Sworn to Protect (Vows of the Heart) (3 page)

Ethan sighed heavily. “I’m too young to be put to pasture. Besides, I’m sure the brass would put up a fight about that considering my...questionable...decision making in the past.”
His gut clenched in anger. The brass had labeled his decision making questionable, but Ethan knew better.

“That’s only what they put in the report
to cover their own asses,” Edwards said, voicing Ethan’s thoughts. “I’ve still got enough clout I could get you placed without a problem. You’ll adapt and the job has its own rewards.”

“Is that why you called me in?”

“No.” He took a deep breath, watching Ethan intently. Ethan recognized the look and instinctively braced himself.

“Cordova escaped this morning.”

“What?” Ethan roared, jumping to his feet. Shock and fury cut through him. He paced the office. The pain in his arm grew.

“The Marshals transported Cordova to court. He never arrived.”

“This is unbelievable!” Rage grew within Ethan. He could not allow the waste of three lives, the torture he had suffered, the end of his career....

“Sit down, Lancaster.”

Ethan snarled a stream of curses, still pacing. “What happened?”

“The F
eds are investigating. Cordova had outside help. Eight men armed with military equipment charged the bus like a professional commando raid and killed all the guards. Every federal agency involved in this case is cooperating in the biggest dragnet this nation has seen since 9/11.”

“Christ,” Ethan muttered and finally sat. Instantly, he was up and pacing again. “He’s
gonna run back to his daddy in Columbia.”

“Don’t worry, Lancaster, it’s being handled.”

Ethan paused long enough to glare at him. Damn his arm hurt. He had more plates and screws holding it together than the Statue of Liberty.

The injury would ruin his career and his life.

Ethan raked his right hand through his long hair, wishing he had tied it back. Working for two years undercover, he had let it grow out, now it fell past his shoulders. He paced some more, trying to control the rage growing within him.

Two years of work, the lives of two agents and Rochelle’s life, wasted because some guard earning minimum wage
had turned his back for a moment. No, that wasn’t fair. These people were professionals. Cordova’s drug money and weapons dealing gave him access to terrorists. If someone wanted to free him, it would take nothing less than a military special ops unit to stop them.

A bitter anger gripped Ethan. His brother had been special ops. Abruptly, he shoved his thoughts away before they caused even more pain.

“The Feds say they have some good leads,” Edwards offered.

Ethan nodded curtly. “Do they want to talk to me? I know Cordova’s escape plans
, but he is not aware of my knowledge. He’s got what amounts to bolt-holes and an underground railroad with several options to get out of the country in an emergency.”

“As a matter of fact, they do want to talk to you.”

Ethan didn’t like Edwards’s tone of voice. He scowled at him.

“Actually,” Edwards
amended. “The U.S. Marshals want to talk to you.”

Ethan stiffened. The Marshals usually guarded federal witnesses in protective custody or
would be tasked to bring in Cordova as an escaped fugitive. “Cap, you can’t be serious.”

“I am,” he said s
ternly. “You’re going under, Lancaster. Disappearing...until Cordova’s caught.”

“No,” he said, his voice deadly calm. “I’m not a civilian. It’s not like I don’t know how to protect myself.”

“You are an ATF agent on medical leave.” Edwards gestured to his arm. “Just because regs say you can keep your badge and gun, doesn’t mean you’re on active duty.”

“It doesn’t mean I need glorified baby sitters either.”

“Look!” Edwards snapped, coming out of his chair. “Tony and David gave their lives to pull you out of there. We lost Rochelle as a witness, we can’t afford to lose you too.”

Ethan recoiled, staring at the floor.

Edwards took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Lancaster, but without you, we don’t have a case on the weapons charges or Tony and David’s murders. You saw Cordova shoot them. That means the death penalty. Don’t you want to see Cordova answer for his crimes?”

Ethan returned to his chair and sat down heavily, suddenly exhausted. Two families, two wives without husbands and three kids without daddies. Ethan had celebrated birthdays and holidays with those kids. Families who no longer welcomed him into their homes because it was his fault their fathers had died.

He should have been more careful walking into that warehouse. His training had taught him to be prepared for possible exposure, but he had grown too complacent. Three people were dead because of his carelessness. He rubbed his eyes, trying not to notice that his hand shook terribly.

Edwards
also sat and drew a deep breath. “The DEA called me this morning. Cordova was free only two hours and one of their witnesses wound up dead.”

Ethan blinked in shock. “What?”

“That witness was also in protective custody. They have a mole in their department just like we did. They are transferring their remaining witness to the Marshals and we’re doing the same. The Attorney General sent down the orders. We almost lost you once, Ethan. We’re not taking chances of that happening again.” He paused and motioned for someone to enter.

For the first time, Ethan saw two suits standing at the door. They entered and Ethan braced himself.

“Shanahan and Floyd, Deputy U.S. Marshals,” the senior man said, flashing his identification. “Agent Lancaster, you need to come with us. We will stop by your home, allow you to pack one suitcase and take you to a safe house.”

“Damn it, Captain,” Ethan snapped.

“Take it up with the Attorney General,” Edwards said, shaking his head.

Ethan rose, his arm aching terribly. He reached in his pocket with his good hand and pulled out a bottle of pills. The pain medication was like taking candy now, it didn’t help. He swallowed two pills dry. “Let’s go,” he grumbled.

“Sir,” Shanahan said. “I must ask for your cell phone and car keys.”

Ethan curled his lip then handed the phone to him. He took his car keys off the ring
, but kept the rest.

Shanahan tossed the phone and keys on
Edwards’s desk. “This way please.”

