Page 25 of The Witness

Wright understood this wasn’t Smith overreacting; it was what needed to be done. His acceptance of the situation broke free a flow of words that came so fast he tripped over his own tongue. Like he had to say all of it before he lost his nerve. “I couldn’t believe you about the FBI corruption. I’ve been with the bureau for fifteen years. But you are right. I was blind. They won’t stop. Sandoval will keep coming for her. If half of the whispers I’ve heard about his organization are true, she needs to run.”

“Yes. I am aware.” Smith said. His assurance didn’t slow the flood of words from Wright.

“It’s why I sent her to you when I realized my boss sold me out and that witness protection had never been coming to get her. The crime she witnessed is nothing. One dead girl, a byproduct. Sabrina can identify one of the most wanted men in the world. She is a dead woman walking. You have to help her disappear.” Wright sagged into the pillow, his eyelids fluttered closed, pain and exhaustion lining his face.

My jaw clenched so hard, my teeth ached. It could have been Sabrina in this hospital bed. Or laid out downstairs in the morgue if she’d not been in the Oceanfront kitchen poaching a stupid egg. I wanted to shake Wright and curse him for not having brought Sabrina to us the moment she told him what she knew. His willful blindness almost cost her and him their lives.

“Or she can help us,” Smith said.

I turned to my boss, a thousand protests poised on the tip of my tongue. Sabrina wasn’t a tool for him to use in his shadowwar against Sandoval. She was a woman with a life and dreams. My complaints dried up. She’d never get to live her life if Sandoval was hunting her.

“Fuck, Smith. Don’t get that girl hurt.” Wright said his voice weak.

“I’ll protect her.” I’d spoken on reflex, and I didn’t regret my vow.

Chapter 12

Sabrina

“Was this necessary?” I looked from Kira to my mother, to my reflection in the mirror. I was a blonde. My hair cut in a stylish bob. “Yesterday, Michael said I wasn’t leaving the building anytime soon.”

“John asked I change your appearance since your picture was on the news. It’s a precaution. You don’t want to do something like this in a rush.” Kira smoothed her handiwork with a round brush and set the blow dryer down on the marble countertop. “I think I like you blonde. It’s a good look.”

“I miss the red already.” I fingered the honey-colored locks, trying to understand exactly how this happened. One minute I was sipping my morning coffee with Mom, planning on making the Smith Agency crew breakfast sandwiches; the next, Mom and I were swept upstairs by Kira to her luxury bathroom forbreakfast and an unexpected makeover. I had no say in the outcome, either. Blonde hair. Bold makeup. It was all John’s orders.

“Oh, honey, it’s just hair. When this is over, dye it back or keep it. Decide then. Although the cut is spectacular.” My mother met my gaze in the mirror and smiled at me.

Back in the day, Mom had sported every conceivable hair style and color from platinum to pitch black using dye and wigs to change her look. As a kid, I never knew if a brunette or redhead would pick me up from school. She loved change for the sake of change. Me, not so much.

“Thank you. It’s been quite a while since I’ve cut anyone’s hair.” A wistful expression softened Kira's face. “A very long time ago I was in the beauty industry.”

“A model?” The woman’s cheekbones could cut glass.

She shrugged and raised her elegantly arched eyebrows, neither confirming nor denying my guess.

Kira’s cell phone chirped, and she pulled it from the pocket of her silk slacks. “We should head down. John needs to talk to you.”

I ran a hand through my short golden hair and watched the stranger in the mirror. How could some hair dye and a little makeup change my appearance so much?

Kira and Mom led the way back down to the ground floor. Mom, ever the mother hen, begged off as soon as she heard Captain Morgan squawking from his cage in the guest quarters.

I followed Kira into the conference room, scanning the people inside. With a twinge of disappointment, I realized Michael wasn’t milling around the long table with the others. He’d been absent since yesterday afternoon when he’d given me an update on Lewis’s health. Across the broad table, I sent Sydney a shy smile and started toward her.

“Whoa, what happened to you?” Michael’s question came from my left, and I spun back toward the man in the gray three-piece suit that I’d barely glanced at a moment ago.

“Oh, shit.” I pressed a hand over my open mouth.

We both giggled. There was no other word for our shared reaction. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one to get a makeover. Michael’s hair had been buzzed short, and his beard was gone. The shave revealed a granite-hard jaw marred by a thin white scar on one cheek. His short, dark hair had flecks of silver that edged him toward distinguished.

Wow. The man could wear the hell out of a suit. The hint of his tattoos, barely visible in the V of the open shirt collar, made me want to pop open a few more buttons. He was GQ cover model worthy. His biceps bulged against the jacket as he spun an office chair toward me.

“Let me see you both.” Smith walked into the room and used his cell phone to point at us.

We turned.

“Good. Steel, no one will know you were her driver in Palm Beach Gardens. And once we get Sabrina some of Gigi’s clothes, she’ll be all set. Quinn is working on that now. Everyone take a seat.” John sat at the head of the table.

Sydney and Noah took chairs on the left side of the table. Kira, after kissing John’s cheek, sat on his right.

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