Page 115 of The Rogue

“Or what?”

He pushes off his seat and starts to pace his office. “Tessa’s been in and out of town, which means she refused protection but is still working with the FBI.”

“For what?”

“Either they caught the guys and need a material witness, or she’s in immediate danger and they’re putting her in protective custody.”

“They can’t force that either.”

“They can.”

My chest is tight. My stomach sinking. “So she’s out of options?"

“I didn’t say that.”

27

On Friday morning, Iwake to the sun. Which would normally be progress for me. But given that I was up until three in the morning anxiety ridden, I’m not any more rested than the night I got here.

The heavily guarded studio apartment I’m in is small, but I’m not complaining. It’s somewhat clean, stacked with fresh groceries and coffee. The window has bars, which is fitting, and I’m not even mad about it.

I’m grateful, in fact. Dangerous men are looking for me. And there’s no way they can get to me here.

That should give me peace. Help me sleep.

But it doesn’t. Because the truth is, until they catch these men, I can’t go back tomine.

My whole life has been a beaded necklace of sand and dirt. Levi and Jackson are the pearl I found in the center, holding me together.

I owe them my cooperation.

Irony aside, no one’s ever protected me from the world’s cruelty. But I can protect them.

By staying here.

I love them and I’ll fight to get back to them, but not until it’s safe.

There’s a light rap on my door, followed by the guard's voice.

“Ms. Banks? Agent Mercer is here.”

I inhale sharply. Anger coursing through me at the man who took my phone away the day I was brought in here.

“Let him in.”

Arms crossed, I keep my back to Frank as he walks in and face the window. “Let me guess, you’re workin’ the case.”

“Settle down. I brought fresh coffee and good news.”

Dropping my shoulders, I cross to him and take the larger one.

“I want to talk to a judge. This has gone on long enough. You won’t catch them all. It’s impossible.”

He sighs and points to the couch. “We don’t need to anymore—I mean we do. But not where it concerns you. There was an arrest two days ago.”

I glare at him since one arrest means nothing for my freedom.

“Vince Romano was found in an unmarked delivery truck in Hideaway Springs.”

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