Marked By Desire - The Complete Series, page 10
“Look at yourself. You’re already out of hand!” Calloway rose up out of his chair, placing both of his thick hands flat on the desktop. “You know how dangerous it is to get close to a witness. To get attached.”
“I’m not—” Luke began to argue, but Calloway wasn’t having it.
“It’s not just dangerous for you, either,” Calloway pointed out, ignoring Luke’s protests. “You put that girl at risk every time you do things like forget procedure, or think you can handle things on your own—and don’t give me any bullshit about that not happening. I know you too well.”
Luke grew silent. The last thing he wanted to do was admit that maybe Calloway had a point, but he couldn’t help it. He knew how making things personal could put people at risk. Suddenly, you didn’t want to leave them alone and end up being what the bad guy can track. And Luke knew by the way she felt in his hands that he was definitely making this personal.
“Look,” Calloway said with a sigh, sitting back down. “I know you’re worried, but Agent Gabriel is good. She’ll keep a close eye on your girl and in the meantime, we’ll catch the guy.”
Choosing not to comment further on that, Luke took a seat finally. “Do we have any idea how he found her?”
“Told you,” Calloway answered, leaning back in his chair. “Some paperwork slip-up. We’ve limited the number of eyes looking at the case this time, so it won’t happen again.”
The man paused before continuing. “Meanwhile, Blake, you should take some time out. Get your head out of the game for a bit, take a break.”
“No, no way Robert. I’ll stay away from Hannah, but that doesn’t mean the case is solved. I can check into the Borteli connection from here.”
“I’m less convinced there is a connection anymore, Luke, and it wasn’t a suggestion. Take some time off. You’ll feel better for it, and we’ll make sure Ms. Mitchell is safe.”
Fuming, Luke resisted the urge to protest and thought for a moment. “I don’t think it’s that simple,” he said finally, but he knew Calloway had made up his mind. Even so, there had to be something more going on here. Frank’s words from just after the attack echoed in his brain. Someone had called them away, a blocked number, yet they knew exactly who they were calling and who the witness was that Frank was protecting. No, protesting further wouldn’t help the situation. All it meant was that the agency would become more involved in keeping him away from anything to do with this case. He’d take a break, and he knew exactly where he was going.
There was an adjustment period, but Hannah found it wasn’t as long as the last one. She took her new handler, advice and spent her first couple of days resting. The bruises on her neck had turned that purple color with the awful yellowing around them, but they didn’t hurt as bad as that first day.
On her third day in her Columbus apartment, she decided it was time to get out and look around. Caroline had given her a call about some possible job locations. Hannah didn’t like the idea of getting a job, purely for the fact that it said to her a more permanent stay, but she promised she would take a look at some of the places. They were all local and within walking distance or near a bus stop. And she knew that wherever she was, Frank and Walter weren’t far behind.
Standing in the mirror, she tried to dab make-up on gently enough that her neck didn’t protest. This was the third layer she was adding and while it covered most of the bruising, someone looking too closely would know that her make-up was hiding something.
Giving up trying to cover the rest, Hannah went to her almost empty closet to get dressed.
Caroline had given Hannah a bag that contained everything new about Hannah. New ID with a new name, new clothes, even new shower stuff. Although her new handler had claimed to have tried to give her clothing she would like, she found that few of the things really fit her style.
A couple of skirts, that came about down to her knees in dark greens and blacks or grays, but two of them were a tight fit and one was tweed. There were also some shirts thrown in there: tightly fit with sleeves that came past her elbows in white, black, and a checkered pattern of varying grays. The woman’s taste was clearly very different and it made Hannah wonder just what her handler thought her style was. It was a little more ‘career’ than she was in Hannah’s opinion, but she wouldn’t complain right now.
“This is only temporary after all,” she reminded herself.
The worst part was the shoes. Gone were her sandals. In had come these black, boring pumps. She groaned and tried to dress herself without looking ridiculous.
She settled on the long, tight green skirt and the white shirt. Maybe she did need a job, if only to make enough money to buy something that wasn’t awful.
Grabbing some of the essentials, a purse with some cash and a new identity, she headed towards the door. She rummaged through the purse to find her key, coming across her new life. She examined the identification card. Her picture—she wasn’t sure where the WPP had gotten it—was laminated next a new name: Rosemary Masters. Her Columbus address was printed below.
This was her, for now.
Shoving it back into her purse, she found her keys, locked the door, and made her way down the stairs to the street below. There was a bookstore with a little coffee shop inside that was one of the places that Caroline had suggested. They were looking for some part-time help and it was only a couple of blocks from the apartment. She went there first.
It was a cute little place. The woman behind the counter was maybe in her fifties, with brown hair that was graying pulled into a neat braid and glasses that sat low on her nose.
“Hi, there,” she greeted when Hannah walked in. “Can I help you with anything?”
Hannah gave her a small smile. “I was wondering about the part-time job?”
“Oh, sure. Here, let me find an application for you.” The woman rummaged through the shelves under the counter until she found a small stack of stapled papers. “Go ahead and fill these out. It’s for a sales position. I just need some help with re-shelving books and helping customers find things, that kind of thing.”
