Dangerous Testimony

She realized too late that he had earbuds firmly in place and couldn’t hear her. Her only chance to get to the back door and help was to run toward him and hope her pursuer wouldn’t want to risk dragging others into the situation.

She took off in a sprint. Fueled by terror, she ran faster than she thought she could. Each foot she gained ratcheted her hope a little higher, until the man suddenly detached himself from the shadows, hooked a leg around her ankle and sent her sliding to the asphalt. Her palms hit the ground, the rough surface grinding into them as well as her bare knees. Through the pain, she kicked out, making contact with a shoulder or face—she couldn’t be sure which.

He grabbed her from behind, fingers wound in her disheveled hair, bringing her to her feet and slamming her over the hood of the car.

“You scream, you die,” the man hissed in her ear, his breath sour on her cheek.

He pulled something from his pocket and held it in front of her eyes. With a snick of sound, the switchblade opened. The razor-sharp edge gleamed, and fear cut into her as deeply as the blade soon would.

Stubborn determination bucked like a mule past her panic as she thought of Tracy, her little girl who’d already lost her father. There was no way Candace was going to lie here and get her throat cut without the biggest fight of her life. Rick would have said to resist with her last ounce of strength. She intended to.

Lord, help me, she prayed. Let me go home to my daughter.

Her assailant leaned back slightly. The movement opened a tiny window of opportunity. Before the fear took over completely and paralyzed her, she made one last desperate attempt to save her life.

* * *

Marco jogged down the alley, Bear trotting next to him. They stuck to the shadows, taking it all in. A kid at the far end of the lot had just entered the building, oblivious, sipping coffee from a plastic cup, earbuds no doubt crammed in his ears.

Where are you, Candace?

He didn’t hear the sound, but Bear did. The dog went rigid, tail erect, nose quivering.

Marco gave him the command to “go quiet” and the dog dashed through two rows of parked cars. Marco caught up in time to see Candace rear up off the hood of a parked compact, smashing the back of her head into the face of an attacker. The goon reeled back, hand reflexively going to his bloody nose. It gave her the time she needed to sprint away. The guy spun to catch her again, and Marco saw a switchblade in his hand.

“Here!” he called to Candace as he ran toward her. Wide-eyed with terror, she raced to him. He shoved her behind, his body shielding hers.

Bear was barking wildly now, as the bloody-nosed kid turned to Marco, but the dog had not attacked yet because Marco hadn’t told him to. Not bad for a new trainee. Marco regarded the guy calmly. “Put it down.”

“Uh-uh,” the kid said, hands out, the blade ready in one of them, his gaze darting between Marco and the dog.

Bear barked and lunged forward a step.

“I’ll cut your dog if he comes near me, ’fore I cut you.”

Marco picked up a slender board that was lying against the brick wall. “That would not be wise.” He smiled. “I don’t want my dog to get dirty biting you. I just bathed him.”

“This isn’t your business,” the kid hissed, jerking his head at Candace. “She’s messing with the Pack, and Rico wants her to stop.”

“Ah. So your boss sent you. I didn’t figure you were a decision maker.” Rico was the Pack leader, dangerous, unpredictable and wily. He’d apparently decided to scare Candace off testifying against Kevin Tooley. Marco kept his voice light. “Tell your boss that his boy Kevin is going to prison for that gas station shooting, so he’d better learn to accept it.”

The kid looked nervous now, his knife hand dropping a few inches. Marco waited until Bear barked again, momentarily drawing the kid’s attention. Then he swung the board as if he was Babe Ruth driving one out of the park.

The board impacted the guy’s wrist with a thwack, sending the switchblade pinwheeling through the air, as the thug grabbed his arm and howled in pain. The back door of the school slammed open and a security guard hastened out, shouting into his radio.

Still holding his wrist, Candace’s attacker shot Marco a look that promised revenge, and then took off toward the rear of the parking lot.

“Bear, chase,” Marco said.

The dog tore after the youth, who ran as fast as his baggy pants would allow.

He hurled himself up over the fence, Bear biting madly at his shoe. One sneaker came off, and Bear snatched it up, still barking in a volume that echoed through the whole space.

“Cops are on their way,” the security guard called out. “Need an ambulance?”

Marco turned to Candace. Her face was stricken, body trembling and a bruise developing on her cheekbone, which made him want to take another swing at Shoe Guy.

Her brown eyes were terrified, a sight that cut deep down to his core. I told you I should have come along, he wanted to say. Why don’t you ever listen to me? Instead, he bent and gathered her in his arms, taking her fear and willing it away, thanking God she was alive.

“Gonna be all right,” he murmured, holding her tight.

“Jay Rico wants me dead.” Panic shot through her words. “Marco, what about Tracy? What if he sends people after us both?”

He squeezed her closer, every protective nerve in his body firing on all cylinders. It was a struggle to keep his voice level, calm, when there was a flood of anger roaring through him like a storm-tossed surf.

“No one is going to hurt you or Tracy,” he said through gritted teeth. “No one.”

TWO (#u506f236f-e42f-5331-ba20-9ece899d158b)

Candace sighed. Resistance was futile. Marco was not about to let her drive back to Coronado by herself.

“We’ll get your car home another way,” he’d proclaimed.

The best she could do was climb into the passenger seat of his truck and cram next to Bear. The dog was chewing a white shoelace as if it was a savory strand of fettuccini.

“Don’t the police want it for evidence?”

Marco shrugged. “They agreed the shoe was enough. No one wanted to persuade him to relinquish the lace.”

“You could command him to.”

“Yeah, but he did good work today and I pay him in kibble, so he deserves a prize. They’ve got the switchblade and the shoe, anyway.”

She gazed out the window as they drove over the Coronado Bridge, back to the gorgeous island that seemed extra welcoming now. The fall sunlight bathed the palm trees in rich hues and she rolled down the window to let in the cool ocean air. It all seemed so much more vibrant, so precious.

Nearly having your throat cut made you appreciate things more, she thought ruefully. Thank You, God, that I’m still here to savor this.

When they drove past the street that led to her bungalow, she shot Marco a look. “Why aren’t you taking me home?”

He had the decency to appear slightly chagrined. “Your mom’s orders. She doesn’t want you staying alone tonight. Tracy’s already camped out in her guest room. She’s right, you know.”

“I want to go home,” Candace said, trying not to sound like a petulant child. “To my house. I’m thirty-three years old and I don’t have to do what my mother says anymore.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Well, I’m thirty-six and I do, so here you are.”

She huffed out a breath. “Did you always do what your mother wanted?”

“Of course.” He was the picture of innocence.