Hiding Jessica (2 page)

Suddenly she had no choice in the matter.

Her hands tightened instinctively on the blouse she was holding and it took effort to make them relax. She hated Les Capruccio. Hated him in ways and depths no one would ever know. She hated his silk suits, his smirking face, his bloated hands. She hated the way he looked at her, and she
abhorred
the way he’d touched her.

One late night, six months ago, she’d realized that she just couldn’t take it anymore. The pent-up anger was beyond even her control. If he touched her one more time, she would kill him.
And the blood would flow again, staining white hands, soaking into the carpet. The silent scream would sound, echoing remorselessly down shuttered corridors. And the man would fall, down, down onto the gold-patterned carpet—

The plan had come to her.

She didn’t try to explain these things to the attorney general, and she certainly didn’t explain them to the jury or to the blue-suited men. Her reasons were her own, and she was careful to keep them that way. All they ever needed to know was the evidence that put Les Capruccio away once and for all. The rest, she would guard as she had guarded it for the past eight years.

She was the Ice Angel, and she knew it.

Even now, nothing showed on her face as she folded the last of her blouses and carefully tucked it into the suitcase, smoothing the surface once, then closing the lid. As usual, two of the blue suits were playing cards at the small table. They were careful to try and give her an illusion of privacy, but it was only an illusion. She hadn’t been left alone in over five months. In the beginning, she’d tried to learn their names and had gone along with the awkward attempts at small talk. It seemed a minor concession to make if they were all more comfortable.

But after Darold had been shot, she’d stopped learning their names. Now she considered their presence purely a business arrangement. She’d made her choice and that was why she was here. They had made their choices and that was why they were here.

She owed them nothing; they owed her nothing. She clung to that one thought more than she would ever admit.

“I’m ready to go now,” she said quietly, breaking the silence. The two men looked up, their eyes resting on her briefly, then abruptly skittering away. She was used to it by now. Most men usually gawked the first time they saw her. Afterward, they tried so hard not to stare, they could barely look at her at all. These days, she found her face to be just one more of the grim ironies of life. Eight years ago, her blond looks had been her salvation. Now, they would probably put her in the grave.

How did you hide a cover girl? The blue suits really didn’t know, though they were careful not to tell her that. But she already knew the fact well enough. She’d heard the bullets that had fired the point home. And she’d seen their impact.

Now the two men stood, nodding at each other in the kind of silent conversation they learned at FBI school. One came wordlessly forward and took her small leather suitcase and matching garment bag. Knowing the drill by now, Jessica stepped forward until she was between the two men. The front man—was his name Bill? Bob? she didn’t remember and she didn’t care—rapped on the inside of the door three times. After a minute, an answering rap came back, signaling the car was ready and all was clear. Only then did the man unlock and open the door. In a controlled rush, they moved her to the sedan.

Minutes later, they were pulling away, a small three-vehicle convoy. Keeping to her side of the plush leather seats, and protected now by the dark-tinted, bulletproof glass, Jessica could finally gaze out at the white-blanketed hills of Western Massachusetts. It was really a beautiful winter’s day, she thought vaguely. Much too beautiful for blue suits that concealed black guns and dark sedans that carried grim arsenals.

After all these exhausting months of jumping from hotel to hotel, they were now taking her to some remote New Hampshire hideout, where some hotshot man would begin training her on her new identity. They trusted this man so much, only a few of the blue suits would remain behind, and they would serve only as lookouts. Mostly, she would deal with just this man.

She didn’t really care, she decided. One man, three men, it didn’t matter. They were only people doing their jobs, and no matter how good they were, sooner or later they would move on to other assignments. Then it would be just her, living some lie built upon another lie. Until some day she did walk in front of her new windows, until some day she did answer the front door by herself. The newspapers would carry the final headline. Quiet Schoolteacher Senselessly Shot Down On Her Own Doorstep.

Jessica looked down and realized for the first time that her hands were shaking. She focused on them, her blue eyes narrowing slightly in concentration as abruptly, the shaking stopped. Now her hands lay quiet and still on her lap. Better.

