Alaskan Christmas Target

by Sharon Dunn

  Landon swung around, his weapon aimed, expecting to hear footsteps headed for Natasha. Instead only silence pressed on his eardrums.

  His breathing became more labored as he adjusted the grip on his gun. He was aware that any noise could give away his exact location. In the kitchen, Natasha had become quiet, as well. Maybe she was waiting for him. There was no way he could communicate the nuances of his plan without talking. She was smart woman with honed survival skills. He had to trust that she knew how to keep herself safe.

  Natasha was the primary target, but the assassin would take Landon out to get to her. He was still in a sitting position with his back against the wall. It was so quiet that if the hitman took even one step toward the kitchen, Landon was sure he would hear it.

  The man might still be moving on his belly, which would be harder to detect.

  The seconds ticked by. He listened.

  The plan was not working as he’d hoped. The assailant was not giving himself away so easily.

  Because it was so quiet, even the smallest noise seemed augmented. Outside, the storm continued to howl and wail. The flames behind the woodstove window were the only things that broke up the blackness.

  Landon heard a single soft thud before a body was on top of him. His gun went off, sending a bullet into the roof. The assassin pinned him to the floor and grabbed at the hand that held the gun.

  Landon jerked his hand away, still gripping the gun. The two men struggled for possession of the weapon. Landon tossed the semiautomatic, knowing that it would be impossible to find in the dark, a better option than letting the hired gun get it. The man angled his body slightly and lifted his head when the gun hit the floor. He was probably trying to figure out where it had landed. The momentary distraction gave Landon the opportunity he needed. He punched the assassin hard in the stomach and then landed another blow to his face.

  The move only seemed to fuel the assassin’s anger. He pummeled Landon with blows to the head and neck, and then sent a hard fist into Landon’s solar plexus, which took his breath away. He wheezed. This man knew how to kill with his hands. Another blow like that and Landon would be a goner. As it was, it felt like he was breathing through a straw.

  Noise behind him alerted Landon that Natasha had jumped into the fray. Something collided with the hitman’s head. And then there was another blow and a muffled grunt, indicating the man was in some pain. In an effort to get away before he was hit again, the man rolled off Landon. There was another groan of pain. Landon wondered what Natasha had used as a weapon.

  Landon turned sideways, still trying to get his wind back. He reached out for where he thought the man had rolled but grasped only air.

  He heard retreating footsteps. Someone was scrambling across the floor. He pushed himself to his feet, swaying slightly as everything fell silent again. He reached out into the darkness. No one was close. And there was no sound of a struggle.

  Maybe Natasha had gotten to a hiding place before she could be attacked.

  His own breathing seemed to get louder as he stood, listening for some clue as to what had happened. He didn’t think the hitman was in the room anymore. Nor did he sense that anyone was close by. But he couldn’t be sure. The guy had proved already that he had some stealth skills.

  Landon turned and faced toward the kitchen, taking a single step and then waiting before taking another one.

  He felt a hand slip into his. Delicate fingers squeezed his callused hand. She had found him in the dark without making a noise or giving herself away.

  He squeezed her hand back. Again, they stood in the dark, waiting and listening for a long moment. Satisfied that the assailant had left the room, he leaned close and whispered, “We need to find the gun.”

  Both of them dropped to the floor. He swept his hand an inch above the carpet aware that any noise might give them away if the hitman was just waiting around the corner. It seemed odd that he would retreat and not come back.

  Natasha stayed close to him but covered a different area of the rug. When they were within ten feet of the woodstove, his hand brushed over cold metal. He’d found the gun! Now to figure out what had happened to the assassin.

  TEN

  Natasha sat back on her heels as quietly as possible. Landon scooted close enough to her that she could feel his body heat.

  Where had assassin gone? He must have slipped into another room, but why? Was he setting up some sort of trap?

  Landon tugged on her sleeve and again they crawled through the dark house. He was probably leading her to a hiding place. The hitman may have moved around the corner or even down the hallway.

  Landon led her to an alcove off to the side of the woodstove and far away from any light that might come through the sliding glass doors that led to the back porch where they had gotten wood for the fire. They settled in a corner, their shoulders touching.

  She brought her knees up to her chest. Her mind was spinning as to why the assassin hadn’t come after them yet. The silence and the bracing for the next attack was almost worse than the fighting.

  They waited. She thought he heard noise down the hallway but couldn’t be sure. Despite the level of adrenaline coursing through her body, Natasha found herself nodding off, waking and falling asleep again. Landon remained close to her and alert.

  He roused her awake and she opened her eyes. Though the little alcove was still covered in shadows, it looked like some light was streaming into the rest of the room.

