Page 14 of Hunted By the Mountain Man
"They can't make you do anything," Cole says from behind me, his hands settling on my shoulders. "Whatever they offer, it's your choice."
"I know." But knowing and feeling are two different things. The federal government has controlled my life for two years—where I live, who I see, what I'm allowed to do. Breaking free of that won't be easy.
Agent Morton emerges from the lead vehicle, looking exactly as I remember—sharp suit, sharper eyes, the perpetually harried expression of a man juggling too many secrets. Behind him come three other agents and someone who's clearly RCMP brass.
"Showtime," I murmur, straightening my shoulders.
Cole's hands tighten protectively. "I'll be right there with you."
"Actually..." I turn in his arms, meeting his worried gaze. "I need to do this part alone. They need to hear me make this choice without any outside influence."
"Anna—"
"Trust me." I rise on my toes to kiss him softly. "I know what I want. Let me fight for it."
The meeting takes place in Cole's main room, the agents looking oddly out of place among the handcrafted furniture and mountain views. Morton sits across from me at the dining table, his expression a mix of relief and concern.
"Ms. Rice," he begins formally. "First, let me say how relieved we are that you're safe. The breach of your safe house location represents a serious failure in our security protocols."
"How did they find me?" I ask, though I'm not sure it matters anymore.
"Financial corruption within the program. Someone took Costa's money to provide your location." Morton's jaw tightens. "That person is now in custody, but the damage was done."
"So the program isn't secure."
"This location wasn't secure. But we have other options." He slides a folder across the table. "New identity, relocation to the Pacific Northwest. Complete financial support for the first two years while you establish yourself."
I don't open the folder. "And the trial?"
"Postponed indefinitely while we ensure your safety. Costa's lawyers are already claiming prosecutorial misconduct due to the security breach."
"So he might never be convicted."
"Not necessarily. We're exploring other options—video testimony, sealed depositions. Your evidence is still valuable, Ms. Rice. We just need to find a way to present it safely."
I study Morton's face, seeing the political calculation behind his reassurances. They want Costa convicted, but they want their star witness alive more. The actual justice feels secondary.
"What if I don't want relocation?" I ask quietly.
Morton's eyebrows rise. "I'm sorry?"
"What if I want to stay here? In Alberta, in these mountains?"
"Ms. Rice, I understand you may feel grateful to Mr. Manning for his assistance, but—"
"This isn't gratitude." My voice stays level despite the irritation bubbling beneath. "This is my choice about where and how I want to live my life."
"You're talking about staying with a man you've known for less than a week—"
"I'm talking about staying somewhere I feel safe. Somewhere I feel like I belong." I lean forward, meeting his gaze directly. "Agent Morton, when was the last time I called you asking for help? Asking for anything?"
He considers this. "You never have. You've been... remarkably self-sufficient."
"Because I learned to take care of myself. To make my own decisions about what's best for me." I gesture toward the window, where Cole is splitting firewood with controlled precision. "That man risked his life to protect me. Not because it was his job, but because he chose to. That means something."
"Ms. Rice—Anna—I understand the appeal of a romantic rescue fantasy. But you need to think practically about your future."
The condescension in his tone makes me see red. "Romantic fantasy? Agent Morton, do you know what my life has been like for the past two years?"
