Chapter 5
Five
This was either her smartest plan yet or…
Or colossally stupid.
The conference room smelled like stale coffee and dry-erase markers. Friday-morning light streamed through windows facing the parking lot. The table stretched long with mismatched chairs around it.
Daphne stood at the head. Laptop open. Presentation ready.
Asher Morrison sat three chairs down, looking tough. He hadn’t shaved, so that added to his aura. And with the bandage on his arm visible under his rolled sleeve, his hand gripping his coffee cup, so much seriousness in his dark eyes…
Okay, maybe it wasn’t a terrible idea. Maybe they could indeed pull it off.
Special Agent Dani Kim sat across from him. Bright. Energetic despite the early hour.
Patterson—Asher’s handler—stood near the door. Tall, with a sort of Pierce Brosnan air about him, solemn, arms crossed. Assessing her.
She felt weirdly unclothed.
“Thank you for coming,” Daphne said. “Roger Rousseau is being released at two p.m. today. We have five hours to coordinate extraction and relocation to a safe house.”
Dani leaned forward. “You have a location?”
“I do.” Daphne clicked to the first slide. “Aspen Ridges Estates. Fifty-five-and-older active adult community. Highway 40. Ten miles outside Renegade.”
Silence.
Then Dani. “A retirement community?”
“Yes.”
“You want to hide federal witnesses in a retirement community.” Patterson.
“I want to hide them in plain sight. Gated entrance. Private security. All residents are older adults. Destiny fits the demographic. No one will question her presence. Or her son’s.”
Patterson spoke again from the door. “What’s the cover story?”
“Destiny Morrison and her son, Roger, moved to Colorado for health reasons. Roger recently had surgery and needs a quiet recovery location. Their faces hadn’t made the national cycle—only Colorado society pages, and that wasn’t the demographic here.
” Daphne clicked to the next slide. Floor plan of the rental house.
“I talked with the director. They have a rental open—two bedrooms and a loft. Two baths. Attached garage. End unit with privacy fence.”
“Morrison,” Asher said. “That’s my last name.”
“Yes.”
“So they’re…?”
“Your parents. Mother and stepbrother.” Daphne met his eyes. “You and I are the married couple helping them relocate and get settled.”
The room went quiet.
Asher’s expression didn’t change, but something flickered in those gray-green eyes. “You want us to pose as married,” he said.
“I want us to provide a believable cover story that explains our presence and theirs. Married couple helping aging parent provides that.”
“For how long?”
“Four weeks, until the trial.”
Dani looked between them. “So you’re going to pose as a married couple despite having no established relationship or rapport.”
“We’ll establish it quickly.”
“How quickly?”
“We have a three-hour drive to pick up Destiny and return here for Roger’s release. That’s enough time to coordinate our cover story,” Daphne said.
Patterson pushed off from the wall. “This is risky.”
“Federal safe houses are compromised. Martha Lintz proved that—protection isn’t a guarantee. This is off-grid. Private. No federal oversight.”
“No federal protection either,” Asher said.
She frowned at him, turned back to Patterson. “I’m the protection.” Daphne’s voice stayed level. “That’s why you brought me in.”
Asher’s mouth quirked slightly. Almost a smile.
Daphne held Patterson’s gaze. “Roger and Destiny need protection starting in five hours, and this is the best option we have.”
Patterson looked at Asher. “Can you pull this off?”
“Playing married?” Asher’s gaze didn’t move off hers. “I think I can tough it out.”
She raised an eyebrow.
Dani raised her hand slightly. “Question. How are you getting Destiny? She’s in protective custody at an undisclosed location.”
“Patterson will coordinate her release and transport to the meeting point. We’ll pick her up there. Bring her directly to Aspen Ridge. Roger gets released at two. We bring him straight from the prison hospital to the community. They reunite at the house.”
“And if syndicate surveillance spots the extraction?”
“They’ll see a married couple picking up an elderly mother and father. Nothing suspicious.”
“Unless they recognize Roger.”
“Roger will be in the back seat. Hat. Sunglasses. A post-surgery patient being careful about sun exposure. Believable.”
Dani made notes. “What about supplies? They’ll need clothes, medications, personal items.”
“Food,” Asher added.
“I’ve arranged for a delivery to the house before we get there. It’s part of the move-in package at the community.”
“Communications?”
“Burner phones. Check-ins through secure channels only.”
“Medical needs?”
“Roger’s actual health is fine. Cover story says recent surgery. If he needs real medical attention, I’ll coordinate privately.”
Dani looked up. “You’ve thought this through.”
“It’s what I do.”
“And if Draven Frost figures out the location?”
The question hung in the air.
Daphne felt Asher’s eyes on her. Reading. Assessing. Waiting for her answer.
Did she trust him?
No.
Did she have a choice?
Also no.
Daphne’s chest tightened. “Then we have bigger problems than safe-house logistics.”
