“What about your mom?” Priscilla tried not to be jealous at the obvious affection Luc had for his family, evidenced by the warmth with which he spoke of them.
“My mother’s a surgeon in a regional medical center. She mostly stitches up cuts these days, but she travels all summer throughout Appalachia to the hamlets and towns to offer general medical care to residents who either can’t afford to see a doctor or don’t have access to one.”
“Wow, she sounds amazing.” A longing to be part of such a family filled her, and she closed her eyes to fight back tears. She hugged one of the throw pillows to center her thoughts. She couldn’t think about the future now, not with Culvert trying to kill her. But until Luc shared about his family, she hadn’t realized how much she’d missed having one of her own.
Priscilla sighed. “I wish I knew what they were discussing out there.”
“Yeah, me too.” Luc held out his hand, and it seemed the most natural thing in the world to slip hers inside his.
“What’s Mac’s background?” Luc laced his fingers through hers into a loose grip. “You seem really close to him.”
“I suppose I am.” Priscilla ignored the undercurrent of what might have been jealousy in Luc’s voice, not wanting to discuss his feelings or hers. Instead, she focused on his question. “That’s what happens when your life depends on another.”
“He doesn’t share much personal information.”
“I guess that’s to be expected in his line of work. He’s been my handler for three years, since I was moved to Virginia, but I still know very little about him outside the marshals.”
“Where were you before?”
“A small town in the Midwest.” She looked at him. “I can’t tell you more than that.”
Luc squeezed her fingers, and the reassurance that he understood gave her comfort. She hadn’t been able to be honest with anyone about her life in many years, so to share even these details with Luc filled her with contentment. “I’m not sure why I was moved. Mac just showed up one day and said it was time to pack my bags.”
“You had to change your name again?” Luc’s eyes held sympathy. “That must have been hard.”
“It was. Sometimes, they let you pick a name, and sometimes, you can keep your first or middle name. I chose to keep my first name, but had to learn a new last name and background details. Since I pretty much kept to myself anyway, it wasn’t that hard.” Priscilla wouldn’t mention the nights she’d cried herself to sleep because of the loneliness. In fact, she’d better shift the subject back to Mac before she started bawling on Luc’s shoulder.
Priscilla gazed down at their joined hands. “Anyway, all Mac ever told me was that he joined the marshals a decade ago after a stint in army intelligence.”
“One of the other marshals told me Mac was married.”
“Yes, although he doesn’t wear a wedding ring and rarely talks about his wife. I asked him about it once, and he said he needed to keep his private life separate from his work with the marshals.” She slanted a look at him. “You weren’t jealous, were you?”
“Of Mac? Nah.”
But despite his words to the contrary, she detected a hint of pink washing across his face.
However, before she could tease him further, Luc let go of her hand to point at the clock on the bedside table. “It’s close to six. Want to see if local news has anything on the explosion?”
“Sure.” Priscilla relaxed against the back of the sofa, very aware of Luc’s shoulders mere inches from her own.
He picked up the TV remote and clicked it on to a local station just beginning its six o’clock news program.
A perky blonde newscaster opened the broadcast. “Good evening. I’m Cassie Nobles. Thank you for choosing Action 8 News. Here’s today’s top story. An explosion rocked a Motel 6 just outside of Peebles, West Virginia, this morning, killing two and injuring several others.”
Two dead? Priscilla hadn’t heard about a second victim—just that Rachel Whitehurst had died in the blast.
On TV, footage of firefighters hosing down the smoldering remains of a structure played as the anchorwoman outlined what Priscilla already knew.