Page 8 of The Witness

Sabrina’s distress over the woman’s death, I understood. I’d never escaped feeling responsible for Marney’s death, and I hadn’t even been in the same city as my sister when she’d overdosed.

Sabrina’s crying faded into watery sniffles and hiccups, but she was still gripping me like I was the only thing keeping her fromfalling off a cliff. I thought about those weighted blankets I’d seen advertised on the internet and adjusted my hold, pressing her into my chest with both arms around her back. I wished there was more I could do beyond holding her close. But for now, this was what she needed.

The problem solving would start soon enough.

Across the coffee table, I locked eyes with Smith. He was already calculating, planning. The wheels in his head turning. Sandoval was on Smith’s radar and had been since he’d started amassing power inside the FBI and Miami’s criminal underworld. Smith hadn’t explained all his theories, but I’d paid attention and drawn my own conclusions. Smith saw Sandoval as a mastermind consolidating power. And the ex-CIA agent in Smith couldn’t let it happen in his town.

Agent Wright had sent Sabrina to the correct place. I wasn’t aware if Wright had known Smith was watching Sandoval, but he for sure knew that Smith was furious about the corruption in the FBI field office in Miami. Nothing screamed corruption like a botched handoff to witness protection.

Sabrina sighed and melted into my arms. I’d stay crouched in this weird, awkward huddle between the chair and coffee table for a week if that was what she needed. Providing comfort to someone lost was second nature.

“Thank you.” She whispered the words for my ears only.

I relaxed my hold, and she eased back, scooting away to sit on the floor, putting some space between us. Her gaze drifted from me to the Smiths, her expression tinged with embarrassment.

“You’re welcome.” I offered her a shrug and what I hoped was a friendly smile that said please use me anytime you need a shoulder to cry on. “Feel better?”

She considered my question, tipping her head to the side and taking a long slow inhale/exhale before answering. “Actually, yeah, I think so.”

She wiped her cheeks with the cuff of her sweater and gave me a watery smile that made something pull tight in my chest. Damn, this woman was brave. Putting on a front for all of us at a time like this.

She turned and looked at the Smiths. “I’m sorry about that. I’ve not fallen apart in a very long time.”

“We all have breaking points. Now that you’ve come apart, you can put yourself back together stronger than you were before.” Kira’s answer was thick with shared understanding. Her sentiment reminded me of the Japanese art of Kintsugi, where broken pottery was reassembled with gold filling in the cracks. The repaired pieces were made more beautiful by their scars.

I didn’t know Kira’s history. No one at the company did, but I was sure that when she’d broken, John Smith had been the artist that filled in the damage with liquid gold. The love between the two of them and their son was of the happily ever after type. Not exactly the ending you expected for a dangerous ex-spy and a woman with no past.

“I know you're right, but picking up the pieces can be a little painful and embarrassing.” Sabrina rose from the floor and offered me a hand to help me stand with a weak but playful smile on her lips.

The idea that a woman half my size would help me up. I had to chuckle while waving away her assistance and finding my feet. “I’m not that old.” Even if the gray hairs in my beard and on my head might hint otherwise. At least I had hair.

“I’m stronger than I look.” She collected the blanket that had been on her lap from the floor and sat back in her chair.

“I don’t doubt that for an instant.” I looked into her red-rimmed eyes. They were a deep forest green, and her black lashes were long and spiky from her tears.

The moment stretched, each second heavy with understanding and potential. There was something about her that drew me in.I knew she would be more than just a witness I’d protect. I was going all in. Until Sabrina was safe, I would be her shadow.

Smith cleared his throat; the waiting must have been killing him. He was bursting with questions for Sabrina. My job was to make sure he didn’t get overzealous. Sabrina was my responsibility. I knew it in the marrow of my bones. Even if she didn’t, even if my course of action might annoy my boss.

“Who actually hired you?” Smith’s patience was at an end. The dam burst in a round of rapid-fire questions.

Sabrina squared her shoulders and sat up straight, ready for the interrogation.

“A company called La Ciudad. They had an agent in Miami, a lawyer.” She used a business-like tone. Far different from the one she used retelling what she’d seen.

“Preston Maschmeyer?”

Sabrina nodded.

Smith’s excitement was betrayed by the slightest tick in his jaw and hands curling into fists. He was hot on Sandoval’s trail. Sabrina was providing the last pieces in a jigsaw puzzle Smith had been working on for a few years.

“How did he pay you?”

“In cash.”

Smith muttered a curse. “No money trail, fine. The yacht, what was its name?”

“The Jabberwocky.”

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