Key Witness. Christy Barritt

licked her lips, her gaze meeting her father’s. “There’s an article about me running in tomorrow’s paper. It’s a feature piece about my life and my work with my dad.” She swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. “If the robbers didn’t know who I was today, they’re going to find out soon.”

      * * *

      Denton had seen Elle’s face go from pale to even paler throughout the course of the day. But as she remembered the article, her face went stark white. The article would apparently put everything out there about her and, if the robbers saw it, they’d have all they needed to track her down.

      “You can stay with us tonight.” His father hooked his arm around her neck. “I’m sure they’ll catch these guys soon. You just lay low until then.”

      “Can you call the paper and see if they can pull it?” Denton asked.

      “I can try, but it’s late. The paper has probably already gone to press.”

      “How big of an article is it?”

      Elle shrugged. “I’m not sure. Hopefully it will be buried on the last page, right? After all, I’m not that interesting. What could they possible say about me?”

      Denton was sure a reporter could find a lot to say about the daughter of a prominent senator who was up for reelection. Elle didn’t seem like the naive type, though. Certainly she realized that, also.

      She extended her hand. “Denton, I wish I could say it was a pleasure to meet you, but under the circumstances...”

      He grasped her hand, surprised at her skin’s softness. “I understand.”

      Her father ushered her away. As soon as she was gone, Denton missed her. The woman had intelligent eyes, a courageous spirit and drop-dead gorgeous looks—petite and trim with an olive complexion, long, dark hair with just a touch of curl, and warm brown eyes. It wasn’t that he was looking for a relationship. No, he wasn’t ready for another one of those yet. But the woman was a nice distraction from the rather grueling hours he’d spent staring evil in the face.

      Right now, as she left, Denton had the urge to go with her, to be that extra set of eyes in case the robbers—killers, now—somehow tracked her down. But he didn’t know the woman well enough to simply tag along. Besides, her dad was a senator. He could afford protection if she needed it.

      An officer was waiting to take him back to his SUV, still parked in the lot at the bank. He needed to drive back to the Iron, Inc. headquarters. The organization, also known as Eyes, was an elite paramilitary security firm. They only hired the best—former special operations officers, FBI and CIA agents and other heroes of law enforcement. Denton was holding down the fort, so to speak, while his boss, Jack Sergeant, was on his honeymoon.

      Every time he thought of Jack’s marriage, his heart panged with both joy for his friend and sadness for himself. How long had it been now since Wendi passed away? Two years? Sometimes it felt like decades, and other moments it seemed like just yesterday.

      They’d been married only for three years when she was diagnosed with a brain tumor. She died two years later. They’d enjoyed every moment they had, holding on to the hope that they’d grow old and gray together. That dream didn’t happen, though.

      No one had caught his eye since Wendi. So why couldn’t he get Elle out of his mind? What was it about the woman that intrigued him so much? The last thing he wanted was a relationship. He still hadn’t gotten over the heartbreak of losing Wendi, and sometimes he doubted he ever would.

      His mind drifted to that article that Elle had mentioned. What unfortunate timing.

      Buried. Yes, he hoped that article would be buried among others, and that the robbers didn’t bother reading the newspaper. Hopefully they could simply move on from this tragedy today, and Elle would piece back together her life as it was before she watched someone she knew get fatally wounded in front of her.

      He prayed today would be the end of this nightmare. So why did he have the feeling it wasn’t?

      * * *

      Elle hadn’t even made it down the steps and to the breakfast table when her dad stopped her and held up the newspaper. There on the front page was a picture of Elle, smiling with her feet propped up on her desk and her dad’s picture on the table behind her.

      So much for the story getting buried.

      “Lovely picture, darling.” Her father kissed her cheek, but his eyes still wore a scowl. “This is great publicity careerwise, but terrible publicity in light of what happened yesterday.”

      “Did they misquote me again?”

      “If they did, they only made you sound better, if that’s possible. In fact, they made you sound quite genius. I only wish the article hadn’t come out now. I’m really quite worried.”

      She took the paper and began reading as she walked to the kitchen for her first cup of coffee. The article profiled her work for her father as campaign manager, calling her the “brains” behind his reelection campaign. It highlighted her educational accomplishments, as well as her reign as Miss Virginia. Each of the carefully plotted-out details of her life, all which had run a smooth course thus far.

      Too bad she was becoming more and more restless with each passing day. She wanted more than anything to help with her father’s reelection campaign, but a career in politics was something she was ready to put behind her.

      Elle folded the paper as her mother—who already looked picture-perfect with her dark, chin-length hair carefully styled, her makeup applied and her business-casual outfit crisp—hurried into the room with a touch-pad computer in hand.

      She squeezed Elle’s shoulder before sitting across from her. “Morning, darling.”

      “Morning, Mother.”

      She placed the computer on the table and an electronic version of Elle’s article stared up at them. “Nice article, dear. I’ve already gotten several emails about it. Bob Allen, eat your heart out if you think you’re going to win this election.”

      “Bob Allen is behind in the polls by eight percent. There’s no way he’ll beat us.”

      Her mother winked at her. “That’s the spirit.” She leaned toward her and squinted. “That’s a nasty bump on your cheek. You tried any concealer?”

      “Not yet.”

      “Be sure before your father’s debate tonight, okay?”

      The debate tonight. Elle had almost forgotten. Images of Julie at the bank yesterday had squeezed out any other thoughts. How could life go on after a tragedy like that? How could her family talk as if nothing had happened?

      She already knew the answer to that. If it didn’t involve politics, it didn’t involve her family.

      Though her parents loved her, Elle was certain that their first thought after what happened yesterday, right after her safety, was “How can we spin this to our advantage?” Such was the nature of politics.

      Elle finished breakfast and retreated to the sunroom. Work was the best distraction for her at the moment. She pulled up the email on her laptop, leaned back into the cushy wicker chair and took a sip of coffee.

      Before she could get too involved with her work, her mind drifted to Denton. She’d enjoyed chatting with him every week at the bank. It was too bad that those memories would forever be scarred. But maybe it was better that way. Denton seemed like just the kind of man she could fall for—only he was the type that she shouldn’t fall for. The type who’d only break her heart. She knew the personality of someone with his job description—they always lived for the next adventure, always looked forward to taking the next risk. She’d learned the hard way that men like that weren’t the type to commit.

      She sighed and began sorting through her messages, shooting off quick responses to several inquiries. Staying busy would be the best way to help her forget about