Hiding His Witness (24 page)

Reilly lifted his gun, pointing it at them. “Don’t move. Put your weapon on the ground and get your hands up.”

“You can’t have her. She’s mine. The only woman worthy. She is an angel. She cannot be sullied with your filth.”

“Drop the weapon,” Reilly repeated. “I’m not going to ask you again.”

“You’re not going to shoot her,” the Vagabond Killer said.

“Last chance,” Reilly warned.

She needed to free herself enough to move and give Reilly a clear shot. “Please, Reilly, just go. John and I were meant to be together.”

Confusion flickered across Reilly’s face. Then he lowered his gun, his shoulders slumping.

“John, let me look at you.”

His grip loosened a fraction of an inch and she leaned back. She brought her knee up and slammed it between his legs, shoving him away. He stumbled, letting out a roar of rage. He righted himself and lunged at her, the blade of his bloody knife aimed at her heart. Fear-fueled adrenaline sent her twisting away from the knife’s reach.

A gunshot echoed into the night, then another.

The Vagabond Killer crumpled into the snow.

Two more men appeared on the field, racing toward them. The moonlight cast its beam and she made out their faces. Harris and Brady had arrived. Relief swept over her. Finally.

A moment later she was at Reilly’s side, helping his brothers carry him to safety.

* * *

“For the hundredth time, I’m fine. It’s a small sprain,” Carey said, coming to her feet. Reilly had insisted she be checked out at the hospital, but it was unnecessary. “You were shot. You’re the one who needs medical care.”

“The doctor said to take it easy on your ankle,” Reilly said. His arm was in a sling, but he refused to admit to her it hurt. It had to hurt. “And I wasn’t shot. I was grazed. Harris and Brady won’t let me forget I passed out from being grazed by a bullet.”

Carey knew his brothers’ teasing hid the fear they’d felt for Reilly. “You lost a lot of blood and I’m fine.”

Reilly studied her face. “You always say you’re fine. You didn’t just fall. You were kidnapped and witnessed two murders.”

Actually she hadn’t seen either Mark or the Vagabond Killer die. “I didn’t see anything. No lineups. No witness testimony needed.”

“What are you going to do now? Do you need to return home to take care of your father’s affairs?”

Carey shook her head. “No, I don’t want any part of the family business. I spoke to Harris while you were with the doctor. The government has confiscated my father’s assets as part of an ongoing investigation. I’ll be able to get back photos and sentimental things from our house, just memories. It’s all I want. I have a new life now.”

“You’re amazing,” Reilly said. “And I should have done better. I’m sorry.”

She looked from Reilly to the door, sadness tightening around her heart. “You were great. Why are you apologizing? For saving my life?”

He shook his head and stepped closer, setting his hand on her cheek. “For not protecting you better. If I had been a few seconds later—”

She set her finger over his lips. “You weren’t. You were right on time.” They’d had this same conversation three times. Reilly’s guilt was unneeded. She was fine. Honestly and truly fine. Maybe for the first time in her life. It was finally over. She didn’t have to run anymore.

She set her hands on Reilly’s chest. “Thank you for giving me a future.”

Reilly wrapped his uninjured arm around her, anchoring her to him. His eyes connected with hers. “Tell me then, what kind of future do you want?”

The answer came strong and sure. A life with Reilly. A home. Family. “You. I want a future with you.”

“Should I call you Haley?”

She could use her real name now. It sounded amazing on his lips. “Yes. Please. Haley sounds wonderful.”

A smile spread across his face and happiness shone in his eyes. “I love you, Haley. I have no reason to hold back. No reason not to tell you. I love you and I want to spend my days with you. All my days and all my nights. I want to come home to you.”

Her heart filled to overflowing. She blinked back tears of overwhelming happiness. “I love you, too.” The words surged in her chest, filling her with bliss. Happiness. Security.

He leaned closer, rubbing his nose to hers. “Marry me, Haley.”

Joy filled her chest to bursting. “Does this mean you’ll cook for me?”

He lifted a brow and inclined his head. “Only if you do the laundry.”

She laughed. “Guess this means I’ll have to change my name again.”

“Only if you want to,” Reilly said, lowering his mouth and brushing his lips to hers.

She smiled against his lips. “Haley Truman? Yeah, I like the sound of that.”

