updated pics, sorry for the last ones guys, def were a little blurry, note on the last pic the dmv form he has created on the computer screen!
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Damnit and I need a title for my race car!!! wish this guy didnt get busted lol

looks like an episode of operation Repo , "it aint no joke if u dont pay that note" yeahhhh

woah
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ugly

Sure is alotta folk after this dude

Is he Italian?

Yup sure is, Italian....... and fat . May also be wanted for deepthroating spicy italian sausage

Today is June 22 2014. I "bought" a 67 nova from this bastard in Jan of 14. He said in a letter to me after he and I signed it that if I didn't see this vehicle by a certain date he would give MY DEPOSIT OF $2500 back to me!!! As of today Ive seen nothing!! Ive been working with the Spotsylvia sheriffs office for about the last four weeks! They r telling me they are working on the case. They seem to think I have a case. The last thing they told me was that now they do not think the car ever existed and the guy Sonny says is real does not exist either!! Just great huh???I'm giving someone this info because I think its important for u people to hear it.Also I have a friend who is a Fairfax county detective but I,m trying to let Spotsylvania do their duty first. Thanks very much for listening!!

judges in loudoun and fairfax are robo signing loan defaults w/o a trial

while upholding the right of proffessed theives in town to suck blood

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so a young person thought they could pay for a car and found out the car dealer knew they'd get the car back

so what. learn lesson move on

Poster above is the worst poster on this forum when it comes to English grammar.

Sonny should be in jail. and nobody should want to buy a 67 Nova. Ever.

Too bad it's not a stupid nigger. Would've been better.

Chapter One

“I swear I didn’t see anything.”

Her heartbeat thrashed in her ears as Misty Elton backed away.

“What in the hell were you snooping around for?” His eyes bulged and his fists balled tightly together.

“I was just looking for a sweatshirt because the apartment was cold. I swear. I didn’t see anything.” Misty was almost sobbing. Her eyes darted toward the door, and she inched toward it, away from his deadly fists, trying to lock her shaking knees together in her flight-or-fight response to what she saw in his face.

Hatred. Loathing. The very devil resided inside him — she was sure of it.

She had no doubt about the way this was going to end. When his voice rose like that, to an almost squealing pitch, when the corners of his mouth tightened and when his fingers firmed, turning his hands into brutal, merciless weapons, it meant she was going to get hurt.

The evidence stood out, practically glowing like a neon light. She’d never before had such a great wish to turn back the clock, to undo one mistake. She’d only been searching for a sweatshirt in the trunk in the room — that was all — and instead she’d found his stash. And that was the moment he’d found her. If he’d come in only a minute later, she’d have closed the lid and rushed from the room, and he never would have known.

As he took a step closer, her stomach turned over. This was worse than usual — this wouldn’t be a typical punishment. She knew his intentions from the cold fury of his gaze.

“I promise I won’t slip up, won’t tell another soul what I saw,” she pleaded. “I swear. It was only a sweatshirt I was looking for!”

“Come here, Misty!” he growled, ignoring her plea as she took another step back. “Now!”

In the past, such words from him stopped any trace of resistance. She knew that if she ran, it could only end one way: he’d pursue her and give her at least one broken bone. If she screamed or cowered, she’d see his eyes light with pleasure as he continued to pummel her.

She’d been with this man for a whole year. In the beginning, she’d thought he was so impressive, a good-looking cop who wanted her. He’d actually wanted her! It hadn’t taken long for her to see his true colors, but from the moment he’d set his sights on her, it was too late.

Once Jesse wanted something, he either got it or that something disappeared forever. She’d discovered that the hard way — the painful way. She was trapped. No one and nowhere to turn to. Her only escape from him ever was when she worked part time at a local diner, and even then, he would show up at random intervals to check in on her. If he saw the smallest indication of flirting — and just talking to another man usually counted as flirting to him — Misty would feel Jesse’s fists when she got home.

The one time she’d tried to leave him… A shudder passed through her. She didn’t have time to think about that — she needed to stay focused on this moment, on this situation. If she lost concentration for even a second, he would pounce, and she knew that this time she wouldn’t see daylight ever again.

He kept his eye on her as he sat on the edge of the bed and untied his work boots, looking as if he had all the time in the world. In his mind he did. Still, the faster he got out of his clothes, the more ready he would be to torture her in the most sadistic ways possible.

She thought about running while he was tugging first one boot off and then the other, but it wouldn’t give her enough of a head start. No. She had to plan this just right.

Lately the beatings had been worse than ever before — bad enough, in fact, that she couldn’t take it anymore, even if she died trying t escape. And she might. She’d saved some money — money he’d be furious about if he knew what she was doing — and she’d been planning on leaving in two days. That was when he had the long shift. She’d be several hundred miles away before he ever knew.

Even with his resources, he wouldn’t find her — not this time. She shuddered when she thought back to the last time she’d tried to leave. She was trying to concentrate on the here and now, but her mind had other ideas. That attempted escape had landed her in the hospital for two weeks in intensive care. She’d even tried pressing charges, but somehow the paperwork had been buried. He’d warned her that if she tried that again, she wouldn’t wake up.

She believed him.

So now they were in a face-off. She was so close to freedom, so close…

“Are you listening to me, bitch?”

Misty froze. He’d stood back up and drawn a couple of steps closer to her.

“I swear, Jesse, I didn’t see anything. I won’t tell a soul. I was just looking for a sweatshirt.”

“Yeah. That’s what my last ex said, too. Then the whore ran to the cops — my buddies. They were good enough to tell me about the lying little tramp. Do you see her around, Misty?”

“No,” she practically sobbed.

“Yeah, no one will see her around again,” he said, with a glint in his eyes that increased her terror. “And no one will ever run to my buddies spilling lies about me again, either.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” she said. What was the fastest escape? If she could get away, she’d be fine. But she couldn’t let her eyes dart around, or he’d see it. And he was still in his police uniform, and she was very aware of the gun on his hip. What would he tell the cops, the brotherhood who would vouch for him?

Probably that she’d brought in the drugs, he’d seen them and confronted her, and then she went crazy. She was sure he’d plant a gun on her, make it look convincing. They’d pat him on the back, tell him he was one lucky bastard to have gotten out alive.

She’d become nothing but some paperwork, her body cremated because there was no one to pay for a casket and bury her, and because he wouldn’t want even her body to remain on this earth. She’d go up in smoke and never be thought of again.

Maybe that was for the best. Her life was one long nightmare. Wait! She was thinking of giving up? The hell she would. Everyone deserved a chance to survive — to really live. She was no different.

Her spine stiffened. There was no way she’d just roll over. This man might very well get away with killing her, and he might do it all too easily — it might be a short-lived battle — but at least she’d go down fighting.

“Stay here!” And Jesse had no doubt she’d do exactly that. Why would she try to escape? She’d tried that once and it had only made her punishment worse.

He moved toward his private room across the short hallway, and she heard the drawer open. Oh, shit! He was planning to handcuff her to the bar he had attached to the solid kitchen table he’d had specially reinforced for one purpose: to inflict unimaginable pain. He’d done this before. He’d ripped off her shirt and beat her — immobilized, with her arms and legs in shackles — until she was unconscious and bloody.

To this day, she couldn’t look at her back in the mirror; she was too afraid to see the tangle of scars there. With her eyes filled with tears, she made a silent dash to the living room, grabbed her purse off the small table, and swung open the front door.

She ran down the hallway, fleeing toward the stairs of their apartment building as soundlessly as a fawn bouncing through a meadow. Her feet moved full speed ahead as if the hounds of hell were after her. At least one was — that was for sure.

She slipped into the stairwell, the fire door making a loud click behind her as she barreled down, making it two levels before she heard th fire door open again.

“Get back here now!”

She didn’t take the time to lean over the railing and look up the winding staircase. She was still two flights ahead of him, but with three to go. The elevator was slow. If he turned back and took that, she’d make it out way ahead of him. But no such luck. She heard the door shut and she knew he was coming after her. At least he was barefoot. That would slow him down.

Almost flying, one hand barely on the banister to keep her from taking a headlong plunge, she made it to the bottom floor, pushed through the door, and then ran down the last hall to the wide front doors of the building. She thrust down the bar, yanked open the door, and rushed into the parking area. It was early morning, the light just beginning to displace the shadows of night, and there would be witnesses. He wouldn’t care, though. Nothing would stop him if he got his hands on her.

Once she was scrambling through the huge parking lot, she didn’t slow down as she pulled her car keys from her purse and looked up to see her car, a car he didn’t know about. It seemed miles away. So far! Too far!

Time stood still and her lungs burned as she attempted her frantic escape.

“The longer you drag this out, Misty, the worse it’s going to be for you.”

Damn! He’d made it through the doors. How far ahead was she?

She knew she shouldn’t, but she looked back. He was walking, thinking he had plenty of time, but he was too close still for her comfort. Thank goodness for the extra weight he’d put on, making it more difficult for him to run.

Her heart thundered in her chest, and she stumbled, but she caught herself at the last second before she crashed onto the broken asphalt.

If she fell, it would all be over. He’d drag her back upstairs by her hair. The neighbors wouldn’t even bother calling the cops. They were all terrified of Jesse, and they all knew that any call would be thrown out anyway. Even if he did pound her to a pulp right there, people would turn their backs.

She’d received the pitying glances, the incredulous looks. People wondered why she stayed. She wanted to tell them it wasn’t by choice — she wanted to beg for help. But she wouldn’t involve anyone else. This was her misery and she would either be freed from this hell or she’d die trying.

Her sides had begun to ache, but the car was now close. She skidded to a stop a moment later, her key ready, her hand unbelievably steady as she pushed it into the lock on the first try. Wrenching open the door, she jumped into the driver’s seat and immediately pressed the key to the ignition — this time not so lucky. She’d missed it.

“Please,” she begged whoever might be listening, and this time when she pressed the key forward, thankfully, it slid into the ignition.

She turned the key so hard that she was afraid she’d break it, but her car started on the first try. The fates must be lining up in her favor.

“Get out of that car, Misty!”

So close.

He was so very close. She backed the car out of the parking spot and saw him only about ten yards behind her. “Please, please, please…” she begged as she threw the car into drive and slammed the gas pedal all the way to the floor.

As she pulled up to the exit from the lot, she glanced into the rearview mirror again, locking gazes with Jesse. A cold shiver of dread passed through her when she saw how near he was, almost to the bumper of her car. A look of murder was in his eyes, and it was clear what would happen if he got his hands on her. By the time he was done, she’d want to die.

There was no going back now. There was no need to. She had everything she needed in this little car, her escape a couple of days early, but well planned out.

Pulling onto the street, she sped away, breathing heavy as she traveled through Billings, Montana. If he called her car in… If he somehow caught up to her… If…

No. She wouldn’t think that way. She’d gotten away. She would stay away. He didn’t know which way she was going — he had no way of finding her. This was her car — it was a junker, a twenty-year-old Honda with more than two hundred thousand miles on the odometer, ripped upholstery and no working heater, but it was hers, debt free.

He couldn’t report it stolen — he couldn’t take it from her. He hadn’t even known about it until just this moment, which had given her another advantage. He’d thought he’d be able to chase her down the street, wait for her to tire out. He hadn’t been expecting her to drive off.

She just prayed it had been too dark for him to take down her license plate number. His eyes had been connected with hers in the mirror, she reminded herself. He hadn’t been looking anywhere near her license plate.

“I’m free,” she said aloud. Maybe she’d actually believe it if she repeated it enough.

When she reached the edge of town and jumped onto the freeway, she let out her first real sigh of relief. When she made it a hundred miles away, her white knuckles relaxed on the steering wheel.

Her body shaking, she didn’t stop moving until she was in Washington State, where she pulled off the I90 at a truck stop in Spokane. She got out and pumped in some gas, letting the cool wind glide across her. Her nerves were still frazzled, but she was free. For now, anyway.

Inside the store, she found a few snacks that didn’t cost too much and poured herself a large coffee to keep awake. She wasn’t far enough away. She needed to keep going.

When she stepped back outside, a police cruiser circled by, and her eyes met the officer’s. Terror seized her heart, but she knew it didn’t show in her face. She was prepared for this, and she knew that cops looked for signs of guilt.

If she didn’t give this one a reason to talk to her, he would pass on by. Walking with confidence, or what she hoped looked like confidence, she opened her car door casually and slid into the driver’s seat, taking her time situating her food and drink and buckling her seat belt.

When the officer drove away, she allowed the breath that had been caught in her throat to rush out, and she sagged in her seat. As much as she kept telling herself she was fine, she wasn’t. She wouldn’t be until she made it to such a big city that Jesse would never find her again.

Misty stopped only one more time. A few hours later, she pulled into a rest stop, used the bathroom, picked up another cup of coffee, and then jumped back onto the freeway.

“Please give me a little bit longer,” she begged her car, and the old thing must have listened, because just as the sun was starting to sink down in the sky, she entered Seattle — her new home. For a while.

This was a city she could get lost in; this was a place he wouldn’t be able to find her — not when there were three and a half million people in the Seattle metropolitan area. It wasn’t like Montana, where Billings was the largest city, with just over a hundred thousand people.

She wasn’t thrilled at the idea of living in a big city, but she was excited to escape Jesse, excited to begin her life at the age of twenty-eight. It should have begun a very long time ago, but she wouldn’t dwell on that — she would focus on the here and now.

She’d escaped.

After checking into a cheap motel, Misty got to work. She took the contents from the bag she’d had stored in her trunk and began her transformation. A couple of hours later, when she looked at herself in the mirror, she was almost unable to recognize the woman gazing back at her. Black hair hung straight down her back, makeup covered the bruises that would finally have time to heal before new wounds were inflicted, and contacts changed her green eyes to brown.

With a new name, she wouldn’t be found. With a new life, she wouldn’t be afraid. This was truly a new start.



Chapter Two

“It took a long time to find you, Ms. Elton.”

Oh, no. Oh, no. Misty looked up into the steady gray gaze of the giant of a man standing in front of her. No! She was safe. It had been a year. A full year. It was only a few months ago that she had let down her guard, had decided it was safe to live again, had gone back to her natural brown color.

Jesse had moved on, surely. He wouldn’t have stayed single this long. He had to have a woman to boss around — to beat up on — by now. He would still hate her, still want her dead, but he wouldn’t still be searching for her. There was just no possible way.

“I…uh…I don’t know who you’re referring to,” she gasped, and she crept toward the door to the back room. She was working a crappy job at a fast-food joint. The place was nondescript, a bit seedy, in fact, and they hadn’t blinked when she’d given them her false name, her poorly done fake ID. She sure as heck wouldn’t eat the food there, not with their lax views on hygiene. They hadn’t even made her get a food handlers card. But the job was working for her for now, allowing her to save up for her next move — though she wasn’t saving much.

If she could just get through the door, get to her locker, then she’d be able to grab her Taser. She’d started leaving it in her purse just few months ago. Up until that point, she’d carried it on her, keeping the small, but hopefully effective, device in her pocket, just in reac of her shaking fingers.

This was what happened when you grew careless. This would be what killed her.

“Please don’t be afraid. I’m here to help you.”

“I don’t need help. You have the wrong person,” she said, her voice more steady. He was watching her move toward the door, but he wasn’t taking a menacing step toward her — wasn’t reaching for the gun she knew he had to have on him.

