Rules of Protection(15)

“Who did you live with when your parents died?”

“Foster homes. Lots of them. Nobody wants a smart-mouth teenager. I figured that out quick.”

“Any other relatives?” he asked.

“No. Probably some distant cousins somewhere who I don’t know, but no one who would know I’m missing, except Gina and Dale. They’re the closest thing I have to family.”

“Your friends from the club? Why don’t you call them?”

I kept my eyes on the window, watching the trees blur past. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because I can’t—no, I won’t—say good-bye to anyone else I care about. I’ve already done it too many times.”

“Look, it’s your last chance to contact someone from your former life. It doesn’t matter who—family, friends, an old boss, or even an old boyfriend. You won’t be allowed to do it later.”

I shook my head and, for a moment, there was nothing but silence. He kept looking at me as if I were going to change my mind. “Okay, fine,” he said. “Then you’re officially in federal custody.”

“Now will you tell me where we’re going?”

Jake smirked. “Omaha, Nebraska.”

“What happens when we get there?”

“There are some rules you’ll have to follow.”

“Wait. You didn’t say anything about any rules. I hate rules. Too damn restrictive.”

Jake rolled his eyes at me. “Heaven forbid the feds have rules that could save your life.”

“Too many rules in life already,” I argued. “Wear sunscreen, buckle your seatbelt, practice safe sex. Nothing good ever came from following rules. Okay, well, except for maybe the ‘practice safe sex’ one.”

Jake smiled. “It’s simple. You’ll lay low at the safe house under a new identity until we need you to testify. No outside contact of any kind.”

“And what if my cover is blown?”

“You’re the only one who’ll blow your cover. Don’t ever tell anyone your real name. It would be like voluntarily ejecting yourself from the program and would most likely get you killed. You are Emily Foster. Remember that, because one slipup can change everything.”

“Anything else?”

“Refrain from doing things you’ve done in the past. Change your routine…in fact, don’t even build one. It’ll keep you alive longer.”

“You say that like you don’t expect me to live.”

“Some haven’t,” he said, matter-of-factly.

“What happened to the other three witnesses?”

“Not sure. It’s possible they did something to endanger themselves, like using their real identities.”

“No, I mean…how’d they die?”

He shook his head, and his jaw tightened. “You don’t want to know.”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Okay, then you don’t need to know.”

“Come on, Jake! It’s my life we’re talking about. I have a right to know what happened to them.”

Jake stared at me for a full minute before he spoke. “One woman was beaten to death with a hammer, one was shot in the head seven times, and the man’s body was decapitated and dismembered…all five of his limbs.”

“Five? But there’s…oh, never mind.” Jesus. What have I gotten myself into?

“Their bodies were all dumped in cornfields a few days after they disappeared.”

“Eww,” I said, cringing. “I’m never eating corn again.”

…

We were landing just after sunrise when I remembered why I’d always hated flying. The plane was sure to crash on landing. I gripped the armrest tightly, turning my knuckles white, and closed my eyes. A warm hand touched mine and squeezed my fingertips. I cracked an eyelid.

Jake gave me a half-smile. “You’ll be fine,” he said.

Then I felt the jarring bump of the landing and said a silent thank you to the pilot, God, and my digestive system. The plane slowed and taxied down the runway. More relaxed, I opened both eyes. By the time the jet stopped on the tarmac, I was breathing normally. I followed Jake through the exit door of the plane, stopping to blink and adjust my eyes to the bright morning sun.

A black Suburban waited for us, along with two male agents, both wearing dark blue suits and aviator sunglasses. Like that wasn’t a dead giveaway. Jake stepped out before me, shielding my body with his, while visually searching the immediate area with caution.

“Everything okay?” I asked.

“Just staying alert,” Jake answered. “Quit worrying.”

Easy for him to say. Hard to remain calm when he scrutinized my every move, as if I’d be executed any minute.

The driver opened the back passenger door for us. “I’m Special Agent Riggs and this is my partner, Agent Murphy.”

“I’m Agent Ward and this is Emily.” There’s that name again. Jake gave the agent a quick handshake while steadily shoving me into the backseat. He didn’t bother walking around to get in on the other side. Instead, he pushed me toward the middle and slid in next to me, sitting close enough that our legs touched.

Twenty minutes later, we pulled into a driveway with a two-car garage attached to a large house, and entered through the front door. I expected old and dilapidated. What I got was far from it. Well hidden on the back side of a lake, the three-bedroom, two-bath home had a stone fireplace, jetted tubs, hardwood floors, granite countertops, and stainless steel appliances. It was like my own private spa.