Midnight Man (Midnight #1)(61)

He could feel his jaws clench, holding back the fear and the rage.

“Which will it be?”





The Midnight Man was back. That was Suzanne’s first thought. He’d come back the moment John had seen the name Paul Carson on the screen. John’s eyes were the color of blued steel. Just as cold and just as hard.

What he’d said…her mind whirled. He’d already made the leap forward into her choices while she was still struggling with the implications of what she’d seen and what it meant.

Run away. It sounded enticing, especially with John Huntington by her side. Go to some tropical island somewhere, calling themselves Patsy and Steven Smith and eat coconuts and down drinks with little umbrellas. It beat waitressing in Nebraska, all alone. She wouldn’t have to keep looking over her shoulder, not with John by her side. He’d take care of her in all ways. Disappearing with John was the more attractive solution, no doubt about it.

There was only one thing wrong.

A man would get away with murder.

John was standing too close to her, well within what she considered her personal space, and he was glaring at her. It was as if he thought he could will her into escaping with him. Stepping into a void and stepping out again somewhere else, someone else. God, was the thought tempting.

What John hadn’t said, hadn’t mentioned in any way, was the sacrifice he would be making. He hadn’t said that, in making his offer, he was willing to throw away a lifetime of hard work. Jettison his new company. Be unable to use his military background as reference. He’d do all that for her, without question and without asking anything in return.

Midnight Man might be a harsh warrior, but he’d proven that he had a soft spot for her, that he was willing to sacrifice everything for her. Tears burned her eyes.

She sat down on the side of the bed and tugged at his arm until he sat too. She could feel him vibrate with his desire to get moving, but the question was—in which direction?

“Which will it be?” he’d asked. And she answered him.

“John,” she said quietly. “Listen to me. Listen carefully.” She put her hand over his. It was pale and slender, almost half the size of his but she knew it was as if she’d put a stake through his hand. He was frozen in place by her hand on his. “Do you know, I admire your courage tremendously. It’s the kind of courage I simply don’t have.” He started to speak and she placed a finger across his lips. “Shh. Hear me out. As I was saying, I’m not brave at all. You’re not going to catch me with a gun in my hand, going after the bad guys. But I can do this, John. No, I have to do this. Paul Carson probably killed his wife. If he did, he has to go to jail. If I refuse to testify, I’m condoning murder. If I refuse to testify, our system crashes. I must do this. I must. It’s my duty as a citizen. I am honor-bound to do it.”

His hand tensed under hers and he bowed his head, broad shoulders slumping. Suzanne knew she’d used the one argument he couldn’t refute. He was a former navy officer, the son of one. Duty and honor were bred in his blood and bone.

John rose, slowly, as if he were an old man. Their eyes met. This moment changed everything. He was about to set in motion a process that would separate them forever.

The tears that had been threatening were now flowing down her cheeks, but she met his gaze head-on. She wasn’t backing down, and he knew it.

John reached for something in his duffel bag. A cell phone. He punched in some numbers.

“Bud. John here. Listen up. There’ve been developments.”





It happened fast. Within twenty minutes, they were heading back down the dirt road, which led to a secondary road feeding into the highway. John had made an appointment with Bud and the federal agents at a spot about fifty miles away.

Suzanne knew what was going to happen, because John had explained it carefully, eyes blank, face hard, no expression at all in his deep voice. Midnight Man.

She would be taken into custody by federal agents. It was a federal case—trafficking and smuggling—and they’d been on Paul Carson’s tail for the past fifteen years. Bud Morrison would accompany her. John had explained that Bud would be there as ‘liaison’ between Portland PD and what he called ‘the feebs’, but she’d heard him on the phone arguing, insisting on Bud’s presence. Bud would be there, at least in the beginning, because she knew Bud and would be reassured by a familiar face.

John was doing his best to protect her even when she would be taken beyond his reach.

The FBI would debrief her, which was a fancy term for questioning her. She would be taken to a safe house until the District Attorney could put together a case for a grand jury. After testifying, she would be kept in another safe house until the trial. The FBI’s job stopped then. The U.S. Marshal’s Service would take over, giving her a new identity and placing her in the most anonymous setting they could devise. And that was where she would spend the rest of her life. In hiding.

She’d never see her parents again. Technically, they weren’t supposed to know anything about what had happened to her. To them, she would have disappeared off the face of the earth. But John had promised her he’d let them know, discreetly.

Taking care of her, again.

She’d never see John again. Scant hours after realizing she loved the man, he’d be taken from her forever. There would be no other man for her. How could there be? Having known John, having loved him, she couldn’t even contemplate loving another man. No other man could ever measure up.