In His Safekeeping. Shawna Delacorte
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then why had Danny Vincent claimed it had taken him so long to discover where she had moved? Or had it really taken him that long?
She glanced at Brad as they drove onto the interstate. Someone had just tried to kill her and now her life was in the hands of a total stranger who was driving her to an unknown place. She wasn’t sure exactly what to think or feel anymore.
She had briefly thought about moving to another state and starting over after the trial in order to distance herself from the chaos that had been forced on her, but running away wasn’t her life pattern. The trial was over, she had a new job and she was free to return to her normal routine of dull and predictable. She had thought the only change would be her move from Seattle across Lake Washington to Bellevue to be close to her new place of employment. How wrong she had been.
She had always done what was expected of her, gone along without making waves, which included agreeing to testify at the trial. She had information about John Vincent’s activities. It was her duty to testify – it was expected of her.
Even taking the job at Green Valley Construction as soon as she graduated from college had been to please her mother. She had spent most of her life trying to be the daughter her mother wanted. As a child she had been subjected to constant fights between her mother and father. Finally her father walked out the door for good, leaving a ten-year-old girl to deal with her mother’s demands. She felt as if she had been abandoned, leaving her to believe that she couldn’t trust anyone. She had done her best to cope, but from that moment on her mother had leaned heavily on her for emotional support, draining her of a happy childhood. Her mother insisted that she was too frail and couldn’t manage by herself. She needed Tara’s help.
She could still hear her mother’s words. Being a dancer isn’t any kind of respectable career for a young woman. Get yourself a nice secure office job where you can grow with the company, and if you don’t find yourself a husband, at least you won’t be washed up by forty and you’ll have a nice pension when it comes time for you to retire.
She had finally been able to break away from her mother’s constant control when she had saved enough money from her job to move out and get her own apartment, but it didn’t stop her mother’s relentless attempts to interfere in her life. Getting married had not been on Tara’s list of goals, and as it turned out an office job had ended up being anything but secure. The only true risk she had ever taken in her life was agreeing to testify at John Vincent’s trial. That decision had turned her life upside down…and now, when she thought it was all over, it had come back to turn her life into a nightmare.
The one shining moment had been her new job. Finding it had been a real stroke of luck. She had been at her favorite bookstore and had reached for a book at the same time as Judy Lameroux. They struck up a conversation that quickly turned into a friendship. Judy told her about a job opening at the company where she was the office manager. It was almost as if fate had stepped in to help her in her time of need. She liked her new job, her co-workers and her new home. And two months ago she had bought a new car…her first car that was brand new rather than used. It had seemed as if everything was going to be okay in spite of her brief sojourn in a chaotic situation.
She glanced at Brad again. Trust hadn’t been easy for her since the upheaval of her childhood. It had been even more fleeting since her disastrous engagement to Danny Vincent, then reinforced by the subsequent arrest of the man who had employed her, followed by his trial and her being thrust into the very awkward and uncomfortable situation of being a witness.
She took in Brad’s handsome profile and strong determination. When he put his arm around her shoulder in the restaurant parking lot he had provided her with a silent strength while at the same time calming her fears. It had also sent a little tremor of excitement through her body, something totally inappropriate for the situation yet a very real sensation. He was as fascinating and dynamic as the danger surrounding her was traumatic and frightening.
And now she was all alone with this very appealing stranger in whom she was forced to place her trust. Her very life depended on whether that trust was valid. Another shiver of anxiety confirmed what she already knew. The danger was very real. A chapter of her life that she thought was over had come back to haunt her and throw her life into turmoil again. Could she trust this man to help her? She wanted to, but she wasn’t sure she even knew how to trust anymore.
Chapter Three
Brad headed south from Seattle, exiting the interstate at Tacoma. He stopped at a discount store so Tara could buy the items she would need to stay overnight. They drove to a nearby motel. He checked into the room using the same fictitious name he had given the police officer, and paid cash in advance for two nights.
He unlocked the door. “It’s not fancy, but it’s clean and will be safe for the time being. I’ll check with you in the morning.”
She stood in the middle of the room, her gaze nervously darting from the bed to the television perched on the dresser, then to the small table and two chairs and finally the large stuffed chair in the corner without lingering on any one spot for more than a couple of seconds. Her words were soft and filled with the anxiety coursing through her body.
“It never occurred to me that testifying against John Vincent would continue to control my life after the trial was over.”
She finally looked up at Brad, capturing his gaze and holding it. She attempted to put on a brave front. “I’m not the type of person who is accustomed to taking chances. I knew it was my duty to testify at John’s trial—” a lump formed in her throat “—but I never dreamed my life would be turned upside down like this.”
The words were difficult for her. Digging into her inner fears and expressing them did not come easily. “I thought when the trial was over everything would go back to normal with the only change being superficial…a new job and a different place to live. I had assumed my daily routine would return to what it had been before all this started.” She forced the words while trying to keep her anxieties from creeping into her voice. “But that’s not the way it turned out.”
Tara glanced around the small room again. “I guess I’d better get settled in—” she focused her attention on the floor “—although all I have to unpack is the sack from the discount store.” She looked up at him, her voice falling off to a frightened whisper. “Will I be here for very long?”
It had been quite a while since anything latched on to Brad and turned him inside out the way he was at that moment. Tara was obviously frightened and trying her best not to show it. He marshaled his composure. If nothing else, he needed to maintain a calm and in-control outer presence in order to instill a confidence in her that said he knew what he was doing. “Just tonight, maybe two nights at the most while I work out a plan to keep you safe until I gather enough new information to be able to convince my boss of the danger and get you some official protection.”
“But doesn’t someone’s planting a bomb in my car qualify as proof?”
“It’s proof that you, Tara Ford, are personally in danger, but it doesn’t tie anything in with the John Vincent case or the deaths of the other witnesses. The culprit could be a disgruntled lover, a co-worker or even a relative. There’s nothing there that takes this out of the realm of a local police investigation, or that makes it the concern of the U.S. Marshals Service. There’s no evidence to connect the bombing with the protection of witnesses in the John Vincent case.”
“Oh.” She glanced down at the floor, the disappointment ringing loud and clear in her voice. “I see. I didn’t realize what the difference was.”
He placed his fingertips beneath her chin and lifted until he could see her eyes. The physical contact sent a tingle of excitement through him that he tried to ignore.
It was much easier when someone was officially under the protection of the U.S. Marshals Service. She would have been allowed to pack a suitcase, then been taken to a known safe house or nice hotel room with deputy marshals on duty to protect her around the clock. All he had offered her was a sack of bare essentials from a discount store, an out-of-the-way motel and his promise that he would protect her even though he would be leaving her there alone. Again, his failure to protect his