Chapter 7
Seven
Aubrey kept her eyes closed the entire ride back to safety, not wanting to look down. Bouncing up and down on that saddle, she felt as if a few of her fillings were knocked loose.
The noise and chaos of the crowd faded as they traveled farther from the reenactment. Gravel and dust from the horse’s hooves flew into her nose and mouth.
One moment, everything had been going according to her plan, then the next, chaos had broken out as shots were fired at the crowd, sending groups of spectators screaming and running for the nearest cover.
When Aubrey had crouched behind that barrel in front of the feedstore, she’d prayed like never before.
She’d been so scared she couldn’t move, all the fear from years ago rushing back to the forefront.
And then, Ethan had shown up. Thank You, God.
They sped down back alleys and side streets all the way back to…not her house. Ethan helped her down, dismounted, and tied the horse’s reins to the porch railing.
The lack of traffic was unnerving.
She glanced over her shoulder at the deserted street and climbed the porch stairs, each step heavier than the one before. Memories swirled in her mind. “Where are we?”
“One of the department’s safe houses. The horse needs to rest, and this place has grass.”
“So we’re not here because we’re in danger?” Just like years ago, before Donovan went to prison, she’d felt as if someone was tracking her.
“Don’t know about you, but I was ready to get off the horse.”
She smiled, even though he wasn’t ruling out their being in danger. Maybe it was too early to know. She said, “Me too.” Though holding on to him had been nice.
“This is the closest place I know of that the horse will be okay until someone can come and get her.” Ethan touched her arm. “You okay?”
She stared at the door and gave him a tight smile, trying to tamp down the nightmare images flashing in her mind. “I must’ve lost my purse somewhere at the festival.”
“We’ll get a replacement for you. We can get into this place through the back. Come on.” Ethan held out his hand and led her to the back door.
Her eyes clouded with tears. “I’m sorry. It’s all my fault…” She sniffled and searched her pockets for a tissue. “At least, I can’t help but think it is. This brings back a lot of memories. Sorry.” She needed to get a handle on herself.
“Why are you sorry?” Ethan stilled her hands, holding them between his calloused ones. She glanced down at their intertwined hands. He had nice hands. Strong. Warm.
“Because until we know it wasn’t my fault, the fact is, it could be. Even if I’ve believed I was safe since I moved to Renegade, there’s still someone who wants to kill me. Twenty years ago, my testimony sent Finn Donovan, a hired killer, to prison.”
He led her over to the back porch and then nudged her to sit on the steps. “We’re okay. We’re at a safe house, remember? And there’s nothing about this that we can be sure connects to you.”
She glanced up at the cloudless blue sky. “I…”
“Tell me what happened to you, Aubrey.”
Dare she trust him? Had God put Ethan in her life for this reason?
Aubrey drew in a breath and forced herself to start talking before she lost the nerve. Once she began, the words came too fast, skimming the surface of the truth instead of diving beneath it. “Judge Mullinax had a case in his federal courtroom.”
She swallowed against the lump in her throat. “One where I had to testify against a hardened criminal.” She kept her eyes on the floor, on the safe, solid ground. Porch steps. A home. A safe house.
Still, the words still felt unreal, even after all these years.
“We found out later he was wanted by Interpol.” She spoke quickly, as if speed could keep the memories at bay.
“More murders. Multiple countries. Europe.” She swallowed.
“After the trial, my family was threatened. They didn’t stop until the feds put my family in witness protection—my parents, my younger sister Kristen, and me. ”
She wiped at her cheek when a tear escaped, annoyed by the betrayal of it.
“The judge checked in, wrote me letters through the secure mail witnesses use. I got to tell him how hard it was going, how strained things were with my family being in danger because of me. About six years ago, he suggested I move. He didn’t order it—he gave me the choice to leave my family in witness protection so they could get on with their lives, and I came here.
Renegade seemed far enough away. Quiet enough.
” Her voice softened. “I thought I was safe.”
What she didn’t say pressed hard against her ribs.
She didn’t say fear like that never really went away. Because if Donovan ever got out of prison and decided to come after her, then she would have to relive every moment she’d tried to forget. And she wasn’t ready to open that door. Not yet. Not out loud.
“You are safe,” Ethan said gently.
Oh, how she wanted to believe him. Even if her instincts were screaming at her that this peace she’d enjoyed for so long wouldn’t last forever. No matter how safe she’d felt, Donovan wouldn’t ever stop wanting to kill her for testifying.
