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Chapter Three

In the three weeks since she’d awakened in the hospital to find Ryan Jackson in her room, Jessica had learned a few things. One was that he had a bit of the devil in him. So, as she stood beside him on the front lawn that had already turned brown in the cool fall air, she did everything she could to hide her disappointment. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d won this round, because the house he’d brought her to was the ugliest she’d ever seen.

And it was hers.

She glanced over at the three marshals leaning against the SUV in the gravel driveway. Judging by the looks on their faces, they agreed with her.

The house boasted rotting wood siding in a sickly mustard-yellow with patches of gray, as if someone had thought about changing the color but had changed their mind. The shutters on the two narrow front windows were missing half their slats. Weeds grew wild and tall, choking what once must have been a concrete walkway that led to the sagging porch.

“I suppose you would have rather gone to New Orleans.” Ryan studied the dilapidated cabin in front of them as if weighing its merits. “Probably more appealing to a city girl like you.”

Jessica pursed her lips, determined not to let his latest city girl comment goad her. He flung the mantra around as if it were the worst insult he could think of. It made her want to ask him why he didn’t consider himself a city boy since he lived in New York, but that would require an actual conversation, and he wasn’t open to that—not about anything personal, anyway.

Her shoulders slumped. He was right. Living in the gatorfilled bayous of Louisiana would have been infinitely preferable to living in rural Tennessee.

Emphasis on rural.

He’d scrapped the original location, reasoning that her notoriety after the bombing would put her at risk in a big city. She was more inclined to believe he just wanted to punish her, especially since her new last name so clearly demonstrated his opinion of her.

Benedict.

As in Benedict Arnold.

“You’ll have plenty of privacy on this dead-end road.” He sounded like a Realtor trying to convince his client a house was cozy instead of cramped.

She glanced over at the only other house close enough to see, a cabin next to hers with about thirty feet separating the two. Its yard was well kept. Its porch had a collection of bleached-white rocking chairs and terra-cotta pots with purple cold-weather flowers spilling over the edge.

In the twenty-minute ride up the mountain, bumping and jarring over every pothole and rock on the gravel road, Jessica had only seen a handful of other houses. What were the odds that whoever lived next door would be her age, someone with the same likes and dislikes, someone she could be friends with? Knowing that Ryan had helped his boss choose this location for her, she figured the odds were just about zero. Ryan wouldn’t want to reward the woman he held responsible for his friends’ deaths.

“Who lives in the cabin next door?” she asked, bracing herself for the worst.

“Me.”

“What?” Her mouth dropped open in shock. When she’d braced herself for the worst, having Ryan living next door wasn’t even on the list of possibilities.

He opened the neon blue front door and rolled her suitcase inside. “For the next few weeks, I’ll be your neighbor. Just until you’re settled in.”

“Oh, sugar.”

The corner of Ryan’s mouth lifted into a grin. “What did you say?”

“Nothing.” Jessica wasn’t about to admit that she’d grown up swearing worse than most boys, and that her last foster mom had gone on a personal crusade to clean up Jessica’s language. She’d made Jessica say sugar instead of cussing, a habit that had become so ingrained, it had stuck with her. Ryan would jump all over that and tease her mercilessly.

She brushed past him through the foyer into the main room. When she saw the faded, baby blue sectional, the dark wood paneled walls, and orange shag carpet, she had to clamp her mouth shut to keep from saying sugar.

Or something worse.

Ryan joined her, his mouth twitching as he looked around.

Jessica curled her fingers into her palms and kept her face carefully blank.

“Nice fireplace,” Ryan said, not bothering to hide his grin.

Jessica raised her brow at the behemoth sitting in the corner of the room. Big. That’s the only word that came to mind when she stared at the soot-covered stonework that went from floor to ceiling. Okay, ugly came to mind, too, but that pretty much applied to the entire house.

Fighting back her despair, she followed Ryan to the left side of the house that contained two small bedrooms separated by a bathroom.

The bathroom was tiny but clean, with a soft peach color on the walls. She’d have to replace the shower curtain because the colors didn’t match anything else in the room, but other than that…wait, what was on the shower curtain? What she’d thought were little birdhouses, on closer inspection were outhouses, with red and blue cartoon cats crawling all over them.

