Tempted by His Target (21 page)

He couldn’t pull out, either.

Seconds before climaxing, he groaned, gripping her hips. “I’m going to come inside you.”

“Yes,” she panted.

Her permission didn’t make it right, and her assertion that it was the wrong time of month didn’t make it safe. Disregarding the consequences, he slammed into her, driven by a primal urge to fill her any way he could.

With a muffled shout, he exploded, spilling himself deep inside her.

For several long seconds, he braced his hand against the door, half-collapsed, still connected to her. When he could breathe again, he moistened a couple of paper towels, handing them to her while he withdrew.

She straightened, holding the paper towels between her legs. He was too enthralled by the experience to regret his actions.

Almost.

She used the paper towels and set her clothes to rights. He tucked in and zipped up, his neck hot with shame. He’d never had unprotected sex before and he wasn’t sure what to say. Apologizing didn’t seem appropriate. Should he tell her he was clean?

Instead of discussing his health or sexual history, he framed her face with one hand, wanting to say something that really mattered. “I love you.”

“Don’t,” she whispered, closing her eyes.

“Don’t say it, or don’t feel it?”

“Both. It hurts too much.”

He didn’t want to cause her any more pain, so he respected her request and fell silent. She avoided his gaze, maintaining an emotional distance that cut him to the bone. He’d touched her body, not her heart. There would be no soulful goodbyes.

Shrugging away from him, she slipped out the door.

They suffered the rest of the flight in silence.

Isabel had never felt more miserable. She couldn’t deny her feelings any longer. Although she was mad at Brandon for lying to her, she was also desperately in love with him, and she dreaded their inevitable separation.

Why did she have to fall for him, of all people? Why now, at the worst possible moment in her life?

She hated this ending. A down-and-dirty quickie in a public restroom was the least romantic thing she could think of. It wasn’t the bittersweet memory that would sustain her while she pined away for him in prison. Or Antarctica.

Brandon seemed as devastated by the situation as she was. She didn’t know if she could trust what he’d told her in bed. In her experience, men said a lot of things they didn’t mean. Then they left.

Out of sight, out of mind.

They gained time on the way to L.A., so somehow it was still sunny when they arrived. The longest day in the world. Jet-lagged and heartsick, she trudged through the airport with Brandon and two uniformed escorts. They informed her of her rights and handcuffed her in the back of the squad car.

Brandon’s eyes flashed with annoyance, as if he didn’t feel the measure was necessary, but he probably had no say in the matter. His mission, to deliver her into custody, was complete. He rode along as they drove her to the sheriff’s department for questioning. They brought her in through a side entrance. Her mother was sitting in a chair in the hall.

Isabel’s face crumpled at the sight.

Ana leaped to her feet, gathering Isabel into her arms. Isabel couldn’t return the embrace because her wrists were secured behind her back. So she let her mother do all the hugging, but cried along with her.

“Who’s this?” Ana asked when they broke apart, glancing at Brandon.

He shook her hand, introducing himself as Deputy Marshal Knox. “I brought your daughter into custody.”

“Thank you,” Ana said, hugging him, too. “Thank you for bringing her home safe.”

Brandon patted her mom’s shoulder, visibly uncomfortable. “You’re welcome, ma’am. It’s just my job.”

Isabel’s handcuffs were removed and she was led to a nearby interrogation room. Her mother waited outside but Brandon couldn’t stay. He also had higher authorities to answer to. “Good luck,” he said, holding her gaze.

She nodded, blinking back tears.

After a last look that would haunt her forever, he continued down the hall. Isabel sat at a small table, across from two detectives, a male and a female. For the next several hours, she gave a detailed account of Jaime’s last night, her life on the run and her time with Brandon. The only lies she told were ones of omission. Their sexual encounters were no one’s business, and she didn’t
really
want him to get fired. He’d served her bravely and she was grateful, even if it was “just his job.”

When she finished telling her story, the detectives left the room. Isabel sipped a drink from the vending machine and waited for them to return. After a short break, the female detective, Sergeant McAdams, came back without her partner.

“I have a couple of questions,” she said, offering a hesitant smile.

