Love Inspired Suspense July 2015 #1 (8 page)

When she faced him, hands fisted on her hips, chin jutting stubbornly and said, “Mister, you have no idea,” Isaac realized she had made a major turnaround.

He also knew that irrational bravado could prove fatal unless she tempered it with good sense. In his experience, more than one victim had tried to turn the tables on a stalker and had paid for such foolishness with his or her life. That was not going to happen to Daniella. Not on his watch.

The opportunity to hide her and to give her subtle direction was invaluable. He would not waste his chance to influence her choices, even if he had to enlist the help of his siblings. Both of them had military training and were more than capable of defending themselves, as well as the stubborn nurse. She wouldn't have to be made aware of all their steps to safeguard her. As a matter of fact, the less Daniella knew about the defenses arrayed around her, the better she'd probably behave.

Nodding, Isaac made sure she was looking at him, then inclined his head to direct her attention to the closet. “Okay. Pack the last of the things you can't live without and figure out how we're going to transport your wild cat while I call this in, tell them what you want to do and get my orders.”

“Be sure you make it perfectly clear that I am not running away this time. All I'm doing is stepping aside so you and your fellow cops can nab my dad. Understand?”

“Completely.”

Leaving Abby with her would have made him happier, but in view of prior experience with the unfriendly cat he decided to keep the beagle at his side, where she'd be safe from feline tooth and claw.

A quick call to his office gave him the private contact number for the witness protection program in that area. The rest would be up to Daniella later.

Setting up an appointment for her to be interviewed at his home was easy. Now his only remaining problem was making sure she listened to the advice of the inspectors. Not all the victims in witness protection did. He knew it took an enormous amount of discipline to blindly follow someone else's plans for your daily existence. He also knew that failing to do so was often treacherous. Even deadly.

* * *

Daniella had no idea what Puddy would do riding in the same vehicle as Abby, but she hadn't expected what actually happened.

Their crates were side by side. The cat's was made of plastic with a metal door, meaning Puddy's view of Abby was limited. It didn't seem to matter. Daniella heard a low rumble of displeasure that quickly became a roar rising and falling in a discordant wave of sound.

Isaac chuckled. “Is that your cat? He sounds like he's trying to imitate a lion.”

She had to smile back. “I suspect he is. I've heard him growl a little before but nothing like this.”

Instead of expressing himself and then quieting, Puddy continued. “Oh, dear,” Daniella remarked. “I'm sorry.”

“Not as sorry as we're both going to be,” Isaac managed to say just as Abby joined in the chorus with a “Yip, yip, yip, owoooo...” that rattled the windows of the air-conditioned SUV.

Clapping her hands over her ears, Daniella glanced at Isaac and grinned. “That's
terrible
harmony. They'll never make it in the music business.”

“I knew it was coming,” he shouted over the clamor rising from the cargo area. “Abs is a beagle. Howling is one of her favorite pastimes.”

“Sounds like it,” Daniella yelled back. She let go of her ears long enough to reach for the radio, intending to see if recorded music would distract the antagonists.

Isaac's yelp stopped her before she was able to do much. He quickly flicked switches, laughing raucously.

To her embarrassment, the car's communication system crackled and someone said, “Unit Five, dispatch. Are you all right out there?”

“Affirmative,” Isaac said. “Abby is singing.”

“Sounds more like you're both being overrun by a gang of crazed monkeys,” the voice countered. “You sure you're okay?”

By this time Daniella's prior nervousness had contributed to her emotional unsteadiness and she was laughing so hard she was weeping and gasping for breath.

“Hush,” Isaac warned, chuckling along with her. “They already think I'm in trouble.”

“Mister,” she managed between giggles and sniffles, “you have no idea.”

He smiled back at her, arched his eyebrows and rolled his eyes. “Maybe I didn't before but I'm starting to get the picture—loud and clear.”