She was a survivor, she reminded herself now as she looked at her smooth, white hands. More so than anyone would ever know. She’d started over before, she’d start over again. Probably someday, Les would find her, simply because he wouldn’t rest until he did. But she wouldn’t go down without a fight. If anything else, she’d learned that lesson in the past year and a half. This time, she would not be intimidated. Why should she? she thought grimly. She’d beat the mobster on his very own game, and made him pay a far bigger price than he’d ever imagined.

She didn’t need these men in their look-alike suits. And she certainly didn’t need any hotshot in New Hampshire. She didn’t really trust any of them anyway. She knew what greed could do to men, knew how easy it was to corrupt. She even knew the effect her looks had on men. She would be better off on her own.

Soon. She didn’t have to trust the man in New Hampshire—just knowing she would finally be allowed a room to herself was enough. A little time on her own was all she needed. One night with no one watching.

Soon. Very soon.

Once more her eyes turned to the window, once more they settled on the white winter hills, rolling so smoothly by. And once more, not a single expression on her beautifully sculpted face gave her away.

* * *

Mitch had been waiting nearly half an hour by the time the sedans finally pulled up. He looked at them with something akin to disgust. He believed very strongly in the Witness Protection Program, and he believed very strongly in the men and women who worked so hard to keep the witnesses safe. But for crying out loud, who drove three dark sedans to a remote wilderness retreat in New Hampshire? They might as well stamp FBI in a huge target on the trunk.

This, of course, was why they used him so much. While he’d once been an agent, he’d never been good at conforming. Now, as an independent specialist to the Witness Protection Program, he was free from all the “procedures” he often considered more of a liability than a help to participants.

Soon the sedans would be gone, and he would pull out the four-wheel-drive Blazer that was much more appropriate for the situation. Of course he’d still have to convince the remaining two agents to give up their suits. What could be more conspicuous than tailored suits in the middle of nowhere?

He shook his head as the sedan doors finally opened. The team leader stepped out first, walking over to Mitch. Each nodded at each other in greeting, reciting their appropriate sentences for identity clearance. Mitch signaled that the location was secured and the agent then returned to the first sedan. At his indication, the other agents piled out of the cars. When everyone was in place, they opened the door for the woman.

She stepped out of the sedan gracefully, though she declined the agent’s offered hand. With the white silk scarf wrapped around her head, it was impossible to see her features. But he had only to watch her walk to know that she was a model.

Today she was wearing a white traveling suit. As she stepped forward, the thin fabric moved with her, revealing the long, lean lines of a model’s legs before falling back into place. In the thin fabric, she should be freezing. But she didn’t even tremble as she moved forward.

Behind her sunglasses, he could feel her eyes raking him up and down. With an almost imperceptible move of her head, she glanced away, dismissing him as sharply as with a slap. He couldn’t quite stop himself from raising a sharp eyebrow. So she was still the Ice Angel, was she? They would see about that.

Walking around in a small circle, as if to take in her surroundings, Jessica worked on controlling her breathing. That man, that man. Surely he wasn’t the hotshot everyone had been talking about? Surely they weren’t going to leave her alone for two weeks with him?

He dressed wrong, she thought abruptly. He was supposed to be wearing a generic blue suit—didn’t he know that? Not some lumberjack green plaid under a sheepskin coat, and faded jeans that clung to his form. And he was too big besides. At least six-four, but even worse, he looked strong, powerful. The dark hair didn’t help, either, and he wore it too long, the back brushing the top of his shoulders.

He looked too much like a man. A very strong man. She didn’t like it. She wanted the generic suits back.

Abruptly she froze the thought, focusing on a tree just three feet away. There, the faint form of a gray squirrel nibbled on some small nut it had the rare privilege of finding this time of year. Jessica focused on the squirrel, spiraling her concentration inward until she found the control she was known for. Only then did she turn around.

