A Hard Core Justice Thriller

They’d clean that, too.

There wasn’t a better housekeeping team on the planet, and they were worth their weight in gold. They would enter the mall disguised as paramedics and police officers, enabling them to move around unobstructed and unquestioned.

What they weren’t able to get spick-and-span, they’d taint, making it worthless to forensics.

“Once you’re done cleaning up this mess, restore feeds and phones before the media circus arrives.”

Belladonna disconnected and sent a short text.

You’re up, rook.

Standing by for a reply, she looked at the back of her hand and traced the lines of her tattoo—an inky rose. The symbol reinforced her resolve.

Tattoos or any identifying marks were a hazard in her industry, but she’d gotten it after her daughter was born.

The rose was meant to signify a fresh start, a path of her own choosing, a new identity.

Belladonna was the name the drug cartel had christened her when they took her in thirty years ago, smelted her down, trained her, forged her into the weapon she was today. It was Italian for beautiful woman.

And it was also the name of a plant. Every part of the nightshade from bloom to leaves to enticing berries was deadly.

Funny, she’d always loved the name and had embraced the purpose that had gone hand in hand with it until—

A response came back on her cell.

Ready to rock and roll. Set in ten.

She stowed her phone in her pocket. Lori Carpenter wouldn’t live to take the stand.

Belladonna would make certain since her own life was staked on it.

“TED IS STABLE, and the bleeding seems to have stopped.” Nick drove the sedan, headed in the general direction of the safe house, but with no confirmed destination yet.

His boss on the other end, Will Draper, would decide their next move. Nick continued to check his mirrors fifteen minutes later for any following vehicles. Using the skills that he’d learned from his family and reinforced by the US Marshals, he’d gotten on the freeway, gotten off and then immediately back on. Where traffic was dense, he weaved in and out of lanes.

He exited for the state road that led to Big Bear Lake. Rather than going to the safe house, he took a circuitous route, looping through residential neighborhoods, passing the camping gear store and veterinarian.

At every yellow light, he shot through and made sharp turns at the last possible moment. All the while staying vigilant and looking in his mirrors for a tail.

“But he’ll need to be checked for a concussion as soon as possible,” Nick said, finishing his update.

Until then, Nick needed to make a pit stop to get his partner some ice for his head and to treat Lori’s wounds. He glanced at her in the back seat. Her arms were wrapped around her midsection, hugging herself, and her head rested on the window. A cloud of despair and fear hung over her. She looked so fragile and on edge and had every reason to be. He wanted to do something to restore her sense of safety, her belief in his ability to protect her.

The truth was he even doubted himself at this point for letting his guard slip. Something that never should’ve happened.

“Glad to hear Ted is fine. We’ve never had anything like this happen,” Draper said. “Are you sure you didn’t pick up a tail at the mall? You’re not being followed, are you?”

“I’m certain. We aren’t being followed.” The road behind them was clear, but he hadn’t loosened his death grip from the wheel or let his muscles relax in the slightest.

“Good. I’m going to have Intel get to the bottom of what happened.” Draper heaved a hard breath over the line.

Nick didn’t know Draper well. Six months after Draper had been appointed as marshal of the San Diego office, Nick had been banished to the remote mountains on this long-term mission.

This assignment was a punishment. For losing his temper and communicating with his fists rather than his words with a fellow deputy—a real bastard. His boss paired him with mild-mannered, easygoing Ted, figuring the two of them wouldn’t clash. An accurate assessment.

Draper’s track record as an ambitious hard charger and reputation for positive results were well-known and had preceded him. Zero mistakes on his record.

“In the meantime,” Draper continued, “we have no reason to believe the safe house has been compromised. Based on your location and Ted’s injury, it’s the best place for you to go. Far better than holing up at a motel off the interstate that could easily be breached. And the nearest hospital is thirty minutes away, not that you’d be in a defensible position there. At least the safe house is stocked with provisions and has fortified safety features in a worst-case scenario. Go there, enter with caution and stay put until I have further instructions. I’ll call in backup.”

The safe house wasn’t a perfect option. There was no way to know what information the assassins had, but Nick agreed that it was their best bet, for now. A haphazard decision made from fear without all the facts could leave him and Ted exposed and Lori vulnerable to another attack.

“All right. I understand.” Nick disconnected. “We’re sticking to protocol and heading to the safe house.”

