Page 43 of Shielding his Legacy
“No, but they’re going to arrest you and take you back to New York, with the cops who will hurt you, unless we get out of here.”
She pulled the shirt over her head. “I’ll tell them I’m a witness.”
Her intentions clicked into a cohesive whole in his brain. “Eva, no. We discussed this. I can’t keep you safe.”
Picking up her leggings, she sat back on the bed and slipped them onto her legs. “Running away from the police isn’t safe. The roads are slippery. We don’t have a choice.”
“We do have a choice!” Control of this situation was getting away from him. He feared it was already gone. The sirens were just outside now, likely within view of the house. Had they already figured out which cabin they were in? Had they found some connection between him and the owner of the property?
As if to answer his question, the sound of vehicles pulling up to the cabin could clearly be heard on the other side of the cabin wall.
Eva stood up from the bed and faced him. From her nest on the floor, Abby was beginning to stir, the scrunch of her face clearly warning she was getting ready to scream. “This is our best chance, Gavin,” Eva said.
She wanted his permission to play chicken with a freight train—a freight train that had already killed at least one other person. His throat worked against the heady mix of adrenaline and emotion that threatened to block his windpipe. He’d only just found her again. “What if I can’t protect you?”
Abby let out a wail. Outside, a policeman spoke into a bullhorn.“Come out with your hands up.”
Eva picked up the baby and crossed to Gavin, kissing him solidly on the mouth. “I love you,” she said, moving toward the cabin door before her words could sink into his mind. This wasn’t how this was supposed to happen. This wasn’t the plan.
She slipped on her shoes and was reaching for the door handle before his mouth worked properly again. “Wait!” he snapped.
She turned back to him.
“I repeat, come out with your hands up.”
He crossed to her, put one hand on either side of her face, and kissed her passionately. “I love you, too.” He slipped on his shoes. “And I’m going to do everything in my power to keep you safe.” His mouth pulled down hard at the corners as he looked back at her one last time. “Are you ready?”
Eva nodded.
The two of them walked outside, into police custody, and firmly outside the reach of HERO Force’s protection.
22
Eva sat in the backseat of the state police cruiser, Abby sleeping peacefully in her carrier beside her. New York City was five hours away. Any other time, she might consider that to be a long drive. Today it felt like brief jaunt.
Two state troopers sat in the front seat, a man and a woman, their demeanor telling Eva in no uncertain terms that they felt she was involved in the death of one of their own. While the detective who’d been killed was part of the NYPD and not the state police, the brotherhood among law enforcement officers was legendary, and not even the presence of a little baby girl seemed to lighten the mood in the vehicle.
Eva did her best to ignore it, which is to say she suffered under the weight of their judgement. To keep herself busy—and because she was slightly terrified of what was to come—she ran over exactly what she needed to do and say when they arrived at police headquarters.
They’d been driving about two hours when they took an exit near Albany. “Where are we going?” she asked.
“Someone wants to talk to you,” came the cryptic reply. Fear entered her bloodstream like an IV drip. What if this was the killer, or one of his thugs? He was a police detective. He probably knew she was riding in this police car right now. He had influence within the department, possibly even in the state.
Her throat worked. “I don’t want to talk to anyone. I just want to go to headquarters.”
The male officer met her eyes in the rearview mirror. “It will only take a few minutes.”
“Am I under arrest?” she blurted, wondering if she should kick up a fuss. Surely if they were meeting someone who wanted to kill her, she should be kicking and screaming, not just fussing. But how was she supposed to know what to do?
They drove through the city, finally coming to a stop outside what looked like a courthouse. A man in a navy-blue suit opened the back door on the opposite site from where Eva sat, and got in. He was middle-aged, with faint wrinkles marking the places where age would one day etch itself deeply into his skin.
Eva’s heart was racing, one hand over Abby’s carrier as if it might shield her daughter from this man. At the same time, the officers in the front seat opened their doors and got out. “Wait!” she called to them.
“They’ll be back in a minute,” said the man in the suit.
“Who are you?” she demanded, fear making her bold. “What do you want with me?”
Reaching into his back pocket, he withdrew not the weapon she feared, but a wallet. He opened it and flashed a badge and ID toward her, a mildly tired expression on his face. “John Weinhauser, U.S. Marshal’s office.”