She handed the papers to Hannah. “Oh, and my name is Jennifer Holden.”
“Thanks,” Hannah said politely, taking the papers. “I’m—” she hesitated just a moment, remembering her new name, “Rosemary Masters.”
“It’s a pleasure.”
“Mind if I look around?”
The woman nodded. “Of course, of course,” Jennifer said with a smile. “Let me know if you have any questions.”
Hannah took the paperwork home. She was going to have to think while filling it out and she still wasn’t sure if she really wanted the job. Something to do would be nice, a distraction, but she didn’t want to make any permanent ties here. Especially under a different name. This was only temporary.
When she got home, she stripped off her borrowed clothes and decided on a bath. She kept her cell phone close, remembering that only a couple of nights earlier it had been the only thing that saved her.
Sitting in the hot water helped. It soothed some of her aches, her ribs still bruised and sore, and her neck uncomfortably stiff.
She couldn’t help flipping through her phone, stopping in her contacts list on the name Luke Blake. She wondered not for the first time why he had stopped being her handler. Had he asked to be taken off of her case?
A flash of his hand pressed against her side slid over her mind. Her cheeks warmed at the memory. No, she thought. He definitely didn’t request it. Especially considering the expression of anger he had had on his face during their drive.
She couldn’t quite figure him out. He seemed genuinely concerned about her, and based on the other handlers that she had dealt with so far, that seemed out of the ordinary. Maybe that was why they took him off the case. Maybe he was too invested in her safety.
But why?
She spent the rest of her night milling over thoughts like that and decided she would probably never know. Chances were, she wouldn’t see Luke Blake again.
Hannah ended up taking the job at the little bookstore. Under her new name, Rosemary, she started to make some acquaintances with regulars who frequented the shop. Twice a week, there was even a writer’s circle that she decided she would attend. Her first meeting was today after her shift.
She went dressed in clothing that felt a little more comfortable. She had spent a little of her petty cash from her identity bag at the local thrift shop, finding a long, flowing skirt and a comfortable tank. She even found a pair of gently used sandals with turquoise colored straps.
The meeting hadn’t started yet when she arrived and only a few people were there yet, so she got her choice of seats. She chose to sit next to a tall, thin man with coke-bottle glasses and short, dark hair.
“Hello,” she said shyly. “Do you mind if I sit here?”
He adjusted his glasses and gave her an awkward smile. “Sure. I’m Mike.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Mike. My name’s Rosemary.”
They sat and waited as others began to join the circle. At six o’clock, the meeting began. There was a short introduction by a serious-looking man wearing all black, who welcomed new members and told them, “Writing is an art. It’s in the soul and until you can find that in your own soul and acknowledge it, you’ll never truly be an artist.”
It sounded corny, but Hannah found that she really enjoyed the meeting. They were asked to pair off with someone sitting next to them, so Hannah ended up with Mike.
“What do you like to write?” he asked, again adjusting his glasses. She decided that it was a nervous habit for him.
“Well, I studied journalism in school,” she admitted. “But I really want to write novels.”
He nodded. “That’s cool. I’ve always wanted to go to school for journalism, but my parents say there’s no money there, so I’m going for medicine. It’s awful.”
Hannah smiled sympathetically. “You should do what you like to do.”
“That’s why I’m here,” he confided. “I figure, I can do what my parents want officially, while I try to strike out on my own in the meantime.”
Hannah nodded and continued to listen, while she thought about her own dreams. They had been largely put aside due to her own insecurities, but at least she had the support of her family behind her. No one was telling her she couldn’t. In fact, it was the opposite. Everyone believed in her almost too much, pushing her to do what she was still passionate about, underneath it all, when she admitted it to herself.
Thinking about her family and her friends made her heart ache. She missed home terribly. Getting settled here in Ohio had been nice, but it wasn’t the same. She wasn’t even herself here. And yet, by not being herself she found she was able to take some steps towards being the person she had always wanted to be.
She decided that when she got home she was going to take her writing more seriously and stop being afraid about giving it a real shot.
By Friday, Hannah almost had a routine. Go to work, hang out at the coffee shop for a bit after and chat with the barista there, Josie, then return to her apartment and fiddle around with her writing. She would never forget the events that had brought her here. Lorenzo’s body lying on the floor of his pastry shop in his own blood would haunt her forever, as would Carlos’s hands around her throat. But at least now she had things in her life that would keep her mind off of those terrible events.
She could try to move on, at least enough to function.
She was getting home late today, a little after nine, since she had stayed with Josie to listen to her rant about her latest awful blind date. It made Hannah feel better to listen to Josie, if only because it reminded her so much of her time spent with Marina.
Even so, she was tired when she finally got into her apartment. All she wanted to do was crash out on her bed.
But when she unlocked her apartment, something was wrong. The window was open. After last time, she never left her window open. She froze instantly, eyes scanning the room for any sign of someone else being there. She didn’t see anything, but instinct told her that she shouldn’t be here.
