Wanted for Life Read online

  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Chapter Fifty

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  Chapter Sixty

  Chapter Sixty-One

  Chapter Sixty-Two

  Chapter Sixty-Three

  Chapter Sixty-Four

  Chapter Sixty-Five

  Chapter Sixty-Six

  Chapter Sixty-Seven

  Chapter Sixty-Eight

  Chapter Sixty-Nine

  Chapter Seventy

  Chapter Seventy-One

  Chapter Seventy-Two

  Chapter Seventy-Three

  Chapter Seventy-Four

  Chapter Seventy-Five

  Chapter Seventy-Six

  Chapter Seventy-Seven

  Chapter Seventy-Eight

  Chapter Seventy-Nine

  Chapter Eighty

  Chapter Eighty-One

  Chapter Eighty-Two

  Chapter Eighty-Three

  Chapter Eighty-Four

  Chapter Eighty-Five

  Chapter Eighty-Six

  Chapter Eighty-Seven

  Chapter Eighty-Eight

  Chapter Eighty-Nine

  Chapter Ninety

  Chapter Ninety-One

  Chapter Ninety-Two

  Chapter Ninety-Three

  Chapter Ninety-Four

  Chapter Ninety-Five

  Chapter Ninety-Six

  Chapter Ninety-Seven

  Chapter Ninety-Eight

  Chapter Ninety-Nine

  Chapter One Hundred

  Chapter One Hundred One

  Chapter One Hundred Two

  Chapter One Hundred Three

  Chapter One Hundred Four

  Chapter One Hundred Five

  Chapter One Hundred Six

  Chapter One Hundred Seven

  Chapter One Hundred Eight

  Chapter One Hundred Nine

  Chapter One Hundred Ten

  Chapter One Hundred Eleven

  Chapter One Hundred Twelve

  Chapter One Hundred Thirteen

  Chapter One Hundred Fourteen

  Chapter One Hundred Fifteen

  Chapter One Hundred Sixteen

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Discover more Amara titles… Reckless Honor

  Fair Game

  The Man I Want to Be

  Caught Up

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

  Copyright © 2018 by Allison B. Hanson. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.

  Entangled Publishing, LLC

  2614 South Timberline Road

  Suite 105, PMB 159

  Fort Collins, CO 80525

  Visit our website at www.entangledpublishing.com.

  Amara is an imprint of Entangled Publishing, LLC.

  Edited by Nina Bruhns

  Cover design by KAM Designs

  Cover art from Shutterstock and Pixabay

  ISBN 978-1-64063-517-3

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  First Edition April 2018

  For my sister, Becky, who is always willing to drop everything to read something for me. You’re the best!

  Chapter One

  San Francisco, California

  U.S. Deputy Marshal Angel Larson woke to the coppery smell of blood, and the pale light of approaching dawn seeping through the high-rise glass. She fought through a heavy sense of unease, knowing something was terribly wrong. Angel never slept all night. Especially when she was protecting someone.

  The last time she’d slept soundly had been years ago during a stay in the hospital. But that was only because she’d been…sedated.

  “Shit.” Her rough voice broke through the silence of the room as reality filtered in through the fog. She’d been drugged. Which explained the heaviness in her limbs and the numbness in her brain.

  As clarity returned, other facts caught her notice. She was in her protectee’s bedroom—more accurately, in Heath Zeller’s bed. She was still fully clothed, but her clothing felt wet. No, it was sticky.

  Rubbing her temples, she fought to remember what had happened the night before.

  She and Heath had attended a media event where he’d teased the press with what was to come from his newest piece of technology to be released in a few months.

  The man had upturned the normal stereotype of geeky tech mogul. Heath had a pleasant personality, and a way of speaking that didn’t bring on fits of narcolepsy to members of the non-tech world.

  He’d used this gift to push his way out of the silicon box and into the hearts and homes of America. His good looks, paired with his hefty bank account, had him listed as most-eligible bachelor on every talk show across the land.

  Angel had been assigned the job by her boss, Supervisory Deputy United States Marshal Josiah Thorne. Acting the part of Heath’s girlfriend, Aubrey Daniels, was an easy way to stay close enough to protect him while he launched his new product.

  Being the only female on Task Force Phoenix came with an extra dose of pressure. Angel prided herself on keeping up with the other deputy marshals. But the scent that greeted her when she’d awoken foretold of her failure to keep Heath Zeller safe.

  Sluggishly, she reached out to turn on the light. The sun wasn’t moving fast enough.