Her gaze flew to Ryan’s. He returned her stare, silently daring her to complain, confirming her suspicion without saying a word. She didn’t know how he’d managed it, but somehow he was responsible for that hideous shower curtain. She wouldn’t put it past him to have ordered the thing online.

Beyond annoyed, she tried to shove past him to get out of the room, but all she managed to do was wedge herself against him in the doorway.

“Would you please move?” she said, her face flushing hot.

His brows raised and his eyes flicked down to where her breasts were crushed against him. She expected him to make some kind of rude comment, but instead he jerked to the side, breaking the contact between them and leaving the doorway clear. His mouth clamped shut as he stared at the oval mirror above the sink, waiting for her to leave.

She rushed from the tiny room, desperate to put some distance between her and Ryan. If he’d been any other man she would understand why her pulse was racing and her breasts were tingling after touching him. But this was Ryan, a man who despised her. How could she possibly respond to him that way?

What made her humiliation worse was the way he’d reacted. How could her traitorous body yearn for his touch when he was so disgusted by her that he couldn’t even look at her?

He caught up to her and silently led the way back to the front of the house to the garage. He opened the door, just off the foyer, revealing a wall of boxes that contained all of her belongings, and a white compact the government had leased for her. Neither of them spoke. She self-consciously fingered her shoulder-length hair, newly shortened as a concession to her new identity.

The tour ended at a round, café-style table in the right, back corner of the living room just off the end of the kitchen. Ryan placed his briefcase on the table and clicked it open.

Jessica was too numb to even react when she noticed the rows of hideous red and yellow roosters marching across the wallpaper in the kitchen. All she cared about right now was getting through the next few minutes with some of her dignity intact, so she could be alone in her misery.

Ryan tossed a ring of keys on the table. He spread out a map, the crisp pages crinkling as he drew a red circle around a dot marked “Providence,” the town they’d driven through at the bottom of the mountain.

He drew another circle a short distance away, and connected the two circles with a red line. “This is your house,” he said, pointing to one of the circles. “Take the road out front down the mountain to get to town. They have everything you need—a grocery store, gas station, hardware store. There’s a diner across from the hardware store that I’m told serves a decent breakfast. There are a couple of chain restaurants farther down Main Street, and a handful of specialty shops.”

He extended the red line past Providence, down the interstate and circled another black dot. “For serious shopping, take I-40 West to Sevierville.”

“Sevierville?” She remembered passing through that city on the way here. “Isn’t that about two hours away?”

“I did warn you this location was isolated.”

Saying Providence was isolated was like comparing a hurricane to a light, summer breeze.

Jessica’s shoulders slumped again. “When you described this place, I thought it would be like Gatlinburg, a tourist town with cabins clustered together all through the mountains. I didn’t think I’d be so…alone up here.” She stopped her nervous chatter, already dreading his next city girl comment.

The silence drew out and she glanced up to find him staring at her with an unreadable expression.

“You don’t have to stay here.” His voice sounded sincere for a change, without a hint of mockery.

She couldn’t remember one time when he’d expressed any real concern for her feelings, so she didn’t trust this new, unfamiliar side of him. “What do you mean, I don’t have to stay?”

“You have to build a new life wherever you go. That’s hard to do if you hate the place. I can take you to a safe house; tell my boss you’ve changed your mind. It will take some time to research alternate locations, but—”

“No, wait.” She started to reach for his hand but stopped herself just short of touching him. She didn’t want to see that look of disgust cross his face again.

“I’ll stay. You said I’d be safe, that no one would think to look for me here. That’s infinitely more important than having a Starbucks on every corner.” She chewed her bottom lip. “They do have a Starbucks in Providence, right? I could really use a Venti Mocha right now.”

He slowly shook his head, his mouth twitching. “Not that I know of.”

“Oh, well. That’s not important.” And it wasn’t, not really. The thought of going back to a safe house again, code words for cheap motel, made her cringe. After flying from New York to Nashville and riding for hours in the middle seat of an SUV, squashed between two broad-shouldered marshals, all she wanted to do was rest. They could have flown in closer to Providence, but Ryan had taken the longer route, insisting it was necessary for security reasons.

