No One to Trust (Book 2: Kayla Walsh Suspense Trilogy)

I thought I could trust him. I thought I was safe. But everything I believed was shattered when I learned why and how a brutal home invader murdered my parents. My life in witness protection crumbled, and now my best friend Martin and I are following a trail of clues from Paris to the French countryside—straight into the killer's lair.

The chase took a terrifying turn when an attacker launched Martin from a speeding train. I refuse to believe he’s dead, but with danger closing in, I know I have to keep running. Finding refuge in a homeless community gave me a brief respite, but the threats never ceased.

With the help of new friends, I escaped once more, only to walk into another trap set by the very men who’ve been hunting me since I left Arizona. The closer I get to the truth, the more deadly the game becomes. Trusting anyone feels impossible, but I have to rely on Martin and Vincent if I want to survive.

Can we uncover the secrets that destroyed my family before we become the next victims? And will my growing feelings for Martin survive this deadly journey?

No One to Trust is my bone-chilling story of betrayal, survival, and relentless pursuit of the truth. If you’re drawn to intense suspense and emotional twists, join me in this harrowing adventure. Buy No One to Trust to discover if we can escape the deadly web that ensnares us.

Kayla Walsh had never expected to leave the safety of witness protection to end up in an abandoned Virginia missile silo. But here she was, following her grandmother’s silver-haired boyfriend, Vincent, through a cold and musty underground parking lot. Dimly lit wall sconces gave the place an eerie aura that added to the goosebumps dotting her olive complexion.

Her best friend and former physical therapist, Martin, touched her arm; his hand felt warm and comforting. As he walked behind Vincent, his size dwarfed their host’s lean, six-foot-two frame. He leaned down to whisper in Kayla’s ear. “Are you sure about this? I’m getting bad vibes.”

A mere five-foot-two-inches tall, Kayla raked a hand through her sleek black hair and whispered back. “You could go back home to Arizona.” Looking up into the dark eyes above Martin’s wide nose, she hoped he wouldn’t abandon her to finish their mission alone.

He swallowed hard and shook his head. “We’re in this together.”

She stepped closer in hopes his body heat would quell her shivers.

Vincent stopped at an elevator and turned toward his guests with a smile that deepened the dimples in his cheeks. His blue eyes sparkled with pride as he pressed the call button.

Martin stopped beside Vincent under a light that reflected off his shaved head and put a green tone on his latte-colored skin.

She stared at a logo on the doors that identified Vincent’s operation as a security business.

“I thought my grandmother said you were a rancher.”

“I have several businesses, dear.” Vincent entered the elevator. “My grandson runs the ranch. At my age, this business is easier on my tired muscles and bones.” He stepped into the elevator and waited for them to join him.

She tried to smile while clinging to a handrail during a high-speed descent farther underground. The sleep-deprived fog in her brain took her thoughts in a morbid direction. The tremble in her knees threatened to reveal her discomfort. Hoping to tamp down her growing unease, she bit the side of her mouth and supported herself against the wall.

“I’m looking forward to sleeping on the plane.” She hoped the words would coax her thoughts away from what brought her to this refurbished missile silo. After being chased down a dirt road by two guys who kept yelling things she couldn’t hear, a magnet attached to a helicopter had whisked her car to a metal platform. Her stomach stayed behind when the platform swished down to a parking lot where Vincent met them.

Beyond Bizarre. And nerve wracking. Rubbing her arms, she wished for a sweater despite the summer heat outside this frigid silo.

“I could use a nap, too.” A wobble in Martin’s unusually quiet voice amped up her anxiety.

The elevator door opened to another hallway with concrete walls lit by more sconces. A young man in tight jeans and black-framed glasses waited for them outside the elevator. Vincent introduced him as his assistant, Alex, who extended a hand that felt even more chilled than Kayla. She figured she'd get there if their stay in that creepy building extended beyond the few minutes she expected.

Alex’s bored expression made her wonder if his administrative duties were as mind-numbing as hers were when she worked for her grandmother at the Arizona home for abused women and children.

Vincent put a hand on Martin’s shoulder. “Kayla told me last night that your attacker at the Lincoln Memorial tried to slice your throat. Our nurse practitioner is waiting to treat the wound. Alex will take you.”

Alex led Martin down another hallway, leaving her feeling small and vulnerable. She stretched to make herself seem bigger as Vincent turned to speak to her.

“Your grandmother wants to talk to you before we leave for Paris. We have a guest room where you can freshen up and make the call.”

He led Kayla into a brighter hallway with windows and doors on both sides. Men and women in casual clothes tapped on computer keyboards or talked on phones. A group of six discussed a strange drawing on a whiteboard—boxes, circles, and triangles connected by lines.