She was close, so close. Inching a bit closer to the door, she kept her eyes on his hands. Those would tell her his next move. She’d become an expert at reading Jesse through his hands. The second they clenched she’d known she was in trouble.

This man’s hands were sitting idly at his hips, just sort of hanging there. “Can I please sit down with you for a few minutes of your time? I won’t ask you to go anywhere alone with me.” His voice, she was sure, was supposed to convey trustworthiness.

That made her more suspicious.

“Sorry. I have to get something from the back room.” She took her chances and darted through the door, not looking back as she made her way to her locker. Thankfully, it was open, since the only other person on shift was a nice kid whom she actually trusted. She quickly reached into her purse.

When her fingers curled around the small Taser, she felt her fear dwindle. The device wasn’t deadly, but it would knock a large man dow long enough for her to get away.

“Ms. Elton, please…”

He’d followed her. And he was grabbing her arm.

Misty didn’t hesitate. She turned back to face him and pushed the button on her weapon. His eyes widened with shock —literally! —followed by a shot of pain as thousands of volts of electricity traveled through his skin into his stomach.

He released her arm, and Misty took a step toward the door, she was planning to get the hell away — far away from him and this place. It was time to find a new city. She’d stayed too long, far longer than she had originally planned, but her car had died, and she hadn’t saved enough to move again yet. Almost but not quite. The heck with it now, though. She’d jump onto a bus and live in a shelter for a while.

She wouldn’t be returned to Jesse. Never again.

When the man’s hand snaked out and grabbed her leg, tripping her, Misty let out a gasp of dismay. She got ready to use the stun gun again, longer this time. If at first you don’t succeed…

“I don’t think so,” he growled between clenched teeth. He smacked the gun from her hand and pinned her under his huge body.

“Let me go,” she screamed, struggling beneath him.

“Give me a second,” he moaned, not letting her up as he worked on catching his breath.

Yeah, that was going to happen. Sure, she was going to wait until he was back to full strength before she tried to escape.

“You won’t get away with this.” She was trying to sound more confident than she actually was. This was bringing back the nightmares of the way Jesse had tortured her. Her struggles against the stranger increased as she got a hand free and punched him in the face.

Her hand throbbed from the hit, but it didn’t seem to faze him in the least.

“If you hadn’t used a damn stun gun on me, we wouldn’t be rolling around on this filthy floor. Who in the hell told you it was an effective weapon? The things only stun your attacker for a brief moment, and certainly not me. Not someone with training! Now hold on; my damn stomach is rolling.”

“Yeah, right, I’ll just wait for you to get all better, because I have a death wish!” She managed to lift her knee and slam it against his groin, though it wasn’t a direct hit — his thigh took the brunt of the impact.

“Dammit!” Bryson yelled as his entire body stiffened.

No, he didn’t release her. He wrenched her two hands above her head and held her legs down with one of his own as he breathed heavily against her neck.

“Am I interrupting?”

Bryson Winchester groaned again, this time in utter embarrassment, as he turned to see his partner standing in the doorway with a grin on his face.

“Can you give me a hand here?” Bryson growled.

“Yeah, that five-foot-nothing girl looks like a real handful,” Axel said with a laugh.

“Who are you people?” Misty fired off. Their attitudes confused her. Jesse had never acted that way — almost offhand — when he was about to beat her. Deadly, yes, offhand, no. The man staring at the human pretzel that she and the giant were making on the floor looked amused, not deadly.

“I knew I should have brought some popcorn,” the guy said, not even trying to hide his enjoyment at his partner’s struggle.

“Would you shut the hell up and give me a hand, Axel?” Bryson snapped, then turned back to glare at her. “I was trying to tell you who I am before you did your best to inflict permanent damage on certain body parts.” He was finally starting to catch his breath again, but just as the pain began to dwindle, he found he was starting to have another problem.

Oh, this was so not good. How in the hell could he even think of getting aroused? His groin was throbbing, his stomach still rolling from the Taser, and she was still fighting him.

There had to be something immensely wrong with him if he could get even the slightest bit turned on in this situation.

But he’d been so busy trying to defend himself from this shockingly strong woman that he was just now realizing that the two of them were lying flush against each other, and though she might be petite, she carried some killer curves. Yeah, great self-defense, bozo!

Bryson would absolutely never hear the end of this if he stood up with an erection. Breathe! he commanded himself. Think of mom, grandma, the damn Yankees. Yeah, that would deflate him.

“Help!” Misty screamed, and Bryson could now add a splitting headache to his list of injuries. Her voice could have shattered glass, and it was aimed right into his ear.

“That’s it,” he snapped, and he moved off her so quickly that she was stunned into immobility.

He didn’t wait for round two. He jerked her body up and twisted her arms behind her back. He slapped a pair of handcuffs on her.

“See, you got it under control,” Axel said. He was laughing again.

“I’ll remember this,” Bryson grumbled at his partner while leading the woman out of the back room.

“Stop! I’m calling the police,” said a pimply-faced teenage boy who stood frozen in all his bravery by the front counter.

“Took you long enough to check on your co-worker, son,” said Axel, his hazel eyes twinkling.

“I was cleaning the bathroom,” the kid replied. Then he realized he was making excuses for himself to the men kidnapping his co-worker. He was obviously terrified, but Bryson had to give it to him — he wasn’t backing down.

“Call the CIA,” Misty shouted. There was no way she trusted the cops. She didn’t know whether a person even could call the CIA, though.

“Uh, shouldn’t I just call 911?” William asked as he wavered at the counter.

“No!” Misty cried.

That one word revealed more to Bryson than anything else she’d done — and in the span of about five minutes, she’d done plenty.

“I’ll…uh…call the CIA,” her co-worker said with doubt.

“It’s OK, kid. We’re the FBI,” Bryson told him. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his badge.

“No, they aren’t, Will,” Misty broke in. “Those are fake badges.”

The young man’s head snapped over to her. “Okay.” He’d only just turned eighteen, and he had no idea what to believe. Nothing like this was supposed to happen to him.

Axel spoke next. “Trust me, kid. We’re the real deal.” He also pulled out his badge, and, approaching Will cautiously, he handed him his card with the phone number of headquarters on it. “Look at it. And you can call this number to verify.”

Will took the card and walked to the phone, keeping an eye on all three of them. Bryson had a difficult time not laughing. He’d humor the kid. He didn’t want to admit it, but his groin area was still throbbing, and he was grateful to be able to just stand there a couple of extra minutes. The last thing he wanted to do was limp to the damn SUV.

Will dialed the number, and Bryson knew when the call was connected, because the kid’s eyes bugged out. Yeah, that tended to happen the first time a person reached FBI headquarters. Bryson still remembered when all that had impressed him.

Axel grabbed Bryson’s badge and shoved it over so the kid could ask whether both of them were agents. When Will was satisfied, he hung up the phone and faced them. “It’s legit, Marcy,” he said, his eyes shining with sudden hero worship.

At least he was using the fake name she’d come up with, one close enough to her own name that she wouldn’t confuse herself.

But Misty knew she was sunk anyway. “Thanks for trying, Will,” she said, more sad than anything else. This was the end. They were now going to take her to their car and drive her out into the woods, and then her body would never be found. “I really liked working with you.”

Bryson was confused by the change in her tone, but he didn’t focus on it. He just started leading her outside after telling Axel to collect her belongings. The fight had left her, and she didn’t wrestle against him as he moved to the vehicle and opened the back door.

“Watch your head,” he warned her, and she slid inside.

When he climbed in with her, she looked straight ahead. One tear slid down her cheek, but other than that, not a sound or reaction.

“Now, Ms. Elton, can we speak?” he asked.

“Why not?” she said, her voice defeated.

“If I take off the handcuffs, do you promise not to attempt to hit me again?”

“What good would it do? The Taser didn’t even faze you,” she replied.

“Oh, it fazed me. I may not work properly for a while,” he said, a mocking grin lighting up his face.

“I won’t struggle anymore. Just get this done, please. I’m tired of being afraid, anyway.”

“Good. We believe you are a witness to the activities of Jesse Marcus. We would like any information you can give us.”

Yep. This was it. They wanted to see what she knew, whom she’d told, and whether there was anyone else they had to kill. And then they’d off her.

“I haven’t told anyone anything,” she said, a tiny but unquenched hope in her chest making her plead for her life, no matter how useless it was.

“I believe you, Ms. Elton. I promise you, I’m not working for Mr. Marcus. On the contrary. I’m going to make sure the bastard doesn’t hur anyone ever again.”

Maybe it was his tone, maybe his words, but Misty slowly lifted her eyes and met his gaze. Questions stared back at him. He waited, looking at her without blinking, trying to convey to her that he was, indeed, the good guy.

“Who are you?” she finally whispered.

“I’m Special Agent Bryson Winchester, and this is my partner, Special Agent Axel Carlson. We’re the men who are going to lock up the man you’ve been running from.”

He didn’t break the connection of their eyes, didn’t move as she processed his words.

Then it was all over. Misty sagged against the back of the seat as she let herself go for the first time since she’d run from Jesse a year ago. She let go of the fear, let go of the pain, let go of it all, and cried.

She didn’t know if she’d be able to stop — didn’t know if this was it for her. She’d gone so far holding it all in, staying strong, and now that the dam had a crack in it, maybe she would just burst apart and be like that forever.

At some point, she found herself cradled against this stranger’s chest, her tears soaking his once pristine shirt. She didn’t even have the energy to care. She just let it all out, every single emotion she’d been bottling up for so long. He stopped talking, and just ran his hand through her hair.

Somewhere in the middle of all of this, the SUV began moving, but she didn’t care. She couldn’t care. She just kept on crying — out of relief, out of pain, out of hope.



Chapter Three

Bryson paced restlessly through the suite as he waited for Misty to finish her shower. It seemed much easier to bring her back to the hotel, get her a room, and let her take some time to compose herself before they questioned her.

It had taken over an hour to convince her that they were really from the FBI and they were there to help her. Well, if he had to be completely honest, they were there to help their case. But, by getting Jesse behind bars, they were helping Misty.

That was important.

She had more information stored in her brain than she realized. Jesse Marcus was the true definition of a bad cop, and Bryson was going to bust his ass. The man was mixed up in drugs, prostitution, and murder. He was going down.

At first, Bryson had thought that Misty might be involved in it all, but after reviewing the surveillance tapes, checking into her tragic history, and basically learning everything he could about her, he knew she was innocent. Sometimes his radar was wrong, but he didn’t think so in this case.

She’d simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time, and she was now paying a high price for crossing paths with that man. Misty Elton was lucky to be alive.

And Bryson intended to keep her that way.

“What do you want to eat?”

Bryson turned to find Axel leaning quietly against the door, a bored smirk on his face. This was a part of their job they both hated — babysitting.

“Is everything secure?” he asked, ignoring the question.

“Yep. We’re all clear outside. I had a nice stroll,” Axel said.

“Good. I want to keep the local law enforcement out of this. She doesn’t trust them, and frankly, I understand why. We’ll never get her to talk if the men in blue show up.”

“Yeah, it’s cases like these that make me appreciate my job more. I don’t know how men like Jesse ever pass the tests to become police officers.”

“We both know it happens,” Bryson said with a sigh.

“Okay, I’m starved. What should I get?” Axel asked again.

“Burgers will be fine,” Bryson said. He had no appetite at the moment.

“Nah. We had those the last few nights. Let’s do Chinese.”

“Why ask my opinion, Axel, when you’re just going to get whatever you feel like?”

“’Cause it’s always fun to annoy you.” Axel grabbed his coat and headed from the room.

The two men had been colleagues for the past five years, had been through some less than ideal cases, and they knew each other well enough to keep alive. Axel was his best friend, his confidant, his brother-in-arms.

The shower clicked off and Bryson tensed. He didn’t understand why this woman was getting under his skin. She was just another victim in a long line of them — just another case. There was no reason to take any of this personally. No reason to get worked up over it. It was a standard case, pretty much cut-and-dry. They get her testimony; they lock her slimy ex up.

A doubt nagged at him. What if she was too afraid to get up in the witness box? Well, his job was to give her confidence, make sure she knew she was protected. It wasn’t an easy task, because they didn’t know how many of the policemen Jesse was working with were corrupt.

He had no doubt that if Jesse got his hands on her again, he would kill her.

However, if she pulled out, they had quite a few other witnesses. It was just that they didn’t want this case to fall apart for any reason, and if all the witnesses got jumpy and bailed, Jesse would walk. That was unacceptable.

He was really just worried about the case. That was all. So why this immediate need to take this woman’s burdens upon himself? He’d held many women while they sobbed in his arms. And nothing. He’d never felt the slightest trace of emotion stirring inside himself.

Walking over to the patio door, frustrated, he flung it open, and a strong gust blew inside the room, flipping his tie over his shoulder and cooling the room instantly. Seattle was definitely a cold place in February. He’d rather be home in Montana, truth to tell — though the winters were harsher, rain wasn’t as constant a presence there. First choice? His place in L.A. The women wore far less clothing, which was always a plus.

Especially since those women went for him in a big way. Bryson’s deep tan never had a chance to fade, because he did a lot of work in warmer climates, and the bright gray eyes in his lean face and his solid jawline set him apart from other men. He wasn’t someone easily ignored.

Bryson could certainly turn on the charm, and he knew when to use it to his advantage. The intense, almost animal light that would enter his eyes when he was interrogating a suspect had elicited more than one confession. His smile could either inspire confidence or inflict terror, depending on the mood he wished to set.

Though Bryson could be frightening as hell, he normally left the bad-cop routine to Axel. His colleague enjoyed it more than he did nowadays. Turning thirty-five last year had seemed to be a pivotal moment for him — he must be mellowing in his old age.

Sheesh. He wanted to kick himself. He was thinking like he already had one foot in the grave. What was the matter with him?

It had to be this city. Seattle was so damn gloomy, always messing with his mind. The sooner he could persuade Misty to hop on a plane with him, come home and give her deposition, the better off they would all be.

Yes, he could force her into testifying, subpoena her, keep her locked up, but he’d rather not put her through more trauma. She’d been abused enough. If he could get her to do this willingly, it would be so much better for them all. What was unusual in this case was that he cared.

Normally, it was very black and white, and Bryson didn’t bother with a witness’s fragile emotions. But he’d seen what Jesse had done to some of the other women, had heard their stories — when they were alive to tell them — and he just couldn’t make Misty suffer any more than she already had.

The quiet rustle in the bathroom made him aware that Misty was now slipping on the clothes Axel had bought during a run to the local Walmart. They probably weren’t the most comfortable, but they’d do for now. Because he and Axel had found Misty, that meant Jesse most likely knew where she was, too.

It was only a matter of time before the man either showed up or sent someone to silence her permanently. That bad cop had to know that his game was almost up — and he knew Misty was going to be the final nail in his coffin.

The only way Bryson could fully protect her was if she agreed to testify, and if her testimony was crucial to the case. He hated the politics, hated that they would have no choice but to leave her to sink or swim if she wasn’t useful enough.

Did that make them no better than the dirty cop they were dealing with?

