He shrugged. “I’m used to that. It doesn’t bother me. No obligation on my part. No lease.” There was a time it had bothered him. But as a child, after his third move to yet another foster home, he’d begun to accept that would be his normalcy, and he’d better get used to it. So everywhere he lived he’d learned to accept it was only temporary, and eventually he embraced that way of life. Even as an adult he moved a lot, usually only staying at a post no more than a year or two. It was easier that way. He didn’t become invested in his coworkers’ lives. So much better when he left if he wasn’t too close to his coworkers.
Colton turned onto a gravel road still covered with snow that winded through some tall pines and aspens. He called the marshals in the cabin where Saunders was being kept. “I’m nearly there. I’m glad to see no fog.” He gave his team members the code with the last sentence to let them know that he hadn’t been compromised. “Is everything all right?”
“Just peachy. Nothing unusual has happened,” Marshal Janice Wallace said, her voice getting lower with each word. “Except this witness is driving me crazy. Otherwise, Neil and I are having a grand ole time.”
“The cavalry is here to rescue you two.” He peered through the trees as he approached a bend in the road. “In fact, I’m pulling up now.” He took the curve, coming upon a log cabin in a small clearing with various evergreens mixed in with deciduous trees surrounding the open space. A blanket of pristine snow stretched out from the safe house.
“Yeah, we saw you coming and cheered. I’m surprised you didn’t hear us from the main highway,” Marshal Wallace said in reference to the two hidden cameras posted at the beginning of the gravel road.
“Was that the noise I heard? Glad you cleared that up.” Chuckling, Colton disconnected.
“Did something happen?” Agent Sutton—no, at least in his thoughts she was Lisette—panned the area as she unbuckled her seat belt.
“No, other than Saunders. He has such a winning personality that it doesn’t take long for him to drive a person crazy with his complaints and whining. When we had that incident on the way to the airport in St. Louis, he griped the whole way that I was trying to kill him. Believe me, if I had wanted to, he would be dead now.”
Lisette’s intriguing green eyes widened.
He grinned. “Just kidding.”
She blinked and pushed the door open, her professional facade completely in place. “I know that.” Her hand went to her glasses to straighten them.
He made her nervous. That was her sign—adjusting her glasses.
Marshal Wallace swung the door open and stood in the entrance. The tall woman with short black hair smiled. “Nice to see you two. Come in.” She stepped to the side, introducing herself to Lisette as they shook hands.
Colton entered the cabin behind Lisette, who paused a few feet inside to scan the large room with a massive fireplace along the back wall, a kitchenette off to the right and a hallway that led to the single bedroom. He liked the defensible layout. There was only one way into the cabin with one window in the bedroom; there were none in the bathroom or kitchen and three in the living area. Off to the side he noticed the computer sitting with shots of various camera views of the terrain and road near the safe house.
“Where’s Saunders?”
Marshal Neil Simms swiveled around in the chair before the laptop. “Hi, I’m Neil, Lisette.” He smiled, then turned his attention to Colton. “Still sleeping. He was up late complaining of his digs. You should wake him, or he’ll be up late again tonight when Janice and I have to take over.”
“But he no doubt needs his beauty sleep. The trip here yesterday was a tiring, stressful one.” Colton pressed his lips together to keep from grinning.
The two marshals on the night shift started for the exit. “Quinn is on his way here,” Simms said, and then opened the front door. “We’ll be back this evening. Have fun.”
The echo of the door clicking shut filled the small cabin. Colton looked at Lisette, who prowled the perimeter, glancing out each window. “I’m surprised those two didn’t wake up Saunders right before we showed up.” He strode toward the hallway to check on their witness.
“You’re going to wake him?” Amusement laced Lisette’s voice.
“You know the adage about never waking up a sleeping baby? I think it applies in this case, too, but I want to check on him.”
Her light laughter drifted to him as he made his way down the short hallway, checking the bathroom before opening the door to the bedroom. Saunders stood at the small window peering out.
“If you’re thinking of escaping, I’m not sure you would fit through it. In fact, I know you wouldn’t.”
Saunders stiffened his shoulders and pivoted toward Colton. “I thought I was rid of you, that they would fire you for your incompetence yesterday.”
“That incompetence is what would have saved you if those guys had been assassins. You could be dead if I had waited around to chitchat with them.”
“How do you know they weren’t sent to kill me?”
“Because we set up your cover well and those guys are being checked out thoroughly. We won’t proceed if they don’t check out.”
“Then how in the world do I know if I’m safe here?” Saunders pursed his mouth, thinning his cheeks.
“Unless you called someone, no one knows you’re in Denver.” Out of the corner of his eyes, Colton spied Lisette coming down the hall.
“You do. And the other two marshals guarding me last night.” Saunders’s eyes flared. “And her.”
Colton gritted his teeth. Lord, where is that patience?
Lisette positioned herself to his left and slightly behind him. “Mr. Saunders, I’m from the FBI and here to ask you some questions. Please come into the living room.” Her voice held a hint of a Southern accent, warm and almost inviting, adding a certain charm to her words.
Saunders stared at her for a long moment. “At least this lady is nice to look at. Can’t say that about the other one.”
Tension whipped down Lisette’s length and flowed from her in waves. “I beg your pardon.” The glare she sent Saunders would put most people who were smart in their place.
But not their witness. He roared with laughter. “Sassy, too. I bet you’re a handful.”
“In the living room, Mr. Saunders,” she said in a tight, husky voice, her Southern drawl more pronounced, but nothing warm and inviting in the tone anymore.
Interesting. The more angry Lisette Sutton became, the more her Southern heritage came out. Colton let Saunders move into the hall where the man faced Lisette.
“What are you afraid of? That some man might think you’re pretty if you let your hair down, took off those ridiculous glasses and wore proper feminine clothes?”
Lisette drilled her sharp gaze into Saunders to the point he frowned and continued his trek into the living area without another word.
“Are you okay?” Colton almost felt indignant for her at the sneer in Saunders’s voice.
She lifted her chin. “Of course. I won’t let someone like him get to me.” She adjusted her brown-framed glasses and followed Saunders.
“I heard that, little missy,” Saunders said with a laugh.
She didn’t break stride but kept going into the main room. Colton trailed her, admiring how she walked—like a soldier going into battle.
Silently he applauded her bravado. He’d read she was a good interrogator; this was one of the reasons she was assigned to this case. Saunders had been playing games with the U.S. Marshals