Rules of Protection(27)

“What?” I shrieked. “That’ll never work. Nobody’s going to buy that when all we do is fight.”

“Most couples argue.”

“Not like us.”

“We’ll say we’re passionate about each other. My uncle and aunt know the truth about you, but I don’t want anybody else to know. We’re staying in their guesthouse in the middle of the forest. It sounds better to say we’re a couple while visiting.”

“A guesthouse in the forest? Sounds fancy.”

“It’s got a pool.” He smiled as if I missed a private joke.

“Who all knows where we’ll be? FBI and U.S. Marshals?”

“No one. Last night, in the motel, I called Brockway while you washed up. I didn’t tell him where we were heading. He wasn’t happy about that, or that I disposed of the tracking device.”

“Why?”

“The Bureau doesn’t look kindly on disobedience. Or their agents stealing key witnesses.”

“You didn’t steal me. I didn’t have a choice but to go with you.” I smiled when he glanced over at me. “Okay, maybe it sounds like the same thing. But you protected me, which I thought was the whole point of witness protection.”

“My methods are unconventional. The FBI and the U.S. Marshals are not being supportive. Instead of winging it, they’d rather I had gone through the proper channels.”

“Yeah, but that almost got us killed.”

“True, but…never mind.”

“Tell me.” I waited, but he didn’t say anything. “Come on, Jake. You can’t start to say something and back down.”

“Brockway thinks my motives are strictly personal.”

That got my attention. “So is he right? Is this personal?” My heart surged at the thought.

“You can bet your ass it’s personal. Frankie Felts will pay for everything he’s done if I have to kill him myself. One day soon this will all be over.”

Not that I wanted him to kill anyone, but Jake’s words made me feel secure. He was serious about making Felts pay. “I hope so.”

“Emily, I know it’s hard to be isolated and cut loose from your own life. You feel caged in, but you don’t feel safe.” Jake glanced over at me. “Even after this ends, you’ll always be looking over your shoulder.”

“How do you know?”

“Because when I was younger,” he said, looking back at the road, “I was in your shoes.”





Chapter Six

Jake turned off the highway just past a sign marked Liberty County, Texas and veered onto a county road. “It’s not much farther to my uncle’s.”

I gave him an incredulous look. “What’d you say?”

“I said it’s not much farther—”

“No, not that. The other thing you said.”

Jake kept his eyes on the road. “What?”

“The part where you said you’d been in my shoes before.”

“It’s not important. I wanted you to know that I understand what you’re going through. I’ve been there. I know it’s not easy.”

“What happened? Why were you—”

“It doesn’t matter. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Jake, you can’t say something like that and not tell me the rest of the story.”

“Just forget it.”

Quietly, I wondered what possibly could’ve happened to him that he would’ve needed witness protection when he was younger. The mystery was enough to drive my imagination wild. I let it go for the time being, but Jake had to know I wouldn’t give up until I found out more. You can’t dangle a carrot in front of this bunny’s nose unless you want me to run away with it.

But I let it drop. Temporarily.

I thought the county road would go on forever, but finally we came to an intersection in the shape of a T. The sign across the road read Trinity River Flood Zone. I looked over at Jake, but he was too busy turning left to notice.

“Flood zone?”

“Yeah, don’t worry. My uncle said the river’s down right now.”

“Where’s this forest you keep talking about? All I’m seeing is fields and pastures.”

“Just ahead, a few roads over, where the tree line starts.”

“Are you sure you know where you’re going?”

“Of course, I do. It’s easy. All I have to do is go left. It’s eight lefts to my uncle’s house.”

“If you go left eight times, we’d be going in circles.”

Jake laughed. “That only applies if you’re talking about a city block. This is the countryside. Trust me when I say you can take eight lefts and not end up crossing your own trail. Look at it like a spiral rather than a square, as if we’re circling our way into the forest.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

Jake crossed over some railroad tracks and veered left. There were more fields than houses, no streetlights, and the road got narrower by the minute. About five miles down, a fork in the road came into view, but Jake stayed left. At another stop sign, he swung another left, then continued down the road.

“See? Four lefts and we haven’t crossed ourselves yet.”