“Home is wherever I lay my head at night.”
Ms. Patti leaned back in her chair, a curious smile on her lips. “You remind me so much of my boys. Every one of them came here with the same attitude, the same ‘I don’t need anybody or anything to be happy’ mentality. Like them, you’re struggling to find your place. You’re scared of opening up and caring about other people because you’ve been hurt. Serena, we’ve all been hurt at one point or another. I could tell you stories about my past that would have you bawling like a baby in five minutes. Every one of my sons have pasts, some more horrific than others, but they all needed a soft place to land. A place where they could find their balance, and be able to grow roots and hold their heads up.”
Serena crossed her arms across her chest, bracing herself against the words. She couldn’t fall into this trap, because it was one. A deep cavern of sharp, pointy rocks waiting to devour her if she took one wrong step. Someone had befriended her when she first went into witness protection, and she’d believed she was safe to start a new life, have friends, maybe even find love. He’d ended up with his throat slit, simply because he was her friend. Ms. Patti, Douglas, all of the Boudreaus meant even more to her. If she listened, if she stayed, the possibility of them being in danger was an intolerable thought. She was making the right decision.
“No, you’re making the wrong decision,” Ms. Patti answered, as if reading her mind. “Whatever inner demon is chasing you will never stop, not unless or until you take a stand. Face it head on and don’t give in. I am here, and I’ll stand by your side, and help you fight. Douglas will too. You’re not alone.”
Could she do it? Staying in Shiloh Springs held a greater appeal than setting out on the road, looking for a new place to hide. Always looking over her shoulder, wondering if the next person she met might be the last. She wasn’t even certain her uncle knew where she was; there hadn’t been any indication he’d read the article or seen the photo.
It was a risk, but at the end of the day wasn’t the reward worth taking a chance? Antonio’s face popped into her thoughts, with his handsome dark looks, the Italian elegance of his profile and his cocky smile. Leaving him behind would be leaving a piece of herself behind too, because she’d come to care about him more than was safe.
“Okay, Ms. Patti. I’ll give it a shot, but I can’t make any promises. I’ve always given in when the urge to move on hits. It might become too much, and I’ll head out for parts unknown. I’ve always wanted to travel abroad, maybe I’ll look into going to Italy.”
Why did I mention Italy? I need to stop thinking with my heart, and listen to my head.
A tiny smile curved Ms. Patti’s lips, and Serena knew she hadn’t fooled the older woman one iota. She’d gotten her way, and Serena hoped nobody ended up paying for her decision.
“Good, it’s settled. Now, let’s get down to business. What’s going on with the Rudiger place? Any prospects?”
And just like that, Serena’s world felt right again. She prayed Big Jim never found out about Shiloh Springs.
CHAPTER THREE
“Glad to have you here, Boudreau.” Special Agent in Charge Derrick Williamson leaned back in his chair, his hands clasped across his stomach. Antonio studied the man, took in the freshly pressed shirt, suit pants. The top button of Williamson’s shirt was undone and his tie loosened, giving off a casual vibe, but Antonio didn’t buy it, not for a second.
At first glance, Williamson portrayed the easygoing, overworked FBI agent to a tee, but Antonio never went with what was obvious to the naked eye. He’d long ago learned taking things at face value often led to big mistakes, a lesson he’d vowed never to repeat. Williamson appeared fit, his sandy-brown hair cut short in a businessman style. He looked like he worked out regularly, and didn’t have the paunch across his middle most pencil pushers seemed to gain working in an office.
An off-white cowboy hat lay on the credenza behind Williamson, as though it had been taken off and tossed onto the surface cluttered with papers and files. Now that he could believe. Most everybody in Texas wouldn’t be caught dead without their hat.
“Happy to be here. What can you tell me about the case?” He eased onto the chair opposite the desk, and propped his foot on the opposite knee, resting his own cowboy hat there. “Sounds like you’ve got your hands full down here.”
Williamson sighed. “You’ve got no idea, Boudreau. Two agents out with gunshot wounds. One on maternity leave. One ruptured appendix. And two more who relocated to different cities. Leaving us in a mighty big hole we’re still trying to dig our way out of. Which is why I’m glad you’re here, even if it’s temporary.”
Looking closer, Antonio noted the dark circles under Williamson’s eyes, the slightly grayish pallor to his skin. The man was obviously running on fumes, never a good idea when dealing with high profile cases or even the small stuff. A tired agent missed things.
Williamson tossed a folder across his desk. “This one’s been a pain in my backside for months. How familiar are you with James “Big Jim” Berkley?”
Antonio’s brow rose at the mention of the name. Big Jim Berkley’s case had been on the FBI list for years, until he’d finally been arrested, tried, and convicted