Isabel shrugged. Other than an inappropriate relationship with Brandon, she had nothing to hide.

“Why did you leave Deputy Marshal Knox in the hotel room in San Marcos?”

“I’d planned to go to the embassy without him.”

“Why?”

“Before I knew his real identity, I wanted to protect him. I didn’t see any reason for him to come forward with me and risk being targeted by the drug cartel.”

“How did you feel when you found out he was a U.S. Marshal?”

“Betrayed,” she said, taking a sip of soda. “I thought he was my friend.”

“Just a friend?”

“Yes.”

“He didn’t make any advances?”

“Never,” she said truthfully. Isabel had made all of those herself.

McAdams folded her hands on top of the table. “It’s not unusual for sexual assault victims to attempt to erase the traumatic incident with a more pleasurable encounter. They look for a safe partner. A friend, if you will.”

Her stomach twisted with unease. “I wasn’t assaulted.”

“Attempted rape is assault.”

“Oh,” she said, feeling small.

“In all sexual assault cases we recommend a physical exam, from an E.R. doctor or your own gynecologist. DNA swabs are taken.”

“There’s no evidence to collect.”

“It’s just procedure,” McAdams assured her.

Isabel wasn’t going to comply with a tissue swab, but that was between her and the doctor she visited. “Am I being charged with a crime?”

Sergeant McAdams leveled with her. “Not at this time. Your statements match Deputy Marshal Knox’s exactly, with one notable exception. He admits to having intercourse with you in the hotel room in San Marcos.”

Her heart plummeted. Although he’d promised to be honest, she hadn’t expected him to be
this
honest.

“Was the encounter consensual?”

She hesitated, unsure how to respond.

“Did Deputy Marshal Knox rape you?”

“No!”

“Were you afraid of him?”

“No.”

“Did he coerce or intimidate you?”

“Absolutely not,” she said, her temper flaring. “He was a perfect gentleman. If anything, I coerced
him
. You can put that in your record.”

McAdams leaned forward in her chair. “Complications like this muddy the legal waters and don’t strengthen a case against the Carranza cartel. If you’re willing to testify to the events you’ve described, refuse a DNA swab and sign a statement denying any unethical behavior by Deputy Marshal Knox, no charges will be brought against you.”

“Not even for Jaime’s death?”

“As long as you uphold your promise to testify against Carranza, we’ll honor the deal and close that case.”

“Done,” Isabel said.

After she completed the paperwork, which took several hours, Isabel was allowed to see her mother again. They were visited by a man who worked for the Federal Witness Protection Program. He explained the relocation process while they listened, hand in hand.

“I’ll go with you,” her mother said.

“No way,” Isabel protested. “What about the rest of the family? You’d never see them again.” Her mother was happily remarried, and Isabel’s stepdad had three teenage daughters. He would never leave them.

“You’ll be able to write letters to your mother,” the deputy marshal explained. “She can read them at a designated location, once per month, but she won’t be able to keep copies, and the communication will be monitored.”

“How can I contact her?” Ana asked.

“With letters, the same way. No phone calls, no emails, no social media.”

Isabel watched her mother struggle with the concept, her face lined with worry. “How soon do I have to go?”

“Tomorrow or the next day. You’ll stay in a safe room at the station until we place you. If your mother can pack a bag for you, with sensible clothes and shoes for any kind of weather, that would be very helpful.”

Any
kind of weather? Her heart sank. “I want to be near the ocean.”

His smile was impersonal. “We’ll see what we can do.”

Isabel squeezed her mother’s hand, trying to comfort her. This was better than jail. Better than death. And better than being on the run.

But it felt worse, somehow.

Chapter 17

I
sabel slept for twelve hours straight.

When she woke the next morning, her mother returned with breakfast, an empty suitcase and an armful of garment bags. The safe room looked like a cheap studio apartment. There was a double bed, a small bathroom and a rickety wood-veneer table. After spending two years in similar places, Isabel felt right at home.