Slowly, she backed out of the apartment. As she did, she saw him. He had been in a dark corner and when he realized she wasn’t coming inside, he leveled his gun at her.
“Don’t make me come get you,” he growled.
Adrenaline kicked in and she bolted down the hall. She heard the gun fire behind her, just a soft pop due to the silencer. It didn’t hit her; in fact, it wasn’t even that close to her.
She pounded on the door where Frank and Walter spent their days, but no one answered. Carlos appeared out of her apartment behind her, and so she didn’t linger at her bodyguards’ door. She sprinted down the stairs towards the lobby, digging in her bag for her cell phone while she ran.
“Come on, come on!”
Between the running and the desperate search for her cell, she dropped her keys. She didn’t stop to pick them up. She made it to the lobby, but no one was there. Neither the man nor the woman who ran the desk, no other tenants, no one. Standing alone in the eerie quiet of a completely empty building, she felt the back of her neck prickle with fear.
“Where is everyone?” she whispered.
“No one’s home,” came the answer.
Hannah didn’t turn around, knowing that Carlos was behind her. She was so close to the door, nearly out into the street—but where would she go from there?
“Please, just let me go,” she said quietly, staring at the lobby door, wondering how she was ever going to make it. Her hand was still inside her bag and she tried to subtly search for her phone.
“Too late for that, sweetheart,” he said. “You’ve become a real problem for me, and now my boss wants you alive. You know how much harder that makes my job?”
Alive? She couldn’t believe it. Was he really going to let her live?
“Wants to be there himself when I pull the trigger, make sure I get the job done,” he continued, just a hint of anger penetrating his otherwise calm voice. “Like he doesn’t trust me. You did that, and I’m gonna make you pay for it.”
Hannah made a break for it. What did she have to lose? She almost managed to get out the lobby door when another bullet whizzed past her head, again a good distance from her. It hit the glass doors and shattered them. She screamed, dropping to the floor, shards of glass digging into her hands, knees, and legs. She crawled behind the front desk for cover.
“C’mon out, honey,” she heard Carlos call from down the hall. “You know I’ll find you eventually. It’s over.”
She fumbled for her phone, finally digging it out with shaking hands. Before she could even think about getting a hold of her new handler, her fingers automatically dialed Luke’s number. The phone rang only once before she heard his voice on the other end.
“Hannah? What’s wrong?”
“He’s here!” she cried in a panicked whisper. “He found me!”
Another shot fired breaking the mirror behind her, making her drop the phone. On the other end, she heard Luke say, “Hannah! Hannah, I’m on my way, hold on!”
But she didn’t think he would make it in time. She had been able to get Carlos’s gun away from him last time and it had bought her enough time for Luke to get there, but this was different. Carlos wasn’t taking any chances and she wasn’t interested in getting close enough to try to disarm him.
No, this time, he had her.
Luke wasted no time.
Officially, Hannah Mitchell was no longer his concern. He had been removed from the case, because Calloway had seen how close he was getting. How attached. It wasn’t just unprofessional, it was dangerous. Luke knew that, so even though he’d been angry, furious even, that he had been replaced by Caroline, he had gone along with it with barely a fight.
That didn’t mean he had completely withdrawn, though. Columbus is the perfect place for a vacation right now, Luke thought. And this way, he could keep an eye on things, keep an eye on Hannah, without making himself obvious. Just in case she wasn’t safe, in case it all went south again. Despite Calloway’s assurances, Luke wasn’t convinced that there wasn’t something more going on than the detective thought.
That meant that when he got the panicked call from Hannah, all he had to do was dive into his car and speed his way to her apartment. He called her new handler, in case Hannah hadn’t been able to reach her and let her know what was going on.
It took him maybe ten minutes.
Even so, he worried it was too late. As he dashed out of his car, he could already see the broken glass of the lobby doors. Gun out and at the ready, he searched for Hannah—alive, he told himself, she has to be alive. He also kept an eye out for Messorelli.
At first, he didn’t see anyone. That in itself was weird. Where was everyone? Where were Frank and Walter? Where were the police, the other tenants? No one was here.
He was beginning to think he was too late, when he heard the crunch of broken glass and a soft moan. He moved instantly. Jumping over the front counter, he found Hannah.
“Shit, Hannah!”
He knelt beside her. She was breathing, but it was ragged. Her soft face was bruised and bloody. Her hands and knees were covered in glass shards. He had to get her out of there. If she was still alive, then Messorelli had to be around here somewhere.
“Hannah,” he whispered gently. “Hannah, it’s me, Luke. I’m going to get you out of here.” And as carefully as he could, he lifted her into his strong arms. She whimpered, but didn’t struggle or fight him. She opened her blue eyes just long enough to see his face, and then she went limp.
11
Luke stood in the waiting room at the hospital. He’d taken Hannah there himself after he’d found her lying on the floor littered with shattered glass. She was barely conscious and badly injured. No gunshot wound, which was a miracle in and of itself, but she had some deep cuts and was bleeding badly. That and the shock of everything that had happened was enough to make her pass out.
