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I’ll prove her wrong, he vowed to himself. She doesn’t know it yet, but she can trust me to keep her safe. Always.
Chapter 6
D’Arcy broke the silence when he said abruptly, “Callahan lives in Black Rock, Wyoming—that little town in the middle of nowhere I was telling you about—with his wife and three children. He’s the sheriff there. But he’s also done some covert work for me—nothing you need to know about, but I’ll tell you this—I’d trust him with my life. I can’t make the decision for you, though. I can’t force you to go there. I can only offer you some options, and Callahan is one of them.”
Cate’s gaze shifted away from Liam’s face, blankness descending again. “What are the other options?”
D’Arcy’s expression betrayed he didn’t much care for the other options, but he said, “The US Marshals Service is one option, but it’s not a choice I’d make. Not after what happened yesterday. Don’t get me wrong. Those men who were guarding you—”
“How are they doing?” she asked quickly.
“They’re going to make it.”
“Thank God,” Liam interjected, meaning it sincerely. As a bodyguard himself in the DSS, he knew the often thankless job the marshals performed, keeping witnesses alive.
“Yes,” D’Arcy agreed. “Thank God. But just because those men guarding you did their jobs doesn’t mean the Russian Mafia hasn’t infiltrated the US Marshals Service. Or the FBI. Or the US Attorney’s Office. We don’t know who, and we don’t know how. But somehow Vishenko’s men were able to get to the other witness and kill her. They made it look like an auto accident, but we know it was murder. Despite being guarded by marshals, same as you,” he said grimly. “And someone orchestrated the attack on you yesterday morning—not hard to figure out where you were going to be,” he said. “But it had to be an inside job because someone smuggled guns into the courthouse.”
“Uzis,” Liam clarified. “I could tell by the sound, and Alec confirmed it yesterday. The serial numbers were filed off, but he said the FBI is hopeful they can raise them.” When Cate’s expression betrayed her ignorance of the importance of this, he explained, “Serial numbers that have been filed down to hinder investigation can sometimes be restored by applying an acid solution to the metal. Then they can be tracked—guns with serial numbers leave a paper trail. And no one is better than the FBI at following a paper trail.” He glanced at D’Arcy. “Sorry, I know your agency’s pretty damn good at that, too.”
“True.” One corner of D’Arcy’s mouth twitched into a ghost of a smile. “We think we’re better, but perhaps you’re right.” He turned back to Cate. “As I started to say, you could return to the US Marshals Service. They’d do their best to keep you alive until the trial, but...”
“What are my other options?”
“The agency could keep you. My agency. It’s not our federal mandate—keeping witnesses safe. Temporarily, yes. Yesterday. Today. Not a problem. But at some point I’d have to justify the expense.” He smiled wryly. “My agency’s not exempt from government bureaucracy, much as I’d like it to be. The taxpayers expect oversight, and the GAO—the Government Accountability Office—can get downright nasty about the damnedest things,” he said, trying to interject a little humor into the situation. “Those are just about your only options,” he concluded.
“What about Liam’s agency?” she asked, displaying her ignorance about this, too.
“I work for the Diplomatic Security Service,” Liam explained. “The DSS. Yeah, some of us are bodyguards, but as I told you before, we guard diplomats, not federal witnesses.” He caught D’Arcy’s eye. “I’m officially on vacation, as D’Arcy knows.” His gaze returned to Cate’s face, willing her to trust him. “Which means I’m on my own time. Which means I can choose to stay with you until my vacation runs out—and I do. I will. Even if I have to extend my vacation indefinitely. I have no intention of leaving you, Cate,” he said softly. “Not until I know you’re safe.”
She sat there for a minute without saying anything. Without moving a muscle. So still. So quiet, Liam realized. Just as she’d been yesterday. “I need to think about this,” she said finally.
“Don’t think too long,” D’Arcy told her. “If you want marshals protecting you, I’ve got to let the FBI know where you are. Arrange to have the marshals pick you up. If you choose Callahan, I’ve got to arrange to get you there safely.”
