Chapter 4
JESSE
“So, when you said you’d have me out of here by Christmas, you really meant right up to the very day,” I said, adjusting my collar.
“It’s Christmas Eve, Jess. An entire day early by my calculations,” Trent said, grinning.
The smile didn’t reach his eyes, but I’d guess that was down to the last-minute wrangling he’d had to do to ensure my release.
The man had worked his magic, though, and I was a few signed documents away from freedom.
I knew I was in the clear because Trent had brought the suitcase full of clothes I’d left with him, and I was already out of my prison uniform and into my favorite outfit: slouchy high-end jeans, heavy boots, a white T-shirt, and a draping overcoat with a heavy chain.
My dad always made fun of my look, but in this moment, the quality fabric and not-yet-out-of-date style went a long way toward making me feel like a human being.
Something I hadn’t felt like in over a year.
I’d gone quiet and worry darkened Trent’s eyes. He touched my shoulder. “I am sorry for the delays. Keeping you safe is a bit trickier than anyone realized it would be.”
That’s the fucking understatement of the year, I thought, rubbing the fresh bruise on my jaw.
I hadn’t been privy to all the details, but they’d had to switch the location of my new life a few times.
Eventually, it was determined that staying in Texas long-term wasn’t an option, but I had no clue where I would be going.
A lot was said in the things no one was willing to talk about. It was clear my father was onto the deal I’d made with the government because I’d had to be transferred to another facility across the state—again—after being targeted by every group willing to take a bribe from my family.
I already had to teach a few people a lesson in this newest location, which was not a good sign. Neither was the fact that my planned noon exit had been pushed up to five a.m.
Trent glanced at the purple shadow on my jaw, noticing it for the first time. “You okay?”
“Eh. Tweaky asshole clocked me, but I broke his eye socket in two places. Call it even.”
Trent’s jaw sharpened. “You’re going to a brand-new safe house tonight. Never been used, so no one knows it even exists. Then, the day after Christmas, you’ll be transferred to your final location.”
“Do you know where it’ll be?”
He shook his head. “All I know is that they have you flying out of San Antonio.”
“If that’s what they told you, then it’ll be anywhere but San Antonio.”
“Agreed.”
The checkout process took for fucking ever, of course, but I wasn’t about to complain. Trent kept quiet the whole time, which did kinda freak me out.
“You don’t seem happy,” I finally said as I signed the last piece of paper.
“Shut up,” he said, gathering his folders and shuffling them into his briefcase.
“What?” I asked, knocking my shoulder into his.
“Look.” He let out a small chuckle, shaking his head as if what he had to say was against his better judgment. “Don’t hold this against me, but I’m gonna miss you.”
That gave me pause. I’d known Trent for a long time, and he’d stuck with me through transfer after transfer, working the best deal he could get with the government, and it just occurred to me that I’d never see him again.
He must’ve seen something in my expression because he started shaking his head. “Don’t you start, man.”
I shot him the finger for old time’s sake, and it broke the heavy feeling.
“Fucker.”
Trent walked beside me quietly as the correctional officers handed me over to two very large, very capable-looking Texas Rangers in civilian clothes, standing by a blacked-out SUV with unmarked plates.
“Damn. This is like Uber Black for rats,” I joked.
Trent looked off to the side, and I rolled my eyes.
“Oh, come on, man. Don’t get all misty on me.”
Trent blew out a trying-to-look-annoyed breath, then raised his brows. “Will you break one of my ribs if I give you a hug?”
I grin. “Not at all. Bring it in, brother,” I said, opening my arms wide.
We hugged, and he kissed my cheek. Odd, but nice.
“I trust these guys,” he whispered before letting me go, “but keep your head on a swivel.”
I winked, releasing him. “You know me.”
“Like a cockroach,” he retorted, his voice husky. “Couldn’t get rid of you if I tried.”
Struggling to keep myself in check, I patted his shoulder. “Now get out of here and have a good life.”
“Will do.”
We parted ways, and I looked up at the massive Ranger, dressed head-to-toe in properly starched Western wear, patiently waiting for me.
“Sorry if I fucked up your Christmas plans.”
“You didn’t ruin anything. You saved him from a frozen-dinner Christmas and me from my mother-in-law’s horrifying fruitcake.”
This was accompanied by a warm grin, something I hadn’t seen in a while. The Ranger, wearing an A&M jersey and worn-in jeans, shivered as he put my suitcase in the back.
“The fruit cake is that bad, huh?”
