Page 3 of Keeping Ava

Moreover, I know his disposition has nothing to do with me and everything to do with the woman he kissed goodbye before we left the station. Watching them—the love, how tender he was with his wife—made me think of what I’ll never have.

Not for a while. Maybe never.

Not with the fear that grips me tight at the knowledge that my worst nightmare could be anywhere. Maybe in the car behind us already following. Biding his time so he can take from me what I never gave him willingly.

“Thanks. Can’t wait to stretch my legs,” I say, trying for enthusiasm and failing miserably. My palms are sweaty, and I wipe them down my denim-covered legs while pretending to clean something off. “It’s very pretty here.”

Weston looks over at me, giving me a quick glance, and then nods to himself. “The detective in charge of your protection lives near the water. We could stop there first if you like. Get some fresh air?”

“That’s very kind of you, but I would rather we just get this over with.” I’m sure the smile on my face looks more like a grimace, but he’s kind enough not to mention it. My nerves are choking me, the worry almost making me sick.

It’s been seventy-two hours since Jason escaped police custody, hence the sudden change in the game plan that morphed into a secret race very few are participating in. We’ve gone from conviction to recapture while playing a game of hide-the-witness.

It’s also brought back the nightmares. The horrific movie reel of that night that never ceases to keep me awake. Her screams. His laugh. All the blood—

I’ll come for you...

“You’ll be okay, Ava.” Weston sounds so sure of himself that I don’t have the heart to tell him what I really think. That at this point my hope is almost gone. “Safe here.”

“May the good Lord hear you,” I mumble under my breath and refocus on the scenery around me. My eyes shift every few minutes, looking at the cars passing and praying that Jason isn’t inside any of them. Some look at us, but most just continue to drive on by as they maneuver through the busy traffic that this state is known for.

And they weren’t lying. California is everything you see on television: lively, busy, and beautifully scary to me because it represents the unknown. I don’t know anyone here. I feel alone.

Weston lowers the windows then, letting in the salty, fresh air coming off the water nearby. It’s gorgeous, a warm shade of bluish green that soothes me, seeping deep into my bones.

Closing my eyes for a second, I breathe in deeply, in and out, sagging against the seat as the ranger drives us toward the detective’s home. For a little while I let go and regain control of my breathing—pretend that this is a vacation and not a forced seclusion.

I don’t know how long I stay that way, but his hand nudging my shoulder pulls me from my semi-relaxed state. “We’re here.” His voice is low, while his expression is one of concern.

“Thanks.” Taking my seatbelt off, I get down from his truck while taking inventory of my surroundings. The building before me is huge. Intimidating. And yet, as we enter the fancy lobby and get on the elevator, there’s no fear. Instead, the same sense of calm that settled over me as I took in the fresh scent of salt water comes over my tired limbs tenfold.

It catches me off guard, makes my knees a bit weak, but I stay quiet. Maybe it’s the exhaustion taking over, or my lack of appetite showing its effects, but when we get off on the twenty-fourth floor, I have to force my legs to cooperate and walk.

One foot after the other, I follow a quiet Weston down a long hallway after making a right turn. There, at the very end, is a door with the number seven on it where he stops. Tilts his head in my direction. “You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

“For what it’s worth, Elijah Ford comes with high praise and is familiar with this case. If anyone can keep you safe, it’s him. Trust him.” My mouth opens to reply, to tell him that I’ve heard this from someone I trust, when his phone rings. Weston smiles, the first real one I’ve seen since we left Lubbock, as he turns to look at me. “It’s my wife. Be right back.”

“No…” he walks away before I can finish, pushing the doorbell on his way “…problem.”

For a few seconds, I stand there, and nothing. So, I knock. Hard.

I don’t like being out in the open like this, and my escort has disappeared around the corner, so I pound my fist a couple of times to make sure I’m heard. It takes a few harsh knocks from me and the push of the buzzer for that door to open, and when it does, what I find is heart stopping.

I’m in trouble.

Chapter 2

Elijah

This is a mistake.

That thought runs through my mind—a nonstop loop of forewarning as Captain Perez fills me in on my next assignment. But that can’t be right. This has to be some kind of a joke.

It sounds like guard duty, but I’m not a babysitter—even if it is for a case that leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.

“She’ll be in your care until he’s caught and sentenced,” he says, as if telling me the weather report and not about the crap job I’ve been given. “We need her in that courtroom, Ford. Her testimony alone will put him away for a very long time, if not the rest of his life.”

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