When the door from the bathroom opened, Bryson took a double look. With the heavy makeup she’d sported at the fast-food joint now gone and the dull brown color contacts out, she was breathtaking. Her eyes, which were a little too large for her sunken cheekbones, were definitely her best feature, a compelling dark green with specks of silver shining in them. Her full lips were more relaxed than they’d been earlier, though pointed just a bit downward, and her hair had disappeared into a towel on top of her head.

The clothes were too big, hanging loosely on her small frame, but as she fiddled with the hem of her shirt, he could see that she preferred the larger clothes to something too tight. His colleague had no clue how to shop for women, but it looked as if Axel had done all right.

After taking his time memorizing every single feature on her slim face, he found himself gazing at that luscious mouth. He wouldn’t mind taking a taste — just one little taste.

Of course, he wouldn’t.

Shaking his head, he looked down and inhaled deeply. This was getting more bizarre by the second. It was time to rein himself in and take care of his witness — not scare her all over again. If she noticed the way he was gazing at her mouth, she was sure to run.

He was acting no better than her ex right now. And to be compared to that man was a definite insult, even if he was doing the comparing himself.

“I hope the shower helped,” he said a bit awkwardly after they’d both stood in silence for too long.

“Yes, thank you.” She moved over to a chair and sat, pulling her legs up to her chest and hugging them close. Her body language spoke volumes — the telltale signs of someone needing to protect herself.

“Do you want to sleep first, or can you talk?” They had a lot to accomplish and he hoped she’d talk. But he wasn’t sure what would be said right now. It was going to take her at least a day or two to trust him.

“What do you want from me?” This time, she looked up, right into his eyes, and he saw a measure of strength that made him oddly happy.

She might be afraid, might be out of her element, but there was a strand of steel running up her spine that was keeping her alive — the only thing, it seemed.

“We need to talk about your ex, Jesse Marcus.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly before she suppressed her emotions and took a long intake of oxygen. She paused for a moment to choose her words. She had to be careful not to reveal too much. It was a game — and she intended to be the winner.

She wouldn’t give him anything that he didn’t drag from her.

“I don’t know who you’re talking about,” she said, lifting her hands and undoing the towel wrapped on her head. The wet strands of her hair fell down past her shoulders, hanging over the front of the knees still pressed up against her chest.

The long, dark brown strands were a perfect complement to her delicate features and green eyes. She was truly a beauty, and after a few months of security, that beauty would be like a beacon on a cold, foggy night, drawing people from near and far.

“Let’s make a deal not to lie to each other, Misty. Why don’t you make yourself more comfortable by asking me some questions?” He gave her a smooth smile that was supposed to instill trust.

“Where did you come from?” she finally asked.

“I’m based in Montana, but I travel all over the U.S.”

“Doing what exactly?”

“I mainly look for major drug dealers, the men and women who are killing people with their product and their ‘cutthroat’ business practices. I’m not interested in the small-timers, and not in the people who are hurting only themselves or trying to take care of their cancer. The locals can handle them. I like to make sure the big players are all set up in their new homes for the next twenty-five to life.”

“You’re good at your job, aren’t you?”

“Very good.” This was an area he was sure of — there weren’t any blurred lines. The people were either guilty or not. He’d never found criminal dealing tons of cocaine who had a valid excuse for breaking the law.

“Obviously, then, you enjoy your job,” she said, her shoulders loosening up just a bit as she let go of her hold on her knees. She crossed her legs and began to run her fingers through her hair; fiddling with it seemed to calm her.

“I love my job. It doesn’t get much better than stopping the bad guys.”

“I can see you’re also rather humble,” she said, her first hint at a joke. This was progress!

“Yeah, in my line of work, humility is a must,” he said, his lips turning up in a blinding grin.

“I remember when I was so impressed with anyone who worked on the so-called right side of the law,” she told him with a bitter sigh. “That was before I learned how the world really works.”

That knocked him down a peg or two, and his smile faltered. “And how is that, Misty?”

“It isn’t the good guys and the bad. There are only those with power — some with too much power. The more they get, the more they want. The more they need. I used to think that when you put on a uniform, strapped on that gun belt and held that badge, it meant you were someone people should look up to. Now I know that’s not always the case. Don’t get me wrong. There are plenty of men and women who know the sanctity of that uniform, but there are also a lot who use it to get whatever they think they deserve.”

“I couldn’t agree with you more, Misty. There are a lot of rotten men and women out there. That’s why I need your help to keep one of them off the streets. If we lock Jesse up, he can’t hurt you, and he can’t hurt anyone else either, ever again.”

“Do you really believe that?”

“With my entire being.”

“How did you find me?”

Ah. Her question revealed that he was getting somewhere. She wasn’t denying that she was Misty. Finally.

“It wasn’t easy. Took me a long time, but persistence pays off.”

“That wasn’t an answer. I mean, how did you find me? How did you know who I was?”

“I shouldn’t divulge my secrets…” he began, but as the shutters began closing over her eyes, he decided to give her this one. “Another agent came in and had lunch at the place you were employed. You were working the counter. Though your disguise is good, we’re trained to see past the mask of makeup, the makeshift disguises, and see who is behind it all. He had a good feeling it was you. When he snuck a picture and sent it to me, I knew.”

“It was that simple?” Her shoulders slipped, and she stopped combing her hair.

“Hey. It’s been almost a year since you disappeared off the face of the planet. I wouldn’t exactly call that simple. I’ve had your picture on my wall that entire time, so I would hope that I could recognize you.”

She waited. He hadn’t asked her another question. Those green eyes looked somewhere over his shoulder, and he knew she’d rather be any other place than sitting in this room with him. It was time to drop the “good cop” role.

“Are you seeing anyone, Ms. Elton?” Where in the hell had that question come from? It hadn’t been what he’d been expecting to say. Her personal life was none of his business, and it certainly had no impact on the case in any way.

“I… What does that matter?” she asked, but he just looked back at her, his expression impassive as he waited for her answer. “No,” she finally murmured.

Good. He didn’t know why that pleased him — she was a witness, dammit. It would be breaking every sort of ethical rule he knew even to consider asking her out. He’d known the moment he’d asked that question that he was crossing a line. He should have retracted it. But he’d be showing her a chink in his armor, and that wasn’t a wise move at this point in the questioning.

“How long did you date Jesse Marcus?” There. That was a legitimate question. At least he was reining himself in.

“It was a while ago, and I’d rather not discuss him.” She lifted her hands to fiddle with her hair again. The way she tugged at the strand was a good gauge of her feelings, Bryson found. The faster she pulled, the more distressed she was. When she slowed down, she was relaxing.

He was already learning her moves — learning what made her tick, or at least a part of it —and he’d been with her only a few hours.

She had slender hands. They were also the hands of a woman not afraid to work, not afraid to get her nails dirty or broken, but still, her fingers were slim and pretty, and they looked as if they should be adorned with gold and jewels, not rough from scrubbing pots and pans and using industrial cleaners.

This was now past irrational and into the Twilight Zone. He’d never before had such a difficult time focusing on a witness and on keeping an interrogation going in the right direction. Pull yourself together.

“Did you participate in any criminal activities with Mr. Marcus?”

Her head snapped up and fire lit up her eyes. That had certainly pushed a few of her buttons. Good. He didn’t want her to be guilty.

“Do I need a lawyer, Mr. Winchester?” Her tone was strong as she once again met his gaze.

Though it was foolish of him, he felt pride for her strength, pride for her ability to stand strong in the midst of all this terror. This woman would fight — fight to put Jesse behind bars where he belonged. Bryson just had to convince her that the fight wouldn’t kill her, that sh could be kept safe.

“You are certainly entitled to one,” he said, reaching into his pocket. He saw that the movement made her tense up. Did she honestly think he’d be reaching for his gun? Maybe. That was the only kind of law she was familiar with right now. He’d have to show her that not all men who carried a gun liked to terrorize others.

He pulled out a business card and walked over to her slowly, holding it out, and waiting for her to accept it. “He’s good — very good.” Bryson stepped back and waited.

She held the card, running her fingers along the edge, across the face, feeling the way the expensive lettering rose from the surface. The lawyer was a personal friend of his, and the man hadn’t lost a case in…well…ever, at least that Bryson knew of.

“He’s one of the attorneys who have been secured for the witnesses on this case, to answer questions, address concerns, and to take statements when you’re ready. He’s not on the prosecution’s team; he’s just offered his services for witness questions. If you don’t trust him after you meet, you can get a referral for another attorney, but I’m telling you, he’s good, one of the best I know, and I don’t trust a lot of lawyers. You don’t have to take just the word of our team on this, Misty, but please give him a chance and speak with him.”

“I did see some…stuff…”
“That’s good, Misty. Tell me what you know,” he said, keeping his tone smooth, polite, trustworthy.

“I just don’t know if I can do this.” Her fingers began to tremble.

“You can, Misty. This is the right thing to do. I’ll keep you safe and then that man will never hurt another person again — will never hurt you again.” It was a vow he hoped to keep. If his agency said she wasn’t needed, his hands would be tied. After only a few hours, he felt a need to keep her protected, and the only way would be if she talked.

She looked up, paused a couple of heartbeats before barely whispering: “Not everything is so black and white. There is very much a gray area when it comes to the law.”

Bryson knew this. He hated it, but he was well aware.

“We need to stay on track, Ms. Elton. I think that is wisest.” He’d reverted to her last name when he felt a flash of desire to pull her into his arms — to comfort her. Focus on the freaking job.

“I agree, Mr. Winchester,” she said rigidly. “I’m very tired now, though. Would you mind if we continued tomorrow?”

He wasn’t going to get anything else from her tonight. She was finished with talking, and to push it now would probably be pointless.

“Axel will be back at any time with dinner.”

“I’m not hungry, but thank you.”

She stood up and moved toward the door to her room.

“Ms. Elton,” he called out, and though her back stiffened, she turned her head and looked back at him. “I’ll be right next door, in the morning.”

His last remark was meant to reassure her that she wouldn’t be alone, but it was also a warning so she wouldn’t try to run.

He was a good guy — he took pride in that. But it would be a mistake to think that made him weak. Bryson had an edge of pure danger running through his veins. He thrived on it. And that’s probably what made him one hell of an agent.



Chapter Four

“Do you think that Jesse Marcus constitutes a threat to your life?”

Misty looked up at the two agents and wondered if they were mentally unstable. How many times and in how many ways had she already told them that Jesse would kill her the first chance he got?

“I know this seems repetitive, Misty, but if we are to put you in the witness protection program, there has to be a direct threat against you. We need this on record that you are in danger,” Bryson said, his tone gentle.

“I don’t think Jesse will try to kill me. I know he will, Agent Winchester. Jesse told me that when he was through with me, he’d make sure I was never able to divulge his secrets. He told me he’d killed former girlfriends. He won’t hesitate to take my life. I don’t want to testify, but if you are going to force me to do this, then I won’t agree unless you can guarantee my safety. I think that’s a fair trade-off,” she said, her arms crossed as she looked at both men.

“We agree. There have been witnesses not in protection who have come up missing. I’m not telling you this to frighten you; I’m telling you because Jesse is not locked up at this point, and you need to be aware of that. You’ve done an excellent job so far of keeping away from him, but he knows we’re closing in. He knows it won’t be much longer until we issue the arrest warrant.”

“I understand that. But is there any way for me to just continue to hide out until this is all over? Can’t you get him behind bars without my testimony?” This would be ideal for her.

“I wish I could, but from what we’ve found on you so far, we believe that you’re a valuable asset to this case. We don’t need the whole story right now. We encourage you to speak to your lawyer, look at your options. This process isn’t short. It takes months, even years sometimes, but if you want our help, we need you to sign notarized statements that you will testify if you are called upon to do so.”

Bryson wasn’t being cruel as he sat across the table from her in the local FBI offices. She’d absolutely refused to go to the police station. There was no way Jesse wouldn’t hear about exactly where she was if that happened.

She didn’t trust the cops, and she barely trusted the FBI. She’d rather this entire mess were behind her, that she was on the other side of it, finally living a somewhat normal life.

“Then what happens if I sign the document?”

“We get you set up in a new location. You use an alias, get a job, go on living your life. We will check in on you, make sure you’re fine, and that’s where you’ll stay until the hearing. When it’s over, you can either keep the name, stay in the location, and resume your life as the new person, or you can go back to who you were,” Axel said.

“I don’t get any time to think about this?”

“I’m sorry, but you need to decide now.” They’d already told her this several times.

If she didn’t do what they wanted, they were well within their rights to lock her up, and she’d be locked up in a county jail, a place where Jesse would have much easier access to her.

Looking at the two options before her, she decided that testifying was the lesser of evils. Still, speaking to the attorney seemed a really good idea, even if that frightened her, too.

She was so sick and tired of being afraid. How dare Jesse do this to her, make her into such a weak woman? It wasn’t okay, not okay at all. She was sick of the men in her life having such power over her. It had been that way since she was a small child.

None of it was her fault, but that’s just the fate she’d been handed.

“Fine. I’ll sign your piece of paper,” she finally said.

“I’m really glad to hear that, Misty,” Bryson replied, and their eyes connected for just a moment, a moment that had her stomach tightening.

It wasn’t attraction. She couldn’t possibly feel that toward him. It was fear. That had to be what it was. She lowered her eyes quickly, unwilling to look too deep.

There was a knock on the door, and then an intern stepped in with their lunch and set it on the table. Misty’s stomach rumbled, surprising her. She hadn’t eaten in over twenty-four hours, but her nerves had been tied in knots, making it impossible.

Now that she’d made a solid decision, even if it wasn’t an ideal solution, her stress levels were actually going down and the thought of food was heavenly.

“I’m going to get the paperwork,” Bryson said. He stood and followed the intern out, leaving her sitting there with Axel, who made her much more nervous than Bryson did.

She didn’t know why, as he was the one always cracking jokes, but the guy seemed more lethal to her. Maybe it was the almost cold look in his eyes. She just didn’t know.

But as he passed her a cheeseburger, fries, and a shake, she made sure not to brush his fingers with hers. After several minutes passed, and her hunger pangs eased, she grew more curious, and she found herself wanting to talk.

“How long have you and Agent Winchester worked together?” Nerves shot through her as he looked over her way. Damn, this guy was intimidating.

Axel stuffed a few fries in his mouth, chewed and swallowed, and then answered her question. “Five years.”

Taking a deep breath, she asked him the question of the hour, one she should have already asked.

“Why am I so important in all of this? I don’t understand. There must be a hundred — a thousand — other women who would love to testify against Jesse. I just want to live my life, put all of this behind me. I just want to be free of these stupid mistakes I’ve made.” Her voice gained force and clarity during her impassioned speech.

One look from his cold hazel eyes and she backed down. Damn, this man’s interrogation tactics must be out of this world.

“Not all cases are so black and white, Misty. The more evidence we obtain on this piece of scum, the more likely we are to lock him up and throw away the key. If he stays on the street wearing a badge — carrying a gun — then no one is safe. Don’t you understand that?”

He seemed genuinely perplexed that she wasn’t taking this more seriously. It wasn’t that she thought it was a joke; it was just that she didn’t want to face the giant, and that’s what Jesse was to her — a giant man with a giant fist, and an even bigger temper.

