Slow Burn Page 9

  “All I’m here to do is help guard Christie.” Trace spoke slowly, his drawl more pronounced. “I’m not going to be stepping on your toes.”

  “You’d better not, Davidson.” She put her hand on one hip, which pushed back her blazer and exposed her service weapon. He didn’t think it was an aggressive movement, but he looked pointedly at her holster. She moved her hand, her blazer falling back over the gun. “You will do as I say. This is my show.”

  “You’ve got it, ma’am.” Trace adjusted his Stetson. “Have there been any more developments?”

  Stillwater pursed her lips. “The information we have is that there is a hefty reward for Christie’s murder.”

  Even though Trace had expected as much, a cold chill rolled over his skin. “We’ll keep her safe.” He heard the hard edge in his own voice as he spoke. “No way in hell is anyone getting near her.”

  Stillwater gave him a long look. “We’ll get her safely to court so she can testify.”

  A burn in Trace’s gut made him clench his jaws. The way the agent spoke gave him the impression that all she cared about was Christie’s testimony, not Christie herself.

  He forced himself to relax. He was being overprotective. “Are we ready to hit the road?”

  Stillwater turned and ordered two agents to take the lead vehicle. Trace would drive behind it and the third SUV would bring up the rear. Stillwater would be in the first SUV.

  After Stillwater gave directions, Trace returned to the SUV and climbed in. He looked at Christie, trying to hold back the pride he felt for her standing up for herself, because he knew what she’d been through. At the same time he felt a twinge in his gut that perhaps she was becoming a little too stubborn.

  Stubborn could get her killed.

  ~~*~~

  Trace’s gaze swept along the entrance of the hotel that was one of the nicer ones in Phoenix. Not the most expensive, but not a cheap place. Arrangements had already been made, someone had already checked in.

  Two of the FBI agents went first, taking the elevator up to the room to clear it. Trace and Christie followed at a distance, hats low. Some of her red hair slipped free of the cap as he glanced at her. He couldn’t stop to tuck it back in without being obvious, and he needed to keep them moving.

  Trace constantly checked out their surroundings with his gaze, and he saw only hotel employees. Three clerks manned the registration desk, one individual sat at the concierge desk, and a bellhop pushed an empty luggage cart into a corner.

  No guests loitered or reclined on the sofas and armchairs in the lobby. Frosted glass panels were between the lounge and the lobby. Through the open entrance, Trace saw a couple of men sitting at a bar crafted from rich dark wood, their backs to the lobby. The frosted glass to either side of the entrance made it impossible to tell if anyone else was inside the lounge.

  To keep with their low profile, Stillwater and the fourth agent hung back just long enough for Trace and Christie to make it to the elevator.

  Trace punched the up button and the elevator doors opened immediately. He and Christie stepped inside and he selected the tenth floor. The doors slid shut a few moments later. Tension radiated from her and she slipped her hand in his. He looked at her as the car started to move up and she smiled at him. Even though she’d been putting up a brave front, it was clear she was on edge. When he’d told her there was a price on her head, she had gone quiet and a little pale, the smattering of freckles across her nose appearing darker.

  The doors slid open at the tenth floor. He slipped his hand into his front pocket and pulled out the key card. Their room was halfway down the hall from the bank of elevators. When they reached the room, he held the card in front of the sensor pad and the lock clicked open.

  One of the FBI agents that had preceded them, Agent Tompkins, pulled the door open. Trace waited for Christie to enter before he followed her into the suite. Tompkins closed the door behind them.

  It was nearing ten in the morning and sunlight spilled into the room between an open space between the blackout curtains. An agent strode across the room to close the curtains the rest of the way.

  Christie moved into the center of the room and took off the ball cap. “Home sweet home,” she murmured as the rest of her red hair that hadn’t already slipped out from under the cap swung free. She looked at Trace as she combed her fingers through her hair. “Two days?”