EIGHT

T
ime flew by for Daniella. Puddy had finally settled down about being shut in her bedroom and had quit sticking his paw out under the door, where Abby could try to lick it. Once Daniella had realized the little dog meant no harm, she'd opted to let the animals work out their differences with the partition of solid wood between them.

She'd also done all she could to take over some daily chores and hoped her efforts were appreciated. Something in her nature insisted she must earn her way, participate fully, in order to deserve a place in the small family. There were a lot of things she didn't know how to do, such as wield hammer and nails, but she was a wiz with a duster and vacuum, and could even cook, much to Becky's delight.

Intending to wash a few windows to kill time until her afternoon appointment with witness protection, she had located a bucket, sponge and paper towels, and was searching for a stepladder when she heard a car approaching. More than a little anxious, she looked around and saw a dark sedan kicking up dust on the long driveway.

“Oh, dear. Is it that time already?”

She laid aside her cleaning supplies and headed for the den to find Isaac, wanting him present when she spoke with the marshal.

“Isaac?” she called down the hallway, one hand cupped at the side of her mouth. “Isaac! Where are you?”

No answer came. Frustrated, she turned toward the front door, brushed her hands on her jeans, smoothed her hair, checked her image in the hallway mirror, then peeked through the narrow windows flanking the main entrance.

As the dark, unmarked car came to a smooth stop in front of the house, she saw only the driver. He paused for a few seconds, apparently speaking on his radio, then opened his car door and stepped out, squaring a broad-brimmed hat on his head and donning aviator glasses as he did so.

“Isaac!” Daniella's shout echoed in the foyer. “The marshal's here.”

Still no answer. She gathered her courage and stood tall. If she was going to be master of her own fate the way she'd vowed, it was time to behave that way. Never mind that she was quaking inside. What mattered was how she presented herself and how well she was able to mask her latent fear. The way she figured it, the more she acted poised and calm and in control, the easier it would be to actually begin to feel that way.

Her hand closed on the brass knob and twisted. The door swung open easily. Daniella took a deep breath and forced a smile for the marshal's benefit.

She stepped outside.

Pulled the heavy wooden door closed.

Turned.

Looked up—and saw the leering grin of her father!

* * *

Jake tapped his brother on the shoulder. “Did you hear something?”

“Like what? I can hardly hear myself think when you're running that saw.”

“Sorry.” Jake flipped the off switch and the table saw blade began a high-pitched whine, its tone dropping as it slowed.

Isaac strained to hear beyond the barn where he'd been holding up the free ends of two-by-fours so Jake could trim them accurately. He glanced at his watch. “I'd better go check on Daniella. Her appointment with somebody from the marshal's office is in a half hour and I don't want her to be startled if she's lost track of time.”

“What, exactly, is going on with you two?”

“Nothing. Why?”

The older brother arched his brows and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, right. Tell me another fairy tale. I've seen the way you treat her.”

“I'm just doing my job, that's all.”

“Uh-huh. So what's her excuse?”

Frowning, Isaac shook his head. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Okay. Have it your way.” Jake shrugged. “But don't waste your breath denying you've seen her making eyes at you. If the attraction were any plainer she'd be throwing herself at your feet.”

“That's ridiculous.”

“Ask Becky. She agrees with me. And we're both worried about what you may be getting yourself into. I don't care what you say, it isn't only innocent people who end up in witness protection, you know.”

“Look. Daniella saw her mother murdered. All she's guilty of is testifying to the truth.”

“So who's after her? You gave us a description of the guy we're supposed to look out for, so you may as well tell us the rest. Becky figures to pry the whole story out of her sooner or later, anyway.”

Taking a deep breath and releasing it as a sigh, Isaac conceded. “Her own father. That's why Daniella didn't want to talk about it. She's embarrassed to admit that Terence Fagan is her dad, let alone that he swore to kill her because her testimony put him in prison.”

Jacob was nodding. “Wow. Okay. I'll buy that. So what's plan B?”