It would take Jesse only seconds to kill her. He could have her neck snapped before she ever got the chance to call out for help. He could leap across a table and strangle her before anyone even thought about stopping him. If Jesse knew he was going to jail anyway, what would it matter to him if he killed her? The man was that crazy — crazy enough to get in one last victim before being locked up for good. A courtroom full of witnesses would be neither here nor there to him.

“I don’t trust people,” she said as she sipped on her vanilla shake. Her stomach was feeling much better now.

“I figured that out when you Tased my partner,” he said with a chuckle.

“You didn’t seem in a hurry to help him,” she countered, feeling only a bit guilty over the whole Taser incident. Bryson had grabbed her, after all…

“Nah, Bryson’s a tough guy. We’ve been Tasered before.”

Her eyes widened at his words. He’d said them so casually. “You have? Why?” Maybe it was another crazy witness, she thought.

“It’s all part of the training,” he said casually, as if getting thousands of volts of electricity shot into your body happened all the time.

She shook her head, then continued with the questions.

“Does Bryson ever give up?” She knew the answer before Axel spoke.

“Not once since I’ve known him, and that’s been a lot of years. He will win this case. He doesn’t know the meaning of losing. We have a powerful attorney who wants Jesse’s head on a platter. None of us will stop until that happens.”

The victory in his eyes seemed to say the case was already won, though Misty knew that was far from true. For the moment, at least, Jesse was very much free — free to come after her any time he wanted.

The conversation must have been over, because Axel stood and took their garbage to the wastebasket. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

With that, she found herself alone in the interrogation room.

When the two men came back in, everything seemed to move at warp speed. The documents were placed before her, and she was left alone again as she read through them. After an hour, she found there really wasn’t a good reason not to sign.

Once she’d turned the papers over, she was escorted outside, transferred to a jet and on her way to her new life with a new identify. Well, a new identity until this was all over.

And no longer than that, she vowed. Because as she sat down in her small home and looked at her new driver’s license, with the name Magnolia Linhart and a different date of birth, she knew she didn’t want this to be her.

Yes, her life had been anything but perfect, but Misty Elton was who she was; it was the name the children’s services department had given her, anyway. It was all she knew, and she didn’t want to start again.

This would only be temporary, right?

Misty was about to find out how slowly the wheels of justice turned.



Chapter Five

A sweet smile flitted across Misty’s lips as she lifted her face to the sky and enjoyed the sun beating down upon her. Yes, it was a bit too warm, and, yes, sweat was beading on her neck, but it didn’t matter.

This was her second month in her new home, and she finally felt as if she were secure again. She finally felt free to sit out on her front lawn and dig weeds from the flower beds. Up until the week before, she’d gone straight to her part-time job as a graveyard shelf stocker, and straight back home again, too afraid of being outside in the daylight hours.

Fear.

It was real; it made a person fight or flee; it shaped a person; it could mean living or dying. Fear was a constant with Misty, but she wasn’t going to let it rule her anymore. She wasn’t going to allow Jesse the satisfaction of knowing that even though he was free to do what he pleased, she was locked in a cage.

Bryson had been gone since he and Axel had dropped her off at her new home, working on finding other witnesses, on building the case. The agent who’d been checking on her was unfamiliar, and unbelievably rigid. The guy made her thoroughly uncomfortable. She just didn’t trust strangers — didn’t trust anyone, really. So why did she find herself missing Bryson? He was a stranger, too.

She had known him for only a day, and it appalled her to be upset that he was no longer her agent.

It was just that she was depending on him, counting on him. Then, she was suddenly thrust into the care of another agent. It was confusing.

Mystifying her even more had been the phone calls from Bryson to see how she was doing, to make sure she was adjusting. She didn’t think it was exactly protocol in these situations if he wasn’t her agent anymore, but she didn’t have friends, didn’t have family, so the shoulder he was offering, even if it was only over the phone, had been too nice for her to turn down.

It had been two weeks since the last time he’d phoned, though. She didn’t know if he was in a situation where he couldn’t call, or if it simply meant that he’d grown bored with their conversations.

Either way, though she hated to admit it, she missed the sound of his voice. When would she learn to not depend on anyone else but herself?

The lesson clearly hadn’t sunken in yet.

Still, something she had learned was how to control her fear. Being with Jesse had been forced upon her; she wasn’t the one in the wrong in that situation. Once she had accepted that, although the fear was still there, at the back of her senses, she was making a valiant effort to really live — well, live as much as she could while residing in a place that wasn’t hers for long.

As the sun rose higher in the sky, Misty’s skin turned pink, and she knew she should go back in, since she didn’t have sunblock on, but she couldn’t make herself do so. She was also strongly considering a haircut, but for some reason she wasn’t able to bring herself to have i done. She’d never felt beautiful, but the only compliment she could ever remember from her childhood had been when her fourth-grade teacher said she loved her hair.

From that moment on, Misty had taken pride in her long, dark tresses, brushing them more gently, from the bottom to the top, the way one foster mom had shown her, and braiding her hair loosely at night so it would have a pretty curl to it in the morning.

Still, with the sun beating down, she wouldn’t have minded having a little less hair at this particular moment. But she’d rather be too hot enjoying the sun, than stuck back inside the small, lonely house.

Dumping water on her shoulders gave her instant relief. It cooled her down just enough that she could get at least another half hour in her front garden before she had to drag herself back in or risk heat stroke.

Digging her hand shovel happily into the ground, she pulled at another root, hoping she’d still be here to see the roses bloom next month Lifting her hand, she ran her finger gently across one of the stems, feeling the sharpness of a thorn.

It made her smile. No matter how beautiful roses were, they could cause a lot of pain. That concept worked for people as well. Though Special Agent Bryson Winchester was a very beautiful male, he could certainly inflict a lot of damage.

She’d learned that from the conversations the two of them had shared. His voice over the phone was no less masculine, was no less sexy, than he was. The man had sensual energy seeping through his skin, and the phone line seemed only to accelerate the speed with which those waves reached her.

After grabbing her shears, she was cutting away dead debris when she heard a vehicle pull up to the curb alongside her house. Heart racing, Misty found herself frozen, though that reaction ticked her off, especially after she’d delivered that lecture to herself on bravery. Much as she struggled to relax her muscles, however, she couldn’t seem to turn her head, to reassure herself that it was just a neighbor, simply someone who lived next door and was returning home.

Her fear wasn’t quite as much under control as she’d hoped.

“Breathe,” she whispered, then forced her head to inch upward. When she spotted the long, lean legs encased in a pair of fitted jeans, her breath whooshed out in relief, and then she tensed for a completely different reason.

As her eyes continued to travel upward, they rose over the light green polo, and she locked gazes with Bryson Winchester. Nope. Two months of not seeing him had done nothing to her libido. She was just as affected by him now as she was the first time they’d met. If not more.

Only this time, she wasn’t afraid.

Running a hand through the escaped tendrils of her damp hair, Misty was suddenly self-conscious about the way she was dressed. She looked down to see dirt-caked hands and grass stains on her clothes. It shouldn’t matter — but somehow it did.

Walking up to her, Bryson didn’t say a word, his eyes intense, a smile flitting across his lips. Misty wondered whether she would find her voice in the next few moments, before the situation became any more awkward.

“What are you doing here?” she finally asked, her voice a bit too breathy.

He seemed to be taking his sweet time answering, and Misty was feeling a whole new kind of heat creeping down her neck. Her stomach tensed. How it was that she felt any kind of attraction toward this man? Men weren’t trustworthy. Not even this special agent who’d saved her from Jesse — for now.

He wasn’t here on a social call. This would be business. That’s all the two of them had together. Even if he were making a social call, it wouldn’t matter. She wasn’t interested in a relationship — she just wanted to live her life without drama. Without men.

Someday, that might be possible.

“My supervisor sent me. We’ve gathered all the witnesses and I’ve now been reassigned to you,” he finally replied as he squatted down, putting himself at eye level with her, and making her feel at a huge disadvantage.

The surge of disappointment from his answer irritated her.

Of course he was here on business. She’d already known that. It changed nothing. She’d just been telling herself that they would never be anything to each other but casual acquaintances. When this was all over, she would never see him again.

The clothes he was wearing weren’t bought at a cheap department store, and so, even if she had been interested in dating, he was way beyond her league. This man wouldn’t be seen out socially with a woman like her. It just didn’t happen.


She stood up slowly, feeling uncomfortable remaining on her knees. “What happened to Agent Benson?”

“He’s been assigned to another case.”

“What if I don’t want to change agents?” she challenged him, her bravery rising as she faced him. She had managed to get the upper hand on him once, she remembered with some pleasure.

“Then I’d have to say, ‘Tough,’ Misty.” His smile turning up a notch, making her take a cautious step backward as her hand lifted again and she wiped the sweat from her brow.

Great! Now she was going to have a streak of mud on her forehead. This just kept getting better by the second.

“Well, I could say, ‘Tough,’ when you ask me questions.” Feeling at a disadvantage, she was consequently acting slightly immature.

His smile grew even bigger, and he winked. “I have ways of making a witness talk.”

“I guess that just makes you special,” she quipped, hating the way he was perfectly unaffected by her stubbornness. She could sense her own irritation growing by leaps and bounds.

He leaned forward, invading her personal bubble. “I could show you exactly how special I am,” he whispered.

Whoa! That was definitely not professional. What was he trying to do now? Seduce her into talking, giving him what he wanted, obviously. She just needed to remember that’s all this was about — her testimony.

She finally broke the long silence that followed. “Um…it’s getting pretty hot out here. I was just finishing up,” she said. Better just to let him win their verbal battle.

“Great. I’m a bit warm myself.” He stood up and invited himself to join her. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that, but for some reason she couldn’t seem to tell him to go away.

“I really have a lot to do…”

“How about we start this conversation again?” he asked with a killer smile. “I’m in town working, and thought I’d stop by. It’s been a lon drive, and my throat is parched.”

Misty stood there for a moment, and then, unbidden, her lips twitched at his blatant hint. This man knew how to be charming, knew how to get his way. She’d bet he killed it on the stand when he testified as an expert witness.

“I made a fresh pot of iced tea a little while ago,” she told him, the idea of sitting with a cool drink with this man was too dang appealin for her liking.

“Perfect. I just so happen to love tea.” He held out his arm to escort her inside.

Misty looked at the arm for a moment, then looked down, pretending she hadn’t noticed his gesture. She bent down and gathered her gardening tools, placed them in the basket she was using, and began walking toward her front door.

She could swear she heard him chuckle, but when she turned her head, his mouth was closed, though there was a smile on his lips. Maybe she was just getting paranoid at this point.

When his hand brushed her back as they reached the front door, a chill slithered down her body, a tingling chasing that sensation. One small touch and she was heated and cooled all at once. Never before could she remember reacting this way to a guy — not her first lover, and certainly not Jesse.

Drawing away from him, she slipped inside the door while giving herself a stern lecture. You will not feel a response to this man. He is trying to manipulate you into doing what he wants. This is all pointless. He will disappear in a few minutes, and then you probably won’t ever see him again, so pull yourself together.

The mental lecture seemed to help…a little. The sooner she gave Bryson a drink and then ushered him back out her front door, the better for her racing heart and her suddenly reawakened libido.

Now get busy. Misty went straight to the cupboard and pulled out a couple of glasses, then filled them with ice and sweetened iced tea. Next, she grabbed a box of cookies and then moved over to the table.

It wasn’t as if she’d had a lot of visitors — none, actually other than Agent Benson, when he was checking in with her. She hadn’t been very social with that man at all. OK, there was also the guy with the dog, but he didn’t come inside.

“Great iced tea,” Bryson said.

“Thanks. I just followed the directions on the box.”

His smile was distracting her. Even though she knew she was saying the wrong things, knew she should be less tense, he seemed more fascinated by her than appalled. He was either one hell of an actor or he just didn’t get out much.

In any case, they weren’t exactly a match made in heaven. Not that she should be thinking of them as a match or a pair, or anything at all that involved two people. They were simply strangers. It was very black and white.

“I have to say, I really like how you’ve done up the place. I’ve seen a lot of temp homes in my years on the team, and people usually don’t do much with them. They prefer to get out as soon as possible. You’ve made this place really homey.”

Misty tried to look around the small space through his eyes. It wasn’t much, a small three-bedroom, two-bathroom home, but still much too large for just her, much larger than she was used to. The walls were sparsely decorated, and the furnishings minimal. Against all odds, though, she’d grown quite attached.

After she finally started to leave the house during daylight hours, she’d managed to find a craft store and had picked up a few painting supplies, so the walls now had a couple of amateur pictures with large splashes of color on them, and a cross-stitch project was sitting on the coffee table.

She’d never done one before, but she’d been excited to try something new. It wasn’t going well, but depending on how long she was living there, she might just be able to master the craft eventually.

“I like it here. It’s a great town, not far from the city, but the neighborhood is friendly. Mr. Whistler down the street usually stops and chats with me for a few minutes while he’s walking his little dog. I swear that thing is a terror, though. I tried to pet him once, and he nearly took a finger off.”

He laughed. “Don’t tell me that you’re afraid of a little tiny dog!”

“Just because they’re little doesn’t mean their teeth aren’t sharp. They could latch on to a vein and bleed you dry.”

Bryson gazed at her for a moment as if trying to determine whether she was serious or not. When she realized how ridiculous she sounded, she smiled just a bit. Bryson had no idea that when she’d been ten, a medium-sized dog had attacked her, leaving a scar on the back of her leg. The thing had really latched on.

That had been her first experience with a tetanus shot. The darned needle had been so large that she was sure the people who had invented the dosage had secretly been fiendish villains, out to torture young people stupid enough to need the dang injection.

“I think we’ve all had frightening experiences with dogs. When I was about eight, I was riding my bike in our neighborhood. It was dusk, and I knew that if I didn’t get home in less than five minutes, my mom was going to whip me, so I was hauling down a hill and I wiped out. I’m lying there, trying real hard not to cry while blood was gushing from my elbow, and right then this mean-assed boxer shows up. I was an idiot and started running. He nipped me right in the behind. I think he was just herding me, though, ’cause the skin didn’t break. I just had one giant-sized bruise, making it hard to sit for the next week or so.”

She didn’t know how he could laugh about such a frightening experience, but she did know she probably would have done the same and run like crazy. Of course, in her case, with her luck, the dang dog would have jumped her, pinned her down, and eaten her for dinner.

Just when Misty found herself beginning to relax, she stiffened right back up. It wouldn’t help to not stay on guard. “Really, Bryson, wha are you doing here?”

There was no need to act coy. He’d eventually have to get to the reason for his visit. She had no clue where he lived, but it most likely wasn’t close, so he had to have gone out of his way for this visit, even if he was in his regular clothes. That was probably just to reassure her that he was just an average Joe.

“It’s time for your testimony. There are only a few witnesses left who haven’t made their depositions, so we need to lock down the schedule.” He connected their gazes, refusing to release her from the pull of his eyes.

It felt like trying to escape from a spider’s web. She shook her head. She literally had to bite her tongue to keep from telling him he coul have her. No wonder she was an easy victim. It didn’t take much to make her fall under a smooth man’s spell.

“The last time we spoke, I told you I needed more time.” It seemed the FBI didn’t like that answer.

Another smile. He shifted, as if trying to get more comfortable. At least he broke eye contact while doing it. With one ankle now resting on his knee, he smiled yet again, his perfectly straight teeth gleaming in the natural sunlight pouring in through the windows.

