The Marked Witness: Shadow Watchers

The Marked Witness

Shadow Watcher, Book 3

Vicki Hinze

THE MARKED WITNESS

© 2020-21 by Vicki Hinze

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, transmitted, or distributed in any form by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without specific written permission from the publisher. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or any other means without the permission of the publisher are illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is coincidental.

Published by Magnolia Leaf Press, Niceville, Florida

Digital Edition ISBN: 978-1-939016-41-6

First Edition 2020, by agreement with the author, Murder and Mistletoe

Printed in the USA

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Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Sneak Peek: The Marked Bride

Author’s Note

About the Author

Also by Vicki Hinze

Chapter One

Summerland

Hitch, Alabama

Monday, December 21, 1:30 PM

Sam Holt tugged off his ball cap then sprawled on the sofa, half-watching a rerun of the season’s first college football playoff between Oregon and Ohio State. The national championship was on the line but being a diehard, self-proclaimed Alabama redneck and Crimson Tide—Roll Tide Roll—fan, he didn’t have a dog in this race. That, plus the fact he and the rest of the world already knew the winner, made the game good snooze TV.

After the all-nighter he’d pulled running background for Tim’s latest PSC—Personal Security Consultants—mission, a firm Sam and his partners owned, he needed a power nap. Settling in, he closed his burning eyes and sank into a deep slumber.

The piercing shrill of a ringing phone roused him. The caller lacked a priority call ringtone so, without opening his eyes, Sam snagged his phone and mumbled, If this is a telemarketer or a political call, spare yourself and hang up now.

Sam? It’s Jaycee Cole. I, um, I hope I’m not disturbing you . . ..

Jaycee. The woman he wanted but could never have. His eyes snapped open. Sam hadn’t seen or heard from her since she and her daughter, Lizzie, had left nearby Seagrove Village, Florida, going on six years ago. His heart jackhammered and hollowed, and the too-familiar ache of letting them go flooded in. He lived with plenty of rough times. That came with the territory for Shadow Watchers. Spies who spy on spies made dark situations routine in daily life. His post-military work with PSC was the same. Yet watching Jaycee and Lizzie leave their village home for their undisclosed second relocation in witness protection had nearly killed him.

Had to be done. No choice.

That was the sorry truth. He’d known it then, but he’d also believed, with time, missing them would get easier. It hadn’t. Then he’d hoped he’d get better at coping with them being gone. His partners had said he would, but that hadn’t worked out for Sam either. Every year that passed without them seemed like the hardest one yet—even knowing that if he wanted them to live, and he definitely wanted them to live, they had to go. Jaycee and Lizzie not being in his life hurt, but the thought of him being in a world they were no longer in . . . that brought him more pain than Sam could bear.

Are you doing okay, Sam?

Without them? How did he answer that? Day by day. You?

Day by day. Her sigh crackled through the phone. Honestly, no. No, I’m not okay.

The imagined images of her and Lizzie being happy that kept him functioning, shattered. His jaw clamped down. Why not?

Sorry. I need a minute. Her voice faltered. This is even harder than I expected.

Okay. The list of possible wrongs exploded in his mind. Before they’d met, Jaycee had been a young widow with an infant, working as a government contract negotiator with access to a system in development that would change modern warfare. NINA, Nihilists in Anarchy, an infamous terrorist organization and also PSC’s archenemy, wanted it. Jaycee blew the whistle. NINA blew up her car and her house. Personal safety required she and Lizzie enter witness protection and relocate.

Command followed the money on the project and discovered Bradley Warrington, Jaycee’s boss, had cut a deal with NINA and pointed the terrorists to Jaycee, a witness who knew too much. The deal included Jaycee never testify against Warrington or his powerful and corrupt friends. On Warrington’s indictment, NINA assigned a mid-level operative, John Ranger Craft, to assassinate her. But en route to execute the kill order, Craft’s small plane reportedly went down. No evidence of the crash or him had been found. Craft was presumed dead and eventually Jaycee testified, Warrington was convicted and, aided by his corrupt and powerful friends, he was sent to a minimum security, country-club prison.

Even now Sam continued to monitor all channels, and there had been absolutely no sign of John Ranger Craft. Most likely, he’d not dared to refuse the NINA assassination assignment, but he had seen the wisdom in not executing a joint assassination order for NINA and Warrington against a witness under Command’s high-threat protection. Classic between the rock and the hard place position for Craft. Out of options, he had elected to tap out, probably faking his death and living large on some remote island far, far away.

How is she? Sam asked Jaycee. She would know he was talking about Lizzie.

Growing up too fast.

Without him.

But she was alive. They both were . . . For the thousandth time in the past month, he wished he had asked her to stay, to marry him. But that was a selfish road he hadn’t dared to travel.

Back then, because NINA never left loose ends, Command had insisted Jaycee relocate under a new identity to Seagrove Village, Florida, the home of NINA’s worst nightmare and archenemy, PSC. Since NINA had issued standing orders to everyone in its organization to avoid both PSC and the village, sending Jaycee and Lizzie to it was their best and her safest possible option. A good call in Sam’s opinion.

But the order didn’t hold.

Rogue NINA operatives defied the direct order—PSC already had inflicted an enormous amount of damage on the organization—and made a second attempt though another village venue to get the system. Not a huge shock because, if successful, the system would make a fortune on the black-market and NINA would recoup a lot of the revenue PSC had cost them. Finding Jaycee in Seagrove Village had been an added bonus.

NINA never forgets or makes idle threats. Hadn’t then, didn’t now. Operatives came after her again in a dangerous clash where Sam and his team of PSC partners had successfully interceded and saved Jaycee and Lizzie’s lives for the second time.

Every NINA operative on the planet had already been after Sam and his partners. Typical risks for those who routinely pulled high-priority operations for government entities that didn’t exist on paper. Of course, NINA retaliated at every opportunity, just not in Seagrove Village. PSC’s work was always essential to national security and extremely risky for the partners, their family members, and even people about whom they cared. Sam cared about Jaycee and Lizzie and, to get to Sam, NINA would have killed them both for sport. That left no choice but for Jaycee and Lizzie to relocate—again.

Sam, I’m sorry. I am disturbing you. Remorse riddled Jaycee’s voice. You were resting, weren’t you?

You always disturb me, but only in the best possible way. The fissure of fear opened wider in Sam’s stomach and spread on a tingle to his limbs. What was he thinking? He cleared the fog from his mind. Jaycee calling him? This had to be bad news. For her to contact him, it had to be the worst kind of bad news. He sat up straight, planted his feet firmly on the floor and braced for it. He couldn’t let her not answer his question. If she wasn’t okay, he needed to know why not. Straight answer, Jaycee. Are you two okay?

No, Sam. Jaycee’s voice cracked and she paused, composed herself and then spoke in a whispered rush. We’re not.

He waited but she didn’t say anything else, so he prodded her. What’s wrong? Was she hurt? Lizzie? His heart slammed against his ribs. He pulled his ball cap on, dragged it low, shielding his eyes. It intensified his focus.

We’re not hurt. Not yet, anyway. But I’m afraid I need your help again, and I need it now. She groaned. Sorry. That sounded melodramatic even to me. I do need your help, and I really am sorry, but I’m struggling with this. We’ve been so careful, and yet . . . Please, just bear with me and give me another second to collect my thoughts. Is that all right?

Sure. Jaycee was suppressing her emotions not collecting her thoughts, so he held his tongue. She had always been self-reliant,