  Trace studied her, noticing the small nuances in her expression that told him she was starting to realize the danger in her situation. “It depends on how long they keep you on the witness stand.”

  She nodded, twisting the cap in her hands. “What happens first?”

  A knock came at the door and Tompkins peered through the peephole before opening the door and letting Stillwater and the fourth agent into the suite.

  Stillwater gestured to the couch. “We have a few things to go over.”

  Christie sat and Stillwater seated herself in a chair close to the couch. Trace hitched his shoulder up against a wall, his arms folded across his chest as he watched. Two of the agents stood close to the door and the other one stood on the opposite side of the couch.

  Frowning, Christie looked at everyone around her. “Having all of you in here makes me feel claustrophobic.”

  Stillwater leaned forward focusing intently on Christie. “The Assistant United States Attorney is going to come by tomorrow.”

  “Why?” Christie asked.

  “The AUSA is going to go over your testimony with you.” Stillwater crossed her legs at her knees. “Your ex-husband has one of the toughest lawyers in the state. Hell, in the country. His cross-examination is going to be brutal.”

  Christie straightened. “He’s going to try to trip me up.”

  Stillwater’s expression never changed. She didn’t soften, she was always hard in her expression or mannerisms. “He’ll do everything he can to discredit you as a witness. Your testimony is crucial to put Salvatore Reyes away for murder as well as the numerous other charges we’ve got him on.”

  “I’ll do whatever it takes to put him in prison for the rest of his life.” Christie clenched her fists in her lap. “I don’t want to see that bastard get off free.”

  Stillwater gave a slow nod. “That’s what we need. When you’re testifying you’re going to be under a lot of pressure. From what I’ve seen of you over the past few months, I think you’re up to that challenge. But you are going to need to work hard and be prepared.”

  Christie’s eyes widened slightly, clearly surprised at Stillwater’s admission. Christie schooled her features and said with determination in her voice, “Just tell me what I need to do.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  For some reason, Christie’s arm ached more than it had, as if the practice cross-examination was more taxing than anything else she’d done for the past few days. She felt weary, not to mention beyond hungry when Stillwater took a break from preparing her for the AUSA. The AUSA would grill her intensely to make sure she was ready for what was sure to be ruthless cross-examination by the defense attorney.

  It was around noon when Trace handed something to Christie, and as she took it she saw that it was the hotel’s room service menu and it was opened to the lunch page. She looked gratefully at him as her stomach rumbled loud enough for the whole room to hear.

  Even as tired as she was, she couldn’t help but appreciate the confident way he moved, the intense way he observed everything and listened. He hadn’t interjected any comments into the conversation, letting Stillwater run the show.

  Christie let the menu lay open on her lap as Stillwater drew her attention once more. “We’ll have agents inside and out twenty-four/seven while you’re under our protection.”

  With a frown, Christie shook her head. “I don’t care if agents are on the outside, but only Trace stays with me in the room. He doesn’t make me feel like a specimen in a glass jar.”

  Truth was she mostly wanted to be alone with him again.

  Stillwater’s
lips twisted into a sour expression and Christie was sure the agent knew Trace and Christie were having sex. After spending days alone with him in a cabin on a mountain, maybe that was a big “duh.” Fortunately, the agent didn’t state anything of the sort out loud. Instead, she pressed her argument. “You are safer with two agents inside and someone will be able to relieve Agent Davidson when necessary.”

  Trace studied Stillwater, appearing as though he was assessing the situation, but leaving it up to Christie and the FBI agent to work it out.

  “I don’t need anyone else inside with me.” Christie’s gaze met Trace’s. “Do you need someone to relieve you?”

  Trace looked at Stillwater. “When I do, I’ll let one of your agents know.”

  Stillwater remained tightlipped and quiet for a moment. Christie’s stomach growled again. The agent looked at the menu in Christie’s lap. “I think we could all do with ordering lunch.”