“Have you called the attorney yet, spoken with Camden?” he asked.

“No. Since you were the one who recommended him, I don’t see how I can trust that he won’t just tell me what you want me to hear.”

Bryson chuckled, seeming to enjoy their sparring. Her body relaxed involuntarily, and she leaned back and lifted her glass, her tongue darting out to run along the rim. She took full advantage of the coolness in her hands.

When his eyes darkened instantly, her own widened. Wow. The tension was back, and it was so thick, it could be cut with a paring knife.

“I have another card here. You have Internet access, right?”

She nodded her head. “Yes.”

“Good. Then run a search on the guy. He’s in Montana, where the case is being tried, but I know he’ll be willing to come down here and speak with you. Yes, he wants this bastard behind bars as much as I do, but he won’t lie to you, won’t falsify information to get what he wants. I won’t, either.”

“Couldn’t I just talk to him on the phone?” The thought of having another man come to her place didn’t please her. This was her haven, and she didn’t want to share it.

“We could go up there,” he suggested, as if he had read her mind.

“Wouldn’t that be unsafe?” That was where Jesse was. Going back there wouldn’t be good for her piece of mind.

“How about we meet at a neutral location down here?”

“Why do you have to be there? I can’t get honest answers if you’re there,” she said, and for just a second, so quickly that she knew sh had to have imagined it, hurt flashed across his face.

Then, in a blink, his smile reappeared.

“Of course. I will set it up but stay back. I want you to feel confident after the meeting with him. His name is Camden Whitman, and he’s been a friend of mine for over fifteen years. You can trust this man with your life.”

She saw truth shining in his eyes, but how well did anyone really know anyone else? Bryson might think that he could trust this lawyer, but why did he feel that way? The more pressing question was this: Why did she feel as if she could trust Bryson? She didn’t want to, and she had her guard up, but the bottom line was that she thought he was telling her the truth. Or at least her gut told her he was speaking the truth — not that her gut had always led her in the right direction.

Maybe it would clarify things if she just met with the lawyer, got it out of the way. She’d agreed to testify, so putting off the next step was only postponing the inevitable. Besides, if she could help get Jesse off the streets, how many women would that save? How many people would sleep better at night?

Sipping her tea, she glanced up, trying to be casual, hoping to gauge his expression without his noticing. Nope. His eyes were still locked on her as he sat there — quite still — not saying anything more. Just waiting on her.

“I guess it wouldn’t hurt to talk to him…”

“Great!”

For some odd reason, she liked that she’d pleased him. This was another bad sign.

“What happens if Jesse doesn’t go to prison?”

This was the ultimate fear. If she got on that stand, testified against him, let him know how much she really knew about him, and then somehow the justice system failed and he was released, she had no doubt that Jesse would never stop coming after her. He was the sort of man who could never allow a woman to betray him without seeking what he deemed justice in his sick mind.

“Then I will shoot him myself.” The level look in Bryson’s eyes let her know he meant what he said.

The thought was almost as frightening to her as it was of Jesse being free.

This man, sitting so nonchalantly at her kitchen table, wearing a light-colored shirt, drinking a glass of her tea, had killed before. She had no doubt about it.

“Wouldn’t that make you just as wrong as him?”

He looked at her, some of the coldness leaving his eyes before he answered. “He would leave me no choice, Misty. I wouldn’t shoot him in the back. But he would go after you, after all of the witnesses, and I would be left with no choice but to take his life.”

His words were spoken so matter-of-factly. It was just another day on the job. Misty had no idea how people could reach a point in their life where they could talk of such a thing as killing another so cavalierly, as if they were discussing nothing more meaningful than peanut butter and jelly. But Bryson had obviously reached that point.

There was no turning back.

“It’s never easy to take a life, but sometimes it has to be done for the greater good of society,” he told her.

She got that, even believed in the death penalty, but she didn’t think she could be the one to flip the switch in the execution room, didn’t think she’d be able to fire the weapon.

“You think you wouldn’t be able to do it, but you’d be surprised what you can do when the will to survive is at its greatest,” he said, shocking her. “I can’t read minds, if that’s what you’re worried about. I can just read your thoughts through your eyes.”

“I guess that’s something I need to work on.”

“Don’t change it.” His voice was passionate, and he leaned forward, his mouth mere inches from her own. She licked her lips as she glanced down, and that feeling in her stomach ratcheted up tenfold this time.

When he cleared his throat, she jerked back, realizing she’d been lusting after him.

“I really should get a few chores done before I go to sleep. I have to work tonight,” she murmured, feeling suddenly claustrophobic in her own house.

“I’ll leave for now, but I’ll be back soon,” he promised, or threatened — however she chose to look at it. At this point, she had no clue.

All she really knew was that she needed to get her wits together.

Bryson stood, and she didn’t realize that he’d walked out the front door until she heard his vehicle start. After getting shakily to her feet she moved to the front window, and then their gazes met through the glass pane of the passenger side window, leaving her standing there frozen. He smiled, turned away, and pulled away from the curb onto the quiet street.

The fates seemed to be forever against her, so she’d bet every last dime she had to her name, which wasn’t much, that preparations for this trial were going to drag on for a long time, a very long time, leaving this man almost a fixture in her life.

Sliding to the floor with her glass clutched tightly in her fingers, Misty groaned.

Yes, a very long time, she thought again. Trials and tribulations.

Gardening time was over. Right now, she had to cool off, and then she had an attorney to speak to.



Chapter Six

Misty’s nerves were stretched thin as she walked into the luxurious hotel and looked around at the gleaming lobby. Men and women seemed to be gliding across the polished slate flooring on their way to the high front desk.

She felt woefully underdressed in her plain black skirt and white top, certain that she stood out like a broken finger around these men in hand-tailored suits and women in dresses that cost many times what her last car had. None of the attire could be purchased at the local mall — that was certain.

This had been a mistake — stepping into a world where she didn’t belong. This was the sort of place people with money frequented. People with serious money.

Her fingers shaking, she turned her head and looked toward the doors. It wasn’t too late to escape. Sure, Camden Whitman had flown in from Montana to meet with her, but he would probably be relieved if she didn’t show. How useful could a girl like her really be to this case? Yes, a girl. She felt like a girl, not a woman.

Misty was sure that if they did put her on the stand, she’d fail epically. Yes, she was capable of answering a few questions, but when the cross-examination started, who was to say she wouldn’t immediately fall to pieces?

“Ms. Elton?”

Misty froze, fear in her eyes. She wasn’t Ms. Elton here. That wasn’t her name. She was… What was her name again? It wasn’t used all that often, and she easily forgot. Oh, yes, Magnolia Linhart. She shouldn’t acknowledge the person addressing her.

“I’m sorry. It’s Ms. Linhart, isn’t it?”

Yeah, this person knew who she was. Turning, Misty caught sight of a dark gray suit with a splash of blue against a stark white shirt. She tilted her head, up, and up, and up.

Then she was meeting the icy blue eyes of one of the most stunning men she’d ever seen before. Were all the males on this case required to have a certain GQ look? This was absurd. His dark blond hair was cut short but styled in a way that only the rich could afford, his jaw solid, chiseled, masculine, and his mouth — wow, that mouth must have inspired many nights of fantasies for more than a few ladies.

She gulped and remained standing in front of him, stock still and utterly speechless.

“I’m Camden Whitman,” he said, and he held out his hand.

Common manners kicked in and Misty found her arm rising and then her small hand was clasped in his for a few seconds as she swallowed her natural fear of having a new man take hold of her — even in such an innocent fashion.

When she didn’t get any predatory vibes from the contact, she began to relax. Maybe it was foolish, but she was starting to realize that not all men wanted to hurt her, especially not the men she’d met lately, like the FBI agents and the U.S. marshals.

Misty blew out a breath of relief. She could do this. It was just a simple conversation, after all.

“Hi. I’m Mis…” she started to say, before correcting herself. “Magnolia Linhart.”

His eyes twinkled, since she’d just made the same mistake as he had, and she felt even better. He didn’t seem to be a monster, though, of course, Jesse hadn’t seemed to be a monster either. Was her radar for fiends completely broken? But here she was, ready to meet with this man, ready to get some questions answered.

“I’m so glad you agreed to meet with me. I’ve been working on this…project for a while now, spoken to several women, and a few men. May we go upstairs for privacy?”

Misty tensed again. He wanted to be alone with her? Why? As she looked around, noticing that several pairs of eyes were on them, she understood, but she didn’t have to like it. What if... No! She had to stop thinking like that.

She finally spoke. “That would be fine.”

He held out a hand to lead her toward the elevators.

“I hope you found the hotel easily enough,” he said as he pushed the elevator to go up.

“Yes, I took a cab.” The beautiful gold doors slid open, and she walked inside with him. When the doors shut, she found herself all alone with this stranger, but nothing in her was on red alert. She was nervous, but she didn’t feel as if she were in danger.

Her danger signals could be broken, but she didn’t think so right now. Anyway, everyone had to go at some point, right? If it was her time, then so be it.

The doors opened onto one of the higher floors, and again Camden gestured for her to precede him. She stepped out, and then he was walking beside her until he stopped at a double door and inserted his key card.

Once she was inside the luxurious suite, her eyes popped out at such extravagance. This room seemed to be larger than the house she was currently hiding in. It was certainly a lot nicer, with the mahogany trim, plush cream carpeting, and distinctive high-end furniture.

“Would you like something to drink?”

“Yes, please.” She wouldn’t be able to speak unless she wet her throat.

“Have a seat over there. I’ll surprise you,” he said. She sat on the couch in the sitting area and crossed her legs, then uncrossed them, smoothed out her skirt, and crossed them again.

“Here you are.”

Misty took the glass from his fingers, noting the red liquid inside it. Wine. It really was too early for a glass of wine, but with her nerves at the breaking point, one glass didn’t sound like such a bad idea. It wasn’t as if she had to drive back home, anyway, so a slight buzz might make this meeting go just a little smoother. She lifted the glass to her mouth, then nearly sighed as the liquid glided across her tongue.

“I want you to take a moment and get your bearings before I proceed with my inquiries,” Camden said as he sat in the chair directly across from her. “Before I even start, today is informal. We aren’t taking notes or recording the conversation. I want for you and me to talk, to get to know each other, mainly to see if you can trust me enough with your story. As of now, it’s just the two of us having a conversation. Now, you can ask anything you want. There are no stupid questions.”

As she listened to Camden speak, some of the weight was lifted from her chest. No notepads were out, no little machine with a red light blinking. This felt more like a couple of people chatting. She could do this.

“Have I been a suspect?” Misty didn’t know why that was the first question to pop out, but she wanted to know.

He paused for a moment, seeming to consider what he was going to say. “We had Jesse under surveillance for several months before you left town, and we’d pretty much eliminated you as a suspect,” he began, then paused. “And then you disappeared. At first we thought there might be foul play, but once we got witness testimony of the fight you had, and once we spoke with several people who had seen that you left without Jesse pursuing you, we suspected you’d gone underground. So, yes, anyone dealing with Jesse is a suspect, but you were quickly eliminated from that unhappy group.”

“You spoke to my neighbors?” That somehow felt like a violation.

“Yes. You are almost a ghost, Misty.” He paused briefly. “Is it okay if I call you Misty?”

“Yes,” she murmured. She didn’t like her alias name — it was uncomfortable for her to use or to hear others using. It wasn’t as if she were particularly attached to her real name; it was just that she was used to it. During the last year, she’d had a difficult time using her first fake name, and now she was doing it all over again with a completely new one.

“Great. As I was saying, you are almost a ghost. There’s very little information on you. No credit, no family, no trails. It wasn’t easy to find you.”

What shocked Misty was the tone of his voice. He sounded…impressed. That didn’t seem possible. It wasn’t as if she’d done anything spectacular. She just had no one who cared where she was.

If that were something to brag about, she’d receive the Olympic metal for her efforts. The good thing with having no ties had been that it was easier to leave at a moment’s notice. The bad thing was that she had no one to turn to when the chips were stacked against her.

“I was raised in the foster-care system. I don’t know anyone, really — don’t have any deep connections.”

Something in his eyes softened. Sympathy. She was used to that, and couldn’t stand it. What would a person like him know about it, anyway? He had no right to be sympathetic toward her.

“I was in the foster-care system, too, Misty, until I was nine. Then I was lucky enough to meet my father.”

Wow. Misty stared at this professional man before her, with his custom suit, a sparkle in his eyes, and confidence screaming from every pore. He’d been a foster kid? It didn’t seem possible.

“You can’t just accept your fate, Misty. I had given up, as so many others do. But you can be whoever and whatever you want. That’s why it’s so important that you stand up against this villain who took advantage of you, used you, and made you run. Jesse Marcus took something from you, and now it’s time for you to take it back. I can tell you that when you testify, you will start to put the pieces of your life back together, or better yet, make a whole new life that is even better than it was before. The fear will dwindle, and you can pull yourself out of this prison you’ve been forced into.”

Misty listened to him speak, his words like molasses warming on top of a hot gas stove, coating her, comforting her, offering her a place to go in a safer world. Oh, this man was clearly a pretty great attorney. She’d bet he didn’t ever lose a case. Okay, maybe that was statistically almost impossible, but she’d still bet he hadn’t lost in a very long time. He didn’t seem capable of it.

“What will I have to do? Will Agent Winchester be involved?”

“Yes, he will be involved all the way through, which is in your favor. I’ve known Bryson for many years, and he’s a solid and a good man. You want him to be on your side. He keeps his word. The only thing that would stop him from protecting you would be death, and I’m telling you, I think he’s superhuman, because he’s been in a few situations from which no man should have come out alive, and yet he’s still here,” Camden said with a chuckle.

“So what do you need from me?” she asked again, since he’d either ignored the question or gotten distracted.

“Do you know what a deposition is?”

“No.” She didn’t know any of this lawyer speak.

“I will meet with you and Agent Winchester and the lead attorney on the case against Jesse in my offices in Montana with a court-appointed recorder taking notes. You will make a legally binding statement, explaining everything you know about Jesse and his criminal dealings. We have a lot of witnesses, Misty. We just want this case to be open-and-shut. Not all the witnesses will be called to the stand, and not all of the statements will be used in the trial unless we think we are losing.”

“That’s it? I just make a statement?” That wasn’t so bad, not at all the way she thought it would be. No Jesse in the room; nobody staring daggers at her.

“I don’t want to mislead you, Misty,” he said, leaning forward in his chair, his elbows propped up on his knees, his eyes intense. “There is a very real chance that we will call you to the stand, that we will ask you to repeat your story in front of a jury. From the evidence we’ve found, you seem to know a lot. There are a couple of other women who saw even worse crimes committed by Jesse, but you’re a valuable witness. What is going down is a very big prosecution with some even bigger players than Jesse involved, and all testimony is valuable to the case.”

Misty gazed back at Camden — this man whom she normally would never have a conversation with, someone she’d pass on the street and not feel worthy enough to nod to, and it gave her a measure of pride that he needed her. Yes, what he needed her for was her testimony, but that didn’t matter. All that mattered right now was that she was needed.

Her entire attitude changed. Not only could she do this, but she wanted to do this.