He raised a brow, waiting for her answer.

“I’ll be fine. Really.” Would she be fine? She didn’t know, but she was willing to re-evaluate later.

He looked like he wanted to argue with her. But instead, he snapped his briefcase shut. “I’ll show you how to use the alarm.”

Back in the foyer he demonstrated the keypad, forcing her to set and disable the alarm several times until he was satisfied she remembered the code and how to use it.

“This red button is a panic button. It alerts the police station in town.”

“But…you’ll be next door, right?” She hated the fear that had crept into her voice. No doubt Ryan would seize on that and make fun of her.

“For a few weeks, yes.” No sarcasm, no teasing.

Relieved, she followed him out onto the porch and watched with mixed feelings as he spoke to the marshals who’d been waiting outside. She didn’t remember their names, had made a point not to.

There were already four names branded into her conscience. Along with Natalie’s.

The marshals drove away, disappearing to the sound of tires crunching down the gravel road. When Jessica looked back toward Ryan, he was striding across the front lawn to his cabin next door. The rude man hadn’t bothered to say goodbye. Without a word or even a glance her way, he disappeared inside, shutting the door with a resounding thud.

A cold breeze blew through the trees, ruffling Jessica’s hair. She shivered and rubbed her hands up and down her arms. The sun was going down, and the temperatures up in the mountains were dropping rapidly. The trees that had looked so beautiful a few minutes ago, with their yellow and gold fall foliage, now took on a sinister cast. Shadows shifted in the bushes across the street. She could easily imagine a gunman hiding there.

Would she ever feel safe again? Was she safe? Ryan wouldn’t have left her outside if she wasn’t, would he?

The wind blew again, carrying the scent of pine trees and a host of other, unfamiliar scents and noises, robbing Jessica of the last of her courage. She turned and ran inside the house.

Chapter Four

A scream shattered the quiet of Jessica’s bedroom.

Startled awake, she jumped out of bed, slammed into the dresser and fell onto the floor. Cursing the dark, unfamiliar room, she scrambled to her feet.

The noise sounded again—a short, throaty moan that echoed through the room, making Jessica wince.

Sugar. What was that?

Frantically feeling along the wall for the light switch, she bumped something on top of the dresser. She grabbed it to use as a weapon, and her other hand brushed against the light switch. She flipped on the light and whirled around to face whoever was in the room.

The room was empty.

She glanced around in confusion and shoved her bangs out of her eyes. The noise echoed through the room again. She nearly collapsed in relief. The noise was coming from her window, outside the house.

She chewed her bottom lip and debated calling Ryan to investigate. But what if there was some logical explanation for the noise? Did she really want to endure more of Ryan’s teasing if he came over and found a feral cat or some other animal howling outside?

He’d get a real kick out of that, and Jessica’s pride had already taken about all she could of his city girl insults. More important, she was on her own now, or supposed to be. Ryan was leaving in a few weeks. She needed to learn not to panic or assume DeGaullo had found her every time something unexpected happened.

Her mind was made up, but her feet were still deciding. Blood rushed to her ears. She gathered her courage, and inched toward the window. With her back against the wall, she raised her weapon and slowly lifted the edge of the curtain.

Two round, black eyes surrounded by feathers and a beak stared back at her through the glass. Good grief, it was just a bird, sitting on her window ledge. It blinked and gave another throaty howl. As if it was satisfied that it had done its job by waking her up, it screeched again, flapped its wings and flew away.

Jessica let the curtain fall closed. She’d been scared witless by a stupid bird. Was this the kind of life she had to look forward to? Being awakened in the middle of the night by screeching birds?

The bright red numbers on the bedside clock read six-thirty. Okay, so it wasn’t the middle of the night. But since she hadn’t slept well as she tried to convince herself she was safe without a marshal in the next room, it might as well be the middle of the night. She was exhausted.

She was also keyed up, full of nervous energy, so going back to bed would be just as futile now as it had been last night. She raised her hand to brush her bangs out of her eyes and only then realized she was still clutching what she’d grabbed off the dresser to use as a weapon. She stared in disbelief at what she was holding.

A blow-dryer.

Sugar.