No one looked up as Vincent and Kayla passed.

She stepped around the door he held open and surveyed the room. It contained a twin bed covered with a beige comforter, and a sink against a green wall, with a mirror over it that was flanked by a hand towel on one side, and a hair dryer dangling from a hook on the opposite side. To the left of the sink was a toilet, and a tiny square shower stall took up a corner on the right.

He gestured toward the black phone on the nightstand. “To call your grandmother, dial nine. You’ll hear a buzz, then dial her number. When you’re done, open the door. I’ll be right outside.”

He closed the door, but she imagined his presence behind it.

She sat on the bed, wondering if someone would listen to her call. Her grandmother had told her to trust Vincent, but given everything that had happened in the last two weeks, trust was in short supply.

She dialed the burner phone Martin had given her grandmother, who Kayla affectionally called Nana. When Nana answered, Kayla tried to be cheerful.

“Are you excited about visiting your birthplace again?” Nana’s voice sounded like she was smiling.

“Yeah. I’m a little nervous about what I might find in Paris, though.”

“Vincent and Martin will be there for moral support.”

“Thanks for convincing him to fly us there.”

“It’s the least we can do to help you figure out who is after you and why.”

It warmed her heart that Nana was so happy. She turned to small talk. “Things happened so fast I never had time to ask you how you met Vincent.”

“He was such a comfort when your parents died. He helped me sort through everything and decide what to sell. Then he helped me change our identities and get this job. I don’t know what I would have done without him.”

Her spine tensed as she tried and failed to remember the home invasion that killed her parents and put her in a coma for a year, followed by another year of difficult rehab. “I’m glad he could help you through those awful days, Nana.”

She held in what she wanted to say—that his insistence that they enter witness protection and begin new lives in Arizona isolated them from everything Kayla knew and loved.

She tried to smile. “Was he at the funeral? I don’t remember seeing him in the video you showed me.”

“No, he said he didn’t hear about it until it was over.”

Kayla’s thoughts lingered on her recovery and the two awesome physical therapists who made sure she was physically and mentally ready for what was in store. But now, she felt there was no one to trust. Before leaving D.C., she had discovered that these two people who had helped her transition from helpless to wheelchair-bound to able to scale a wall weren’t who she’d thought them to be.

She was wary of everyone now, but she was especially unsure of the woman who had replaced Martin after he disappeared for months. She’d thought of Jessica as a friend, a trusted confidant who had taught Kayla self-defense. But she’d learned that Jessica was listed as one of several people who escaped from the same prison Martin had been in when he’d received an offer for freedom. Freedom that hinged on his agreeing to become a physical therapist, change his name, and move to Arizona.

A nagging question scraped across her mind. Why did they send him to her tiny town years ahead of the attack that eventually landed her there, in witness protection?

Her heart felt like bricks weighed it down. She had to be cautious and keep investigating if she ever wanted to figure it out.

She queried Nana. “You know the physical therapist who replaced Martin for a few weeks?”

“Yes, Jessica.”

“Who referred Jessica to you?”

“The homeless shelter. Remember, I told you? Are you eating enough?”

“Yes. Who runs the homeless shelter?”

“The director is an older gal like me. We have a lot in common. Her son and his family died in a car wreck a few years back. By the way, the fire inspector decided the fire wasn’t arson like you thought.”

“Good.” Still, that fire had been the final straw sending Kayla and Martin on this journey for justice. She avoided telling Nana that another of the prison escapees had died in an eerily similar electrical fire.

Nana continued. “The director and I have met for coffee a couple of times. Once I get the smoke and soot out, I hope to spend more time with her. It’s a lot different here without you.”

“I’ll be back, I promise. But I’m glad you’re making more friends. You deserve to have a happy and full life. How does the homeless shelter raise support?”

“Local churches pitch in. I think they also have large donors, like we do.”

“Is Vincent one of them?”

“Maybe. He never said, but he did introduce us. Why are you asking all these questions?”

“I’ve had a lot of time on my hands, and these are random things that flit through my brain. They’re telling me it’s time to board the flight. I love you, Nana.”

“Oh, Kayla, before you go. I have the k—”

“Sorry, Nana. Gotta go. I’ll see you in a few weeks. Okay?”

“Okay, sweetheart. Take care.” She sounded disappointed. “Remember this. I know it’s hard for you to trust people, and no one can blame you for that. But trust Martin and Vincent. They both care for you and want the best for you.”

“I will, Nana. I love you.” Kayla disconnected. She hoped Nana was right and pushed back the guilt of lying about boarding the plane. And then she smiled. If someone had listened to their conversation, Kayla hoped they hadn’t caught that Nana