“When will it begin?” she asked. She couldn’t get out of this anyway, so she might as well accept it. The sooner it was over, the better.

“Soon. Probably a week or two. But for right now I’d like for you to tell me your story.” He leaned back.

“Just start talking?”

“Yes. No pressure, no one recording anything. Remember, this is informal today. We’re getting to know each other. You tell me your story, and then I’ll advise you of what comes next.”

“Okay,” Misty said, and she began. She would tell this stranger everything she knew about Jesse, everything she’d been an unwilling witness to during the year she’d been with him. A relatively short period of her life had shaped her more than she cared to admit, and telling this man about it was oddly freeing.



Chapter Seven

His doorbell rang at close to two in the morning, and Bryson didn’t even blink. He’d been waiting for this visit.

“You could have at least phoned me and let me know what in the hell was going on!” he snapped as he threw open the door, standing there in his sweats, a pronounced scowl on his face.

“It’s good to see you, too, Bryson,” Camden said cheerily as he stepped over the threshold of Bryson’s temporary home.

“I’m really not in the mood for small talk, Cam. What happened?”

“I think it’s better if you wait until the deposition, but what’s important is that she is feeling much better about testifying. I’d prefer not to put her on the stand. I think she’s strong, but this woman has been put through hell, and I mean the deepest, darkest depths of hell. I really don’t want to drag her back there, but I’m pretty sure she can handle it if it comes to that.” Camden walked over to Bryson’s liquor cabinet and helped himself.

“I don’t want to do that to her, either, Cam. I want to protect her. But to hear it coming from you, a lawyer who will do anything to win — well, I’m surprised.” Bryson joined his friend and poured himself a strong drink.

Camden ignored Bryson’s lawyer barb. “Hmm. I’ve never heard you say you didn’t want a witness to testify. Are you breaking your own rules and getting involved?” His eyes were twinkling.

“Butt out, Cam,” Bryson growled.

Camden laughed outright. “Whoa, this girl has you tied in knots.”

“That’s impossible. I hardly know her,” Bryson snarled, but his temper immediately dissipated, and he slumped into the nearest chair, suddenly exhausted.

“You may hardly know her, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this twisted up. Damn! Glad I came here to see this for myself instead of making an impersonal phone call.” Camden sat down across from him, looking far too smug for Bryson’s liking.

“I just…she’s different.” Why couldn’t he put his finger on what he was feeling?

“She most certainly is. If you aren’t interested…” Camden trailed off, but his message was perfectly clear.

“If you touch her, I will break both your legs.”

“You could try,” Camden replied, fully unperturbed, while Bryson felt as if he were walking a high wire and about to fall off — with no safety net anywhere.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you, Cam? I thought you were on my side.” Bryson jumped out of his seat and went over for a refill. This night was growing worse by the minute.

Camden and Misty had been at the meeting for far too long. Bryson had been pacing the house for hours, imagining all sorts of scenarios. For one, Camden was known as a lady-killer. Bryson trusted Camden to be professional, and it would ruin the case if his friend slept with a possible witness, but then again, Bryson also had no business sleeping with a woman he was charged with helping to protect. He could lose everything over it. For another, Camden didn’t know how Bryson felt. Well, obviously the guy did now!

“Wow. I could lie and say I’m not enjoying it at all,” Cam said, “but lawyers have a bad enough reputation for not being able to tell the truth, so I’ll be honest and say that your pain is my absolute delight. I can’t ever recall you so messed up over a woman. I do remember, i college, a Sandy something, and you wanting in her pants pretty desperately, but even that doesn’t compare to the mess you are in right now.”

“Yeah, if I remember right, you scored with Sandy first,” Bryson said. He didn’t care at all about that old college flame, but he felt he ha to point out his friend’s horning in on what Bryson had dibbed his.

“Hey, you were the one who made the bet to see which of us could get her out on a date first.” Though Cam was defending himself, he was not proud of what an ass he had been back in college.

“She was the one known for chasing only the rich boys,” Bryson said, but he was also feeling guilty about the way they’d treated girls back then.

Women had been nothing more than a night of pleasure to them, and once the night was over, the guys had walked away shame-free. As he sat there, he realized that not much had changed in ten years. Pretty pathetic.

“Seriously, Cam, this topic is depressing the hell out of me. Why don’t you just tell me what you can, and then we’ll get some sleep and forget all about anything else that’s been said.”

Cam thought for a moment before nodding his agreement. “She was scared when I first approached her, very jumpy. By the end of the night, it was almost like watching a butterfly spread its wings. Something came over her, and confidence shone from her eyes. I was impressed, and you know that doesn’t happen too often with me.”

“No. You’re a very hard man to impress,” Bryson said with a chuckle, feeling oddly pleased, and proud of Misty’s transformation from the shrinking violet he’d first met. Of course, he had no right to feel those emotions toward his witness. She wasn’t his — didn’t want to be his — couldn’t be his.

It didn’t matter how many times he told himself this, he still wanted her, wanted her to the point that she was almost an obsession. It was irrational, and it was the reason he hadn’t allowed himself any physical contact with her in two months, until just a few days ago. He’ practically jumped to take the other case. And then he’d done nothing but think about her, and he’d eagerly agreed to go right back to watching over Misty.

Not seeing her for all that time hadn’t helped, not even a little. Her voice had come through the phone line sounding all sexy and deep, sending his imagination into overdrive. The worst part of the entire situation? That he knew she wasn’t trying to be seductive, wasn’t trying to lure him to her. Her innocence was a flipping aphrodisiac — far more effective than chocolate or oysters. Being away from her hadn’t done anything to lessen his obsession. If anything, as he discovered when he saw her again after so long, it had only made the coals red-hot.

He’d never before so desired to grab a woman, throw her down on the kitchen table, and show her how high he could make her fly. He’d wanted to bury himself within her, make her scream out his name. He’d wanted to claim her as his…and he still wanted to.

Damn! Now he was getting hard, and this wasn’t the time or place. If Cam got even a hint, he’d pounce with his rapier wit. Humiliating. Bryson sat back down.

“Go on,” he said, taking a long swallow from his glass.

Cam’s eyes were suspicious, but he didn’t call Bryson out on his pathetic behavior.

“Her testimony would help seal the case. It’s just that her situation sucked.”

“Sucked? Really, Cam? Is that official lawyer speak?”

“Shut up, Bryson. I’m trying to put it in layman’s terms for your benefit,” Cam fired back.

“Okay, okay, enough shots at each other. You’re sure she’s going to cooperate?” Bryson was worried that she’d take off at the last minute. She was damn good at hiding, and they might not find her again until it was too late. Then he’d have to bust her. And that was the last thing he wanted to do.

“Yes, she’ll testify. We will meet and get her official statement. If I can keep her off the witness stand, I will, but I don’t think that can happen. There are a few more balls that need to be gathered up before we make the official charge. It doesn’t help that Jesse now knows what is happening. All of the witnesses are under protection of U.S. marshals, not to mention us, and he’s becoming desperate. That concerns me.”

Bryson’s stomach tensed. If Camden was worried, there was a problem. “My supervisor is aware of Jesse’s activities and he’s given us the same information. There is nothing more dangerous than a hunted animal, and that’s what Jesse is right now. The boss has assigned me to stay close to here. Axel is covering one of the other witnesses, but we’re communicating daily.”

“A few minutes could be the difference between life and death,” Camden warned him.

“What in the hell am I supposed to do? Move in with her?”
“Yeah, I somehow don’t think that will help. You could easily get blindsided when the perp comes in and you’re lying on top of her, oblivious to the world.”

Suddenly Bryson was in his friend’s face. “Don’t talk about her that way.”

When Cam began laughing, Bryson realized what a fool he was making of himself. He immediately backed off, hoping to recover the situation.

“Whoa, you have it bad,” Cam said between chuckles.

“What in the hell is this girl doing to me?” Bryson asked. “We haven’t even kissed.” He was unusually perplexed. “She’s a witness; she’s crucial to this trial. I can’t screw this up — I’ve never screwed it up before.” He ran a hand through his already mussed hair.

“We all fall eventually, my friend,” Cam said, rising to his feet.

“Neither of us has,” Bryson reminded him.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Cam said, his eyes losing focus for a minute, as if he were no longer in the room with Bryson.

“Now I’m curious,” Bryson said, on red alert.

“It doesn’t matter. Just an old flame.”

“I’ve known you for fifteen years, Cam. If something is tying you up, it won’t stop until you fix the situation. You’ve always had a killer instinct about people, which is what makes you the best damn lawyer I’ve ever had the pleasure of working with.”

It was a rare moment when the two men let down their guard and spoke honestly. Sometimes, being a man wasn’t easy — always trying to play the hero, always doing what was expected. Feelings just weren’t allowed.

“Let’s just get through one case at a time,” Cam said. “We’ll lock this bastard up for good, and then we can worry about our pathetic love lives.”

“I hear you and agree,” Bryson told him.

“I need to fly back early, so I’m going to catch a nap and then head out. You fly up next week, and we’ll get her testimony on record, then catch dinner at my place before you rush away.”

“I’ve had your cooking, Cam. I’d rather live.”

“I agree! We’ll go out, Bryson.”

“Sounds like a plan. This should be an interesting trip.”

The two men parted, and Bryson climbed the stairs of his temporary home. The next week was going to be hell. He would just have to make sure he kept it professional. Of course he’d do that. He was a professional, after all. Having reassured himself on that point, he got into the shower.

Yes, he would put his feelings over this girl on the back burner — keep it neutral — do the job he was hired to do.

It was easier said than done, he knew when he was lying in bed an hour later, thinking of Misty each time he shut his eyes.

“Aw, hell,” he muttered as he twisted onto his side and punched his pillow into a usable headrest. He finally fell asleep, and his dreams were filled with one green-eyed beauty and her killer body.



Chapter Eight

The day wasn’t going as planned, and not only did Bryson have a wicked headache that was threatening to make the top of his skull explode, but he was also running late and worried about Misty. The marshal had flown with her to Montana, and he had come in later.

Dammit.

He’d wanted to fly with her. Maybe his supervisor had realized that…maybe they knew he was feeling less than professional with her. That wouldn’t be good for his career. The problem was that he didn’t give a lick about his career at the moment.

Right there was a reason he should avoid this woman. She was making him not care about matters that had always been important to him. When a woman wanted a man to change, that was the time to get as far from her as possible.

Okay, the problem wasn’t her. It was him. She didn’t even know he was having these inappropriate thoughts, and she hadn’t tried to change him. It was just happening. He couldn’t even think straight.

Walking into his friend’s law office, he tried to look at the place through Misty’s eyes. This would all be incredibly intimidating for her. His friend was successful. He could have been working in D.C., New York, Seattle, L.A. — pretty much anywhere he wanted. Camden was that good, but he’d chosen to work close to home.

The residents of Montana were more than happy to have him. Camden might look like a pro football player, but the man had a mind more sharp and quick than anyone Bryson had come across. A twinge of jealousy hit as Bryson wondered what Misty thought about his friend. A lot of the girls fell over themselves to get Cam to notice them.

Bryson found himself picking up his pace to get to her. She’d been alone with Cam long enough. And as much as he tried to lie to himself, the truth was that it had been a couple of weeks since he’d last seen her and he couldn’t wait to be with her again. If anyone was going to break the rules with this woman, it would be him — not Cam.

“Good evening, Agent Winchester. It’s good to see you again,” Cam’s secretary said. “Mr. Whitman and Ms. Elton will be in conference room C in just a few moments if you’d like to head on in.”

“Thank you, Charlotte,” Bryson said as he passed by her desk, then walked down the wide hallway. He’d been there often enough to know his way around.

Once in the room, Bryson surveyed the sterile environment. The court reporter was set up, ready to begin, and looking bored. The lead attorney, Charlotte Adams, was sitting back, making some notes.

“Good evening, Charlotte,” he said, approaching her.

“Evening, Bryson,” she replied, and didn’t engage in further small talk. He took the hint when she looked back down at her laptop.

He took a seat at the end of the table and picked up the packet that was already laid out for him. Listed were the questions Cam would be asking Misty. As Bryson scanned quickly through them, another knot of tension formed in his stomach.

Tonight wasn’t going to be pleasant. Looking at his watch, he noted that it was a bit past four. They’d be lucky to get out of there by seven. And the hours that this took were going to be draining on Misty. He wished he could somehow take the pain on himself — not make her relive her time with Jesse Marcus.

At the sound of murmuring outside the room, Bryson looked up in anticipation. “Ridiculous,” he muttered.

“What was that?” Camden walked through the door with a smirk on his face.

Damn, Bryson felt like wiping that look off. All thoughts vanished, though, when Misty stepped through the doorway behind Cam, tucking a strand of her dark hair behind her ear.

With the barely heard click of the door shutting, they were all closed in. Bryson usually would have found the room a bit claustrophobic, but he wasn’t thinking in those terms right then. He could do nothing but devour Misty with his eyes.

He ignored Cam’s taunt and stood up, thinking she was just about the loveliest creature he’d ever laid eyes upon. Very little makeup adorned her high cheekbones, and her sparkling green eyes nearly had him drooling. Her hair cascaded over her shoulders and hung free down her back, leaving images in his mind of her sitting atop him, her breasts peeking out through those glorious dark strands.

He was instantly hard as a rock. If he hadn’t sat back down immediately, he’d have gained a reputation as an unprofessional pervert. But he couldn’t help himself. One look at her and he was ready to demand that everyone exit the room so he could lay her out on the table and relieve this pressure that had been building inside him from the moment he’d tackled her in that crappy fast-food joint.

This woman was going to drag him with her to hell. It wasn’t a matter of if anymore. They were going to be together; there was no stopping it. He just didn’t know how far it was going to go — what the endgame would be. He knew beyond a doubt that they’d make fireworks happen when they came together. He just wondered whether once would be enough.

Somehow he doubted it.

His expression must have been predatory, because when she glanced up and met his eyes, her own grew large as she seemed to be caught by him, and then her chest heaved as if she couldn’t get her breath. Yes, they would certainly make fireworks happen.

“Sorry about your hard time getting here, Bryson,” Camden told him. “I hope everything worked out okay for you. Misty and I took the time to go over the process so she could be ready when we came in. Charlotte has agreed to let me ask the questions so Misty might feel more comfortable.” He led Misty to her seat and then sat down across from her. “We should get started right away, though, since we’re already running so late.”

“I apologize. After I spoke with another witness, my flight got delayed,” Bryson said, glad his voice came out clearly. No traces of weakness to be heard.

“Misty, we’re going to jump right into this because it could take a while,” Camden warned her.

“That’s fine,” she replied. She was obviously nervous, but she still sported a determined set to her shoulders.

Bryson felt a deep urge to jump up, to tell Misty she didn’t have to go through this — that they had enough witnesses, and they’d just keep her in protective custody until the trial ended. She’d been so afraid, so on edge, and although she was standing strong now, he suddenly didn’t want to hear this, not after what Cam had said, not after knowing something about how bad her life had been.

He had to protect her. Everything inside him screamed to do just that. But before he was able to make a fool of himself and say any of this, Camden asked the first question, and as he waited for her reply, he was grateful he’d kept silent.

“Can you tell us when and how you met Mr. Jesse Marcus?” Camden asked.