Protocol was everything. It had kept the US Marshals from losing a single person under active protection in the witness security program for decades.

“Not surprising,” Ted said. “Did Draper have any ideas how they found her?”

Nick spotted a gas station convenience store, pulled over and threw the car in Park. “Draper doesn’t know how, but he’s got Intel digging into it.” A fresh wave of tension churned in his gut. “I’m going to grab some ice for your head. Keep your eyes peeled.”

Ted reached over and grabbed Nick’s forearm, stopping him. “I messed up back in the store.” He sucked his teeth, disgust stamped on his face. “Let that girl get the drop on me.”

Ted had a perfect record, stellar reputation and was one of the best to work with. Sure, he was about to retire, but he wasn’t guilty of complacency.

“She was a professional,” Nick said. “Looked perfectly harmless to me, too, and you were probably focused on the blonde as a possible threat.”

The same way Nick had been focused on the brunette. Hell, he’d almost left the store to go after her, and if he had, Lori would be dead.

Ted grimaced. “Thanks for trying to make an old guy feel better, but I’ll run in and get the ice. You stay with Lori. I couldn’t live with myself if something else happened to her because of me. Don’t let her out of your sight, kid.”

At thirty-four, Nick was no more a kid than the assassin had been a girl, but Ted referred to anyone twenty years his junior as such. “All right. Two minutes, then we hit the road.”

Ted gave a curt nod and climbed out.

Nick popped the trunk. “Give me a sec,” he said to Lori as he opened his door, but she didn’t acknowledge him with a glance.

He skirted around to the rear of the vehicle, grabbed the medical kit and slid into the back seat beside her.

She didn’t look at him or shift his way or move an inch. Her blank stare stayed fixed outside the window, her limbs rigid with tension, a subtle tremble moving through her.

What he wouldn’t give to make her stop shaking.

“Will Ted be okay?” Her gaze was still focused outside the window. “I feel awful that he was hurt because of me.”

She was almost killed, twice, and here she was worried about Ted. Always showing concern for someone other than herself.

The more time he spent with Lori, the more he saw how she had a generous heart, one that he guessed had been hurt. He suspected it was the reason she was so guarded, but he admired her strength, too.

Tough as steel on the outside with a surprising vulnerability on the inside. An irresistible combination that had tempted him every waking hour in their close quarters.

Was the draw to her simply lust? Or something deeper, something more abiding?

The latter worried him senseless.

“Ted will be fine.” He opened the med kit. “Is it okay for me to clean and bandage it?” He gestured to her throat.

She nodded.

Nick dabbed gauze doused with saline solution across the laceration.

Lori hissed, her pale face twisting in agony.

The last thing he wanted was to cause her more pain, but the wound needed to be cleaned. He applied triple antibiotic ointment to the raw wound and bandaged it.

“Hey, are you hanging in there?”

Another nod.

Ninety-five percent of the people the Marshal Services protected were some shade of criminal, endeavoring to evade prosecution by snitching on a bigger fish. That wasn’t the case with Lori. She was a good person, a law-abiding accountant, no criminal history, who went to the FBI of her own free will. Most upstanding people didn’t do that, believe it or not.

Turning state’s evidence that qualified a person for WITSEC meant sacrificing everything. The vast majority weren’t willing to accept a new identity without resources, credit or the promise of stability, all after being dumped in a strange environment. Their inclination was to look the other way instead.

While Lori’s reward for doing the right thing by agreeing to testify against dangerous parasites was to risk her life, change her name, sacrifice her career, give up all her friends and accept a much lower standard of living. She didn’t deserve any of this.

“Not much choice in the matter.” She clenched her hands into fists, digging them into her thighs. “I refuse to roll over and give up.”

Regardless of the horror and trauma of the past hour, she wasn’t about to break. Her eyes were glassy from the strain. But beyond the tears there was determination. He could almost see her gathering her strength and he admired that about Lori.

She was a fighter. He’d seen her inner constitution during their hand-to-hand lessons.

No matter how many times he knocked her down or how hard she fell, she got back up. Sometimes winded and weary, but always with an easy grace, ready for more.

That took serious guts.

His mom had called her incredible in their weekly chats when he talked about Lori’s compassion, her kindness, her courage—without mentioning her name or specific circumstances or anything to violate the rules.

