Hiding His Witness by C. J. Miller

the words. Mark was arrogant and controlling. He expected to hand out tasks and for people to follow his instructions.
    Doc stood and retrieved a notebook from the counter. “He might assume Reilly escorted you to a safe house in Colorado. Using a detective’s personal connections to house a witness is unusual. You’re safest here. Going on the run and looking for another place to stay puts you on the defensive. Better to work on the offensive. If someone comes here, we’ll be ready. We won’t take chances. We’ll schedule patrols during the day and keep our eyes and ears open. No one will make it onto the premises without our knowledge.”
    As the family discussed options to ensure her safety, contingency plans, and additional protections, Carey watched, not able to keep up with the conversation. The Trumans were going to disrupt their lives and their holiday for her. They were putting themselves at risk. Mark wouldn’t hesitate to hurt someone to get to her.
    Carey looked at her feet. It wasn’t right other people should suffer because of her decisions. “I never meant to drag anyone into this. This is my problem. Maybe I should go.”
    Reilly came to his feet and then knelt in front of her. She met his gaze and their high-voltage connection charged through her. Excessive energy and longing escalated in her body. A sense of connection, a rightness with him tempted her to open up and share the part of her life she’d been running from for months. If only she could tell him and not risk his life, she’d make room for him inside her heart. Their physical attraction could be so much more. If only.
    “I don’t want to hear any more talk of you running again. I was assigned to protect you and I’m going to keep you safe,” Reilly said.
    The surge of excitement from his nearness was immediately replaced with a chill of fear. She didn’t know if anyone was strong enough to protect her from Mark.
    * * *
    Carey sat perched on the edge of the couch, watching Reilly play with the fire in the hearth. He added another log to the roaring blaze. After talking for a few minutes in the family room, the Trumans had left her and Reilly alone, each making excuses about chores and plans they had after dinner.
    Should she make an excuse and go to bed, as well? A heightened sense of anticipation clung to the air. Did Reilly want to talk to her about the case? Pry for more information about her past? Discuss Mark’s phone call?
    Closing the screen around the fire to catch the sparks of ash, Reilly took a seat on the floor. The firelight flickered across his face, the warm glow illuminating the room. The smell of wood burning brought back memories of summer camp and cold winter nights curled on the couch with a blanket and a book. Comforting memories.
    “How are you holding up?” Reilly asked.
    She sensed he wanted to ask questions and was holding back. Because of the promise he had made not to dig?
    She touched her side. “My ribs are still a little sore and my arm hurts if I move it a certain way. But dinner was great.” At least until the point when Mark had delivered his threat. “It’s been a long while since I’ve eaten that well.”
    Reilly smiled, making his handsome face even more beguiling. “My mom loves to cook. When she retired, she discovered entire television channels devoted to cooking and now it’s her passion.”
    Carey focused her attention on the fire. It was dangerous to feel anything for him or to let her imagination play with possibilities. Even gratitude created dangerous connections. She couldn’t think about Reilly. She had to focus on getting out of here. She couldn’t stay here and wait for Mark to find her. The Trumans might have their ranch well hidden, but Mark had the resources and money to buy the information he wanted. “Your family has been wonderful to me.”
    Reilly set the poker on the bricks lining the hearth. “They’re pretty great. What about your friends or family? Isn’t