In His Safekeeping. Shawna Delacorte
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ice and a couple of soft drinks. Be right back. I’ll take the key so I can let myself in. Don’t answer the door if anyone knocks.” He opened the door and quickly scanned the parking lot before stepping outside.
The image of Tara curled up in the large chair had truly gotten to him. She looked too desirable. He wanted to pull her into his arms and move the few steps over to the bed. The urge needed to be dealt with, and walking out the door into the cool night air seemed to be the most expedient way of doing it. He took in a deep breath, then another. It helped clear his head a bit, but did not chase away the feelings. He filled the ice bucket, bought two soft drinks from the machine and quickly returned to the room.
When he stepped inside, he found her exactly where he had left her. “I hope this is okay. I didn’t think to ask you what kind you preferred.” He set two cans on the table, put ice in two glasses and opened one of the cans for himself.
“This is fine. Thank you.” Tara took the other can, poured the contents into the glass, but left it on the table without taking a drink.
He seated himself at the small table, maintaining a view of the door and window. “Tell me, Tara Ford—” he ran his fingertip around the rim of his glass, trying to project an easygoing manner that he hoped would calm her nerves “—how did you get mixed up in all this?”
“Don’t you have all that in your files?”
“We have some information, but not that much.” He wanted to hear it from her, get an impression of what she was thinking and how she felt about things rather than go by some cold facts on a piece of paper in a file folder.
“Well…I, uh…” She swallowed the discomfort that welled inside her. His intentions were obvious, the uneasiness in his eyes saying far more than his words. “You really don’t need to do this.”
“Do what?” A hint of surprise darted through his eyes, followed by curiosity.
“You don’t need to sit here with me to ease my discomfort. I’m sure you have other things you’d prefer to be doing than this.”
He leveled a steady gaze at her as if trying to read her mind. “Actually, I don’t have anything else I’d rather be doing right now.” He creased his forehead in a moment of concentration, then flashed a mischievous grin. “Other than maybe sailing in the South Pacific or skiing in Switzerland.”
“You do those things? Sail and ski?”
“Yes, two of my favorite passions.”
“I’ve never participated in either of them.” She added somewhat tentatively, “although they look like they’d be a lot of fun.” Sailing, skiing…both were activities that she had wanted to try. She’d even had an opportunity to go on a school ski trip when she was a senior in high school, but her mother had refused to sign the permission slip, saying it was a foolish waste of money. It was but one of a long list of disappointments and regrets that had been part of her life, most of them caused by her mother. Then there was the time her mother had refused to allow her to go to the senior prom in high school and… She shoved the memories aside. She knew they would only make her angry and would serve no purpose.
“Never? I have a small sailboat, large enough to be sea-worthy but not so large that I can’t handle it by myself—” He abruptly jumped to his feet, staring at her for a long moment without saying anything.
“What? What’s wrong?”
“I’ve got it!”
“You’ve got what?” She looked around, but everything was just as it had been when he started talking. She didn’t hear any noises coming from outside.
“Damn…it’s nothing.” The optimistic expression that had been on his face just a moment before had disappeared. He dejectedly slumped back into the chair. “I thought I had a solution to where you could stay for a couple of days, but it was a bad idea—an impractical notion that wouldn’t work.”
“Stay where? What idea?”
“Well, I thought I could hide you on my boat for a day or two.” He shook his head and took a swallow from his glass. “It wouldn’t work. It was a stupid idea.”
“I don’t understand. Why is that impractical?”
“No one lives on my boat, so having somebody suddenly staying there would attract unwanted attention at the marina. And it certainly wouldn’t be a secure location.” He didn’t want to upset Tara any more than she already was, but he knew that whoever was involved in this could easily have seen him with her at the restaurant and traced his car license to discover his identity, if they hadn’t already. He was fully conversant with how simple it was to gather information on someone. Anyone with a computer, a modem and decent computer skills could find out that he owned a sailboat and where he kept it.
“Oh.” She looked as dejected as he felt.
He moved to the bed, seating himself on the edge next to her chair. The tone of his voice provided a comforting level of intimacy. “You understand how important it is for you to stay out of sight and avoid all contact with everyone, don’t you? It’s the same concept as when you were under the marshals’ protection before and during the trial…only for the time being it’s just you and me until I straighten out a few things.”
A few things, such as who killed five out of six witnesses, with two of those witnesses having been in the Witness Security Program. A few things, such as figuring out how someone had obtained the new identities of protected and relocated witnesses…whether there was someone inside the Marshals Service selling those identities. A few things, such as a motive for the killings. He reached out, took her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. Her muscles tensed beneath his touch, telling him just how distraught she really was despite the brave facade she had been trying to display.
A few things—such as who this woman hiding inside the beautiful package labeled Tara Ford was and how she got mixed up in this mess. He continued to hold on to her hand. Warning bells sounded off inside his head telling him he had overstepped the line, but he chose to ignore them. He liked the way her hand felt in his.
“Weren’t you starting to answer my question about how you became involved in this situation when I interrupted you?” He had to have information, but didn’t want her to feel as if she was being subjected to an interrogation.
“It’s not a very interesting story.” The warmth of his touch produced a sensual flow of energy that started with her hand, ran up her arm, then quickly spread through her body. The sensation did more than excite her. It also provided an odd feeling of security that she hadn’t known before. Even during the trial when she was under the direct protection on the U.S. Marshals Service she never really felt safe. For the first time since agreeing to testify against John Vincent she felt that something positive was finally being done to ease her anxieties. Did she dare to trust those feelings?
“I’d like to hear it. I need to know everything I can. Some little bit of information might not seem important to you, but it could mean a great deal to me. So, if you could start at the beginning…”
Tara shifted her weight in the chair, but allowed the comforting sensation of his hand to remain on hers. She didn’t like talking about herself, certainly not to a stranger and especially not to someone like this very disconcerting man who made her heart beat a little faster and her pulse race.
“Well…I guess it started when I answered a help wanted ad in the newspaper. Green Valley Construction was looking for a secretary. I had just graduated from college with a degree in something practical that would guarantee me a secure future…something my mother had insisted on.”
She knew that bitterness had crept into her voice, but she had not been able to control it. It was an old wound and at the same time a fresh one that still hurt. From the time her father had deserted her until the time she’d made the decision to testify against John Vincent, her mother had made every attempt to control her life. All during her school years her mother had denied her permission to participate in extracurricular