Protective Custody

“Look at the shape of the drops. They’re leading from the bathroom,” he noted in a matching whisper.

She could feel her heart thudding in her chest. Her fingers reached for the knob then pulled back. “Blood on the knob.”

“Noted. I’ve got your back.”

She knew he would. Having been partners for two years, she trusted Mason with her life.

“Here.” He thrust a tissue he’d retrieved from the desk into her hand. Standing to one side of the door, with Mason on the opposite side facing her, she placed the tissue over the knob, nodded to him and twisted her wrist. The door flew open at her shove, and they rounded the edges of the door frame as one, guns pointed inside.

Empty.

The bathroom contents lay scattered. Water tinged with red filled the plugged sink.

Adrenaline rushing, Carly pulled back and let the thudding in her chest subside.

Mason looked at her. “Now what?”

“We follow the blood.”

Nicholas pressed his fingers to the cut and bit back a word he hadn’t said in a long time. “Did you have to barge in while I was shaving? You could have at least let me grab a towel.” He swiped the blood on his pants, not caring if it left a stain. That was the least of his problems right now.

The marshal simply looked at him. He’d been in the Spartanburg, South Carolina, courthouse delivering a captured fugitive to his hearing when Nick had called the authorities. The first threat had come in the form of a phone call. Nick had hung up on the caller. The letter that had appeared on his desk an hour later had been harder to ignore.

He stomped to the table and yanked a napkin from the holder. The small break room/kitchen now served as his safe area until more help arrived.

“Sorry.” An unexpected apology from the man.

Pressing the napkin to the still-seeping cut, Nicholas paused. “Aw, it’s all right.” He’d been on his last upward stroke when the pounding on his bathroom door had caused him to jerk like he’d been shot. As a result, he’d pressed and yanked on the razor, cutting himself pretty bad.

“Want me to take a look at it?” Concern flickered on the marshal’s face.

“No. It’s slowing down.”

The marshal shook his head and asked, “Who still uses a straight razor these days? You got something against an electric one?”

“It was my grandfather’s. He taught me to use it and…” He shrugged and blushed. “I like a close shave.”

“Huh. Not that close, I’m guessing.”

Nick tossed the paper into the trash and grabbed another one. “You’re right about that.” He winced at the sting. “What’s your name?”

“Seth McCoy.”

“Thanks for responding so quickly, Deputy Marshal McCoy.”

For the first time, a hint of a smile creased the corners of the man’s eyes. “No problem. When a judge gets a letter like that, we don’t waste time.”

Nick grunted. “I noticed.”

McCoy’s eyes shifted as he raised a hand to the earpiece then spoke to the wall. “I got him. We’re in the break area. One way in, one way out.” A pause. “I’ll be waiting.”

“Who was that?”

“Your protection detail.”

“Protection detail, huh?”

“Yeah, and this time you’re not running them off.”

Two weeks ago, marshals had been assigned to Nicholas after the first death threat, a phone call warning him to recuse himself from the de Lugo trial or to be watching his back. Nicholas had insisted it was hoax, just like the one two years ago. The marshals had reluctantly left him alone.

Now he wasn’t so sure. The tone of this letter had been different. It had shaken him because it had mentioned the children. Twelve-year-old Lindsey and seven-year-old Christopher. When Nick’s sister had been killed in a car wreck, he’d become their guardian. “Do you have someone on my house? On the kids’ school?”

“Even as we speak.”

He didn’t like the feeling of relief. That meant he might actually be worried someone was serious about hurting him or the children. At least the children hadn’t been threatened directly. Still, Nicholas didn’t like the fact that they were mentioned—by name. “Tell them not to let the kids know anything is wrong. They’ve had so much turmoil in their lives. The less they know, the better. At least as long as we can leave it that way.”

Again, Seth eyed him patiently. “They’re professionals. The kids will be fine—and alive.”

Before Nicholas could respond, a knock on the door sounded, and he flashed back to two years ago when another knock had jerked him out of his comfort zone and forced him to admit his marriage needed help.

God, please don’t let it be…

“Hello, Nicholas.”

…Carly Masterson.

Staring at the man before her, who was dressed in jeans and a white oxford shirt stained with blood, Carly felt a surge of attraction mixed with disdain.

To cover her shock, consternation and anger with herself at the blindsiding emotions, she moved aside to let Mason in. If she was going to be attracted to someone, why couldn’t it be her partner? Unfortunately, even though she thought he was a good-looking man, Mason didn’t send a single zip up her spine.

Not like the judge standing in front of her. A judge who let a killer get off scot-free. Free to kill again. Free to kill my beloved mentor, Hank Bentley.

Of all the assignments I could have gotten, I pulled this one. Why? Who she was appealing to, she didn’t know. But it sure wasn’t God. They weren’t on speaking terms.

Focus, Carly. Do your job.

Derailing her unprofessional thoughts, she glanced at McCoy. “Took you long enough to let us know you had him.”

McCoy raised a brow and shrugged. “You know the procedure as well as I do. Get the subject safe then report in as soon as possible. That’s what I did.”

Carly did know the procedure and inwardly cringed at the gentle reprimand from her peer. She was being entirely too sensitive about this…and she knew why.

Because it was Nicholas Floyd. A man she’d come to think of as a friend two years ago when she was assigned to him and his wife. A man she once admired and respected. Only to have him turn around and let a killer go on a “technicality” six months ago. She despised the word. There should be no “technicalities” in her line of work.

But Judge Floyd was also a man who was now in danger. She would put her personal feelings aside and do her job.

“Right.” Turning to Nicholas, she asked, “What happened? We found blood in your office.”