“No. I wouldn’t expect you to give up.” Nick longed to touch her, as a man would a woman. Not as a marshal trying to put a witness at ease. He settled for setting his palm over her fist, and her fingers loosened instantly, taking his hand in hers. “But that doesn’t mean what happened isn’t overwhelming for you.”

She wasn’t a federal agent, hadn’t grown up around a bunch of rough and rowdy bounty hunters, and had no self-defense training outside of what he’d provided.

This situation was bound to be tough for any civilian.

“I can’t stop thinking about it,” she said, her brow furrowed, “when all I want to do is push it from my mind.”

His fingers itched to stroke away her worries.

When she’d asked to learn self-defense, he’d jumped at her request. Sure, he was eager to teach her skills he hoped she’d never need in her new life, but it was also a tad self-serving. All their physical contact, no matter how brief or slight, how accidental or deliberate, had only stoked his appetite for more.

“I don’t think the garrote will leave a mark.”

“The gar-what?”

“The garrote. What the assassin used to...” That woman had gotten so close to ending her life. Too damn close. And that was on him. “It’ll take time to heal. On the inside as well as the outside.” Temptation won, and he brushed his knuckles across her cheek. Satin didn’t hold a candle to her skin. His breath grew shallow as she leaned into his touch. “But I’m here for you.”

He wasn’t exactly sure what he was trying to say, but he meant as more than a deputy marshal. He liked her. He wanted her so much that he ached, and he’d spent too much time wondering what it’d be like to kiss her. But staunch professionalism had always drawn a fine line in the sand, stopping him from doing anything they might both regret. That, and the ever-looming presence of Ted, if Nick was being one hundred percent honest.

Not that he should be thinking about that now, considering she was still in danger, but he couldn’t help it with her sitting close enough for her warm breath to caress his cheek.

Averting her gaze, she put her palm on his thigh. “You mean, here for me for another day, anyway. Then you’re off to your next assignment, next witness to protect, and before you know it, you’ll have forgotten all about me.”

Forgetting Lori would be like forgetting being struck by lightning. Totally impossible.

“No matter what happens after tomorrow,” he said, cupping her cheek, and his heart pumped double-time, “never think you were just an assignment or a witness to me.” Because you’re so much more.

Her gaze lifted to his, and something sparked between them. Warm. Undeniable. Stronger than rapport. She wet her lips, and he was tempted to hold her in his arms the way he’d fantasized for months, reeling her flush against him, and kiss her.

Ted came out of the store with a bag of frozen vegetables pressed to his skull and headed for the car. Impeccable timing as usual.

“I’ll never forget you, Lori. Never.” Nick lowered his hand from her face. “When we get to the safe house, I can take a look at your feet.”

She nodded. “Thank you, for everything.”

Before Ted threw him a side-eye, Nick wasted no time switching seats back behind the steering wheel.

Ten minutes later they arrived at the safe house.

Rather than stow the car in the garage, he parked in the drive. Better to check the house and perimeter first, proceeding with caution like Draper advised and his gut insisted on.

“I’ll do a sweep,” Nick said. “Make sure it’s all clear.”

Ted scowled. “I’ll take point.”

Was he kidding?

Ted hadn’t tossed his cookies or lost consciousness again, which were both bad signs with a head injury, but he had a tremble in his hand and wasn’t quite steady on his feet.

Nick was all for tenacity—they needed it to get through these tough assignments—but pushing it was plain stupid. “You could have a concussion. What if you get light-headed or pass out?”

“You’re not leaving her side,” Ted said, wagging a finger in Nick’s face. “Got it, kid?”

“No, Ted. I don’t got it. There comes a time when we have to acknowledge our limitations and concede. This is one of those times.” Nick put his hand on Ted’s shoulder. “It’s no reflection on you or your record.” He had admired Ted since he first started working at the San Diego office. A lifer who hadn’t grown soft or complacent, eager to help the newbies, lend an ear of support and offer good advice when solicited or not. Ted was like the caring, helpful uncle everyone wished they had. “You’re not well. You need to stay off your feet. I’ll clear the house.”

Ted looked back at Lori like he was reluctant to speak in front of her.

She made it easier by looking out the window and pretending she wasn’t privy to their conversation. A small consideration that spoke volumes about Lori’s generosity, especially in light of what she’d been through. She had every right to chime in, shout her opinion, accuse Ted and Nick of falling short and failing her. But she didn’t, always one to take the gracious, high road.