Patterson’s expression hardened. But he nodded. “Fine. You have five hours. Don’t waste them.”
He walked out.
The other agents filed after him.
Dani stood. Gathered her notebook. Paused beside Daphne. “For what it’s worth? The plan is solid. Hiding in plain sight usually works better than bunkers.” She glanced at Asher. “And if you’re going to fake marry someone, at least he’s easy on the eyes.” She winked at Asher.
She left before Daphne could respond.
The door closed.
Silence filled the conference room.
Asher took a sip of coffee. Grimaced. Set it down. “Well. That went better than expected.”
“Did it?”
“Patterson didn’t shut it down. Dani thinks I’m attractive.” He leaned back. “So, I just have one question.”
“Shoot.”
“What are our pet names?”
Daphne gave him a look. “Can you do this?”
“Play your husband?” Asher stood. Stretched, the movement pulling his shirt tight across his shoulders. “I can play whatever role keeps witnesses alive.”
The words landed heavier than they should have.
Daphne picked up her laptop. “We need to leave in ten minutes. Meet me in the parking lot.”
“Daphne.”
She stopped. Looked at him.
He crossed to her, met her gaze, lowered his voice. “This is a good plan. It’s going to work.” Then he winked and headed toward the door.
Oh boy.
Ten minutes later, Daphne sat in her rental SUV with the engine running and the heat blasting against November cold.
Asher climbed into the passenger seat. Brought cold air and the smell of fresh coffee with him. Two travel mugs in hand, he offered her one.
“Peace offering,” he said. “Sweetie.”
“Nope, not that.”
“Honey?”
“Just Daphne will do.”
“Not even a little, snuggle muffin.” He buckled his seatbelt. “Where are we going?”
“North. About forty minutes. Somewhere off Highway 85. Patterson has her waiting for us.”
“That’s the opposite direction from Aspen Ridge.”
“I know. We pick up Destiny. Drive back through Renegade. Collect Roger at prison medical at two. Take them both to Aspen Ridge together.”
“Three hours of driving with federal witnesses in the car.”
“Yes.”
“That’s a lot of exposure time.”
“It’s unavoidable.”
Asher was quiet for a moment. “We need to get our stories straight.”
“I know.”
“When do you want to do that?”
“Now. While we drive.” Daphne pulled out of the parking lot. Headed north. “We have forty minutes. That’s enough.”
“To build a convincing marriage?”
“To build the basics of one.”
“Wow, you’re romantic.”
She glanced at him. “This isn’t romance,” she said. “This is us doing our job.”
“You’re no fun at all.” He smiled. “Sugarplum.”
“You can stop anytime.”
He laughed, that low, dangerous rumble.
They drove in silence for a few minutes, the highway stretching ahead. The mountains rose in the distance, rugged under a clear blue November sky.
“So,” he said finally. “How long have we been married?”
“One year.”
“Anniversary date?”
“November second.”
“That’s last week,” he said.
“Happy anniversary.”
“I feel gypped. No trip to the Bahamas.”
“We work hard, what can we say?” She changed lanes. Passed a semi.
“Where did we get married?” he asked.
“Denver. Small ceremony. Just family.”
“Your family being…?”
Oh. She just shook her head. “Okay, maybe we eloped.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Fine. I’m good with eloping.”
“Courthouse wedding. Just us and a judge,” she said.
“Romantic.”
“That’s me.”
“If you say so, cupcake. Now, how did we meet?”
“Why do I have to do all the heavy lifting?”
“It’s your fantasy.”
“It’s not—”
He was smirking.
“Fine. We met at work. FBI and Marshals Service joint training. Three years ago.”
“No. Too many follow-up questions.”
“Fair,” she said. “So what do you do for a living?”
“I dunno. I sell Teslas. Or maybe I’m a realtor.”
She laughed. “No one will buy that.”
“Then what?”
“Um. Construction worker?”
He cocked his head at her. “I strike you as a guy who wields a hammer?”
“It’s the boots.”
He looked at them. “What’s wrong with my boots?”
“They’re very…steel toe and hard hat.”
“Fine. I’m a contractor. We met while I was remodeling your house. You can’t resist a guy who looks good in steel toes, kept coming up with extra jobs for me until I finally got the hint and asked you on a date.”
Daphne glanced at him. “No one will buy that either.”
“They will once I show them my steel toes.” He waggled his eyebrows.
She huffed a laugh, turned back to the road. “We met while you were remodeling my house. End of story. Where do we live?”
“Well, we can’t live here.”
“Seattle. Keep it simple, right?”
“You’re from Seattle?”
“Yes. Okay, maybe I’ll be a travel agent. Quiet job. Lots of paperwork nobody wants to verify.”
“Do we want kids?”
She stilled, and for some reason, heat climbed up her neck. “Kids?”
“Small humans. Destined to cost us millions and break our hearts.”
“No. No kids.”
Silence.
Daphne glanced over. Asher stared out the window, profile sharp against gray sky.