Hidden Judgment Page 5

  He set a jeweler’s box on the table between them.

  “What’s that?” She eyed the box with suspicion.

  “Engagement ring. You said you wanted one.”

  “That was quick.” She looked at the box like it was going to bite her. “Did a previous girlfriend return it?”

  With a sigh of frustration he opened it himself. “Give me your hand.” He held out his, palm up.

  “I’ll put it on.”

  “Eleanor, give me your hand.”

  “Don’t be bossy. Besides, it won’t fit.”

  He waited until she laid her hand in his with a huff of breath.

  He slipped the ring onto her finger and their gazes locked like puzzle pieces fitting perfectly together. Looking away was impossible, her deep blue gaze pulling him in.

  “Aw, that’s sweet.” The comment broke the tension. Across the table Bella held her phone up in front of her. “Let me know if you want the pictures to post. It would make your cover story more believable.”

  Ellie tugged on her hand and Sam realized he still held it gripped in his. He loosened his hold as Seth raised his brows.

  “You two are acting engaged?”

  Ellie gave a definitive nod, as Bella said, “It’s an excellent idea. Rachel Sinclair wouldn’t move in with her boyfriend unless she had a commitment.”

  “Exactly,” Ellie stated. She held her hand up to the light. “Classic ring, Creed, and bonus that it fits. Either you or your previous girlfriend had excellent taste.”

  Sam figured it was time to change the subject. “Where exactly are you all staying?”

  Chapter Five

  Ellie’s eyes popped open and she groaned. Nope, sleep would not be returning. She pushed back the quilt and swung her legs out of bed. No matter how late she stayed up the night before, when five a.m. rolled around, she was awake and there was no getting back to sleep. She pulled on her shearling boots, and after a quick trip to the bathroom, crept down the back stairs, trying to make as little noise as possible. She thought of returning to her room to get her phone to use as a flashlight, but a dim light from the kitchen allowed her to see the outline of the steps.

  She’d made it to the bottom tread when a dark shadow moved toward her. She had a split second to think how stupid she’d been to leave her gun in her room before a light blazed on and she let out a wheezy breath. “Jesus Christ, Sam. Are you trying to scare a year off my life?”

  “Why didn’t you turn on the light instead of creeping down the stairs in the dark?”

  “Because I thought you were sleeping and I didn’t want to wake you.”

  “My bedroom door is closed. How would the light have woken me?”

  “I don’t know. I was trying to be considerate. Next time I won’t be.”

  Now that she no longer felt like her life was in danger, her brain was catching up with what she was seeing, which was Sam with tousled hair, low-slung flannel pants, and no shirt. She wondered fleetingly how someone with such a full head of thick dark hair could be hairless on his chest.

  She bit her tongue before she could ask if he waxed.

  Of one thing she was certain: she could now tell the many women who’d panted over social media posts speculating about what Judge Creed had hidden under his robes that they wouldn’t be disappointed if they ever scored a peek. Ripped, cut, however you wanted to describe the muscular perfection, this guy had it.

  She cleared her throat. “Aren’t you cold? Shouldn’t you put on a shirt or something to cover all that,” she waved her hand up and down the length of his body as her gaze traveled over him, “um, skin?” She gripped her hands together before she gave in to the urge to trace her fingers over the fascinating ridges of muscle from his chest to abdomen.

  He cocked his head and the corner of his mouth turned up. He was standing far too close and she could feel heat radiating off him. His gaze traveled over her. “I could say the same about you. That’s a lot of leg you’ve got there, marshal.”

  He had a point. While her top was a waffle-knit thermal, her sleeping shorts barely covered her butt, and with her feet in the clunky boots, she probably looked more like a surfer chick than a federal marshal. She gave the shorts a quick tug down in what she hoped was a casual move. “I didn’t pack thinking I’d be going on a sleepover.”

  “It might be contrary to my own interests, but I could offer you sleep pants to borrow.”