Moving back to the circle of blue suits, she took off her sunglasses and unwrapped the scarf from her head, letting it settle on her shoulders instead. Vaguely, she was aware of the men’s sharp glances. They should look, she thought intently. The white of the suit accentuated the pale gold highlights of her hair, which was pulled back into an elegant French twist. And her mascara, sparingly applied this morning, was still enough to frame the brilliant blue depths of her eyes. The suit, of course, with its exquisitely tailored lines, followed the flow of her long lean body to perfection. She knew the picture she presented, all right, and she used it. The more men were enraptured with the package, the less they asked about the contents.

She strolled leisurely forward, putting on her best presence.

“It certainly is beautiful here,” she remarked, a rare comment that startled at least two of the men. Unfortunately, it was
that
man who chose to reply.

“Yes,” Mitch answered in a deep, husky voice that sounded faintly amused, “and you can be sure it’s safe, as well.” He’d been watching her sudden unveiling before the gathered group, and it had struck him at once what she was doing. Something was on the Ice Angel’s mind. In a minute, he figured they would all find out just what.

She turned to him, and even he had to admit she was beautiful. But there was a coldness to her looks, a tight control that kept them from impacting him. He much preferred the small, laughing faces of easygoing brunettes.

“And you are...?” she asked in a slightly imperious voice.

“Mitchell Guiness,” he replied easily. He held out his hand, but she refused it.

“And you are the one that will be in charge of this area?”

He nodded.

She peered at him intently, and he could almost see the wheels turning in her mind. Abruptly it hit him. She didn’t like him. For whatever reason, she did not like him. Slightly surprised, he found that it bothered him.

“How long have you been doing this, Mr. Guiness?” she asked now.

“Five years,” he responded levelly. He gave her a wry smile. “Would you like to see a copy of my résumé?”

She ignored the last retort, focusing instead on the first. “And before those five years?”

“I was an agent.”

“What made you quit being an agent?”

His face tightened slightly, the question hitting sensitive ground. Not that she could know that, he reminded himself.

“I wanted to expand my horizons,” he said coolly.

She turned away. “This won’t work,” she said abruptly to Bill, who was the team leader. “Given the last two attempts on my life, I don’t feel sequestering me in one place for two weeks with only this man and two other agents will be adequate protection. I would like a new plan, please.”

Bill opened his mouth to reply, but Mitch cut him off before he had a chance.

“This isn’t a vacation package,” Mitch informed her tightly. “You can’t simply pick and choose different options. While I appreciate your concerns, they’re unfounded. I happen to be an expert in this area, sweetheart. If anyone can keep you alive, it’s me. Trust me.”

For one small instant, her features froze. Then she looked back at Bill, who was standing stiffly at attention.

“I want a second opinion,” she said pointedly.

“Mitchell Guiness is the best,” Bill said clearly. “You will be safe here.”

She almost laughed at that, but after all these years her control was much too good.
“Trust us. You will be safe. Trust us.”

“Don’t you trust me, sweetheart? Come on, trust—”

The words came out of nowhere, fragments of a memory that abruptly penetrated her mind. She couldn’t help herself; she had to close her eyes. Then the memory was gone, safely tucked back away in the deep dark place she never allowed herself to go. Her eyes opened, and once more she was standing in the middle of a white forest with men in blue suits and one man who even now was watching her.

“I’ll get my bags, then,” she said quietly. They weren’t going to change their minds, and she had no good grounds for argument that she cared to share. Her earlier thought returned to her. It didn’t matter if she trusted the man, just as long as she finally got one night alone.

Moving as sure and controlled as before, she went to the trunk and withdrew her two bags. Two blue suits moved to help her, but she turned them away with the tight look on her face.

“If you could show me my room, then,” she said, keeping her eyes away from the one man, “I would like to freshen up now.”

Mitch nodded. There was a slight delay while he conferred with the other agents. Then, four of the blue suits returned to two sedans and drove off. That just left her, Mitch, the team leader Bill, and one more man who’d probably been introduced to her but whose name she didn’t remember. Mitch said a few more things to the men, gesturing at the sedan, then their suits. Abruptly he walked back over to her.