  Christie scanned the menu and knew what she wanted the moment she saw it—the bleu cheese and mushroom burger. Trace selected a traditional cheeseburger.

  Stillwater passed around the menu and one of the agents took notes before calling room service and putting in the order for all six of them.

  Christie flopped back on the couch, feeling exhausted. Her arm hadn’t been bothering her too much until now. She wouldn’t mind some ibuprofen, but she was too drained to get up and grab her purse.

  Soon this nightmare would end, and then she could go back to Indiana and the quiet life she’d begun there.

  Her thoughts turned to Trace and she looked at him. Heat flooded her as memories warmed her, memories from the past few days she’d spent with him and the many times they’d been in bed together. She didn’t want to leave now that she’d experienced what it was like to be with him. As their eyes met and held, she could swear she saw the same emotion in his expression for one moment before it became unreadable.

  A wave of disappointment went through her, but then she realized that if he did feel the same way, it wouldn’t do for Stillwater to see that. Although the agent was sure to have come up with her own conclusions. She was a sharp woman, even if she was an uptight pain in the ass.

  Christie straightened and faced Stillwater. “How are the agents who were shot at the airport?” Everything had been so hectic since Trace and Christie had met up with Stillwater this morning that Christie hadn’t had the opportunity to ask until now.

  “You already know that Agent Allen will be fine, and he has gone home,” Stillwater said and Christie nodded. “Agent Cox was out of the hospital two days after you were, and Agent Stark is no longer in critical condition. She’s going to pull through.”

  Christie sagged against the back of the couch. “Thank God.”

  Trace sat on the arm of the couch and folded his arms across his chest. He observed everyone in the room, always on guard. He found it difficult to relax with the amount of danger Christie was in. He was reasonably confident they were safe here. It was the “reasonably” that he didn’t like. He wanted to be absolutely certain, and yet his gut felt uneasy.

  Stillwater opened the door just as the room service cart arrived. A man wearing a white jacket with the hotel logo and black slacks wheeled the cart up to the agents at the door.

  Trace watched as the agents who were standing just outside the room inspected the cart. They looked beneath the cart and under each dome. Warm smells of hamburgers and fries filled the room. Everyone but Stillwater had ordered a burger. She had chosen a Caesar salad, which would clearly have overflowed its large salad bowl if plastic wrap wasn’t holding it all in. The man who had brought the cart up to the room was also frisked.

  When the agents were satisfied, the man, who looked to be in his late twenties, pushed the cart into the room. He seemed to make a point of not meeting anyone’s eyes. He looked a little on edge as he started to take the domes off of a large plate.

  “That’s not necessary.” Stillwater gestured to the door. “Leave the cart and one of the men will sign for it.”

  The man acted as if he hadn’t heard. He pulled the plastic wrap off of the salad that was drenched with Caesar dressing and he set the wrap aside.

  Stillwater scowled. “I said we’ll take it from here.”

  The back of Trace’s neck prickled, the sensation creeping over his scalp. He started to stand.

  The man shoved his hand into the salad.

  Lettuce seemed to explode from the bowl as the man pulled out a small handgun in a fast motion.

  The man pointed the gun at Christie.

  “Gun!” Trace and Stillwater shouted at the same time.

  Christie didn’t hesitate this time, didn’t freeze. Instinct kicked in and she dove from the couch onto the floor, just before a shot rang out.

  Stillwater threw herself on top of Christie, knocking the breath from her.

  From her place on the floor, Christie saw Trace draw his weapon at the same time the man got his first shot off.

  The man didn’t have a chance to get off a second shot. Blood blossomed on the front of the white jacket. It looked like Trace had hit him dead center in the chest.

  More shots rang out as the other agents helped take the man down.

  The man collapsed to the floor and didn’t move. Christie wanted to scream as his wide-open eyes looked directly at her.

  “Fuck.” Stillwater pushed herself from off of Christie as an agent picked up the dressing-covered gun. Stillwater’s face was twisted with fury. “How the fuck did they find us?”

