12
Maggie
Three months later - March
Iwring my hands together, staring out the foggy car window as the city flies by. It’s March, and the sidewalks are covered in a layer of snow. Despite the heat pouring from the vents, I can still feel the bitter cold settling around me.
Before moving to Nashville, Chicago was the only place I’d ever lived. I didn’t think I’d ever leave. It makes me sad that, unless armed law enforcement officers escort me, it’ll never be safe for me, not even to visit.
I glance around the interior of the blacked-out SUV at the marshals surrounding me. Jenson sits on the far side of the bench seat—the middle seat open—while there are two in the front and three in the second SUV following closebehind. My eyes leave Jenson to the man in the passenger seat.
When I met him months ago, the last time I was brought back to Chicago, he introduced himself as just Franklin—no idea what his first name is. He’s nicer to me than Jenson is, at least. He’s also much better looking. While Jenson is handsome in a very generic way, Franklin has a gruff edge to him, which, if I’m being honest with myself, reminds me of Ian.
I turn my head and stare back out the window while my face tingles with emotion. I’ve only seen Ian in passing at a few events at Jack and Ella’s house. Each time is more difficult than the last. I just want to be with him again, even when he ignores me. Or when he gives me a stony, narrow-eyed glare. I can’t ignore that the attraction is still so strong that it sometimes takes my breath away.
“Alright, Miss Smith.” It’s still weird for me to hear that last name, but I turn to look at Franklin again. He’s twisted in his seat so he can see me. “We’re going to meet with the prosecutor now. I don’t know how long that’ll take. After that, we’ll get you settled at the hotel for the night. They haven’t told us how long they need you to stay, but I don’t think it’ll be more than two days or so. Then, we’ll get you back home.”
My stomach dips at him referring to Nashville as my home. It’s almost as foreign as my new last name of Smith. He gives me what I think is supposed to be an encouraging smile, but it looks as depressing as this entire situation is.
“Sounds great.”
Jenson gives a little annoyed snort. I look at him and, even though he isn’t looking up from his phone, give him a scowl. When I look back at Franklin, he’s frowning atJenson. I’m not sure of the exact marshal hierarchy, but from the way Franklin speaks to Jenson, I gather he is higher up than Jenson is, if not his boss. Not having the energy to care about Jenson’s disdain for me, I focus back on the frosty city and ready myself for what I’m about to do.
I’m frustrated at being here. When I was here in December, they said they might not need me to testify. Apparently, they had another witness to my ex-boyfriend’s crimes who could give them even more than I could, which would put more people away than just my ex. That still doesn’t get me my freedom, unfortunately, since I’m now destined to live a lie forever. Criminals don’t like it when you provide extensive information to law enforcement, even if you don’t end up testifying.
I’m curious who the other witness is, but really, I’m just so ready to be done with this chapter of my life, I don’t even care. All that matters is I never have to see my ex, or anyone associated with him, ever again. And that my family and I are safe. I just hope I can actually see my family again somehow, at least occasionally, after all of this is over.
“Alright, here we are. Let’s go get this over with.” Franklin’s deep voice pulls me back from my lamenting.
I climb out of the SUV and walk somberly toward the building, with four marshals flanking me. Even with the cold, I feel an anxious sweat starting to bead on my hairline along the back of my neck. No one says a word as our combined breaths cause a foggy cloud to follow us across the parking lot.
The two men at the front of the small group pull the doors open, and the rest of us enter. Heat prickles my cheeks, and I unbutton my coat as I step up to security. My hands tremble as I place my purse on the conveyor belt that will feed it through the X-ray machine. Once on the otherside, the security guard eyes me curiously as I collect my bags and rejoin the men.
Franklin has a small smile in place. “Ready?”
My nod is jerky as I try to keep the apprehension from paralyzing me.
He leads us to the elevator. Once inside, I close my eyes and take deep breaths as we ascend to the tenth floor. I wish I had someone with me. Someone I could lean on, who could lend me some of their strength. I’m exhausted from having to navigate all this on my own.
Franklin and Jenson are in front of me, blocking the door. I glare at Jenson, hating him for making me push Ian away. I have no idea if Ian and I would’ve ultimately made it, but I’m so resentful that I wasn’t given the option to try.
I don’t exactly know how I would’ve explained all this to Ian, and I’m sure none of the men I’m with today would approve of me telling anyone, but no matter how things between me and Ian ended, I have absolutely no doubt he would’ve kept my secret.
As angry as I am with Jenson, I’m also mad at myself for being so weak at that moment that I didn’t push back, or maybe tried to figure out how to get in contact with Franklin to see if there was some exception to the rules. I don’t know what I would’ve done had Jenson gone through with his threats of telling Ian that he was my boyfriend and that I was cheating on him with Ian. Even if I’d tried to explain, it would have sounded so outlandish that Ian most likely wouldn’t have believed me.
With that thought, I let go of some of the anger that I have toward myself and redirect it to where it belongs—on Jenson.
My eyes narrow as the doors slide open.
Jenson turns around as he puts an arm in front of thedoor to prevent them from closing. His stare falls to my face, and his expression changes from one of disdain to annoyance. “What’s your problem? Why are you looking at me like that?”
I huff out a breath and push past him out of the elevator.
Franklin walks up to my side and says quietly over his shoulder, “Shut the fuck up, Jenson. No one wants to hear your shit.”
I can’t hold in the snicker that slips out at Franklin’s reprimand. With a huff, Jenson moves past us and stalks down the hall. I glance up, and Franklin gives me a wink as his hand finds my upper back, guiding me to the conference room.
Once inside, I take a seat, and Franklin drops into the chair next to mine. Jenson leans on the windowsill on the opposite side of the wall with his arms crossed. The other two men I don’t know stay in the hallway. We only have to wait a few minutes before the prosecutor enters, accompanied by a few people whom I assume are paralegals or other attorneys, and a man I recognize as an FBI agent who has interviewed me before.