  “Ah, no. I’m good.” He didn’t reveal his thoughts much, but there was no doubt the gleam in his eyes indicated appreciation. That plus the implied compliment was making her more than a little jittery.

  “What are you doing up so early?” His voice was early-morning rough and for some reason made her salivate.

  She swallowed. “Curse of a morning person. I can’t sleep past five. I was going to make coffee.”

  “Already made.”

  If she hadn’t been so focused on the male specimen in front of her, she would’ve smelled the rich aroma of coffee. “Right. What about you? You an early riser, too?” Did she sound as overly chipper to him as she did to herself?

  He nodded. “You better change into exercise gear.”

  “Why? It’s five a.m. No one needs to exercise at five a.m. I’m having coffee.”

  “You’re my bodyguard. I run every morning. How can you protect me if you don’t go running with me?”

  “I’m not your bodyguard. I’m a Deputy US Marshal assigned to protect a judge, and every morning, really? Don’t you have a treadmill or elliptical machine? You could stay inside and exercise. That would be much safer than running around your neighborhood.”

  “I’m leaving in ten minutes. That should be enough time to inhale a cup of coffee and change into workout gear.”

  “You’re mean.”

  There was that upturned corner of his mouth again, and she thought a mere glimpse of it was like holding a winning lottery ticket. That she was starting to think her life wouldn’t be complete until she saw him give a full-throated, all-in laugh alarmed her more than a little.

  He moved past her to climb the stairs, taking his body heat with him.

  ***

  Sam wasn’t kidding about ten minutes. He was waiting when she descended the stairs wearing her black running pants, a long-sleeved athletic top in neon green, and her favorite running shoes. She’d pulled her hair back in a ponytail and wore a wide band around her head that went over her ears to keep them warm.

  She stood with gloved hands on her hips as he went through a series of high knees and heel kicks.

  “You should warm up. Warm your muscles, loosen the joints.”

  “The sun’s not even up.”

  “Your point?”

  Seeing no alternative, she groaned only a little bit as she did a few heel kicks and leg swings.

  “Did you get coffee?”

  She shot him a dirty look. “A measly half cup.”

  “Then you’re good to go.”

  “You’re all heart, Creed.” She did a few more halfhearted leg swings then followed him to the front door. “Don’t you take the dogs?”

  “No. There are two of them and they’re a pain in the ass when you’re running. Cleo gives me about two miles before she decides she’s gone far enough and wants to be carried, and Tony tries to follow every damn scent he comes across. They’re in their pen in the backyard. They’re fine.”

  She followed him out the front door, which he locked, and then set off at an easy lope down the driveway and onto the street. Ellie followed a few paces behind. His shirt and pants had reflector panels, and he wore blinking red lights around his biceps and carried a flashlight. All good for warning drivers that he was on the road, but also a beacon to someone with nefarious intent.

  She matched his pace, her gaze constantly scanning the area around them for potential threats. Tall trees bordered the street in front of his house for about fifty yards, then opened to reveal a farm-style home set back from the street.

  Farther on,
more houses sat on smaller lots. Other than a dog barking in the distance, the only sound was the slapping of their feet on the pavement and their breathing. Well, Ellie’s breathing. Sam wasn’t breathing heavily at all.

  Overhead, an incredible blaze of stars swept across the sky, the payoff for getting out the door so early. In the east, a thin layer of pink had begun to push against the darkness. Reminding herself to focus on her job and pay attention to their surroundings, she caught up to Sam, matching his warm-up pace as they jogged side by side.

  “How far do you usually run?”

  “Five or six miles. I’m not training for anything, so I only run to maintain.”

  “Do you go at the same time every day, and run the same route?”

  “Unless the weather is really bad, I run daily about this time, and I generally run the same route along the river.”

  “Then you need to vary your routine, break up the pattern.”

  “Right. Today we’ll run through town. We’ll go by the address of the rental house so you can see where your team is staying, and I can point out the courthouse.”

