Chapter 8
Eight
The safe house was quiet in a way that made her skin prickle.
Not peaceful. Not comforting. Just…hours and hours of emptiness. Enough hours that Liam had gone back to work when Ethan showed up again with his laptop and piles of files.
Aubrey sat at the small kitchen table, her fingers wrapped around a mug she hadn’t taken a sip from yet.
The coffee had gone cold sometime after Ethan left the room to check in with the deputy on duty.
The hum of the refrigerator was too loud.
The ticking clock on the wall felt like it was counting down something she couldn’t see.
She stared at the worn linoleum floor and tried to breathe through the tightness in her chest.
Safe.
That was the word everyone kept using.
She knew the procedures. She knew the logic. But logic had never stopped a bullet. Or a blade. Or Finn Donovan.
Her sister’s face rose up without warning, wide eyes, mouth open as if she’d tried to scream her name. Not a memory but a nightmare she’d had over and over. Aubrey’s grip tightened on the mug until her knuckles ached.
She hadn’t told Ethan everything.
Footsteps approached down the hall. Controlled. Familiar. Ethan stopped just short of the doorway, giving her space instead of crowding her. She appreciated that more than he probably knew.
“The deputy from Denver is outside. He’s all set,” he said quietly. “We’ll rotate shifts outside and inside every few hours.”
Aubrey nodded, though she hadn’t been listening closely. Except to the part earlier where he’d told her deputies from Denver had come down to help out. Her pulse was still too loud in her ears.
Ethan hesitated, then moved to the other side of the room and sat facing her. Not too close. Not too far. Like he was aware that one wrong move might shatter something fragile between them.
“How are you holding up?” His question was gentle.
She gave a humorless huff. “You want the polite answer, or the honest one?”
His mouth twitched, but his eyes stayed serious. “Honest. Of course.”
Aubrey looked down at her hands. They were shaking again. She pressed them flat against the tabletop, grounding herself.
“I keep replaying it,” she said softly. “Renegade Days. The noise. The crowd. The way everything went from normal to chaos in a second.” Her throat tightened. “I thought I’d moved past that kind of fear. Turns out I just learned how to hide it better.”
Ethan didn’t interrupt. He just listened.
She swallowed. “When you said Finn Donovan’s name earlier…something snapped. Like a door I’ve kept locked for years just flew open.”
His posture shifted, alert but careful. “Aubrey—”
“I didn’t just know him.” She cut in before she could lose her nerve. “I didn’t just recognize the name because I testified against him.”
The room seemed to hold its breath.
“He killed my sister.”
The words landed heavy and final between them.
Ethan stilled. “I’m so sorry, Aubrey.”
Aubrey’s vision blurred. She blinked hard, refusing to cry. She’d done enough of that years ago.
“They told me that my testimony meant he’d never see the outside of a cell again. And I built my life around that promise.” She laughed softly, bitterly. “Turns out promises don’t mean much to men like him.”
Ethan’s hands clenched on his knees. She could see the tension running through him now. Controlled, contained, but fierce.
“That’s why you froze today.” It wasn’t a question.
“Yes.” She nodded. “Saying his name out loud makes it real again. Makes him real again.”
Silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken things.
“You should have told someone,” he said gently.
Her shoulders sagged. “But I was tired of being the girl with the dead sister. The witness who identified Finn Donovan as a killer. I just wanted to be…Aubrey. And for years, it worked. I was living my life, and Donovan wasn’t part of it.”
Ethan leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. “You didn’t do anything wrong, you know.”
She finally met his eyes. “But he’s coming for me, isn’t he?”
Ethan didn’t lie. “We have to assume you’re a target even if it turns out there’s another reason the syndicate brought him here.”
Fear flared hot and sharp—but beneath it was something else. Resolve. “Then I’m done staying silent. If he’s loose, I want to help stop him.”
Ethan shook his head immediately. “Your safety comes first.”
“And my sister?” Her voice wavered, but she held his gaze. “Doesn’t she count too?”
Pain flashed across his face—fast, raw. “Of course she does, but her safety isn’t the issue here. Yours is.”
He reached across the table, stopping just short of touching her hand, giving her the choice. After a beat, she slid her fingers into his. He said, “I won’t let him hurt you again.”
Aubrey squeezed his hand, grounding herself in the warmth, the promise.
For the first time since Renegade Days, the fear didn’t feel quite so suffocating.
Finn Donovan had come back from the shadows.