  She wasn’t surprised to see all the blood, but her breath caught anyway. Her hands were covered in blood, as were her clothes.

  Heath lay next to her, pale and cold. She swallowed down the instant flood of despair, and forced herself to scan the scene. His throat had been cut first, as evident by the arterial spray across the wa
ll. The spatter pattern from his other wounds matched up predictably to the stains on her shirt.

  Wiping her hands on her ruined sweatpants, she moved to the safe by the desk. With stiff fingers she touched the correct keys and the lock disengaged. To the casual observer, nothing would seem amiss. The large stack of cash, his diamond cufflinks, and a number of stock certificates were all where they should be.

  But something very important was missing—the nondescript-looking cell phone that held the prototype software for Zeller Communication’s next step toward global domination.

  Someone had gotten away with a priceless piece of technology, and done a damn fine job of setting Angel up for murder.

  Chapter Two

  Other than that first brief inspection of the scene, Angel avoided looking at Heath’s body as she focused on deciding her next step. She could call the police…however, the evidence against her seemed solid. She hadn’t discovered any proof that another person had been in the room, and she knew for a fact someone else had been there. Because she hadn’t done this.

  No doubt, her prints would be the only ones on the knife lying on the floor next to the bed. Someone had done a thorough job positioning her to take the fall. If she’d planned this hit, she would have also paid off a few people to say they’d heard her and Heath arguing at or after the party. No doubt, helpful witnesses would surface as soon as the news broke.

  Josiah Thorne, her boss, would get her out of the situation eventually, if he could. But that would take time. Time she didn’t have if she was in jail. Or if the cops believed her and she was embroiled in an official investigation. Not if she wanted to launch her own.

  Until she knew who did this, dealing with the legal system wouldn’t be safe. Whoever set her up were professionals. They knew exactly how to plant evidence so she would be the main suspect. She could only trust Thorne and her small team at Phoenix. They were like family.

  Everyone else was an unknown.

  She brushed aside the last cobwebs of the sedative and her instincts kicked in. Her next step was to get out of there before she was caught red handed. Literally. For a moment, her heart filled with sadness at the loss of the man lying in the bed. While their relationship had been strictly client/bodyguard, she’d liked and respected him as a person.

  He’d told her many times how he trusted her with his life.

  And she’d let him down in the worst possible way.

  Putting aside the deluge of guilt, she worked out the details of her escape plan. No marshal worth their badge went anywhere without having a bolt plan. Normally, it would include the person she was protecting, but now it was to save herself.

  From earlier surveillance of Heath’s condo at 181 Fremont, she knew the cameras in all seventeen elevators were well monitored. The two main stairwells, however, only had active cameras on every fifth floor, alternating. No sane person took the stairs in a skyscraper.

  She might have been able to hack into the building’s security system to mitigate the cameras, but she quickly discovered the intruders who’d set her up had also taken her laptop. All the more reason to find them.

  And make them pay.

  Changing out of her bloody clothes, she threw them in a bag and pulled on a clean outfit and sneakers. Her platinum blond hair had splashes of red stains through it. She pulled it back and shoved on a ball cap to cover the blood.

  She paused by the door before slipping out into the hall and heading for the stairs. There were only two other residences on this floor and it was still early, but she held her breath as she rushed past the other doors.

  Down two floors, she took that corridor to get to the stairwell on the opposite end. Down the next three and across that floor. Heath lived on the sixty-seventh floor. It would have taken a long time to get to the lobby at this rate.

  Good thing she wasn’t heading for the lobby.

  The main entrance was covered by cameras and security. She knew she couldn’t simply walk out of the building without being recorded. Fleeing in disguise would make her appear all the more guilty.

  She continued down to the fifty-fifth floor—to Heath’s safe house. She’d suggested he rent the place under a fake name so he had a place to go in case his apartment was compromised. It wouldn’t be linked back to her, and it would take weeks for them to track it back to Heath.

  The scent of new paint and drywall hit her as she entered the apartment. Dropping her go-bag, she hurried directly to the shower, wanting to remove the evidence of her failure.

  “I’m sorry, Heath. So sorry.” A few tears escaped, but she quickly choked them back. U.S. deputy marshals didn’t cry. They didn’t allow emotions to get in the way of their duty.

  The two times she’d broken that rule she’d paid dearly. The first time was when she’d lost perspective on her first partner at the Marshals Service. That mistake had nearly cost her life. She’d quickly learned not to let her heart get involved on the job.

  She’d liked Heath, and they’d had a lot of fun playing a happy couple. But it had been a job and nothing more.