  Trace took Christie’s hand and helped her to her feet. Her heart thundered and her whole body vibrated as she looked at the blood and salad covering the man’s jacket and the slack expression and dead, dead eyes.

  She turned away, a sick feeling in her gut. She wondered if she should get used to being shot at. This was the second time in just a few days.

  She was trying to process exactly what had happened when her gaze dropped to the couch. Right where she had been sitting was a small bullet hole.

  Her stomach lurched. If she hadn’t thrown herself to the floor, she’d be dead or on a gurney on her way to the hospital again, this time possibly clinging to life.

  “The Jimenez Cartel has an extensive network in Phoenix.” Trace’s voice was calm, bringing her attention back to him. He might have sounded calm, but she could see the anger and concern in his gaze. “When we were in the lobby, some of Christie’s hair slipped out from beneath her cap. It’s a distinctive shade of red.”

  “Word is out on the street that there’s a price on her head and her description has been given.” Stillwater blew out a long harsh breath. “Seeing her hair and noticing a protective detail around this room could have had a hotel employee calling the information in for a reward.”

  The agents talked over Christie like she wasn’t even there, which made the whole thing seem surreal.

  Trace narrowed his gaze and looked disgusted. “Yes, it’s possible one of the employees is in the cartel’s network and put two and two together. We tried to be careful to not look like a protective detail, but there have been plenty of obvious clues.”

  Stillwater braced her hands on her hips. “Reyes’s people know where she is now. This whole operation is compromised.”

  Trace’s jaw tightened. “We’ve got to find a safe place for Christie.”

  “We’ll make it happen.” Stillwater’s voice was hard. “I’ll have an agent pick up a few things we can use to disguise Christie when we move her.”

  Christie looked from Stillwater to Trace as they spoke. She caught Trace’s eye.

  His expression toward her gentled. “Are you okay, Christie?”

  She rubbed her arms with both hands. “This doesn’t feel like it’s ever going to end.”

  “You’re going to be all right.” He rested his hands gently on her shoulders, clearly remembering her injury. “We will take care of you.”

  She couldn’t help but look at the dead man on the floor. He’d come so close t
o killing her. The smells of the hamburgers seemed suddenly rancid, and the odor of blood and death was strong. Her stomach churned.

  Without a word she tore away from Trace and bolted from the suite’s sitting room into the bedroom and straight for the bathroom.

  Acid tore at her throat as she dropped to her knees in front of the toilet. She hadn’t eaten for hours, yet bile rose up and she vomited into the porcelain basin. The taste of the acid and vomit made her throw up even more, until her whole body ached and she was shaking. Tears flushed her cheeks as she finally rose and took a towel that was handed to her and wiped her eyes and mouth. She didn’t have to look to know it was Trace who had followed her.

  Without looking at him, she rinsed out her mouth several times and splashed cold water on her face.

  She didn’t look at him until she felt reasonably composed and her mouth tasted clean again.

  When she was ready, she straightened and turned to him, her chin raised. “What now?”

  He didn’t say a word. Instead, he wrapped his arms around her, as if knowing that was what she needed more than anything. He held her tight, pressing her face against his chest, gripping her as if that might keep her from ever being harmed again.

  When he relaxed his hold, she met his gaze. He was significantly taller than her and she had to tip her head back to look at him. He brought his face closer to hers and she let out a sigh, waiting for his kiss.

  It was a kiss like none they’d ever shared before. In that kiss was almost a desperate passion that said how afraid he’d been for her and how much fear had solidified inside her. He took that from her.

  Instead of weak he made her feel strong. Instead of dependent, he made her feel independent, yet a part of him at the same time. Without words he told her that he was there for her and he wouldn’t let anything happen to her.

  She was out of breath when the kiss ended and he was drinking her in with his eyes. The rise and fall of his chest showed how much he was affected, too.