The Marshal's Runaway Witness. Diane Burke

      Dylan’s voice penetrated her consciousness. He’d misinterpreted her moan for pain. Well, it was pain. But it was so much more—fear, grief, uncertainty.

       Please, please don’t let anyone else die.

      She couldn’t help offering the prayer even though she truly believed God didn’t listen to her anymore. Maybe this time He would. For these men if not for her.

      She thought back to the night three years ago when she’d deceived Dylan. Funny thing, the mind. Here she was being shot at by mobsters and being dragged down corridors and all her mind wanted to think about was Dylan.

      They’d gotten close...much closer than either of them had expected. Dylan had done his best to be professional and keep his personal feelings out of it. He’d even made jokes that it was nothing more than physical attraction blossoming between them and they needed to ignore it.

      But she knew it had been more.

      She’d touched his heart. She saw it in his eyes when he looked at her. She felt it in the warmth of his touch, a touch lasting a moment longer than it should. She heard it in the gentle huskiness of his voice when he spoke to her.

      And she’d exploited those feelings.

      A twinge of shame and regret hit her conscience. How could she have hurt him like that? Particularly when she hadn’t been sure he had deceived her. His current actions made her more certain than ever that she’d misjudged him.

      Now it was worse. Those gentle feelings she’d seen in his eyes years ago were replaced with anger, mistrust and pain. Yet here he was putting his life on the line to protect her, again. He was probably going to get himself killed. And it was all her fault.

      “There they are!” Male voices at the distant end of the corridor rang out and were quickly following by the sound of feet pounding the floor.

      “If you’ve ever said a prayer, man, this would be a good time to do it,” Bear yelled to Dylan. Then he slammed the palm of his hand against the back door. “Be there. Be there. Be there.”

      The three of them paused on the loading dock, acclimating themselves to the darkness and to their surroundings.

      “Hurry! Over here!” Selma’s crisp, tense voice carried in the cool autumn air.

      Angelina’s body took another heavy jolt as the men sprang into action, lifted her feet off the ground, and ran with her bouncing between them toward the dark sedan barely visible in the poorly lit drive. The severe jarring motion made every muscle in her body scream in protest.

      Her stomach roiled and it took all her strength to remain conscious.

      Bear pulled open the back passenger door and dived in. He reached out his hand to pull her in after him. Dylan brought up the rear.

      Angelina squinted as the bright light of the car interior hit her eyes, sending shafts of fresh pain through her eyes.

      The sound of a bullet hitting metal made Dylan push her into the backseat. Her face mashed against Bear’s chest. She could hear his voice reverberate against her ear as he yelled to Selma.

      “Go! Go! Get out of here! Now!”

      Sandwiched between Dylan and Bear, Angelina heard the car tires squeal before Dylan had even closed the back door.

      Another bullet on metal. Then another.

      “Stay down!” Dylan ordered, shoving her head deeper into Bear’s chest as his large, ungainly partner sprawled half on and half off the backseat. Why was God letting this happen? Why wasn’t He bringing her father to justice before more innocent people got hurt?

      The car swayed to the right. Then Selma took a sharp turn to the left.

      Angelina grabbed hold of Bear’s shirt and tried to steady herself and not crash backward into Dylan.

      Selma made another right-hand turn, this time down a backstreet. Angelina was certain they did it on two tires, not four, before the car banked sharply back to the left. They cut through an industrial park parking lot.

      “I think you lost them. I don’t think they were able to grab a car in time to follow us.” Dylan, gun drawn, his back pressed against the back of the driver’s seat and his knee digging painfully into Angelina’s side as he balanced himself on the seat, pointed his weapon at the rear window.

      “Where are we going?” Selma called from the front.

      “Just get us out of here,” Dylan yelled. “We’ll figure it out when we’re not dodging bullets.”

      “Roger that.”

      All three of them were thrown together as Selma hit the accelerator and took another sharp turn.

      Angelina couldn’t tolerate the pain in her head another second. Her blurred vision quickly became a sheet of black. She gave up the fight and slid into the welcome darkness.

      * * *

      “Angelina!” Dylan pulled her into his arms and cradled her head against his chest. “Open your eyes. Stay with us. C’mon, open those eyes.” His heart pounded and the pulse in his temple throbbed. She had to be okay. She had to be.

      He gently shook her. “Angelina. C’mon. Open your eyes.”

      “Maybe we ought to take her back to the hospital.” Bear’s solemn stare almost made Dylan lose it. His partner never would suggest taking her back into danger unless he thought she was going to die.

      She wasn’t going to die. Not here. Not now. He wouldn’t allow the thought to enter his mind.

       C’mon, Lord. I need You now. Please, Lord.

      Angelina’s eyelids fluttered.

      “That’s a girl.” Relief coated Dylan’s every word.

      A little more fluttering and then Angelina opened her eyes and stared back at him. He’d never been more grateful for anything.

      “Good girl! Now take some deep breaths. Inhale through your nose. C’mon, Angelina. Breathe in. That’s a girl. Now purse your lips and blow out slowly. Good girl. Now do it again. Nice and slow. Again.”

      “My head.” She lifted her fingers to touch her temple. “The pain...”

      “I know. I’m sorry. Here.” He placed two pills in her hand. “The doctor gave me these. Take them. They should help. I just need you to hang in there a little bit longer. Can you do that for us?”

      Selma reached over the front seat and handed back a bottle of water.

      Angelina started to nod but stopped instantly and grimaced. Her fingers moved to her mouth. “I’m going to be sick.”

      “I’ve got something for that, too.” He handed her the antinausea pills. “Just a little longer, Angelina. We’re almost there.”

      “Where?” Selma stage-whispered from the front seat. “You never did tell me where I’m supposed to be driving.”

      “I don’t know.” Dylan raised his head and looked out the back window. They’d pulled into an alley when Angelina had lost consciousness. “Have we lost them?”

      “I think so.” Bear slid his gun back into his shoulder holster. “I haven’t seen anyone for a while now.”

      Dylan returned his attention to the woman sprawled on the backseat. “That’s it. Slow, deep breaths. Keep your eyes open. Just listen to my voice and blow the breath out slowly. In. Out. There you go.”

      He tapped the driver’s headrest. “Just drive, Selma. Give us a few minutes to figure this out.”

      She nodded and turned the key in the ignition.

      Dylan gathered Angelina in his arms. He held her tightly in the confined space in an attempt to steady her as much as possible as Selma pulled out of the