Her mother was a sight for sore eyes, too. She was still so pretty, with her petite figure and dark hair. If she colored it, Isabel couldn’t tell. They talked about family, catching up on everything Isabel had missed while she was away. Her father’s second wife had remarried; Isabel’s stepsister was five.

Isabel told her mother a little of what had happened in Mexico, but she didn’t want to upset her. Needing a distraction, she glanced at the piles of clothes. Although she’d showered last night and been given a pair of striped pajamas, she was eager to try on something new. “What did you bring me?”

Ana unzipped a garment bag, revealing about ten pairs of designer jeans. They looked vaguely familiar.

“You kept all of my clothes?”

“Of course,” her mother said. “I have a closetful of your shoes, too. But I wasn’t sure which ones to pack.”

Isabel slipped off her pajama bottoms and rummaged through the jeans. Most of the styles were flashy, with faux rips and sparkly embellishments. She tried on the newest pair. They were too long to be worn with tennis shoes, and almost too tight to button. “I guess I’ve gained a few pounds.”

“Yes. You were so skinny when you left.”

Isabel heard the sadness in her mother’s voice and felt sick with regret. “I’m sorry for putting you through that, Mama.”

Ana squeezed her shoulder. “I’m just glad you’re back, and healthy.”

They found two pairs of older jeans that fit and rejected the rest. She also chose a few comfortable items—yoga pants and zippered sweatshirts, shorts and T-shirts, a few sundresses. Those, along with basic undergarments, went in the suitcase. The other stuff wasn’t practical enough to pack. “Give it to Goodwill,” Isabel said. “Or sell it to a consignment shop. This stuff must be worth thousands of dollars.”

Shoes were her biggest extravagance, by far. Her mother had brought a variety of styles, from tall winter boots to flirty summer sandals. In Mexico, Isabel had longed for her expensive wardrobe and designer heels. Now that she had them back, she couldn’t care less. Sighing, she selected three sensible pairs and tossed the others.

Her mother stared at her like she didn’t recognize her.

“Thanks, Mom,” she said, giving her a quick hug. “I’m sure I can buy anything else I need when I get there.”

Ana wiped her eyes with a tissue, sniffling a little. “I wish I could go with you.”

“I’ll be fine.”

She put on a brave smile. “Tell me about that marshal who rescued you.”

Isabel’s cheeks grew warm. Stalling for a moment, she finished dressing, pulling on a soft gray tracksuit.

“Was he nice?” Ana pressed.

She thought about their mile-high hookup. “Yes.”

“Will he take you to your new home?”

“I don’t think so,” she said, shaking her head. Brandon might not have disclosed every detail of their affair, but he wouldn’t be trusted to fly with her. “He doesn’t work for the Witness Protection Program.”

“Oh, that’s too bad. I thought he liked you.”

Isabel tried to stay strong, but all of her emotions were on edge. She sank into a chair at the table and covered her face with one hand.

“What’s wrong?”

“I got attached to him,” she whispered. “We…connected.”

Ana looked as pleased as any mother who realized her daughter was infatuated with a man she approved of.

“But now I’m going away, and we’ll never see each other again.”

“He won’t know where you are?”

“No.”

Her mother pulled up a chair, hugging her close. Isabel couldn’t hold in her tears. She cried in her mother’s arms, feeling so defeated by circumstance. She wanted her family back, and she needed Brandon. Every day on the run, she’d longed for closeness and contentment. Peace seemed farther away than ever.

“I missed you so much,” she said, her heart breaking. “I’ve spent the past two years regretting the hurt I caused you before I left. I’d do anything to make it up to you.”

“Oh, honey,” her mother said, smoothing her hair. “When I saw you yesterday, so beautiful and grown-up, all of my pain disappeared. I never blamed you for reacting badly to your father’s death. I only wanted you to be safe.”

She broke down completely, sobbing like a child who knew she was about to lose her mother for the second time.

Chapter 18

One month later.

B
randon spent the first half of the day surfing. He’d been at USMS headquarters for several weeks, wrapping up loose ends and doing an endless amount of paperwork. When a deputy marshal killed a man, he had to complete a mind-numbing round of medical tests and psychological evaluations.

Now he was back in San Diego, on leave.