Protective Custody
Guarding witnesses? All in a day's work for deputy U.S. marshal Carly Masterson.Protecting the judge who was indirectly responsible for her mentor's death? That's another story. Still, she won't let harm come to Judge Nicholas Floyd, or the niece and nephew in his care. She's determined to do the job right, and not let her emotions take over–no matter how wonderful it feels to be accepted by the little family. Can she let go of the past and learn to trust again before danger finds them once more?
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“Think of your niece and nephew, Nicholas,” Carly offered softly.
When she’d first met him two years ago, he hadn’t had the children. His wife and sister had been alive. She’d seen pictures of the kids and he’d told her about each one in detail like the doting uncle he was.
Since then a lot had happened. He’d lost two women he’d loved, gained two children—and released a killer to kill again.
She blinked that thought away.
He blew out a breath and undid the buttons on his cuffs. Forearms roped with strength emerged as he shoved the sleeves up to his elbows—Carly swallowed hard desperately trying to convince herself she was not feeling another tug of attraction.
What was wrong with her?
LYNETTE EASON
grew up in Greenville, SC. Her home church, Northgate Baptist, had a tremendous influence on her during her early years. She credits Christian parents and dedicated Sunday School teachers for her acceptance of Christ at the tender age of eight. Even as a young girl, she knew she wanted her life to reflect the love of Jesus.
Lynette attended the University of South Carolina in Columbia, SC, then moved to Spartanburg, SC, to attend Converse College, where she obtained her master’s degree in education. During that time, she met the boy next door, Jack Eason, and married him. Jack is the executive director of the Sound of Light Ministries. Lynette and Jack have two precious children: Lauryn and Will. She and Jack are members of New Life Baptist Fellowship Church in Boiling Springs, SC, where Jack serves as the worship leader and Lynette teaches Sunday School to the four-and five-year-olds.
For in the day of trouble he will keep me safe in his dwelling; he will hide me in the shelter of his tabernacle and set me high upon a rock.
—Psalms 27:5
To my Lord and Savior who keeps me safe and secure during the storms of life.
And to a young man who wanted to see his name in a book. Here ya go, Nick.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
LETTER TO READER
QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION
ONE
In the downtown courthouse, Deputy U.S. Marshal Carly Masterson eyed the three bloody fingerprints on the cracked door and pulled her weapon.
Blood on the door to the judge’s chambers.
Not a good sign.
Her partner, Mason Stone, followed her actions. In a low whisper, he asked, “Is he in there?”
Heart picking up speed, Carly toed the door open. Without a sound, it opened inward, exposing Judge Nicholas Floyd’s chambers. “Nick?” She kept her voice low.
No answer.
They’d been on the way to the courthouse when they’d gotten a call that the judge had received the second threat of the day. This time the authorities were sending protection whether he wanted it or not. Three minutes later, Carly and Mason arrived to find themselves in this situation.
A sweep of the room showed nothing amiss.
Except for a few drops of blood trailing across the floor.
So where was the judge?
Anxiety twisting her stomach into knots, Carly said, “I’ll take the bathroom.” She headed for the closed door. “The drops of blood are fresh.”
“Look at the shape of the drops. They’re leading from the bathroom,” he noted in a matching whisper.
She could feel her heart thudding in her chest. Her fingers reached for the knob then pulled back. “Blood on the knob.”
“Noted. I’ve got your back.”
She knew he would. Having been partners for two years, she trusted Mason with her life.
“Here.” He thrust a tissue he’d retrieved from the desk into her hand. Standing to one side of the door, with Mason on the opposite side facing her, she placed the tissue over the knob, nodded to him and twisted her wrist. The door flew open at her shove, and they rounded the edges of the door frame as one, guns pointed inside.
Empty.
The bathroom contents lay scattered. Water tinged with red filled the plugged sink.
Adrenaline rushing, Carly pulled back and let the thudding in her chest subside.
Mason looked at her. “Now what?”
“We follow the blood.”
Nicholas pressed his fingers to the cut and bit back a word he hadn’t said in a long time. “Did you have to barge in while I was shaving? You could have at least let me grab a towel.” He swiped the blood on his pants, not caring if it left a stain. That was the least of his problems right now.
The marshal simply looked at him. He’d been in the Spartanburg, South Carolina, courthouse delivering a captured fugitive to his hearing when Nick had called the authorities. The first threat had come in the form of a phone call. Nick had hung up on the caller. The letter that had appeared on his desk an hour later had been harder to ignore.
He stomped to the table and yanked a napkin from the holder. The small break room/kitchen now served as his safe area until more help arrived.
“Sorry.” An unexpected apology from the man.
Pressing the napkin to the still-seeping cut, Nicholas paused. “Aw, it’s all right.” He’d been on his last upward stroke when the pounding on his bathroom door had caused him to jerk like he’d been shot. As a result, he’d pressed and yanked on the razor, cutting himself pretty bad.