  They crawled out together. Though it was still snowing, the wind was not as intense. A ray of sunshine snuck through the sliding glass doors. Landon pulled his phone from his back pocket and quickly put it away. No signal. Still no way to call for help.

  Natasha glanced all around the living room. Dark stains on the beige carpet caught her attention. Blood. The bronze sculpture she had hit the man with was on the floor. The piece had sharp points that might have punctured the guy’s skin when she’d hit him the second time.

  The blood was probably the hitman’s. He’d been hurt bad enough to find a place to hole up instead of attacking them again.

  She tilted her head, listening for any distinct noise above her or off to the side in the rooms down the hallway.

  None of the lights was on, which meant the electricity was still out. But the daylight meant they would be that much easier to find.

  Landon slipped back into the alcove and took a position beside her. He spoke in a hushed tone. “It’s only been light for a few minutes. Even if he’s injured, the road won’t be plowed yet, so trying to get out of here by car would still be impossible.”

  “So he’s still in the house?” Her heart beat a little faster.

  “It looks like there is some visibility out there. The storm is dying down.”

  “You think he might try to leave?”

  “I don’t know how badly he’s hurt. It looks like he’s lost a lot of blood. He’s been so relentless up to this point.”

  She fought off the terror that encroached on her. They had to be proactive. “He left a blood trail. What if we try to figure out where he is before he has a chance to escape?”

  “You’re right,” Landon said. “There won’t be a better time. We have the gun. There are two of us, and he’s injured. Depending on where he’s holed up, we might be able to take him. On my say-so, if I think it’s too dangerous, we find a hiding place and wait him out.”

  Natasha shook her head. “Agreed.”

  “Let’s head down the hallway. Follow the blood trail. I move in first, to clear the room.”

  “Okay.” She took a deep breath to try to shake off some of the tension that had taken up residence in her chest. Because there were no windows, the light in the hallway was much dimmer than in the living room.

  Landon pressed his back against the wall and edged forward.

  At first, the blood drops were large e
nough to see easily. He stopped outside the first room, the one that his late wife’s craft stuff was stored in.

  She leaned close and whispered, “It looks like the blood trail leads toward the bathroom.”

  He nodded but then eased open the door to the craft room. He peered inside and then quickly pressed back against the wall on the other side of the door.

  If the assailant had been in there and been conscious, he would have jumped Landon.

  They worked their way down the hall to the bathroom, where the door was open. The blood trail was easy enough to see on the white linoleum.

  Landon peered inside and then edged into the room, still pressed against the wall. While she waited outside, watching, she heard him pull the shower curtain back.

  He shout-whispered, “Clear. But he has been in here.” He came back out, holding a blood-stained towel. “He’s bleeding pretty bad.”

  Natasha’s gaze traveled up the stairs to where Landon had kept his workout gear. Now it was scattered in the hallway.

  Landon shook his head. “If he is up there, we’d be too easy a target on those stairs.”

  As stealthy as the hitman was, she was pretty sure they would have heard him if he’d slipped back into the kitchen. That left them just one room on the other side of the hall, which, she assumed, must be where Landon slept.

  Landon pointed, indicating that they needed to clear that room. With a quick glance up the stairs, he moved to the other side of the hallway. The speed at which he moved into the bedroom indicated he thought the man was not hiding in there. He stepped back out and shook his head.

  She stared down the hall to just beyond the breaker box. There was no side door the guy could have slipped out through. She angled her upper body so she had a view of the top of the stairs. She could discern the silhouette of the love seat pushed off to one side. No noise came from upstairs. He must have gone up there. But had he slipped out the window once the storm broke or was he still up there?

  The assailant was nursing an injury. He’d lost some blood. Would he try to climb out on the roof like she had and escape to wherever he’d left his car? The storm had died down enough that he might have done that. He’d have to dig himself out in a weakened state and then wait for the roads to clear.

  A muffled mechanical hum coming from outside caused both of them to run toward the kitchen.

  Landon stood off to one side and peered out the window beside the door that led to the porch. She took up a position on the other side of the window. Though the wind was still gusting, she could see most of the front yard. A snowmobile emerged from the garage. The rider was hunched over the handlebars. He sped down the snowy road with relative ease, rounding a curve and disappearing.

  Landon shook his head. “That snowmobile wasn’t running, or I would have used it to get us out of here. He must have fixed it.”

  “So now we just wait for the plows.” A chill ran down her spine. The assassin had judged that he was in no condition to take them on and had found a way to leave. They had no way to communicate with anyone as long as the cell service was out.

  “We don’t have a lot of choice here, Natasha. If we tried to take the car or SUV out, we’d just get stuck.”