“I was with Hummingbird when that girl got close enough to almost—” he dropped his voice to a whisper “—kill her. Somehow, I didn’t see it coming. That’s on me.” Ted shook his head, mouth pulled into a grim line. “I’ve got the feeling that this isn’t over.”

Nick had the same queasy sensation rolling in his stomach.

Black Rose hadn’t shown herself again at the mall. But she was out there, somewhere, waiting for the opportune moment to strike.

Would that happen when Nick left Lori alone with Ted?

His partner was injured, less fit and capable now than he had been at the clothing store.

Nick wanted to clone himself into an army that he could rely on to keep Lori safe, but he didn’t have that luxury. He had to work with what he had and stick next to Lori. No distractions, no being baited, no entertaining any other possibility.

“You need to stay by her side and make sure nothing else happens to her,” Ted said.

His partner was well respected, senior and technically in charge, but Nick could see it in his eyes—the need to get this right. No more mistakes.

Ted had made hard sacrifices over the years. His five tumultuous divorces were legendary. He wanted a committed, stable marriage and had tried multiple times to achieve it, and contested every dissolution, but this job demanded so much, sucked you dry. All he had left was his career and reputation.

Sure, it didn’t keep a man warm at night, but he’d chosen to put duty first and accept the cost. Something all the deputies related to and commended.

To lose a witness was the one thing every marshal dreaded, but to have it happen on your last assignment would be a mark of shame none would be able to live with. Going down in infamy as that deputy marshal who’d lost someone in protective custody and becoming the focus of a lesson at the academy on what not to do.

No one wanted the torment of a tarnished legacy in their twilight years. It was all Ted had left.

“Got it,” Nick said. “But if you start seeing stars, you let me know.”

“Will do.” Ted drew his weapon, switched off the safety and left the car.

As he jogged along the outskirts of the safe house, scanning the tree line of the surrounding woods, he did a quick perimeter sweep that must’ve made the old guy’s head pound.

“All clear. Entering the house,” Ted said over comms.

The security system gave thirty seconds for the code to be entered before sending an alert to district headquarters and the alarm sounded.

Nick stepped out of the car for a better vantage point, keeping his eyes peeled for any indication that the safe house had been compromised. He trained his gaze on the woods. Nothing beyond birds and squirrels stirred. No tingle down his spine like they were being watched.

“First floor, clear.” Ted’s voice was tight, strained. Through the open front door, Nick saw him cross the entranceway toward the stairs. “Heading to the second floor.” A minute later he said, “Good to go. Cleared to bring Hummingbird inside.”

Nick opened Lori’s door and escorted her to the house. The crunch of the gravel in the driveway underfoot echoed in the stillness. He ushered her up the porch steps, inside and locked the reinforced steel door capable of withstanding a battering ram. The house was stuffy, warmer by about five degrees he estimated, but the smart thermostat was set for efficiency.

After a small adjustment, they could all take a breather and recover from the morning. Gain their bearings and assess everyone’s physical condition. Lori needed painkillers and he had to examine Ted’s head to see if stitches were necessary.

Nick had patched up a buddy or two in the field when he was in the army, a skill that had come in handy on more than one occasion, but he’d never treated a head injury before and wasn’t qualified to try.

“Ted, what’s your status?” Nick headed to the security system to arm it.

“Checking the crawl space in the attic. It’s tight up here. And hot. But an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.”

This was why Ted was in charge, beyond seniority. The man might have a concussion, but he had the foresight and the fortitude to push through and check the attic. The assassins they were dealing with had proven to be resourceful and deceptive. On the off chance they had the location of the safe house, the attic would be a clever hiding spot.

Nick tapped in the code on the panel, activating the security features of the house, from motion sensors that would alert them to anyone approaching, to video cameras giving them eyes for three hundred sixty degrees. If necessary, with the touch of a button, steel shutters would deploy, rolling down over the windows—a cheaper, more efficient alternative to bullet-resistant glass—turning the shelter into an impenetrable fortress.

Each safe house was designed to hold up under an attack and provide a secure environment where marshals could wait for reinforcements.

“Nick?” Lori asked, staring at the thermostat. Something curious in her voice tugged at him.

“Yeah.” He turned, stepping up beside her.

“Look.” She pointed to the Nest sensor.

He glanced at the round dial. Instead of the display showing the temperature, numbers were counting down. Fourteen. Thirteen. Twelve.

A raw, flaring pit opened in his chest as realization set in. The place was rigged to blow.

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