Walking with his brother toward the rear of the house while still favoring his sore leg, Isaac slowly shook his head. “I have no idea. Once we've conferred with the marshal today and discussed the ramifications of Fagan's early release, we should have some kind of a plan. Daniella says she wants to stop running, but taking a stand right now may not be her smartest move.”

He felt his cheeks warm as he thought about a future that included the pretty nurse. Such fantasies were likely to be futile, yet he didn't seem able to stop entertaining them. Whatever happened, however their blossoming relationship ended, he would always remember her fondly and pray that she was happy and well.

In his heart of hearts, he wished there were some way for them to remain in contact, but the moment she was forced back into protective custody the invisible chain that connected them would be broken—unless she chose to return, as she'd claimed she would. He wasn't holding his breath. A lot of things could change in the length of time she might have to be away.

The warm spring air was stirring, the sunlight soothing in spite of the sheen of perspiration on Isaac's brow. He halted and raised his arm to shade his eyes. “What's that?”

“Where?” Jacob was beside him, peering into the distance as his brother pointed.

“There. It looks like a dust cloud.”

“I don't see anything.”

“Maybe I was imagining it. Or maybe it dissipated. It was really faint to start with.” Nevertheless, he picked up the pace.

“What's the rush?”

“I don't know,” Isaac admitted. “I just have a funny feeling.”

“Funny ha-ha or funny peculiar?”

“Funny risky and dangerous.”

“I'll come with you.”

“No.” The seriousness of the order was unmistakable. “It's probably the marshal. You stay outside. Shut the dogs in the barn so they don't get in the way, then keep watch, just in case. I'm going to pick up my duty weapon and find Daniella.”

Isaac climbed the wooden porch steps and slowly eased open the back door. In several more limping strides he was standing in the enormous farm kitchen.

By looking down the main-floor hallway he could see through a multipaned window in the room that had been a parlor when the house was new.

Daniella stood just outside. She was fine. His breath whooshed out with relief and he smiled, nevertheless making a quick detour to the den to pick up his firearm, as planned.

In less than a minute he was in the parlor/living room. It was plain Daniella was upset, but she seemed in control of her basic emotions. He focused past her to the typical dark, unmarked car parked in the driveway. Although he couldn't see him, he figured the marshal had arrived early and caught her by surprise. That would explain her anxiety.

Since the urgency of his earlier worries had abated, Isaac slowed his pace and favored his injury as he crossed the room. It seemed the most natural thing in the world to keep watching Daniella as he walked.

Her back was partially to him so he wasn't able to see her face. Her shoulders were back, her spine straight and she was gesturing with her hands as if expressing herself forcefully.

Isaac froze midstride, put too much weight on his sore leg and faltered. Something had just changed. Something was wrong. Very wrong. Daniella had raised both hands as if surrendering and she were backing away from whoever she'd been talking to.

A man's hand shot out. Grabbed one of her wrists. Yanked her out of Isaac's view.

He threw open the front door and stepped through, his gun at the ready, in time to see her being forced down the stairs toward the black car.

Senses reeling, he realized he was looking at a marshal's car, uniform shirt and standard-issue hat—over faded jeans and dirty running shoes. This man was an imposter!

“Stop or I'll shoot!” Isaac yelled, taking a marksman's stance.

Daniella's captor laughed rawly. “No, you won't. You might hit the girl.” He pressed the barrel of a revolver to her temple. “Or this gun might accidentally go off.”

“What do you want?”

The fake lawman's grin radiated evil. “Her. But not for long,” he said. “I just need to teach her a lesson.”

It had occurred to Isaac the moment he'd seen the attacker that he might be Terence Fagan, although it was hard to tell for sure with the hat brim shading most of his face and silvered sunglasses masking his eyes.

“You're Fagan.”

“Give the man a medal. He wins the prize.”

“Listen, this is crazy,” Isaac told him. “You got out of jail legally. Don't put yourself back in just to get revenge.”

