“Well, I figure that with an FBI agent as a partner and multiple US marshals keeping tabs on her, she should be safe. Is that an unfair assumption?”

“Captain Decker,” Murph replied neutrally, “it is the general view of the Service that no protectee is ever truly safe. And it is my personal opinion that putting this protectee in the field, investigating a murder potentially committed by one of the very people we’re trying to protect her from, is singularly unsafe.”

“But,” Jessie interjected, finally ready to make the point she’d been holding in reserve, “it’s not really any worse than the status quo. For almost two weeks now, I’ve been under protection. But no one has uncovered anything about the men pursuing me that might change the status quo. It’s costing the city, the LAPD, and the Marshals Service a small fortune, with no end in sight. The way things are going, I might truly have to get a new identity…for the second time in my life!”

“That not how we view it…” Murph started to say.

“Please let me finish, Marshal,” she said, all trace of snark or cockiness gone from her voice now. “This has to end. I’m having nightmares every night about my protective detail being slaughtered. I jump at every unexpected sound and cringe at every sudden movement. I am a prisoner in that house even though I haven’t done anything wrong. It’s not how I want to live. I’d rather try to catch these guys and end up dead than spend the rest of my days living in fear. I have the skills and the inside knowledge to find both the men who mean me harm. Allow me to use them. It’s not an unreasonable request.”

Decker and Murph exchanged looks. After what felt like an eternity, the marshal spoke.

“I’ll square it with Corcoran,” he relented before adding, “if you agree to certain terms.”

“What terms?” Jessie asked, though she was willing to agree to almost anything at this point.”

“Your protective detail remains with you at all times—no attempts to lose us. You continue to spend nights at the safe house. You agree to all security precautions in the field, even evasive maneuvers you might consider excessive. You defer to the marshals’ judgment in any field scenario, no matter how overcautious you deem it to be. If we say leave, you agree to leave, no questions asked. Can you agree to these terms, Ms. Hunt?”

“I can,” she said without hesitation, whether she planned to adhere to them or not.

“Then, pending authorization from my superior, you can proceed.”

Jessie looked at Decker, who appeared to be fighting off a grin.

“Care to meet your temporary partner?” he asked.

CHAPTER FOUR

Jessie wasn’t impressed.

The FBI agent on loan to the department for the stabbing case looked like an old baseball player called into the game because all the starters were injured. As she walked over to meet him, Jessie noted that the guy, who appeared to be in his late thirties or early forties, had a surprising paunch for an FBI agent.