Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 6

fish?"
    "Nope."
    We dissolved into laughter right as the phone started to ring. I sobered quickly when I saw Geoff's number on the caller ID.
    I answered with the ghost of Rhys' laughter still ringing in my ear.
    " It's time. " Geoff said.
    "Okay. We'll go tonight."
    Geoff had arranged for me to turn myself in to one of his contacts at the local PD in a small town outside Albuquerque, who would then transfer me into the custody of the FBI to be delivered to Geoff at the Dallas field office. We weren't sure how deep the corruption ran so he didn't want me being filtered through any of the big city stations, PD or FBI, before I reached him. From there I would officially become a witness for the prosecution and then enter the witness relocation program.
    When I hung up the phone, I told Rhys, "It's tonight."
    We had every move planned out and both of us fell into autopilot as I grabbed my packed bags and headed out to his truck. I walled off the part of my heart that was breaking and kept moving, knowing I had to be strong. Since we had put Geoff on the trail, he had discovered that not only was the Doherty family running drugs and guns through Boston, they were also moving human cargo– women and children to be sold to the highest bidder. No matter what I was feeling right now, I had to help put a stop to it.
    An hour later, Rhys pulled the truck over into a parking lot a few blocks from the police station. The look in his eyes was unfathomable as I got out of the truck. "Thanks for everything, Rhys. I won't forget it."
    I slammed the passenger door closed and started walking down the street at a determined pace. I vaguely registered the sound of another car door slamming before someone grabbed my arm and pulled me into the alley I was passing.
    Before I even had a chance to register any fear, I was being pressed against the wall of the alley and kissed within an inch of my life. Rhys threaded his hands into my hair and pulled my head towards him with such force that I wouldn't have been able to resist, even if I had wanted to. And, God, did I not want to. I opened my mouth to his hot, fierce tongue and melted into his body as his hips held me against the brick wall. I wrapped my arms around his back and gave as much as I was taking, something clicking into place, my heart screaming pleasure, and home, and stay at my brain.
    Finally, he pulled back mere inches and stared at me– his eyes boring anchors into my soul, connecting us irrevocably. "You stay alive, you hear me. You stay alive and I will find you." His voice broke a bit on that last bit and all I could do is nod. "Promise me."
    "I promise. I'll stay alive. I promise." The intensity in his eyes eased back just a little. He kissed me one final time and spun on his heel, heading back to his truck.
    I was cold and aching in more ways than one from the empty space he left in front of me.
    ****
    I stared at the glass of the two way mirror in front of me and wondered, not for the first time since they had put me in this interrogation room, what I had gotten myself into. I was cuffed to the table "for the sake of appearances" according to the officer who had left me here over three hours ago.
    I had counted the ceiling tiles, counted the water spots on the ceiling tiles, determined the rate at which the fluorescent light blinked in and out overhead, and spent entirely too much time contemplating what could have caused that stain on the edge of the table.
    Finally, two detectives came in and got me. They led me, cuffed, to their car that was parked in the back parking lot. Detective number one (they never told me their names) held my arm while detective number two unlocked the car.
    Then all hell broke loose.
    I heard what sounded like a car backfiring, but it took me all of about five seconds to realize it was actually a gun. Before I could consciously decide on a course of action I was shoved to the ground by detective number one. Detective number two was busy shooting at someone across the parking lot. There was a lot of shooting but from the sound of it most of the bullets were hitting cars and not people– on both sides. And I took a moment to be pleased about that before I was covered in detective number one's blood. If I had not been laying completely flat on the ground the bullet that had torn a dinner plate sized hole in the back of his chest would have punched through my brain like so much jello.
    In that moment I decided discretion was the better part of