Page 8 of Witness Security Breach

Aiden unzipped the utility pouch and dumped the contents. Two loaded magazines and a cell phone fell out. He picked up the mobile device. “We took a tumble off the roof. He hit an AC unit. Neck snapped.”

Tumble? She tamped down the watery, sick feeling welling up inside and retrieved her STI Staccato-P from the floor. “Let’s go.”

The sooner they got Aiden’s wound to stop bleeding and Potter out of danger the better.

Torres took point and led the way out through the front.

Charlie and Aiden waited for Torres to give the all clear and start the SUV before they brought Eugene outside and ushered him quickly toward the vehicle.

A few neighbors gawked at them through their windows as they made their way to the curb.

She put a hand on top of Eugene’s head, ensuring he didn’t bump it on the frame, and helped him scramble into the third row. After putting the seat back in place, Charlie hopped into the second row.

Aiden grabbed the medical kit from one of their bags stuffed with gear. As soon as he sat beside her, Torres thrust the SUV into gear and sped off, tires screeching.

“Oh my God. Oh my God.” Eugene crouched low into a ball on the seat, his teeth chattering between his words. “Do you know how close I came to getting my head blown off? I almost died.”

But he hadn’t. He was alive and well.

Unlike Dale Banks, whose eight-month-pregnant wife was going to have to bury him.

And Aiden had got injured in the process of protecting Eugene.

Charlie snatched the medical kit from Aiden. No way was she going to let him treat himself. Not when she was there to help. She took out gauze and pressed it to the wound. He gave a small wince and quickly washed the expression from his face.

Risking one’s life was part of the job that she had got used to quickly, but one thing rubbed her wrong and she’d never get used to it. Ninety-five percent of witnesses in the program were like Eugene—not innocent bystanders but rather criminals looking to be absolved of their illegal actions and to save their own neck. Snitches who were angry, bitter and had a sense of entitlement. Like the government owed them more.

Few had the common courtesy to even say thank-you.

“Where’s my Jumpdrive?” Eugene sat up. Then he looked over his shoulder and ducked back down as if at any moment the bulletproof window might explode. “You got it, didn’t you?”

No thank you. Only entitlement. Charlie shook her head in disgust.

“As a matter of fact, I did. What is this?” Aiden asked, holding up the drive.

“My insurance policy,” Eugene said.

Was he holding on to evidence he’d never turned over to the US attorney’s office?

“What’s on it?” Charlie inspected Aiden’s wound.

His cut was still bleeding in earnest and not slowing down fast enough. Charlie wasn’t very good with blood and there was a surprising amount of it, not to mention the sharp metallic scent, but she could handle it. For Aiden. She pressed down, trying not to hurt him, and watched as he looked through the hit man’s phone. It wasn’t password protected.

Aiden’s profile was strong and all male, given his chiseled bone structure and sensual mouth. His hair was the richest shade of black and he had long lashes most women would envy. Damn, he was gorgeous. More beautiful than any man had a right to be.

“I told you what’s on it,” Eugene said. “Give the drive back to me. It’s mine, damn it. I need it.”

“No, you didn’t tell us.” Aiden frowned at something on the phone. “I want details. Right now. Did you know that you can be kicked out of the program for withholding evidence? It’s called obstruction of justice.”

“Protecting myself isn’t the same as obstructing justice.” Eugene started to straighten in his seat but seemed to think better of it. “You don’t have the right to confiscate my personal property.”

“What property?” Charlie asked. “I don’t have the faintest idea what you’re talking about. Do you, Aiden?”

He shook his head. “Nope.”

“You can’t do this.” Eugene peeked up over the seat. “Marshal, uh, you, the one driving. You can’t let them do this.”

“Sorry, sir. Wish I could help.” Torres lifted a nonchalant hand and checked his mirrors. “But I wasn’t privy to the conversation in the house. If they say they didn’t take your property, then they didn’t.”