  Despite her complaining, Ellie found herself enjoying the run. She’d gotten into the habit of using a gym and realized that she missed being outdoors as the sun rose and the world was still quiet. Following Sam’s gesture, she caught the quick movement of an animal as it disappeared into the brush.

  “What was that?”

  “Wild turkey. We have a few around here.”

  They turned onto another street where the houses sat on small lots and the road sloped downward. They ran through pools of light cast by the occasional streetlamp. The sound of an engine starting some distance away broke the peace. Through a gap between two houses she saw the headlights of a large vehicle on a parallel street as it pulled a U-turn in the middle of the block.

  “That’s where your brothers and Bella are staying.” Sam pointed to a small house with the SUV Linc had driven parked under a carport. “It’s been a short-term rental for about a year.”

  Given that the residence was not far from Sam’s house, Ellie thought it a good choice. They reached the bottom of the street where lights illuminated the wide expanse of a bridge over the Umatilla River.

  While she would have liked to take a minute to look at the river, Sam continued across. On the other side, businesses started to edge out residences, and within a few blocks they were in the downtown area. The rising sun, still hidden behind the mountains to the east, had turned the sky lavender and the underside of the puffy clouds glowed golden. They passed a church with a domed steeple, and Sam indicated a three-story building with a brick façade. “There’s the courthouse.”

  “Oh, I love the architecture. It’s beautiful. That’s what a courthouse should look like.”

  “Agreed.”

  Ellie was puffing, but she refused to ask Mr. Fitness to slow down. He maintained the pace as they turned back toward the river. The bridge had a pedestrian walkway bordered by a short concrete guardrail, but with no traffic they ran side by side on the narrow road.

  She was going to suggest they stop and view the swirling waters below when a vehicle with high beams appeared coming the opposite direction, fog lights glowing amber. Since the sun had now risen over the horizon, the lights were overkill. Sam moved ahead so they were single file. They were less than halfway across the bridge when the vehicle started over the span. The engine revved and the car picked up speed. She didn’t second-guess the instinct that had her racing forward to grab Sam’s arm. She saw now that it was a truck, its engine roaring, high beams blinding as it approached, crossing the center dividing line and barreling straight at them.

  “Over the guardrail!”

  The shout was barely past her lips when Sam grabbed her arm and they both vaulted over the concrete rail. Without slowing, the truck careened over the pavement where they’d been running only moments before, scraping the barrier in front of them before it sped away.

  Ellie whipped out her phone, concentrating on controlling her breathing as she called nine-one-one. In clipped tones, she gave the description of the truck, an older model Dodge Ram, dark gray with a white shell over the bed, aftermarket fog lights in front, the driver a heavyset male whose ethnicity or race she hadn’t been able to determine.

  She tucked the phone back in her pocket and looked at Sam, who appeared amazingly calm for having just avoided being flattened like roadkill. “The dispatcher said to stay here and she’d send over a patrol car.”

  “I’d rather the patrol car be out looking for that truck.” His gaze blazed over her, and she realized he wasn’t as unaffected as she’d assumed. “Those are pretty good reflexes, Marshal Jameson. Thanks.” He reached for her hand again.

  A patrol car approached with its light bar flashing red and blue, but no siren. Ellie tried to pull her hand free but Sam wasn’t letting go. She scowled at him.

  “You’ll have to control that ‘fuck off’ look whenever I touch you. Engaged couples surviving a near-death experience would likely hold on to each other.” The recollection that she was playing the part of his fiancée came rushing back. She’d been in marshal mode, and had forgotten she was undercover.

  With her hand still in his, they stepped back over the concrete guardrail and onto the roadway. “And that report to the dispatcher,” he muttered. “It sounded like how a cop would speak.”

  So noted, Your Honor.

  The officer, a tall Hispanic woman with stripes on the sleeve of her coat, stepped out of the cruiser and settled a wide-brimmed campaign hat securely on her head. She nodded in their direction. “Judge Creed.”

  “Barb. This is Rachel Sinclair, my fiancée. Rachel, this is Officer Barbara Herrera.”

