Rules of Protection(14)

“Don’t I need to wear one, too?”

“Won’t be necessary,” she said. “If someone is out there watching, then I’ll be the one in danger. They won’t recognize you.”

She tried to comfort me, but I wasn’t feeling warm and fuzzy. I had a knack for attracting unwanted attention. Sergio was proof of that. A vest would’ve made me feel safer but, then again, it wouldn’t keep them from shooting me in the head.

By the time we came out again, Jake was back and joined by three men. Jake stopped talking and looked me over. He didn’t smile or comment, just stared with piercing, impolite eyes. I imagined he liked the new look as well.

“Agent Franklin and Agent Schafer from Indianapolis,” Jake said gesturing to the two men standing behind him. Then he motioned to the third man on his right. “My boss, Harvey Brockway. He’s the Director of the FBI’s Chicago Division.”

The man wore a wrinkled navy blazer, light blue dress shirt, and a loose, slightly askew tie. His thinning gray hair was unkempt, and his bloodshot eyes drooped with bags underneath. He didn’t look like anyone’s boss. He looked like someone who’d rolled out of bed after a rough night.

“Pleasure to meet you, ma’am. I only wish it was under better circumstances,” Brockway said, offering me his hand. “Let me assure you we’ll do everything in our power to keep you out of harm’s way.” I nodded, and he gestured to the table. “I brought some documentation for you, Miss Foster.”

I looked at him with confusion. “That isn’t my name.”

“It is now. From this point on, your name is Emily Foster. In the envelope is your new identity, complete with background information. You’ll need to memorize it all. Agent Ward will oversee your transfer to the safe house we set up. From there, three U.S. Marshals will rotate shifts. Someone will be with you at all times. I took the liberty of having some of your personal items from your apartment sent ahead, but if you need anything else, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Thank you,” I said, thinking Jake could learn a lesson from this man. The consideration Brockway showed in the last five minutes was more than I got from Jake all night long.

After Brockway left, Jake gave the agents their instructions and told them to get moving. Agent Franklin opened the door, looked around, and then walked out. Rawlings followed him closely, keeping her head down timidly as if she were a scared witness. Schafer fell in line behind her.

Jake watched through the peephole, making sure they were gone. “Okay, it’s our turn, Emily.”

Whoa! Emily? That would take some getting used to.

“I’m not going to walk beside you this time,” he explained. “Don’t act nervous or jittery. You’re supposed to be another agent. Stay calm and get in the front seat. Got it, Emily?”

Jeez. I haven’t had the name fifteen minutes, and I’m already sick of hearing it. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Let’s go.”

I walked out casually, sauntering over to the Yukon, and slid into the front passenger seat. I tried to convey confidence and coolness, but I was sweating like a preacher in a whorehouse. As soon as Jake drove us out of the parking area, I blasted the air conditioner and turned the vents toward myself. It wasn’t a good idea. I love silk shirts, but you can’t hide hard nipples under thin material. I thought maybe Jake wouldn’t notice, but of course, he did. After all, he’s a man.

His lingering gaze gave me a slight rush. “What?”

“Nothing,” he replied, grinning. “I’m waiting.”

“For what?” It wasn’t like my nipples were going to sprout tassels and dance for him.

“The nervous breakdown you haven’t had yet.”

“Why would I do that?”

“You’ve had some rather calm responses to what most people would deem disturbing situations. I thought you’d be crying by now.”

I put on a brave face, not wanting him to know how scared I really was. “I’m more of a screamer. But if you want to cry, by all means, don’t let me stop you.”

“Jesus. Always a smartass,” he said, focusing his attention back to the road. “Get some rest. We’ll be on the road for another couple of hours before we get to the airport.”

“Airport?”

“A private jet is waiting to take us to a safe, undisclosed location.”

“Which is where?”

“You do know what undisclosed means, right?”

“You’re not going to tell even me?”

“Not yet,” he said, shaking his head. “You still have phone calls you need to make to your family. I have a secure line you can—”

“No.”

His eyes widened. “You can’t call them later. It’s now or never.”

“Fine,” I said with a shrug. “Never.”

He stared at me strangely, not understanding my refusal. “You might want to reconsider and call them. You won’t be able to attend family reunions or even their funerals if someone dies. You need to say good-bye—”

“I don’t…have anybody to call.”

He was taken aback by my response, his brows lifting in questioning slants.

“I buried both of my parents when I was fourteen and don’t have any siblings. I’m alone.”