Misty took a deep breath. “I was working for a mini-mart gas and food store when he arrived at about three in the morning and came to the counter for cigarettes. I looked up and there he was in his uniform, and he began flirting with me. He seemed so charming, and I was taken in immediately.” She spoke with embarrassment, but she continued. “The next night he came back and asked me on a date. I said yes.” Though her voice started out quiet, as if she was ashamed of her stupidity, as she continued, her shoulders firmed, and a determined glint shone in her eyes. This might be therapeutic for her, might help her to realize she had nothing to fear now.

At least that’s what Bryson hoped.

“Was he still in uniform when he asked you on a date?”

“Yes. He was on shift. I got off at four in the morning then, and the third night he came back, meeting me at the end of my shift. I didn’ own a car then, but I lived a little less than a mile away, so I walked — I know, I know — but he offered me a ride home. I was so impressed that this officer wanted to take me home, keep me safe, so I took the ride. I thought, what could be safer than getting a ride home with a cop?” She shuddered. “So he took me home. He had a flower in the car for me. I was even more impressed. Jesse is a big guy, and at first, he seemed incredibly good-looking, leaving me to wonder what he saw in me.”

“So, Jesse dropped you off and then left?” Camden prodded her.

Misty sighed as she squirmed in her seat. “No. When we arrived at the apartment, he parked in the back of the building, where no one came in or out. I thought it a bit unusual, but then I realized he probably wasn’t supposed to give civilians rides, so I wasn’t concerned, assuming that he was protecting his job.” She stopped speaking, and it was obvious she was reluctant to continue.

“Please go on,” Camden prompted gently.

“I thanked him for the ride, and I reached for the car handle to get out. He grabbed me. He said there was no rush. I should have been afraid, but I was with a cop,” she said, her eyes a bit wide. “So we sat there and talked for a couple of hours. I heard traffic begin to pic up as the morning commuters left for work, and then he grabbed my arm and pulled me against him and kissed me. I was so awed that this successful, handsome policeman wanted me enough to kiss me, I didn’t think about the fact that he wasn’t giving me a choice — that he’d just grabbed me and taken the kiss almost forcefully. Then, he got a little…‘handsy.’ His fingers tugged on my shirt as I squirmed to get away. At this point, I wasn’t comfortable anymore and didn’t want him touching me, but I wasn’t sure how to pull away. It all just happened so fast. When I was starting to get frightened, his radio went off and he had to leave. That was the end of our first date, I guess you’d call it.”

“What do you mean by handsy? Did he try to force himself upon you? You said he was grabbing at your shirt, but did he push it further? Please don’t hold anything back out of embarrassment,” Camden told her.

“No. He didn’t force me down or anything; he was just very…aggressive — I guess that would be the word to use. We were kissing, and his hands…wandered beneath my shirt, over my…uh…breasts.” Misty’s cheeks turned scarlet, and she shifted, lifted her water glass, and took a long sip before going on. “I was in no way ready to have sex in a car with a virtual stranger, but I now know that if the radio hadn’t buzzed, he would have pushed it to that point. He was reaching into my pants. I thought at the time that he was just worked up, that he would have stopped…”

“This isn’t your fault, Misty,” Camden assured her. “You are the victim.”

“Thank you.”

“When did you next see Jesse Marcus?” Camden asked immediately. It was better to press forward.

“The next night, I was off work. There was a knock on my door, which always alarmed me because I didn’t live in the best part of town. When I looked through the peephole, I saw that it was Jesse in his uniform. I was a little surprised that he knew which unit was mine, because he hadn’t walked me to my door, and it’s a large complex. Then I remembered he was a cop and it wouldn’t be difficult for him to find my place. I opened the door and he came inside. As he looked down at me, that was when I felt the first stirrings of fear. What was he doing there? But I was still feeling a mixture of fear and excitement.” She fidgeted in her seat.

“So, was he still working if he was wearing his uniform?” Camden asked.

“Yes. He said he wasn’t off the clock for a few more hours and he’d like to take me to breakfast when he was off.”

“Did he leave after that?” Camden knew the answers, but it needed it all to be on record.

“No. He sat down at the table and told me to come over to him. I was scared but still excited. He was a cop, one of the good guys, and he was giving me attention,” she said with disgust. “I walked over to him and he pulled me down onto his lap. His belt pressed against me, but before I could think about being uncomfortable, or think about how strange the situation was, he was kissing me again. Jesse was a very forceful kisser. He didn’t even give me time to breathe. His hands were once again wandering all over and I could barely get enough oxygen, but I was overwhelmed. I thought he was so aggressive because he was excited about me,” she practically whispered.

“Please go on,” Camden said when she paused.

“When he yanked off my shirt, I asked him to stop, but he laughed, as if he thought that was real amusing. It all happened so fast. One minute I was on his lap, the next, he was carrying me to the couch. I told him to stop a few times, but he ignored my words.”

“I know this is hard, but I need you to continue.”

“He…uh…we had sex,” she sighed. “It was over really quickly. He didn’t even undress, just pushed his pants partway down. When he was finished, he sat on the couch and pulled me into his arms, cradling my head against his chest. He told me it was all okay, that everything was fine. We were going to be real good together, that I was perfect. He said he’d be back in a couple of hours for breakfast. Then he left. I was so stunned, I didn’t know what to think. He was a cop. Had I done something wrong? Had I encouraged it? I was so confused. I showered and put on layers of clothes and then waited. He showed up and took me out to eat, acting as if nothing was wrong. I thought I had to be the one in the wrong at that point.”

Misty glanced over at Bryson and saw the unadulterated fury in his eyes. This wasn’t easy for him to listen to. She had a feeling that if Jesse were in the room with them right then, the man would find a bullet in his head. She turned away from Bryson’s intense gaze and focused on the table in front of her. It was either that or she’d never be able to finish her story. It only got worse from here.

“I don’t know how it happened, but within a week, he took over my life. He moved me into his place even though I tried to protest. It was like a whirlwind. One minute, I was on my own, and then the next I couldn’t do anything without his permission. The first time he hit me was when I told him I didn’t want to leave my apartment. I only got a black eye from that exchange. It was one of the least painful punishments,” she said, hanging her head.

“Can you tell us a little about your childhood? The jury needs to understand you, understand why he was able to bully you.” There was no judgment in Camden’s voice.

“I was an orphan. My mother dropped me off at a fire station when I was a baby. The only things that were with me was a dirty old T-shirt and a note that said to contact my brother, Damien, when I got old enough. I don’t know how that note stayed with me through the years, but somehow it did. Not that I was able to ever contact him. I wouldn’t know where to start, even if the person ever really existed. No last name, you know. I was bounced around a lot, and life wasn’t easy, but that’s not an excuse…”

Misty didn’t see the way both Camden and Bryson tensed at her words. This wasn’t something Camden had asked earlier. This wasn’t something she told people often. For one thing, she didn’t think the brother really existed. For another, whom would she tell? She had no ties to anyone.

“You have a brother?” Bryson asked, interrupting the deposition and getting a stern look from Charlotte Adams.

“I don’t know. That’s just what the note said,” she answered, looking at him with wide eyes, wondering what she’d said that suddenly had both men so uneasy.

Bryson was glued to his seat as he began putting puzzle pieces together. He’d loved her eyes, the beautiful green color, the shape, everything about them, but something about them had bugged him from the beginning, almost as if he’d seen them before.
Now, he knew. He knew a Damien. It couldn’t be possible, of course, that this was the same man she was speaking of. The world didn’t rotate that way, didn’t connect like that, did it?

“Not now, Bryson,” Camden warned him. “Let’s continue, Misty. Tell me what happened next.”

Misty spoke for a while longer, telling about her time with Jesse. Her eyes filled with tears a few times, but she kept her emotions in check and spoke almost like a robot.

“…and then I couldn’t take anymore. I went to the police and filed a report after he punched me so hard that one side of my face swelled. It nearly left me blind in one eye. I tried to leave him,” she choked out.

“Did the police help you?” Camden asked.

Misty laughed, a chilling sound that dropped the temperature in the room by at least several degrees. “Jesse found me at the hospital. He took me away from there, his eyes colder than I’d ever seen before. No one tried to stop him. He told me he was going to show me exactly what happened to women who betrayed him.” Her voice was frightened, as if she were reliving that horrific moment in her life.

“He handcuffed me and forced me into the back of his car, then drove home to the apartment and marched me up the stairs. My head still hurt from the last beating he’d given me. People watched him take me in. No one said a word to stop him. I was so frightened, I didn’t even try to resist — I knew it would only make it worse. As soon as we were inside the apartment, he forced me to my knees, my hands still handcuffed behind my back. I had to perform…I…he…thrust himself into my mouth, pushing so hard I threw up a little, and somehow my lip was cut and throbbing. I begged him to stop when I could speak… I couldn’t even breathe… But he just laughed. I could see how much he was enjoying it. When I thought it was all over, he pulled me to my feet and took me to the bedroom… He undid the cuffs long enough to remove my clothes, then he cuffed me to the bed. The torment lasted for two days. He took turns raping and beating me.” Misty’s voice came out in a monotone as she forced herself to withdraw, to think of that time as a movie, not her own life. If she pretended she was speaking of some other person, maybe it wouldn’t hurt so much.

“This needs to stop,” Bryson demanded, his eyes glittering with rage.

“I know it’s difficult, Bryson, but if you can’t handle it, you have to leave the room. We need to do this.” Camden shot Bryson a dark look.

Bryson looked as if he was going to come out of his chair and throttle his friend. The two had a stare-down and Bryson wasn’t backing off.

“I’m fine, Bryson. I promise,” Misty said. The last thing she wanted was to see a fistfight start.

He didn’t look pleased, but he sat still, arms crossed, as he waited for her to continue.

“I didn’t really know how much time had passed. I went in and out of consciousness. It wasn’t till it was over that I realized it had been two days. He never let me up from the bed. I was lying in my own…urine…”

The shame was there for them to see, making it even harder for Bryson to listen to her talk of such humiliation. He wanted to kill Jesse with his bare hands for doing this to her.

“He broke three ribs, fractured my jaw, and I had an infection in my wrists. When I did finally get to the hospital, I lied, said I was kidnapped, but got away. He told me that if I gave any other story, the next time I wouldn’t be alive to tell another soul.”

“Were you in fear for your life?” Camden asked.

“Definitely. He told me of his last girlfriend. He told me she would never be found. He said there were several ‘bitches’ who would never be found, because they’d been stupid enough to betray him. He said the only reason I was still alive was because he hadn’t finished with me yet.” A shudder passed through her. “He won’t rest until I’m dead,” she added, the words sounding so strange coming from her flat, almost expressionless voice.

“He won’t ever get the chance,” Bryson vowed.

She looked over at him again, seeing his bunched muscles, the harsh expression on his face, the quiet fury, and she was grateful. It was somehow calming for her, as if he were taking the emotions from her onto himself. It gave her the energy to go on, to keep telling her story.

“When I healed, I began planning my escape. I knew I had to sneak out; I knew I had to disappear. No one would help me. So I saved as much money as I could. It wasn’t easy since he took all my paychecks and monitored everything I did. It took a long time, about nine months of waitressing, saving part of my tips, not all, or he would have known, but eventually I had enough and I bought a cheap car. I was ready to go, just a couple of days from escaping. That’s when everything went horribly wrong. That’s when I accidentally found a bunch of large bags of cocaine. He was furious with me. I don’t know how I managed to get away, but I did. I escaped and was in hiding until Bryson found me.”

Camden asked more questions, and she answered each and every one, and then it was over. Misty was done — emotionally and physically drained. She didn’t know how she would manage to get up in front of a jury and say all of this again. It was one thing to speak in front of four people, but an entire courtroom? What if the cross-examination made her look like she was the bad person? She had stayed with the man, after all. Wouldn’t they spin that into her being a willing participant in his depraved games?

“We’re all finished, Misty. You’ve done very well.” Camden moved his chair to sit in front of her while the court recorder packed up. “I know this wasn’t easy, and I appreciate your strength in giving your testimony, but we can breathe a little easier now and try to put it all out of our minds. Easier said than done, I know, but how about we go get something to eat, maybe a stiff drink, and try to relax? You don’t have to think about it anymore for now.”

“I’m not hungry,” she said, the thought of food making her stomach want to heave.

“You will be after about three or four straight shots,” he told her with a smile.

“Would you like to come, Charlotte?” he asked, turning to the other woman, who they all seemed to have forgotten was even in the room.

“No. I appreciate your testimony, Ms. Elton. It will be valuable to the case. I’ll contact Camden if I have follow-up questions,” she said, and then was the first one out the door.

“She’s scary. I’m glad you’re the attorney helping me,” Misty said as she looked at the open door.

“Ah, she’s a sweetheart, but this case has everyone acting unusual. There’s just too much that can go wrong,” Camden said. “Now, let your attorney buy you a meal.”

“I guess…”

“Good. Let’s get out of this room,” Bryson said. He almost shoved Camden aside, then leaned down and pulled Misty gently from her chair. “You are braver than I could have ever imagined. I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”

It didn’t take much for Misty to fall against his chest and accept the comfort he was offering.

“I was a fool, but I didn’t know how to get away,” she said, ashamed of herself for once again leaning on a man — even if this man seemed to be one of the good guys. She’d made that mistake before, but maybe, just maybe…

“Look, you were a victim and Jesse abused his power as a cop, abused it, and you, horrifically,” Bryson countered.

“I just want to forget about it,” she said.

“Then let’s go.”

Bryson wrapped his arm around her shoulder and led her outside, with Camden following quietly. Misty looked up to the clear night sky and let the stars calm her. She was safe now. Though she was closer to where Jesse lived than she’d been in over a year, she felt safe. He couldn’t get her.

Or at least she felt like he couldn’t. Not with Bryson there next to her.



Chapter Nine

Misty sat in the backseat of the SUV and listened to Bryson and Camden shoot the breeze as they drove from Camden’s offices to a small country bar and grill. She was glad they weren’t expecting her to talk, because she didn’t think she’d be capable of it right then.

The experience had drained her. It was so much harder than she’d imagined to lay this story out on the table again. She’d learned Jesse’ character only too well while living with him, but after talking about it, voicing what he’d done to her, how many times he’d violated her, and in how many ways, she had no idea how she’d survived as long as she had.

No matter how despicable the person, Misty never delighted in the end of anyone’s life, or even by the idea of it, but she had to admit that if Jesse were to die, she’d sleep a lot better at night. Sure, she felt guilty, but she wouldn’t take the thought back. She considered him the incarnation of evil, and, yeah, she wished him dead.

She felt raw and exposed as she huddled against the leather seat during the ride down the dark road. The two men had chosen a restaurant outside town; was it so she could have time to collect herself? She doubted it would come to them as a big surprise if she had a complete breakdown.
But Misty was stronger than they gave her credit for. No, they hadn’t put her down or made her feel like a weak woman, but she knew her eyes were hollow, knew her body was shaky, knew the signs of a meltdown were all there. But Jesse hadn’t broken her down back then, and he certainly wasn’t going to do it now. She’d had a will to survive. Somehow. And she still did. More now than ever before.