What was she going to do if she met up with one of De-Gaullo’s men? Offer to style his hair?

She pitched the dryer onto the bed and trudged through the short hallway into the bathroom. Her shoulders were knotted with tension from her unpleasant wake-up call. Right now nothing sounded better than a hot, steamy shower to relax her muscles.

While she waited for the shower to get hot, she went about her morning routine. Normally she’d carefully fold her clothes and put them in the hamper, but she didn’t have the energy for that right now. She discarded her clothes in a sloppy pile on the white tile floor and stepped over the side of the tub.

Icy water pricked her skin like hundreds of sharp needles. She shouted and hopped out of the tub, right onto the pile of clothes. They shot out from underneath her feet across the slippery tile. Her hands flailed in the air, futilely grabbing for the countertop. She fell hard, smacking her head against the side of the toilet.

She lay there, naked, her head throbbing, while she tried to decide whether to cry, scream, or break something. Above her, the shower curtain billowed out over the tub. Every one of the red and blue cartoon cats grinned down at her as if they were about to burst into laughter.

A strangled gurgle wheezed between her clenched teeth. She rolled over, wincing when she put pressure on her left hip. She grabbed the countertop and painfully pulled herself to her feet. When she caught sight of her face in the mirror, she let out a low groan. A dark bruise was already forming on the side of her temple.

Could this day get any worse?

All those months during the trial, she’d longed for the comforts of her apartment, her Jacuzzi tub, the fluffy down comforter she’d bought two Christmases ago during a shopping trip with Natalie. She’d hated the cheap motel rooms the government called safe houses. She’d longed for the day when she’d be in a place she could call home again.

Now that she was, she realized how good she’d had it all along. At least the cheap motels had hot water. And she certainly didn’t have wild animals perched outside her window, screaming louder than Mrs. Bailey’s grandchildren when they ran up and down the hallway outside her apartment.

She shut the shower off and stood in front of the mirror, finger-combing her hair over her bruise. The tiny red scars that ran along her hairline made her pause. There were dozens of them all over her body, reminders of the explosion. Self-loathing filled her. How pathetically shallow to worry about downy comforters and jetted tubs when four men had given their lives for her.

They’d made the ultimate sacrifice, simply because it was their job, because they’d vowed to keep her safe. She was in awe of men like that, men with courage who did what was right, not what was easy. She’d worked for DeGaullo for years, too afraid to do what was right. Even the night Natalie had died, Jessica had been too scared to do anything more than cower beneath her desk. She’d done nothing to save her friend.

Her fingers tightened around the edge of the countertop. If Natalie’s family, or the families of those dead marshals, could give up their modern conveniences to have their loved ones back, Jessica was certain they’d make that trade without hesitation.

So would she.

Resolved to appreciate what she had and not to complain, even to herself, she ran a sink full of cold water. She shivered through an old-fashioned washcloth bath. As she was about to leave the bathroom, the shower curtain caught her eye again.

The cats stared back at her, mocking her. Unable to resist a childish impulse, Jessica grabbed the curtain and gave it a tremendous yank. The shower rod popped off the tile and landed on the floor with a satisfying metallic clang. Jessica stomped on the curtain, ridiculously pleased to hear the plastic crinkle beneath her feet.

Feeling buoyed by her tiny victory, she dressed in a pair of jeans and a plain, blue T-shirt. The sun was up now, turning the brown curtains in her bedroom a light muddy color. Not yet ready to face the roosters marching across her kitchen walls, she decided instead to check out the view behind her house. She hurried through the living room to the breakfast nook.

No telling what was hiding behind the curtains covering the sliding glass door. Knowing Ryan, there was something awful in her backyard.

Like the city dump.

She straightened her shoulders, reached up, and slid the curtains back. Her mouth fell open at the dazzling view. The Smoky Mountains spread out before her for miles, dressed in the golds and reds of early autumn. Jessica couldn’t begin to imagine how spectacular the colors might become in a few weeks when fall was in full swing. For the first time since Ryan had announced he was relocating her here, she was excited. Yes, she was a city girl, but she could still appreciate the incredible beauty in front of her.

