.”

“Is there any way to get Kent's home phone?” Barb asked, then promptly blushed a bright pink.

“Good idea. Maybe his wife will have an idea where her husband can be found,” Joe said, his voice warm with appreciation.

Agent Gorman spoke up. “I can get it.”

Anthony ran a hand over his jaw. His voice shook with dread. “That will take time getting through the necessary red tape. Time we don't have.”

“I have a contact at the local phone company,” Joe offered. “Let me see if I can get her to give me the number.”

Barb blinked. “Her?”

Joe raised his eyebrows. “Jealous?”

Making a scoffing noise, she made a face. “No. Just find my friend.”

Nodding, Joe moved away to make his call.

Edgy with nerves, Anthony said, “This is taking way too long. They've had them for almost thirty minutes.”

Simone placed a cool hand on Anthony's forearm. “I know you feel responsible, but you have to set that aside. Mrs. Grant needs you to stay focused.”

“Easier said than done,” he shot back. “I screwed up.”

She withdrew her hand. “Believe me, I know the damage guilt can do.”

Her eyes took on a faraway, haunted expression. He
believed her. She carried a burden of her own. Empathy tightened his chest.

“Got it,” Joe said with triumph. He held out the phone. “Just press Send.”

Anthony pushed the button and brought the phone to his ear. The line rang for several moments before clicking to voice mail. A man's voice spoke. The hairs at the back of Anthony's neck rose. This was the voice Mikey had imitated. He was sure of it. “It's him.”

“Marshal Kent, born in West Virginia,” Kyle read from his smart phone. “Graduated from Dartmouth. Married to Millie Kent and resides with his wife in Georgetown. Works for the Barrister Group.”

“They've been in the news lately,” Barb said. “Something to do with defense contracts and the Middle East.”

Gorman scowled. “Nasty business, that.”

“How do we find him?” Anthony ground out, feeling the seconds ticking by like lashes from a whip.

“Let's start with his assistant.” Trent spun the laptop so they could see the image of a well-dressed young man on the screen. “Wendell Brooks.”

 

Wendell sat on a stool near the window of his favorite java joint enjoying a midmorning pastry and a double nonfat vanilla latte. Suddenly he felt exposed sitting in his usual spot. He glanced around, searching for the cause of the unease slithering down his spine. For the past several minutes he had had the distinct impression he was being watched. There was nothing concrete he could point to that made the fine hairs on his arm raise
with alarm. And no one appeared overly interested in him.

Still, the sensation persisted.

Sweat broke out on his brow. He tugged at the collar of his starched white dress shirt and told himself he was being paranoid. Just because he swam with sharks didn't necessarily mean he'd get eaten. Though…the way Kent had looked at him last night, like he was worse than gum stuck to his shoes, had sent a chill of unease sliding over him.

When he'd arrived at Barrister Group and learned that Mr. Kent wasn't in yet, he'd taken advantage of the boss's absence and split. Mr. Kent was a stickler for promptness and hard work.

But when the boss is away, the minions will play.

Kent was always pontificating.
You don't get to be where I am in life without putting your nose to the grindstone and doing the hard work necessary to make it happen.

Wendell rolled his eyes as the remembered words rang hollow inside his head. Like Kent ever did his own dirty work. A hired team of unsavory characters always got the seedier jobs done. Wendell hated dealing with them. Crude and rough men who eyed him like he were a tasty morsel to be chewed up and swallowed.