Behind the Lies (Montgomery Justice #2)(5)

She’d give the FBI one last chance.

“Fallon.” The crisp voice on the other end of the phone didn’t calm her as it had in the past. In fact, he sounded shaken.

No more out of sorts than she. “He knows.”

“Jenna?”

“One of the bugs is in pieces. I’m telling you, he knows. I’ve got to get out of here. Now. I don’t know why he hasn’t already killed me. Probably because he couldn’t find a babysitter on such short notice.” The forced laugh didn’t hide the panic in her voice.

Who was she kidding? She shoved underwear into the bag and yanked open another drawer.

“Wait a minute, Jenna. Let’s think this through. We can salvage the operation.” He didn’t sound like himself. Something was wrong. The gut instinct that had abandoned her when Brad had swept her off her feet revved into overdrive.

For months after her dad had died, she’d survived on the streets, instinct and desperation her only allies. At fourteen she’d kept herself safe by trusting her gut.

Right now, every fiber in her being told her that the man on the other end of the phone was lying to her.

She couldn’t afford to doubt. Besides, why should she be surprised that another person she’d trusted was a liar?

Fallon had blown his last chance.

Her comfortable existence might be gone, but she would scrape a life together. She had reason to. “You think. I’m out of here. His flight’s already landed. He’s an hour from home.”

The breaking news flashed on the television screen a second time. The caption scrolling across the bottom said it all. San Francisco. Joseph Romero, primary witness for the prosecution in extortion trial, murdered while in protective custody.

“Brad was in San Francisco,” she said, her voice wooden and way too calm.

“What are you talking about?”

Another lie. “I can hear the wobble in your voice, Fallon. You’re not that good.” With a quick tug, she zipped closed the surplus store duffel. “It just flashed on the news. Brad killed Joseph Romero, didn’t he? He goes to a city. Someone dies. Isn’t that the pattern?”

A sharp curse exploded through the phone. “Look, Jenna. We believe Brad got to Romero. We don’t know how, but it doesn’t change anything. We can still protect you.”

“Is that what you told Joseph Romero?”

“Damn it, Jenna. You need us.”

“I can’t trust you to protect us. I should have known better. I’ll be in touch when we’re safe. Maybe.”

She slammed the phone against his shouts of protest and hung her head in her hands. What was she going to do? How in God’s name was she going to protect her son?

“Mommy? Are you all right?” Sam’s tentative voice filtered across the room.

She pasted on a cheerful smile before she lifted her head. She clasped the locket dangling around her neck, the locket her father had given her, and squeezed it tight. She met her son’s troubled gaze. His green eyes—so like hers. Nothing like his father’s.

Her five-year-old’s presence stiffened her spine. She was doing this for him. He’d given her the strength to fill out the divorce papers and the courage to call the FBI. He’d give her the strength to protect him and the strength to abandon everything she’d believed she wanted.

Now she knew the truth. Her dream was based on a lie.

“Sure, baby.” Moving a shaking hand under the edge of the bed frame, she searched until her fingertips encountered the bundle of cash she’d taped there while Brad had been barricaded in the office on the phone. Arranging one more of his “deals.” Now she knew that “deal” had been murder for hire.

Sam jumped on her bed and tugged at the duffel. “Are we going on a trip?”

“A quick one, Sam. Go grab one toy you want to take with you.”

Oh, that hurt. Her throat thickened, but she swallowed past the regret. She didn’t want to limit Sam. He was giving up everything, too, but they had to travel light until she found a place for them to be safe.

“But Dad’s coming home today. And he’s taking me to a baseball game soon. He promised.”

“Change of plans. It’s a surprise.” She forced a big grin. “You’ll love it. I promise.”

Eventually. Maybe. But at least you’ll be alive, and safe. Not the son of a man who kills people for a living.

She glanced at the bedside clock. Not enough time to think about any of the memories she had to leave behind. They were false anyway. All except one. She snagged a set of photos of Sam from the dresser. It would have to do.

One look at his mutinous pout and she sighed. Except for her eyes, he looked so much like his father. “I’m not playing around, Sam. Grab your stuff or leave it here, but we’re in the car in five minutes.”

Stomping shoes and a slamming door calmed her a bit. He was mad, but he’d do it. Thank God. Her little boy still minded. Most of the time.

She turned toward the closet filled with boundless clothes, a plethora of shoes, and all the trappings she believed had made her life complete. She’d believed in Brad, her Prince Charming. She’d been wrong.

Jenna hitched the bag onto her shoulder and hurried down the stairs. She set the duffel by the door to the garage. She and Sam would start over. Everything would be fine. It had to be.