Lisa Phillips
Mega thanks always to my writer friends, who drive me to be the best I can be. Couldn’t do it without you.
Evil pursueth sinners: but to the righteous good shall be repayed.
—Proverbs 13:21
Deputy US Marshal Noah Trent glanced in the rearview. Had he lost them? The older SUV had stuck behind him for the past fifty miles of Colorado highway.
Today had been a nightmare from start to finish. First, a prisoner transfer had gone horribly wrong. Now two marshals were dead and three inmates had escaped. He’d hit the road almost as fast as the news had come.
One inmate had been caught, but the other two men were still in the wind. It was assumed they weren’t together. Too bad that was about all the marshals knew.
If Jeremiah Sanders was loose, it meant one thing. He’d dig up his sister’s whereabouts and be at her doorstep faster than you could say, “Incoming.”
The man wanted to put his sister, Amy, in the ground as revenge for testifying against him. Then there was the death of Jeremiah’s son. Despite what happened to the teen, Jeremiah held her responsible for that, as well. As though she’d been the one to cause the car accident.
Hopefully Jeremiah was still in Washington state, and nowhere near his sister.
Noah looked back for the blue SUV again. He gripped the wheel the same way he’d done all afternoon. Then he tapped the screen of the rental car and listened to the phone ring through the speakers.
“Withers.”
Noah said, “It’s Deputy Marshal Trent.”
“Any problems?”
“An SUV behind me, but I lost them,” he told his boss.
“Good,” Withers said. “We don’t need this turning into more of a circus than it already is.”
“Yes, sir.”
Withers was all about damage control. Noah didn’t fault him, but playing all the angles had to be exhausting. Now that he was within twenty miles of Amy’s home, Noah didn’t want that SUV to show up again. It would mean leading them right to her.
“Everyone in the Northwest is out looking for those missing inmates.” Withers sighed. “I could call the local police to meet you.”
“I’m not sure what we could tell them, sir.” Noah wasn’t about to call in a suspicious SUV without having to explain who she was and why he was here.
Withers said, “They’re probably watching for Sanders and Pepperton, anyway, considering the BOLO just went nationwide.”
“Good.” Noah was glad law enforcement across the country would “be on the lookout” for Jeremiah Sanders and the other escaped prisoner—Richard Pepperton.
“Gotta go,” Withers said. “Another case update just came in.” He hung up.
Had Jeremiah made his way to Colorado? And how would he even know where to find his sister, considering she was a protected witness? Everyone knew he hated her. Those who hadn’t heard him screaming in that courtroom had learned about it from the media coverage.
How much time did Noah have before Jeremiah somehow discovered his sister’s whereabouts?
Noah glanced back again to check for the blue SUV. Nothing. Could be cartel foot soldiers following him. Jeremiah had worked with them and was reportedly still doing so in prison. Maybe they’d deployed people all over, looking for Jeremiah or his sister.
Noah would almost rather see the SUV again. Then he could lead it somewhere that was nowhere near Amy’s cabin. He wasn’t about to put the woman in danger. Noah was going to ignore the fact she fired all his instincts to keep someone safe. Well, obviously that was true since he was a marshal. Keeping people safe was what he did.
But Amy and her huge green eyes, full of fear, just hadn’t let go of him. It had been a year since they’d had that…moment. Since they’d almost kissed, and then one of his coworkers had walked in. He should’ve forgotten about her by now.
Noah sighed, a reply to the hum of the tires on the road. He’d vowed a long time ago that relationships weren’t for him if he wanted to make director before he was fifty. There were too many people who needed protecting, and he couldn’t be distracted by a woman he wouldn’t know for long before she faded out of his life.
Again.
Noah checked his rearview once more before the turnoff to her cabin. He drove down the gravel road,