Ethan groused
, but went with them. If they tried to confiscate his gun there would be hell to pay. Damn Cordova for escaping. Didn’t anyone realize Ethan was the best person to track him? But no, they were going to hide him and in reality make him a sitting duck. He scowled, remembering that Edwards had said the DEA had a witness and they were now the only two left alive.

His heart twisted in his chest. If only he hadn’t failed Rochelle so terribly.

Ethan, still fuming, sat in the back of the marshal’s car as Shanahan pulled into the motel parking lot somewhere in Virginia. How many times were agents put under protective custody? Hardly ever.

“Hell,” Ethan muttered.

If the two marshals heard him, they ignored him. The motel was
typical low budget, with a large parking lot, and doors to the rooms facing outside. Shanahan slowed the vehicle.

“Is that Richardson’s car?” Shanahan asked.

“Looks like it,” Floyd replied. “What is he doing here?”

“Hopefully, he’s got more info on Cordova’s whereabouts.”

“You’re not going to find him,” Ethan said bitterly.

Shan
ahan glanced at him in the rearview mirror. “I understand you’re pretty much the expert on him.”

Ethan shrugged, staring out the window at nothing. “He’s in a bolt-hole for right now, until the search cools down. Probably in one of five in the New York area.”

“How would you go about finding him?”

“I have a few informants I’d sit down for a pleasant chat. They are locals near Cordova’s holes and would spot unusual activity. Cordova sometimes uses them for go-
fers.”

“I see, and you won’t tell us who these informants are.”

“It wouldn’t do any good. They will only talk to me. I know...how to speak their language.”

“You mean you know how to beat the hell out of them,” Floyd muttered and glared over his shoulder at Ethan. Floyd was a tall black man who looked like he should be a power forward for a professional basketball team
, but one who dressed impeccably in Armani suits. Deputy Marshals either got paid a hell of a lot more than ATF agents or Floyd was a clothes horse to the point of letting everything else go.

“I have my methods,” Ethan replied.

“Yeah, I’ve seen your file. You’re one of those rogue cops who thinks the law only applies to him when it’s convenient, which means rarely. You’ve not only blurred the line, but damn near erased it one too many times.”

Ethan shrugged.

“You sure screwed the pooch with this Cordova case, you’ll be lucky to get a pension after they force you out.”

Ethan
growled, clenching his fists.

“Knock it off you two,” Shanahan snapped and parked the car. “We’ve got another problem.”

“What’s up, Shanahan?” Floyd asked.

The senior deputy inclined his head toward the motel. “The door to the room where we left Bethany is slightly ajar.”

Floyd immediately reached for his side arm. “Stay here, Lancaster.”

“No way in hell,” Ethan said flatly. “You’re not leaving me a sitting duck. I may be on medical leave
, but I can still back you up.” He drew his Colt Defender from his shoulder harness.

“I knew I should have confiscated your gun,” Shanahan muttered.

“You’re welcome to try,” Ethan said dryly.

Shanahan glared at him
, but Ethan gave him a belligerent grin. “All right, Lancaster,” he muttered. “But for God’s sake stay behind us and don’t get shot.” They got out of the car and Ethan followed their lead. Despite Floyd’s sarcasm Ethan knew how to do his job and how to work as part of a team.

Shots echoed from the room. Ethan crouched behind a parked car. Floyd and Shanahan also found cover.

A feminine form, with a mane of auburn hair, exploded through the window, sending glass flying. The woman hit the ground with a muffled thud, glass crunching around her. Floyd moved from cover to sprint toward her. Two more shots sounded. A bright crimson stain blossomed on Floyd’s chest. He gazed down at himself in shock and then collapsed without firing a shot.

****

A knock on the door jerked Bethany Kress from her nightmare. She sat up sharply and wiped the sweat from her forehead, her heart rattling in her chest. Since Aaron had died, the image of his blood soaked body haunted her nightmares – along with his ghost. Her nightmare was one of blood and pain and his spirit chasing her, translucent, icy hands ripping at her throat. It was her fault he was dead and his spirit demanded justice.

“Relax, Bethany,” Simon, the US Deputy Marshall guarding her
, said. He peered through the peephole on the door. “It’s just Richardson and Dobbs. He put his gun away. “They’re probably looking for Shanahan.”

“Where is he?” s
he asked, pulling on her shoes and her leather jacket. Why in the hell was it so damned cold in here?

Simon unlocked the door and opened it. “He and Floyd went to pick up a second witness.”

She rubbed her eyes, struggling to shake off the remnants of her nightmare still clinging to her and remember Shanahan’s words.

“Is he the ATF agent who was undercover in New York?”

“Yeah.”

Richardson and Dobbs stepped inside. “Hey, Simon,” Richardson said, they closed the door
, but it didn’t latch. “Is Shanahan back yet?”

“Not yet, but he should be here any time.”

Bethany rubbed her eyes again. Damn, the images of the nightmare wouldn’t leave her. She moved to the sink to scrub her face and try to get herself in some semblance of order.

The motel room was cramped with two twin beds. The sink was in an alcove at the back of the room and the bathroom was so small she had to step out of it to change her mind. There was a tiny closet with iron and ironing board on her right.

The cold in the room deepened to an unnatural, bone chilling temp. The hairs on Bethany’s arm stood upright and gooseflesh prickled her skin. She looked at herself in the mirror as she approached the sink.

A translucent face appeared over
her own image. Her eyes widened in terror as Aaron’s dead face stared back at her. His eyes radiated hatred. He opened his mouth and shrieked – a sound of the unholy, a sound of death – death coming for her.

She screamed and backpedaled
, but to her horror, the spirit emerged from the mirror, reaching for her, it’s screech shredding her ears and her sanity.

Three
gunshots thundered in the tiny room.

Bethany
turned and ran
.