Yesterday, hemmed in between two marshals, she hadn’t had much of a chance to notice her surroundings. Today, she would take everything in and face her new life with enthusiasm. It was almost like she was eighteen again. Alone, without any family, she’d still been hopeful as she left her latest foster home to find her place in the world. This time, she wasn’t that naive young woman desperate to fit in and be accepted. Her blinders were off. She would never again give her trust so easily, only to find the people she’d thought were her friends were really her enemies.

JESSICA STOOD AT the ridge-line where her backyard ended and the mountain dropped away. It wasn’t nearly as steep as it had looked from her back deck. A well-worn path angled down the mountainside until it reached Ryan’s house, then it angled down and disappeared into the trees below.

Those trees were so thick they blocked out the sunlight, forming a dark haven for anyone who might want to hide. Jessica rubbed her chilled arms and chided herself for worrying. She hadn’t broken any of the program’s precious rules. No one knew where she was. She was perfectly safe.

The sound of shoes crunching on the gravel road out front had her turning around. A large man with short, dark hair was jogging past her house. He reminded her of Ryan, but where Ryan was all muscle and brawn, this man was carrying a few extra pounds, as if he was a little too fond of his Friday-night beers.

“Morning,” he called out, his voice friendly as he waved.

“Morning,” Jessica automatically called back, but she was already heading toward her house to go inside. She needed to learn to face the world again, without her bodyguards, but today wasn’t that day. She wasn’t ready.

When the stranger saw her heading back to her house, he must have thought she was heading toward the street to meet him. He swerved into her side yard and jogged toward her.

Indecision froze Jessica in place. The safety of her house was too far away, and the stranger was almost right on top of her. She rushed backward several steps. The stranger ran forward, making a grab for her.

“No.” She twisted away and kept backing up.

The man lunged for her and grabbed her arm. “Whoa, there, miss,” he said. “If you back up any more you’re going to fall right off the mountain.” His brow wrinkled with concern.

“What?” Jessica glanced back. Her stomach dropped as she realized just how close she was to the edge. She scrambled forward and to the side, forcing the stranger to drop his hold on her arm.

“Thank you.” She gritted her teeth with embarrassment. This man probably thought she was an idiot.

He raised his hands as if to reassure her and stepped back, putting several feet of space between them. “I shouldn’t have run over here like that. Didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“No, no, you didn’t do anything wrong. I’m still half-asleep. Haven’t had my morning coffee yet,” she joked. She glanced back toward the drop-off and shivered, wrapping her arms around her waist. A fall like that could have broken some bones, or worse. That would have been pathetic—living through a year-long trial, surviving a bombing, then falling to her death in her backyard.

A sound from next door had them both turning to see Ryan stepping outside onto his deck. He didn’t seem to notice them as he leaned against the railing with a coffee cup in his hand. He stared out over the mountains, enjoying the same view Jessica had been enjoying a few minutes earlier.

“Morning, Ryan.” Jessica gave an enthusiastic wave to get his attention.

He straightened, as if surprised, and returned her wave. He set his cup down on the railing and hurried across the yard toward her. His face bore an expression of polite interest when he stood next to her and looked at the stranger. “Aren’t you going to introduce us, Jessica?”

“Oh, of course. Um, actually, we haven’t met yet.”

The man smiled at Ryan and held out his hand. “Hope I’m not intruding. I was jogging out front and saw this beautiful young lady. Just had to say hello. Mike Higgins. I’m renting a cabin down the road, about halfway up the mountain. Don’t have nearly the view you two have up this high.”

“Good to meet you, Mike. Ryan Jackson.”

The men shook hands and Ryan gave Jessica a pointed look, clearly expecting her to introduce herself.

“Oh, I’m Jessica…ah…Benedict.” She shook Mike’s hand, hoping he hadn’t noticed her hesitation. She’d almost said Delaney. She chewed her bottom lip and glanced up at Ryan.

He stepped closer as if to lend her his support. “You said you’re staying down the road?”

“I come up here every fall, been here almost two weeks.” He glanced back and forth between Jessica and Ryan. “Are you two permanent residents, or tourists like me?”