They shared a knowing look, and the guy in the cowboy hat nodded significantly. “Diabolical,” he joked, opening the back door for me as the other Ranger made his way to the front of the SUV.
“By the way, I’m Arnold.” Thumbing a gesture at his partner, he continued, “And this silent asshole is Coates.”
Coates upnodded me, then got into the passenger seat.
Grinning, I told him, “You know this is the first time I’ve gotten into the back of a police vehicle without handcuffs on?”
“I can put them on if you’d like,” Arnold cracked, his good mood infectious. “But we’ve got a long drive ahead of us.”
“Nah, I’m good. Thanks…Arnold.”
He tipped his cowboy hat at me, then made quick work of getting behind the wheel. As much of a slog as the paperwork had been, this part seemed to go almost too fast. I turned and sent a wave to Trent out the back window.
He carried worry in the uneven set of his shoulders, and I hoped he was just being paranoid.
Probably not.
This facility was out in the Chihuahuan Desert, so wherever we were going, it was going to take the entire day to get there.
“Can you tell me where we’re going now?” I asked when Arnold turned south on I-10, George Strait playing softly on the radio.
“The safe house is in the Highland Lakes area.”
“Fancy,” I said, pleasantly surprised. I’d assumed we’d be staying in some bayou outside of Houston, or maybe a small hovel in the Valley.
“Your lawyer tell you this is a new safe house?” Arnold asked, finding me in the rearview.
I sent him a nod. “We get to break it in.”
“Please don’t break anything,” he joked.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I said, plucking at my clothes, wondering what my life would look like a month from now.
The last text I’d received from Kyler before I had to toss my burner was an old-school spreadsheet of all the locations Detective Rafferty had been in the last few months.
Rafferty had returned to a place on Lake Buchanan several times, mostly on weekends.
He’d spent Thanksgiving out there, it seemed, and I was curious if that was where he was going for Christmas.
If so, we’d be within mere miles of each other for the holiday.
It was tempting—so fucking tempting—to see if I could slip out somehow.
If I’d had less attentive officers on duty, maybe.
But something told me that wouldn’t work with these two.
It was enough to know he was out here, though, and that at any time, the second I had freedom, I could give the good detective a visit.
“That’s bullshit,” growled Ranger Coates, his first words of the trip. Before I could ask, he turned up the radio station.
“We’ve got a freeze and possible snow warning out for the Highland Lakes area, folks,” announced the chipper radio host. “Probably just a light dusting, but take the usual precautions and keep your fingers crossed for a white Christmas.”
The three of us looked outside and laughed. We were still deep in West Texas, and the temperature was in the seventies.
“Time to bust out the parkas, gentlemen,” I joked.
Arnold rolled his eyes at me in the rearview. “I’ll get right on that.”
Coates lowered the radio, and I settled in the back, wondering what Rafferty was doing right now as Arnold and Coates quietly discussed alternate Christmas plans.
It sounded like Arnold was trying to set up Coates with his sister-in-law, but Coates was hesitant, given the fruitcake situation. Funny.
I hadn’t gotten any sleep the night before, too anxious, worried that the deal would be ripped out from under me before I had a chance to breathe free air. But now, here I was, officially in protective custody. Officially out of jail. Officially starting a life away from my family.
I took a few deep breaths, trying to let the niggling anxiety recede to the background. After a while, the officers’ quiet conversation and the rhythm of the road lulled me to sleep.
“Shit!” Coates cursed, the sound of skidding tires filling the SUV.
My eyes snapped open. I was confused by the chill in the air and the darkened skies, but before I could form a question…impact.
I was rocked by the side impact airbags, deafened by screeching metal, and disoriented by the car sliding on the road.
Why are we sliding?
“He rammed into us on purpose,” Arnold said through gritted teeth as Coates grabbed the radio and started sending out a distress call.
“Smoke,” I said, waving away the white cloud.
“Airbags,” Coates called out, sweeping a look over me before returning to the radio. “Rangers Coates and Speigel, carrying protectee Jesse Travis. Our transport has come under attack. Repeat, we are under attack.”
“Ranger, where are you located?” asked the tinny voice as Arnold swerved to avoid another hit.
“Buchanan Dam. Icy conditions. Very dangerous.”
Icy conditions? I looked out the front window, the world spinning, shocked by the gray landscape.
Another impact, rear corner, this one sending the car fishtailing as Arnold tried to stay on the road, but we were going too fast and hit the guardrail at full speed.