Ethan’s whisper entranced her, pulled her in, made her want…more. She leaned into him, absorbing some of his strength. His warmth. He draped his wrists over his knees, and they sat there for a moment, him allowing her to decompress after that wild ride.
“You mentioned being scared.” His gaze was focused on the backyard. “We’ve all been scared at one time in our lives.”
“You? Scared?”
He let out a soft chuckle and glanced at her. “Yeah. Me.”
“I find that hard to believe, Mr. Two-Time White Water Kayaking Champion.”
“Yeah, well, just a few years ago, I didn’t think I was going to make it out alive after my team and I were ambushed.” Ethan’s body radiated tension, his muscles stiff against her side.
“That had to be scary.”
“I should’ve known better. We walked right into a trap.”
“How could you have known it was a trap?” She searched his face. A muscle in his jaw twitched.
“There were signs.” He turned to face her. “I ignored the red flags.”
She shook her head. “I find that hard to believe. You’re a good marshal, Ethan.”
A bitter laugh escaped his lips. “If I’d been focused, I wouldn’t have lost most of my team. I couldn’t protect them.”
Aubrey shifted, angling her body toward him. “You are not responsible for their deaths. Isn’t that what you told me about the judge and his housekeeper?” She nudged his shoulder with hers.
“How about we agree to disagree?” He looked at her, his pull magnetic. Even if she wanted to look away, she couldn’t. He tugged a folded piece of white cloth out of his pocket. “Handkerchief? I promise it’s clean.”
She smiled and accepted the offered hanky, then wiped the moisture off her cheeks. “Thank you.” Her voice was a hoarse whisper.
“You missed a spot.” He pointed to her cheek and wiped the remains of the dirt and tears with the handkerchief. “All better.”
Ethan studied her a moment, then leaned close.
She licked her lips, and his gaze dropped to her mouth.
Suddenly, he stood and wiped the dust off his jeans.
“I, uh, I think we need to get inside. Let me call Roberts and check in.” He entered a code into the keypad by the door.
“This house happens to be vacant right now, but I’m still going to clear it first. Stay on the porch. Don’t move until I come back.”
Her fingers tightened on the railing. “Don’t go.”
“I’ll be quick,” he said, already drawing his weapon.
He disappeared inside.
Aubrey counted his steps without meaning to, listening to the faint thud of doors opening, closing. Silence stretched. She forced herself to breathe, to stay still. Waiting in the dark wasn’t new. She’d learned long ago how to sit with uncertainty without letting it break her.
The lights snapped on. She jumped anyway.
“All clear.” Ethan stepped back onto the porch and gestured her in.
The safe house was exactly what it needed to be, with its dated appliances, clean linoleum, lack of personal touches. A place to disappear into, not settle in. Aubrey took it in quickly, cataloging exits and sightlines the way she’d been taught years ago. Old habits didn’t fade.
Ethan guided her toward a vinyl chair. She sat while he pulled out his phone and put it to his ear. “Roberts. What’s the status back at the festival? Any sign of the shooter?”
He paced as he listened, the tension in his body radiating off him in waves.
“Okay. Thanks.” He glanced at her but said to Liam, “We’re secure. Pine Ridge Trail. For now. Keep me posted.”
When the call ended, he leaned closer to her, his voice dropping.
“I’m going to tend to the horse and let her graze out back. You okay?”
“Yes.” The answer came easily, even if it wasn’t entirely true.
Ethan hesitated, then gently turned her toward him, forcing her to meet his gaze. “I won’t be long.”
She nodded. She needed something to do.
She found enough coffee in the pantry to start a pot. Measure, pour, wait. Anything to keep herself busy. The familiar motions grounded her, but the weight of the day pressed in anyway. The judge. The shooting. The realization that danger hadn’t stayed where she’d left it.
The screen door slammed and she startled again. “Ethan?”
“What’s wrong?” Ethan washed his hands in the sink.
She shook her head, keeping her voice steady. “I don’t want to spiral.”
“Talking helps.” He waited.
“I can’t…” She stopped herself from spilling all her secrets. “I need to sit.” Her head spun.
He pulled out a chair and handed her a bottle of water. “Drink.”
She did, spilling some as her hands shook. “Perfect.” She stood, grabbed a dishtowel, and began to wipe up the mess she’d made.
“Let me…”
“I’m fine.” But the tears came anyway.
Ethan set the towel aside and cupped her face gently. “You don’t have to hold it together right now.”
She stepped into him, surprising herself. It wasn’t desperation. It was trust. His arms came around her, steady and sure. She pressed into him as if he was her lifeline.