  Ellie nodded at the other woman.

  “Fiancée?” The comment was directed at Sam, and the officer didn’t bother hiding her surprise. “I didn’t know you were getting married. Congratulations.”

  “Thanks, it’s a new development.”

  She nodded, then got down to business. “Tell me what happened.”

  When Ellie would have opened her mouth, Sam tightened his grip on her fingers. “Dodge Ram came straight at us,” he said. “Would have hit us if we hadn’t jumped over the barrier.”

  “Is there any chance the driver might have drifted over the center divider line, that maybe he was distracted or DUI?”

  “He may have been DUI, but he wasn’t drifting. It felt intentional. He was accelerating and steering straight at us.” Sam pointed at the dark scrape on the guardrail. “He left some paint there so you’re looking for a vehicle with some front driver-side damage.”

  “I’ll add that to the description we got over the radio. Did you recognize the vehicle?”

  When Sam shook his head, she asked, “How about the driver, did you get a look at him?”

  “No.”

  Officer Herrera turned her attention to Ellie. “Same questions, Ms. Sinclair. Did you recognize the vehicle?”

  “No. I’ve only been in town since yesterday, so I wouldn’t have. I did get a glimpse of the driver through the side window as he sped away. I think medium height, and maybe heavy, though that impression might have been due to him wearing a bulky coat.”

  The officer continued to ask questions, making notes in a little booklet. After a few minutes, she tucked the booklet into the cargo pocket on her pants. “There’s a BOLO out for the vehicle. Judge Creed, you want me to give you two a ride back to your place?”

  “No, but thanks, Barb.”

  “Okay. Be careful.” With a half salute, Officer Herrera returned to her cruiser.

  ***

  Sam listened as Ellie spoke on her phone, filling Seth in on what had happened. They were walking back to his house, and turned onto Sam’s street as she disconnected. He caught her hand.

  “Geez, you sure like holding hands, Creed.”

  “Get with the program, Eleanor,” he muttered.

  Earlier, when she’d called her brother, she’d
put her gloves in her pocket. Now, he rubbed his thumb over her finger where the engagement ring should have been.

  Two women, both bundled in brightly colored parkas, came down a driveway to the street being led by equally bundled dogs on leashes. He and Ellie were about to get their first real test.

  “Hey there, Sam.” Yvonne wore a yellow parka and had tightly coiled gray hair peeking from under a matching beanie. Her skin was a shade lighter than that of her ebony-skinned friend, Francie. Yvonne waved as her dachshund in a matching yellow sweater strutted on the end of his leash. Francie’s color choice was red and her small poodle looked like he was dressed for a party in his red sweater and black bowtie.

  Sam nodded. “Morning, Yvonne, Francie.”

  Francie eyed his and Ellie’s joined hands. “Who’s your friend?”

  “This is my fiancée, Rachel Sinclair.” He wasn’t surprised at his neighbors’ matching shocked expressions. He turned to Ellie. “This is Yvonne Jackson and Francie Hogan. In addition to being neighbors, Yvonne works at the post office and Francie is the city’s librarian.”

  Ellie dipped her chin. “Nice to meet you both.”

  Francie’s eyebrows had disappeared under her beanie. She ignored her poodle tugging on the leash. “Well, aren’t you a sly one, Sam Creed. We never even knew you were seeing someone.”

  “It’s been a long-distance relationship. Rachel is moving here from California.”

  Francie finally let the little dog pull her to a bush where he lifted his leg.

  “Well, isn’t that something.” Yvonne smiled as she spoke. “Welcome to Pendleton, Rachel.”

  “Thank you. You have a beautiful community.”

  “That we do. We’re proud of what we have here.”

  Neighborly pleasantries over, the women and dogs continued their walk on the other side of the street. Sam could all but feel their speculative looks. He and Ellie reached his driveway and he stopped, tugging her closer so he could speak in a quiet voice. “Listen, we need to make our cover story work.”