Bodyguard

Why wouldn’t he be?

She kept running. He kept finding her. A fun game for a dog. Not so much fun for Esme.

“Go home,” she commanded.

The dog didn’t even blink.

“Where’s your partner?” She glanced back the way she’d come, saw nothing but the empty field and shadowy mangroves. “Did he tell you to follow me?”

The dog settled on his haunches, his dark eyes looking straight into hers.

“Release!” she commanded, pointing in the direction she wanted him to go.

Nothing.

“Go! Cease!”

Still nothing.

“Fine. Do what you want. I’ve got more important things to do than argue with a dog.” She limped the rest of the way across the boardwalk, stepping onto wet grass, King close behind her.

The Long Pine Key parking area was straight ahead, the dark figures of emergency personnel visible in the flashing strobe lights of their vehicles. She’d seen way too many emergency vehicles the past few months. Beginning with the one that had been sent to the scene of her brother’s crime.

She’d still been in shock—the memory of Reginald pointing the gun and firing it, of a man falling to the ground, blood spurting from his chest, taking up so much room in her mind, there hadn’t been space to create memories of conversations she’d had, of people she’d spoken to. All she could remember were the emergency lights and the questions, barked one right after another—a series of words that had had no meaning.

Esme sighed.

She knew Ian meant well. She knew the FBI meant well. Law enforcement, witness protection, they meant well, too. But meaning well couldn’t keep her alive.

Better to not take a chance of being waylaid by another well-meaning entity. She’d steer clear of law enforcement. She turned to the right, heading through a grove of cypress trees, aiming for the road that led into the parking lot. It should be straight ahead. She didn’t have her map, but she’d memorized the topography and knew what landmarks to look for to ascertain how far she was from civilization. It would be a long walk to anyplace where she could make a phone call. Five miles on the back road, then out onto a main road that would eventually lead her to town. Once there, she’d borrow a phone and call...

Who?

Not Violetta. She loved her sister, but she couldn’t count on her. Not the way she’d thought she could. Violetta’s loyalties were torn. She wanted to support Reginald and see him freed from prison. Esme knew that, and she knew why. It wasn’t all about love and family. At least not according to the FBI, it wasn’t. Violetta had been happy to take whatever gifts Reginald offered—money for a new car, financial backing to support her business, new windows for her house. Esme had been shown a list of all the things her sister had accepted from Reginald.

At first, she’d argued that Violetta hadn’t known where Reginald was getting the money. But, of course, the FBI had been prepared for that. They’d proved her wrong. Violetta had known...she just hadn’t cared. She’d kept her hands clean, but she sure hadn’t been willing to jeopardize Reginald’s career. After all, she was benefiting too much from it.

The last time Esme had seen her sister had been six months ago. Violetta had looked just as cool and reserved as ever, her beautiful face not showing even a hint of stress or anxiety. Esme, on the other hand, had been a mess. But, then, she was the one who’d watched a man die. She was the one who’d had to make a choice between family and justice. She was the one who was swimming against the tide and doing exactly what her family didn’t want her to.

And she was the one who’d pay with her life if her uncle got his hands on her again.

Esme shuddered, her skin clammy from the humid air, her body leaden from too many restless nights. She had to believe that she was going to get through this. She had to trust that God would keep her safe, that doing the right thing would always be best even when it felt so horribly wrong.

Betrayer. Traitor. Turncoat.

Her uncle’s words were still in her head, the feel of his fingers around her throat enough to make her want to gag. She stumbled, tripping over a root and going down hard, her hands and knees sliding across damp earth, her shoulder bumping into a tree trunk.

She lay where she was for a few minutes too long, the muted sound of voices carrying on the still night air. Maybe she should go to the parking lot, turn herself in to the authorities and hope and pray that they could keep her safe. That seemed so much easier than going it alone.

It also seemed more dangerous.

A woman had died, and she’d almost been killed because of an information leak. Ian had told her the leak had been plugged, but she couldn’t count on that. She couldn’t really count on anything.

“Your pity party is getting you nowhere,” she muttered, pushing up onto her hands and knees.

A cool wet nose pressed against her cheek, and King huffed quietly. She jerked back, looking into his dark face. He was a handsome dog when he wasn’t snarling and showing teeth. Right now, he looked like he was smiling again, his tongue lolling out to the side.

“I think I told you to find your partner,” she scolded, forcing herself up. Lying around feeling sorry for herself would accomplish absolutely nothing. Going back into the situation that had almost gotten her killed would do the same.

She had to stay the course—find a place to go to ground until trial, then contact the authorities and arrange to be escorted to court. Armed guards would be great. Six or seven dogs like King would be a nice bonus.

Right now, though...

Right now, she just had to find a safe place to hide.

She started walking again, trudging through saw grass and heading away from the emergency vehicles. There were no streetlights on the road, no beacons to lead her in the right direction. She went by instinct, the rising moon giving her at least some idea of what direction she was heading.

Northeast would bring her to the road.

The road would bring her to civilization.

She’d figure out everything else once she got there.

The grass opened up, the earth dried out and she could see the road winding snakelike through the Everglades. She stepped onto it, her ankle throbbing, her stomach churning. After three days and nights in the Everglades, it felt strange to be out in the open. No water surrounding her. No foliage to shelter in. She could see emergency lights to the left, so she turned right, trudging along the road as if she didn’t have a care in the world.

Five miles wasn’t much.

She loved hiking, biking and running. Before she’d entered witness protection, she’d been training for a half marathon. Walking a few miles should have been a piece of cake, but she felt like she was slogging through mud, her legs heavy with fatigue.

King pressed close to her leg, his shoulder brushing her thigh as they walked. He didn’t look nervous, and she took that as a good sign. It wasn’t good that he was sticking to her like glue, however, because eventually his handler would come looking for him. When he did, he’d find Esme, too.

Unless Esme could ditch the dog.

She patted the pockets of her cargo pants, found the package of peanut butter crackers she’d planned to eat for dinner. She opened it, the rustling paper not even garnering a glance from King.

She slipped a cracker from the sleeve, held it out to the dog. “Hungry?” she asked.

He ignored her and the cracker.

“King?” She nudged the cracker close to his mouth.

He didn’t break his stride, didn’t look at the food.

“It’s peanut butter. Peanut butter is good. Fetch!” She waved it closer to his face, then threw it back in the direction they’d come.

It hit the pavement, and King just kept walking.

Esme blew out a frustrated breath. Great...just great. Now she’d end up in town with a dog that didn’t belong to her. Probably a very expensive dog. The FBI wouldn’t be happy if she left the state with one of their dogs in tow.