  She swiped her last tear away and sighed. She knew Heath would have forgiven her if he’d been there. He probably would have told her she couldn’t have been any more careful. They’d never eaten or drunk anything that hadn’t been inspected by someone she trusted. Even bottled water had been dipped for contaminants.

  She’d done everything right. She didn’t know how someone had managed to incapacitate her and kill the man she’d been entrusted to protect.

  Pink water swirled around her toes before escaping down the drain.

  Heath Zeller was gone, and his life’s work, his legacy, was in the hands of his murderer. As Angel stood there dripping, she vowed to get it back.

  And to do that, she had to find the real killer.

  Chapter Three

  Two days later, Angel was ready to make her move out of the building. By now, law enforcement would have scoured the footage taken at every exit. The day of the murder and the next, there would have been a strong police presence as they canvased the area and spoke to all of the neighbors.

  A patrolman had even knocked on the safe house door to ask if she’d seen anything. She’d shaken her head, causing her newly dyed black locks to fall over her shoulder. She’d pushed her glasses up on her nose to look at the flyer that carried her own picture front and center. She’d nodded seriously and agreed to call the number listed if she remembered anything.

  Now, with the police presence cut back, it should have been easier for her to make her escape. But there was one element she hadn’t anticipated. Heath Zeller—eligible bachelor and America’s brilliant boy-next-door—had been a media sweetheart when he was alive. His murder was being discussed on every channel across the country. And with every report, her photo was shown.

  She was the jilted ex-lover, Aubrey Daniels, who’d killed Zeller in a fit of jealousy and was now on the run. Armed and extremely dangerous. Wanted by every law enforcement agency in existence…other than Task Force Phoenix, the only ones who knew the truth.

  Angel had spent the last two days working out a plan to get out of the building and away from San Francisco. Using a paper map, she drew a circle around the city showing the distance she could go with the fuel in her SUV’s tank and the extra she kept in the back. It didn’t help that 50 percent of the circle was in the ocean and therefore useless.

  A town had caught her eye. Crystal Grove, Oregon, was within the circle. She shook her head and moved on. No. That wasn’t an option.

  Fortunately, she wouldn’t need it.

  She owned three small homes off the grid. Her West Coast property was just outside the circle. It meant she’d have to risk stopping for gas, but once she made it to her cottage, she wouldn’t need to go outside again for months. Plenty of time to get things resolved, and hunt down a killer.

  With a plan and all the clothing she had with her packed in a small bag, she took out her prepaid emergency phone. She knew she could only ris
k one phone call, and even that would be layered in code. Calls to her team were undoubtedly being recorded and traced in anticipation of her contact. They would also be watching her team, expecting them to make a move to help her or bring her in.

  She dialed the number, having thought out exactly what she wanted to say ahead of time.

  “Thorne.” Her boss answered on the second ring.

  “Hi.” She didn’t need to identify herself. They’d spoken nearly every day, up until Heath was killed.

  “Where are you?” His question was normal protocol. If someone was listening they would think he was doing his best to talk in a rogue deputy marshal.

  “I can’t tell you that.” She played her part. “I didn’t do this.” Which he well knew.

  “You know how it looks. You should come in and discuss it. Tell your side.”

  She knew Thorne trusted her. From the moment he’d come to get her out of jail seven years ago to offer her a different life with Task Force Phoenix, he’d been a father figure to her.

  In many ways he even reminded Angel of her real father. Both tall, steady men with graying hair. They had an air about them that emitted confidence, and made people want to listen to them. Thorne had known her father back before Thorne became Josiah Thorne. Back when he’d had a wife and a baby on the way. Before he’d given up his life for a new one protecting people.

  Angel often wondered what kind of strength it took to do something like that—to give up everything and everyone you loved, for the greater good. She hadn’t had the option to walk away. Her family was already gone. It had made the decision easier. Thorne had offered her a place on a team that was like a family of orphans, and for that she would be forever grateful. He’d saved her life and given her a purpose.

  Her stomach twisted, knowing she’d let him down this time. Heath was dead because she’d failed. She swallowed and continued with a shaky voice.

  “I know how it looks, which is why I can’t come in yet.”

  “Where will you go? You can’t keep running forever,” he said.

  “We’ll see about that.”

  “You’re too visible. Everyone is looking for you. The second you step out for food or gas, someone will recognize you.”

  “I have other options.” Meaning, her other properties.

  “There’s nowhere you can hide that we don’t already know about.” Shit. He was telling her the other properties had been compromised. She was quickly running out of options.