Jessica’s mind went blank, all her memorized lies flying away as easily as that bird had flown away this morning. Ryan smoothed over her silence and picked up the conversation. With a straight face, he told Mike he was a seasonal tour guide for hikers following the Appalachian trail through the Smokies. He rattled off names of landmarks like Cade’s Cove and something called Clingman’s Dome.

Then he turned the conversation back on Mike. Apparently Mike owned a small insurance company in Little Rock, and he was anxious to get some fishing action here in the mountains. Ryan made suggestions on where Mike could catch the biggest fish this time of year.

Jessica didn’t know if anything Ryan said about the area was true, but he sounded like he knew what he was talking about. If she hadn’t known who he was, she would absolutely believe he’d grown up around here and that he was a professional trail guide.

As he spoke he lifted his arm and put it around her shoulders, pulling her into his side. Only then did she realize how badly she was shaking. With Ryan’s warm strength supporting her, she began to relax.

It felt good being held by him—too good. It made her wish they could have met under different circumstances, before her life had gone so horribly wrong. Would he have liked her if they had? Would he have gifted her with that sexy smile that gave him a boyish, youthful look? Unfortunately, she’d never know.

“Thanks for the tips.” Mike shook Ryan’s hand again. “I’m going fishing real soon. Hopefully I’ll catch something big.” He gave Jessica a broad wink.

Ryan’s arm tensed around her shoulders. Or had she imagined that? He smiled at Mike and gave him a wave. Jessica followed Ryan’s lead, waving and smiling as the other man jogged back to the street.

As soon as Mike disappeared, Ryan grabbed Jessica’s hand and tugged her toward her house.

“Ryan, stop. Where are you going?”

He paused at her back door. “My coffee has to be cold by now. You owe me a fresh, hot cup. Don’t I smell coffee inside?” He shoved the sliding glass door back and hauled her inside, closing and locking the door behind them.

“You’re acting kind of strange. What’s wrong?” Her earlier unease was reawakening as she followed him into the kitchen. “Did you recognize that man?”

Ryan frowned at the empty coffeepot on the coffeemaker beside the stove. He opened the pantry and rummaged inside.

“Ryan?” Jessica repeated. “Did you recognize that man? Should I be worried?”

He turned around with a box of filters and a can of coffee and deposited them on the countertop. “Never seen him before.” He pulled out the drawer next to the stove. “Is there a measuring thing in here somewhere?”

Jessica shoved his hand aside and closed the drawer. “Let me do it.” She’d unpacked only a handful of boxes last night, out of necessity. The silverware was in the drawer below the one Ryan had opened.

After setting a tablespoon on the counter, she grabbed some non-dairy creamer out of the pantry, grateful that whoever had stocked her first supply of groceries had thought to include coffee. Before the trial, she’d had a habit of stopping at Starbucks every morning before work. She probably could have paid for a vacation in the Bahamas with all the money she’d spent on coffee.

“How do you take it?” she asked.

“Strong and black.” Ryan moved out of the kitchen and leaned against the countertop bar, resting his forearms on the worn butcher-block laminate.

Jessica spooned coffee grounds into the filter. “I appreciate you jumping in on the conversation with Mike. I went totally blank, couldn’t remember anything. I almost introduced myself using my real name.”

Ryan didn’t seem as appalled by that admission as she was.

“You did fine. It’ll be easier next time.”

Her stomach jumped at the thought of next time. “I hope you’re right.”

After starting the coffeemaker, she leaned back, taking her first good look at him since the fiasco with the stranger. Judging by the stubble darkening Ryan’s face, he hadn’t had a chance to shave yet this morning. His short, dark hair was slightly damp. He’d probably just finished taking a shower before he came over.

A hot shower, unlike hers.

“I don’t suppose you know how to fix a water heater?” she asked.

He raised a brow. “Yours isn’t working?”

“Nope. Unfortunately, I found that out the hard way.” She gave him a rueful grin and pulled her hair back to show him the bruise on the side of her head.

His brows drew down in concern. He rushed around the countertop, stopping in front of her. His fingers gently brushed back her hair as he examined her bruise. “What happened?”

Shivering beneath his touch, she stepped back before she did something stupid, like wrap her arms around his waist and pull him closer. She shook her head at her absurd thoughts. This was Ryan. Maybe she’d bumped her head harder than she thought.