The Escape (US Marshals #1) - Lisa Harris Page 0,5

of that.

Michaels’s phone rang and he pulled it out of his pocket. “Sorry. I need to take this.”

Jonas finished his last few bites while Michaels took the call.

“Is everything okay?” Jonas asked a moment later when the older man came back to the table.

“Actually, no.” Michaels set the phone on the table. “You told me you wanted to hit the ground running. We’ve got a transport leaving in an hour, and I need you on it. Two felons, both in for murder, are being expedited back to Denver. We need these guys put away, though if you need more time off—”

“No, honestly, I meant it when I said I was ready to jump in.”

“That prisoner transport I was working on just fell through. Mason’s down with the flu and Cody’s wife is in labor.”

“Seriously, you can count me in,” Jonas said, “though I take it I won’t be the only marshal on board.”

“There will be two pilots, and I’m going to call in another marshal. Madison James.”

“Madison James?” Jonas asked. The familiar name took him by surprise.

“You know her?”

“I do, actually. I worked with her briefly three, maybe four years ago. Back when I was training task forces. I didn’t know she was a marshal now.”

Madison James was one of those officers he’d never forgotten. She’d been completely focused on her work, to the point of never socializing outside their training. Friendly, yet reserved and dead accurate in everything she did. And where she might have lacked physically from her five-foot-five stature, her intellect made up for it. He’d been impressed with her skills back then and had wondered from time to time what happened to her. No doubt another few years on the job had honed her skills even further.

“You don’t look happy,” Michaels said, “but she’s one of the best. Which is why I’d like to partner her up with you.”

“I’m not unhappy, just surprised. She was good. Maybe one of the best I’ve ever trained. For some reason, though, I always felt . . . like she didn’t like me.”

“But you liked her?”

Jonas let out a low laugh. “Please don’t tell me you’re trying to play matchmaker like your wife.”

Michaels grinned. “Never.”

“I’ll admit, in different circumstances, I might have liked to have gotten to know her better, but I think I was just impressed with her skills. She’s very good.”

Jonas pushed his plate away from the edge of the table. The shoot house where he’d trained Madison was a live-fire facility where he worked with local law enforcement officers in high-risk situations, teaching them how to work as an effective team.

“She never interacted outside our training sessions,” Jonas said. “Never talked about anything personal. Which was fine, though, because her instincts—as well as her aim—were always spot-on.”

“I’d forgotten the connection, but you were training her when that shoot house murder happened, weren’t you?”

Jonas nodded. “I was.”

“That story hit the news cycle all across the country,” Michaels said. “On top of that, I’m assuming you knew her husband was killed the year before you trained her.”

“I didn’t know that.” The revelation surprised him, but it also made sense as to why she’d been so reserved. “It will be good to see her again. We’ll make a good team.”

“That’s what I like to hear. She might not have the years of experience you do, but her ability to read people and get them to talk is amazing. Just a routine transport to Denver and back. You’ll be back in the city before you know it.”

Jonas frowned. Just a routine arrest was the last thing Felicia had told him when their task force banged on the door of a man with their final warrant for the day. Truth was, there was never anything routine when dealing with felons. He of all people knew that.

Three

Twenty minutes later, Jonas stepped into Michaels’s office at the US Marshals district office, just ahead of Madison. Her shoulder-length brown hair was a couple inches longer, but she hadn’t changed much since he’d seen her last.

“Jonas reminded me that the two of you have already met,” Michaels said.

She shot Jonas a half smile, one that didn’t quite reach her honey-colored eyes, as if she were trying to place him. “Jonas Quinn. Of course.”

He held out his hand and shook hers. “It’s been a long time. I wasn’t sure if you’d remember me.”

“I couldn’t exactly forget you. Best training I ever had.”

“Glad to hear it,” he said. “I didn’t know that you’d become a marshal until Michaels