The Marshal's Runaway Witness. Diane Burke

clasped her hand. “I’ll protect you with my life, Angelina. Trust me.”

      Trust him? The note. The bailiff. How could she possibly trust him?

      “How many lives are going to be lost before this is over, Dylan? Cops? Federal marshals? You? It’s hard enough for me to live with the deaths I already know about. First, our neighbor. Then, Maria. If I survive this mess and others don’t, how do you think I can live with the knowledge that other people lost their lives while trying to protect me?”

      “Your father is a powerful man, Angelina. But he isn’t God. I’m putting this in God’s hands. He has brought down the mighty before.”

      “I’m going to testify,” she assured him. “It’s what I should have done years ago. If I had done it then when I should have, Maria wouldn’t be dead. I just hope I can testify before anyone else dies.”

      “Don’t worry about other people dying. We’re all trained law enforcement officers. We’re good at our jobs. We know how to protect ourselves and we can protect you.” He crossed the room to the door. “I’m going to check with your doctor and see how soon we can move you.”

      “The sooner the better, Dylan. Every second I’m in this hospital room I am in danger and so is everyone else.”

      “Bear is right outside the door. I’ll be back as soon as I confirm a few things.”

      She nodded.

      As he turned to go she called his name and he glanced back over his shoulder.

      “I’m sorry, Dylan. I didn’t mean to... I didn’t want to hurt you.” She ended in little more than a whisper. “There were things about that night you don’t know.”

      Dylan straightened his spine and held up his palm to stop her almost as if he just couldn’t handle this conversation right now.

      “We’ll talk about it later. My job right now is to get you out of here and keep you safe.”

      Without another word, he turned and strode out of the room.

      * * *

      Dr. Thompson looked up from reading the medical file displayed on the computer terminal when Dylan approached.

      “Doctor, how soon can we safely move the patient in room 210?”

      “I’d like to keep her at least tonight for observation. We removed the bullet in her arm but the one that grazed her skull could be more serious. Another fraction of an inch and we’d be talking a totally different outcome.”

      “Doc, if I don’t get her out of here soon, tonight if possible,” Dylan insisted, “I’m afraid her good fortune might run out. Tell me what I need to know to be able to take care of her yet still leave.”

      “She probably has a mild concussion. Keep her awake and alert as much as possible. When she does doze off, wake her up often and make her speak to you.

      “She might suffer from blurred vision. Probably nausea. And I am certain she’ll have pain.” The doctor stepped over to one of the medication carts. He withdrew a card filled with pills from the cart and signed a chart before turning toward Dylan. “This will help with the nausea.” He handed him the card. “But I am against giving you prescription-strength pain medication if she isn’t here to be monitored.”

      “I understand. Isn’t there something milder than narcotics that will at least keep the edge off her pain? I’d like to keep her as comfortable as possible.”

      The doctor paused a moment and then handed him a different card. “This should help but please monitor her carefully.”

      “I will. So what do you say? Can I get her out of here?”

      “Yes. But call me if you run into problems. Better yet, if something goes wrong bring her back to the ER and page me immediately.”

      “Thanks, Doc. I appreciate it.”

      Dylan stepped away from the nurses station. He took out his cell, punched a number and wasn’t surprised when his boss answered on the first ring.

      “Well? Has she agreed to testify?” he asked without hesitation.

      “Yes. But she’s scared and I can’t say I blame her. She’s been on the run for over three years. Her best friend was killed. She was shot. She doesn’t trust anyone right now. But she’ll be all right by the time the trial begins next week.”

      “Good. Everything’s almost set on our end. I’ll text you the address of the safe house as soon as it’s confirmed. Detective Donahue has arranged for some of his men and a few state troopers to escort you. They’ll meet you on the lower level of the hospital by one of the back loading docks.”

      “Don’t think that’s a good idea, boss. I don’t need a parade of cop cars drawing unnecessary attention to us. Bear and I can handle it.”

      “Like you handled it last time?”

      An uncomfortable silence stretched across the airwaves.

      “Okay,” his boss relented. “We’ll do it your way. No troopers. No cops. I sent Marshal Selma Washington to go with you. I don’t want Angelina Baroni out of your sight. Having a female agent who can go everywhere Miss Baroni goes will guarantee we won’t lose this witness a second time.”

      “I understand, sir.” Dylan gritted his teeth but refrained from rebuttal. He deserved the dressing-down.

      “Washington is probably already at the hospital,” his boss continued. “I gave her the assignment hours ago and asked her to meet you in Baroni’s room.”

      “Fine. I’m headed back there now.”

      “Call in when you get to the safe house.”

      “Will do.”

      “And, Dylan...”

      “Sir?”

      “I don’t need to tell you how important it is to get Ms. Baroni to testify. The FBI are down my neck on this one. Along with ATF and even Homeland Security. Vincenzo Baroni has broken every federal law known to man and everybody wants in on the action. This woman has the power to bring down one of the strongest organized crime families we have seen in decades. Keep her alive and don’t let her give you the slip again.”

      “Believe me, sir, no one wants that more than me.” Dylan hung up and slid the phone back in his suit pocket. Angelina’s betrayal had done much more than ding his male pride. It had put an indelible black mark on his career and he wasn’t about to let her do it again. He’d bring her in to testify if he had to handcuff her to his left wrist and stay awake 24/7.

      A sound, a specific sound not easily mistaken for anything else, drew his attention.

       Couldn’t be.

      He froze, cocked his head to the side, and listened.

      There it was again.

      Pop! Pop!

       Gunfire!

       FOUR

      Adrenaline surged through Dylan McKnight’s body. He withdrew his weapon and pointed it toward the ceiling. His legs pounded the linoleum faster than he’d thought possible as he bolted toward Angelina’s room.

      “Move!” He skirted a patient on a walker. “Get out of my way!” He dodged a nurse pushing a wheelchair.

      In the distance, he saw a familiar figure racing toward him.

       Bear!

      A woman, probably the other marshal, matched Bear’s pace stride for stride as they sprinted forward. Angelina’s petite figure was huddled between them as they half dragged, half carried her along.