While the captor continued edging closer to the car, Isaac kept pace, narrowing the distance slightly with each step. The way he figured, Fagan would have to open the door to shove Daniella in before he could get behind the wheel. That should be enough time to launch a counterattack and free her.

And if it wasn't?

Isaac refused to even consider failure as an option.

He just hoped he could survive whatever personal sacrifice he'd have to make in order to bring her through unscathed.

* * *

Daniella wanted to do serious damage to the despicable man who was trying to kidnap her. Thrashing, she kicked behind, stomped on the tops of his feet, threw her weight from side to side. Nothing loosened his grip.

“Let me go!” she screeched at the top of her lungs. “Let me go, you dirty...”

Fagan did let her arm go in order to backhand her across the face before she could finish. The blow sent her flying. The instant her hands and knees hit the dirt, she began to scramble away.

Terence Fagan cursed.

Isaac leaped at him as best he could, not even feeling the stitches in his calf. They slammed into the side of the car and went down together.

Isaac's free hand grasped the wrist of his adversary to divert the lethal weapon.

Fagan did the same to him and also began to kick, landing a solid blow to Isaac's leg and causing him to shout in anguish.

Instead of running for her life, Daniella circled the car and leaped onto her father's back, wrapping both arms around his neck and trying to choke him to get him to release Isaac.

In a flurry of arms and legs, screeching and groaning, the three rolled over and over on the ground.

In the background, Isaac heard his brother's shout and a cacophony of barking.

Jacob ran around the corner of the house on the heels of Abby and the enormous mixed-breed farm dogs. He was swinging a shovel like a baseball bat.

Fagan took one look at the slavering, growling canines and screamed, then let go of his gun and everything else, jumped to his feet and dived in the driver's door, scraping Daniella off in the process.

The engine roared. Spinning tires threw a rooster tail of dust and gravel. The big car fishtailed, then straightened and sped away.

“Abby, come. Heel!” Isaac shouted, afraid for the K-9's safety.

The little beagle slid to a halt and the larger dogs did the same, following her back to the yard at a brisk trot, tails waving and looking terribly pleased with themselves.

The sight of Daniella, sitting there in the dirt with her cheeks tearstained and her breathing ragged, tore at Isaac's heart. He reached for her.

She mirrored his actions. In seconds she was in his arms, cradled against his chest, trembling.

He pulled her tighter. Soothed her with murmurs. Wished he'd been there for her when she'd been attacked.

“I'm so sorry,” he said softly.

She drew a stuttering breath. “I'm the one who's sorry. I should have recognized my father, even in disguise. Are you hurt? I saw him kicking you.”

“It's nothing.” He was loath to release her long enough to get to his feet, assuming he could.

When Jacob offered a hand, Isaac took it, pulling Daniella up beside him.

That didn't break them apart. If anything, it strengthened their embrace.

“Is he gone?” Isaac asked his brother.

Jake nodded. “Yeah. Last I saw of him he was turning onto the road and flooring it.”

“Terrific.”

Keeping one arm firmly around Daniella's waist, Isaac fisted his cell phone and reported the foiled attack, starting with the general direction the fleeing fugitive was headed.

“It was an official car so it shouldn't be hard to locate now that we know Fagan stole it. The uniform, too.”

“He—he bragged about killing the real marshal,” Daniella added softly, as if loath to say it.

Isaac relayed her information. “Yeah, it's possible. We didn't see any sign of him. His handlers can probably track his movements before he was due here and locate him, hopefully still alive. Tell them I'm sorry I didn't get a chance to examine the car's trunk.” He paused to listen. “Okay. Keep us informed.”

“What are they going to do?” Daniella asked as soon as the call ended.

“Coordinate a search for the marshal and his car. That has to come first. Then somebody will probably come by here to take our statements. What I can't understand is how Fagan found out when your appointment with the marshal was and how he managed to outwit a professional lawman.”