Would Bryson think differently of her now? Of course, that was almost a stupid question, because she really had no clue what he’d thought of her before she’d told her ugly tale. She knew she was developing feelings for him, but wasn’t it more of a white-knight complex? He was there to save her, a quintessential damsel in distress, from the evil dragon. When this was over, one way or another, she was sure these strange feelings would go away — this need for him to be nearby would evaporate.

If Misty had felt nothing for Bryson — no attraction, no thoughts, no…lust — then she could have dealt with the situation far more easily And anyway, because she was so torn up, so ragged, so raw, could she trust her feelings at all? Maybe she was attracted to him because that was easier to handle than thinking about her ex and the horrendous things he’d done to her.

Maybe she was projecting her emotions. And getting them all muddled up.

What would it be like to be in a relationship with a man like Bryson? Did he just seem like a white knight now, but when he got close to a woman, did he turn into a monster? How did two people find each other and live happily together? She knew those existed — they had to, or why would babies still be born? Why would anyone marry? There had to be happy endings out there. Maybe she just wasn’t one of the lucky ones.

She hadn’t even been given a family, the one thing she wanted more than anything else. No. Instead, she got to walk this world alone. That had to be why she was having fantasies about a life with Bryson. He was the first man ever to be kind to her. Still, it was his job; it wasn’t about her at all.

Bryson had it all already. A family. Friends he loved and respected. For all she knew, he could have someone special in his life now. Maybe the way their eyes connected was just a part of his job. It made more sense than that he might actually be attracted to her. Because, having it all, Bryson certainly didn’t need her.

Their lives were just so different. If he disappeared tomorrow, there would be a manhunt for him. He would be missed by his family, by hi friends, by the ones he protected. That was something that would never happen with her. She had disappeared for an entire year, and Bryson had come looking for her only because he needed her to testify. If she hadn’t been mixed up with Jesse, she could have walked off into the night without a single soul the wiser. A single soul who gave a damn.

Of course, if she hadn’t known Jesse, she wouldn’t have needed to disappear. But then again, where had her life been going? Nowhere. She was working a dead-end job, living in a ghastly apartment, and she had no friends, no purpose.

How long until she just naturally faded away on her own? Anger filled her as these thoughts flitted through her mind. Okay, so she’d bee abandoned as a baby, but that didn’t make her worthless. Everybody deserved a chance to shine. Perhaps she just hadn’t found her moment yet.

“Are you doing all right back there?” Bryson asked.

She blinked, and it took a moment to realize he was speaking to her. Her emotions were already whirling, and the gentle tone of his voice, the concern in his shadowed eyes as he looked back at her, made it even worse. She’d given her deposition. Why did he even care how she was feeling? It made no sense.

Just as the attraction she felt toward him made no sense.

When she finally spoke — “I’m fine” — her voice came out scratchy, raw, exposed, just like her, as she struggled to subdue the violent tears threatening to erupt.

He twisted around in his seat, then reached back and carefully laid his hand on her knee, squeezing gently. “We’re almost there. I should have sat in the back with you.”

“No. I promise, I’m all right.” She wanted him to stop before she gave in and let out the full explosion brewing inside her.

His eyes told her he didn’t believe her, but at least he released her knee and turned forward again. She slumped against the backseat and closed her eyes as she took in several deep, cleansing breaths.

If she wasn’t careful, she’d think she was falling in love with this stranger. Logically, she knew it couldn’t be real. She didn’t know him, and he certainly didn’t know her, or know anything about her beyond what she’d said today. And that wasn’t pretty.

She tried to be smart, tried to explain to herself what she was feeling, but it was beyond her. All she could wonder was this: what was she doing even thinking that another man was attractive, especially after reliving her past with Jesse? Surely most women would never contemplate entering another relationship after the trauma she’d been through. But most women weren’t as lonely as she’d been most of her life.

And most guys didn’t show as much compassion as Bryson had shown toward her. It was all for the testimony, she forced herself to remember — or was it? Sometimes it seemed like more. It seemed as if he actually cared. But that was foolish, wasn’t it?

The SUV stopped, and Misty quickly tucked away her thoughts, telling herself that everything was fine, that this had been a hard day. Now they were going to enjoy a friendly meal, and then she’d go to her room and sleep.

The next day, they’d head back home, and that was the last she’d see of Bryson until the trial. There was no way she was going to analyze how much that thought bothered her.

If she never saw Bryson again, she would never experience his lips against hers. She despised herself for it, but it seemed almost the only thing on her mind of late. When she recalled how his eyes had blazed in anger over what Jesse had done to her, she found herself wanting to wrap her arms around Bryson, wanting to thank him, wanting to feel his kiss. She knew it wasn’t about his touch — just the idea of a man’s touch terrified her — but it was about a connection, about actually feeling something other than fear when in the presence of a man. And Bryson inspired no fear, except maybe of her bizarre feelings for him.

Her door opened and there he was standing in front of her, looking so incredibly handsome. “Madam,” he said with a flourish, and after a moment, she smiled shyly, his over-the-top goofy grin driving away the dark thoughts she’d been having.

She was stunned into silence by his sudden flirtatiousness. Her eyes surveyed the scene, noting that Camden was leaning against the car, not saying a word. Wasn’t Bryson’s behavior a little unprofessional? Her emotions were so raw, she didn’t know what to do, so she sat there dumbfounded.

When the silence dragged on, his teasing expression vanished; he held out a hand and said in a more even tone. “Please, may I escort you to dinner?”

“Thank you,” she murmured, taking his hand and stepping down from the SUV.

Just his touch sent fire zinging through her veins. She was out of control right now, and she didn’t know how to rein herself back in. Her only salvation was that he couldn’t hear her thoughts, didn’t know what was going on in her head, or realize that her heart was pounding as he gripped her hand.

Misty knew she should tug her fingers away, but they felt so warm and secure tucked against Bryson’s that she couldn’t.

She was in deeper trouble than she’d realized. She wasn’t just falling for this guy; she was falling hard. When she finally hit the ground, she’d be lucky not to shatter into a million pieces.

They walked through the front doors, and Misty was immediately charmed. Though the building hadn’t looked large from the outside, it was surprisingly roomy once they stepped through the doors, and it sported log furniture and red-and-white checked tablecloths. Various rodeo pictures hung on the wall, along with several signed photographs from country music stars. A band was setting up on the stage.

“A lot of musicians come through here,” Camden said. “Some of them well-known. It’s a local secret.”

“How can you keep it a secret if it’s someone famous?”

“Because the people of the town treat the bands like neighbors instead of celebrities, and they get to play a gig at a place like one they may have started at. We get a treat of great music, and they get to be regular guys and gals for the day. They never say when they’re coming, and our people never leak it out once they’re here.”

“That’s pretty neat. I’d never have thought this the type of place to attract a big musician. I mean, it’s nice, of course.” She didn’t wan to put his choice of bar down. “It’s just kind of small and out of the way.”

“That’s what makes it so great,” Bryson jumped in. He’d been coming to the place for years.

“Hi, Camden,” said a woman as she approached. “You picked a great night to come in.”

“Hey, Alyssa. Can we get my favorite table tonight?”

“Of course you can. If someone was there, I’d just make them move.” She threw him a flirtatious smile, then turned toward Bryson and Misty. “It’s been a while, Bryson,” she said, stepping right up and throwing her arms around him.
Sorry about that, Alyssa,” he told her, genuine affection shining in his eyes.

“Well, just don’t let it happen again. You go and get all busy with the FBI and forget all about us in the backwoods.”

“If I recall correctly, Alyssa, you had a hankering for the big-city life, doing cover shoots all over the world,” he countered.

“Yeah, yeah, that went real well.”

“You did great. I found that cover from your fitness magazine, and no one has ever done that rag such justice.”

“It was short-lived, but I sure grew up.” Something had obviously happened to hurt her during that time.

“Some people never get to live — just remember that,” Camden said, his words hitting Misty like a loaded shotgun. “But we’re being rude. This is a friend.” He paused, making sure to get her name right. “Magnolia.”

Misty was taken aback when Alyssa gave her a hug. “Any friend of the boys is a friend of mine,” the woman said with a genuine smile.

“It’s great to meet you,” Misty replied, her throat suddenly tight. How would it feel to make friends so easily, to have a real friend to share with? She feared she’d never know.

“We need to quit standing in the doorway gabbing,” Alyssa said, and she led the way to a nice corner table in the back of the room.

Misty noticed only about six other people in the place.

“The special is Doc’s meat loaf and loaded mashed potatoes with a heaping side of grilled asparagus,” Alyssa said as she started to write on her pad. After the men ordered, she looked at Misty and waited.

“Um, that sounds good.” There was no way Misty could eat that much food, but the guys had automatically chosen the special, and her leftovers would be good the next day, and possibly the day after that.

“Do you like your drinks virgin or with a bite?” Alyssa asked Misty.

“Um…with a bite,” she said hesitantly, expecting to get a list of choices.

“I’ll bring out your salads and drinks,” Alyssa said instead, and then left.

“We didn’t order drinks,” Misty said to the guys.

“Sorry, darling,” Bryson said. “We’re both so used to coming here. Alyssa knows our drinks. Plus, first-timers always get a free special drink. You’ll love it.”

Misty shrugged, though the use of an endearment dropping so easily from his tongue made her tingle a bit. “When in Rome…”

Alyssa brought out the drinks and the boys were right — hers was exceptional. It had a tangy, zestful flavor, and before she knew it, th first one was gone and another one was in its place. Within half an hour, her worries were pushed back to the farthest reaches of her mind, and she was laughing softly as Camden and Bryson told old “war stories” about the bar.

“Did you grow up here, too, Bryson?” she asked, her eyes slightly droopy, but her body relaxed. She munched happily on her dinner salad.

“Yes. Born and raised.” He tipped an imaginary cowboy hat.

“Is your family here?”

“Yep. You know about my little sister. She is hell on wheels, literally. She races dirt bikes, and gives me a heart attack every single time she goes on one of those tracks. The stunts she pulls — criminy. I don’t think I’ll live to be an old man.”

Misty loved that he was an overprotective big brother. What would her life have been had she been raised with a brother? That is, if Damien really existed other than as a name scribbled on a piece of paper.

“And then I have an older brother. He’s a good man, the fire chief here, actually. He’s done it all, including firefighting in NYC. He finally got sick of the big city and came home a few years ago. My mom and dad, who still live here, were happy to get one of their kids home. I’m in and out, but gone a lot for work. They keep hoping I’ll eventually take a field office job and stay here. I haven’t found a reason to yet,” he said, and then looked into her eyes.

Was he saying she could be a reason? It had to be the alcohol buzz in her head, because there was no way a man would change his plans for her. She just wasn’t the type of woman for whom men would jump through hoops. If only…

“Then there’s my grandmother,” Bryson said with a groan.

“Is she okay?” Misty asked, making both Camden and Bryson laugh. “I don’t get it.”

“Sorry. You’d have to meet the woman. She’s in her late sixties, I think. Well, I can’t get anyone to tell me her actual age, but whatever age she is, it hasn’t slowed her down even the tiniest bit. The poor sheriff has even had to arrest her and her best friend, Bethel, for disturbing the peace.”

“Really?” Misty really, really wanted to meet this woman.

“Yes, really,” Camden said. “The poor sheriff is seventy now, and he gave both ladies a stern lecture, but they didn’t care. They’re recapturing their youth or something.”

“Yeah, I was surprised Cam’s dad wasn’t with them as a partner in crime. The three are pretty close,” Bryson added.

“Your grandma and his dad?” Misty was more confused.

“Yeah, my dad is older,” Cam said, “and Bryson’s grandma had his mom when she was quite young, so they’re close in age.”

“Oh, I wasn’t saying anything bad…”

“Don’t worry. We didn’t take it that way,” Camden reassured her.

“Do your parents get upset when things like that happen? The arrest, I mean.” Misty found it so nice to sit back and hear about their families. Jealousy was sitting there with her, but not the ugly kind. She just wondered what it would have been like to have her own stories like this to tell.

“Hell, no,” Bryson replied. “They think it’s great that grandma is having fun. The more she lives life, the longer she’ll be in this world. I wouldn’t be surprised if my parents join the terrible trio in a few years.”

“I think the sheriff will definitely retire if that happens,” Camden told them.

“Considering he would never be able to draw his weapon in a shootout, that may be his wisest choice,” Bryson said.

“Yeah, I don’t think Big Blue — his gun — has been shot in over twenty years,” Cam said.

“I’m sure there are cobwebs in the barrel, maybe even a few spiders’ nests.”

The men continued to banter back and forth until there was a tapping noise from the microphone. Then someone spoke. “Good evening, everyone. I hope you don’t mind if I play a few songs.”

The fork stopped halfway to Misty’s mouth, and her eyes nearly popped out of her head once she turned and looked up at the stage. Her heart was pounding.

“Uh, Mis…Magnolia, are you okay?”

She heard the words through a tunnel. This couldn’t be happening. Things like this didn’t happen to her. Not her. This kind of thing was for lucky people.

“Are you choking, honey?” Alyssa was patting her back.

“F…fi…fine,” Misty managed to stutter.

“Aw, don’t worry, boys. She’s just a bit starstruck. It happens to the best of us.” Alyssa laughed and walked away.

Misty barely heard her.

She also didn’t notice the tilting of Bryson’s eyes as he gazed at her, not entirely amused at her complete absorption with the stage.

“I can make anybody pretty…” Brad Paisley began singing his hit song “Alcohol,” and Misty didn’t hear another word from her male companions. She was fully focused on Paisley as he ran smoothly through a couple of songs. Alyssa set down Misty’s meal, and it went untouched.

When Brad jumped into “Two People Fell in Love,” Misty sighed. All the trauma from her deposition earlier in the day was forgotten as she drank in one of her all-time favorite singers. When he began a guitar solo, she just leaned back and enjoyed.

“Thanks, all. I’m going to try that meat loaf now,” Brad called out through the microphone, then hopped down from the stage, and Misty’s eyes grew round as he made his way to their table.

“Hi, Camden, Bryson. It’s been a while.” The singer pulled out a chair and turned it around before he sat, leaning against the back of it.

“Yes, it has been. It’s good to see you. How are the wife and kids?” Camden asked, after they all shook hands.

“Kim and the boys are great. I’m on my way home tonight and had to stop in here. This tour is kicking my ass. I’m definitely missing the family.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t know how that is, since I don’t have any rug rats waking me at six in the morning,” Camden said with a laugh. “Oh, this is our friend, Magnolia.”

“Good to meet you, Magnolia. You have a beautiful name,” Brad said, sticking out his hand.

She didn’t know how she did it, but her arm magically lifted and then her fingers were encased in his. “H…hi,” she managed to say without too much of a stutter. She was sitting at the same table with Brad Paisley! She’d just been introduced to him! They’d shaken hands! And everyone was treating it as if it were no big deal.

“Here’s your food, Brad,” Alyssa said, and she handed him a bag.

In response to Stormfront Member 202...
I disagree. What would be the BEST is to see racist fags locked up...you know - douche bags like you.



Edited 2 time(s). Last edit at 10/07/2015 05:38PM by jojo061375.

As an update to anyone who may want to know. Sonny aka Vincent Decicco has been arrested with bond revoked. Court date in August 2016 has been delayed due to additional 'issues' with S/VD that recently came to light. Any one who can provide REAL testimony should contact Detective Chewning of the Sheriffs office of Spotsylvania County Virginia.