* * * * *

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Chapter 1

T
he Wyoming woods atop the tall mountains that cradled the town of Cold Plains were just beginning to take on a fall cast of color. This worked perfectly with the camouflage long-sleeved T-shirt and pants that Micah Grayson wore as he made his way through the thick brush and trees.

Although a gun holster rode his shoulder, he held his gun tight in his hand. Despite the fact that he had only been hiding out in the mountainous woods for two days and nights, he’d quickly learned that danger could come in the blink of an eye, a danger that might require the quick tic of his index finger on the trigger.

Twilight had long ago fallen but a near-full moon overhead worked as an additional enemy when it came to using the shield of darkness for cover.

As an ex-mercenary, Micah knew how to learn the terrain and use the weather to his advantage. He knew how to keep the reflection of the moonlight off his skin so as not to alert anyone to his presence. He could move through a bed of dry leaves and not make a sound. He could be wearing a black suit in a snowstorm and still figure out a way to become invisible.

The first twenty-four hours that he’d been in the woods he’d learned natural landmarks, studied pitfalls and figured out places he thought would make good hidey-holes if needed. He’d also come face-to-face with a moose, heard the distant call of a wolf and seen several elk and deer.

He now moved with the stealth of a big cat toward the rocky cliff he’d discovered the night before. As he crept low and light on his feet, he kept alert, his ears open for any alien sound that might not belong to the forest.

Despite the relative coolness of the night, a trickle of sweat trekked down the center of his back. During his thirty-eight years of life, Micah had faced a thousand life-threatening situations, the latest of which had been a bullet to his head that had sent him into a coma for months.

When he finally reached the rocky bluff he looked down at the lights dotting the little valley, the lights of the small town of Cold Plains, Wyoming. His brother Samuel’s town. Micah reached up and touched the scar, now barely discernible through his thick dark hair on the left side of his head, the place where Samuel’s henchman, Dax Roberts, had shot him while Micah had sat in his car. Dax had left him for dead.

Fortunately for Micah he hadn’t died, but had come out of a three-month coma with the fierce, driving need for revenge against the fraternal twin he’d always somehow known was a dangerous, narcissistic sociopath.

Unfortunately, Samuel was also charming and slick and powerful, making him a natural leader that people wanted to follow.

Five months ago Micah had been sitting in a small-town Kansas coffee shop where he’d landed after his last mission for a little downtime when he’d seen a face almost identical to his own flash across the television mounted to the wall.

Stunned, he’d watched a news story unfold that told him his brother Samuel was being questioned by the FBI and local police in connection with the murders of five women found all across Wyoming. All the women had one thing in common: Cold Plains, the town where his wealthy, motivational-speaker brother wielded unbelievable influence and power.

Micah had immediately contacted the FBI and been put in touch with an agent named Hawk Bledsoe. The two had made arrangements to meet the next day but, before Micah could make that meeting, he’d caught the bullet to his head.

He’d been in the coma for ninety-three long days and it had taken him another two months to feel up to the task he knew he had to do—take out Samuel before he could destroy any more people and lives.

Which was why he’d spent these last two days and nights in the woods adjacent to Cold Plains.

Minutes before he’d made his way to the bluff, he’d met with his FBI contact, Hawk. Hawk had grown up in Cold Plains and after years of being away from his hometown had returned to discover that the rough-around-the-edges place where he’d grown up as son of the town drunk had transformed into something eerily perfect. A town run by a group of people who others referred to under their breaths as the Devotees and their leader, the movie-star handsome, but frightening and dangerous Samuel Grayson.

For the past two nights Micah and Hawk had met at dusk in the woods so Hawk could keep Micah apprised of what was going on in town and how the FBI investigation into Samuel’s misdeeds was progressing.

As he thought about everything Hawk had shared with him over the last two days, a dull throb began at the scar in the side of his head. He drew in several deep, long breaths, attempting to will away one of the killer migraines that the bullet had left behind.

He turned and started off the bluff, deciding to make his way down the mountain, closer to town. The only time he dared to do a little reconnaissance of the layout of the town was at night. He knew that if anyone caught sight of him it would be reported back to Samuel, and the last thing Micah wanted Samuel to know was that he was not only still alive but he was also here and working with the FBI to bring him down.