But unlike when she’d been on the witness stand, she wasn’t facing him alone.
Minutes ticked by, time he should be working. Sitting with Aubrey was what he wanted to do, but it was also time he could be using to chase down Finn Donovan.
But a marshal’s job wasn’t just hunting fugitives. It was protecting the people in the crosshairs. He could work the case from the safe house just as well and keep Aubrey within reach.
She didn’t look at him. Instead, she stared at their joined hands. Hesitating about whether to share more of her story?
Could he share his?
“I’m here all day.” His thumb brushed over her knuckles. He didn’t want to rush her, but he’d seen the fear in her eyes earlier this morning. It was imperative that she tell him everything. “Aubrey.”
She opened her eyes, which shimmered with tears.
“I’m not going anywhere.” He pointed at the door. “The team is here for you too, and we’re not going to let anyone hurt you. You have to tell me, if for no other reason than to keep others from dying.”
“I know.” She gave him a wobbly smile, and she slowly slid her hands out from under his. “I don’t know where to start.”
“The beginning is good.”
She barked out a mirthless laugh. “Yeah.”
Her gaze drifted to look outside the big picture window and then back to him. So much hurt in her expression.
Perhaps if he shared a little bit of himself, she’d open up to him. If he didn’t, she might never confide in him. But if he did tell her, she’d probably run. Being vulnerable was risky, but right now, their lives might depend on it.
“You know I lost my team two years ago.” Ethan cleared his throat. “Part of the reason it happened was that I didn’t want to seem weak and I didn’t want to put my new team in danger. But by withholding information, I did just that.”
She raised soulful eyes to his. “What happened?”
He shifted in his chair. “It’s an ugly story, one I’m not proud of.”
“I’ve got nowhere else to be.”
Ethan exhaled. “My team and I were protecting a high-profile witness.” He pulled back and stuffed his shaking hands in his pockets.
“He was a horrible human being, but he helped us bring down a Mafia leader. Anyway, I was feeling pretty smug after the court case and conviction. I was on top of the world. But I’d become lax, sloppy in my work. I was distracted.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself.”
“It was my fault they died.” He shook his head. “I’m to blame. I was so focused on my success and the accolades I’d received. I thought…I was invincible.” His breath caught. “I’d pushed God out of my relationship with my fiancée, stopped praying and asking for His direction.”
She raised her hand. “Been there, done that.”
“Yeah, well, big mistake.” Emotion clogged his throat. “A good friend of mine, Rob, was also on that team. We were getting ready to move the witness into the protection program. We had everything set up. New name, new identity. All of it.”
“Standard operating procedure.”
“Yeah.” He stood, pacing the small room, each pass burning off restless energy. He’d never spoken this out loud to anyone. Until Aubrey. And now that he’d started, the truth clawed to get free.
Aubrey stayed seated, watching him carefully, like she was tracking a storm only she could see forming. “You don’t have to carry it alone just because you survived it.”
He stopped and looked at her. “You want the short version?” His voice grated like tired metal.
“No.” She shook her head. “I simply want the truth.”
He exhaled once, dropped into the nearest chair, forearms braced on his knees.
“My fiancée wanted me out. Not because she knew too much about the dangers I face, but because she didn’t want to be tied to a marshal.
This life is stressful. She hated the badge, the risks, the distance it put between us.
” His jaw worked. “I thought I could fix it by loving harder. But you can’t rebuild something when only one person is still fighting for it. ”
Aubrey’s brows drew together. “And then the ambush.”
“Yeah.” His gaze hit the floor. “Autopilot that morning. Same route. Same schedule. I missed the signs. Someone else didn’t.
” He swallowed. “They hit us from the alley. Blocked us front and back. Came from all sides. Bullets everywhere.” His hands curled into fists. “I survived. Most of them didn’t.”
Silence crackled between them. All it would take was one match, one comment, and this would all blow up in his face.
“And Rob?” she asked, voice low.
He closed his eyes. “Bullet to the spine. Eighteen months of surgeries. Rehab. Paperwork. He’ll never walk again. He resigned last spring.” His throat tightened. “My error opened the door for the wrong moment to happen on the wrong road.”
Aubrey rose and crossed the room, kneeling in front of him, steady, present, fearless in the face of grief. She placed both hands lightly on his forearm. “Evil ambushed your team, Ethan. That wasn’t a decision you made.”
He blinked down at her, throat working, and then ducked his head.