  “I get that. It’s just that we might have taken one assassin out of commission but once he gets to a place where he can communicate with the man who hired him, someone else will be after me.” She turned and looked at him. “We’re still trapped here.”

  * * *

  Landon could feel his own agitation rising as Natasha expressed her fear. “It will take him some time to get to the main road and then to town, where the phones might be working. Plus, he’s injured.” Though he intended his voice to sound calming, he couldn’t hide his own concern.

  “He used both a handgun and a rifle. Maybe he just went back to his car to get his rifle. He’ll pick us off as soon as we step outside.”

  Her theory held some water. Maybe the assassin wasn’t strong enough to risk hand-to-hand combat but could still shoot from a distance. “First things first,” he said. “That fire is dead. We need to keep this place warm, and then we’ll come up with a plan.”

  He knew that doing something physical would help to ease the tension he felt and to clear his head. Besides, the house was starting to feel quite chilly. He walked across the living room and pushed open the sliding glass door.

  The temperature must be hovering around zero. At least the snow wasn’t pelting him. Before he had even placed the first log in the crook of his elbow, Natasha was beside him.

  She held her arms out, bent slightly at the elbows. “Why don’t you load me up first? The less we have to come outside, the better.”

  He obliged and then filled his own arms, as well.

  Natasha was kneeling by the woodstove with the door open when he came inside. “Looks like there are still some embers in here.”

  “I can get it going.” He knelt beside her after grabbing some sticks and dryer lint from the kindling box. He struck a match to the kindling.

  Natasha had risen to her feet. She walked through the living room and pulled all the curtains. “I know it makes it darker in here, but we’re not the target of a sniper if he can’t see us through the windows.” He heard her feet pad across the carpet onto the linoleum and the sound the of kitchen curtains being pulled shut, as well.

  She returned and stood at the edge of the living room. “I know what is strange about this house. You don’t have any Christmas decorations other than the Christmas card on the refrigerator.”

  “The card is from my sister.” Landon placed several small logs on top of the blazing kindling. How did he explain to her that he hadn’t felt like celebrating Christmas since Maggie died? Christmas Eve service was still powerful for him, and he looked forward to it, but no matter how much he wanted to, dragging the decorations out of storage alone had just been too hard. It had always been something he and Maggie had done together.

  Natasha walked across the room and sat beside him on the carpet. “Look, it’s better that you don’t know all the details of my story, and reliving them isn’t my idea of a good time.” She glanced at him and then at the fire. “There is one thing I want you to know.” Her voice wavered and then she took in a breath. “Years before all this bad stuff happened with Leo Tan Creti, I was married, too.” She reached out, touched his hand for just a second, and then stared at the dancing flames. “He was shot in the line of duty. I understand why you didn’t want to take out the decorations.”

  A comfortable silence fell between them as he listened to the crackling of the fire. It was the first time since Maggie’s death that he’d felt his heart opening up to a woman. And she would probably be out of his life and into a new one in a matter of days. He shook his head at the irony.

  “What are you thinking?” Her voice held a note of playfulness.

  “Nothing.” All the times he’d eaten at the diner, he had just thought of her as the quiet, efficient waitress. Now he understood why she had always put out a vibe that communicated she wasn’t interested in getting to know him better. She’d had to do that to protect who she really was.

  “I think it’s probably a little more than nothing.” Her voice still held that light teasing quality. “No pressure. You don’t have to say.”

  “I was just thinking that sometimes you don’t really know a person. It’s so easy to make a snap judgment.” He rose. He had had a year to get to know Natasha, and now he’d lost his opportunity just when he felt a connection to her. After Maggie’s death, women from church had showed an interest in him. Despite their kindness, he had not felt even a spark of attraction.

  The brightness he’d noticed in Natasha’s features seemed to fall away and her expression became serious. “We need to come up with a plan to stay safe until we’re plowed out. Just in case.”

  “Yes, of course. We’ll keep a look
out for anyone approaching. Why don’t you watch the back entrance? That way you can stay close to the fire. I’m going to head upstairs. If anyone approaches from the road or surrounding trees, I’ll see them coming. If he does come back, I should be able to hear the snowmobile.”

  She stood, as well. “Back to business.” The levity he’d heard in her voice a moment before was gone. She walked toward the glass door with the drawn curtains, pulling them back a few inches to check before sitting the chair by the fire.

  Landon headed down the hall and up the stairs. He scooted the love seat over so he could sit in it and watch the driveway but not be seen from below. The snow was now coming down in soft whirling clouds. He could see to the end of his driveway and even some of the road that led to his house. He was bone-weary but he fought his fatigue and tried to stay focused.

  The plows always cleared the main roads first. Assuming all the plows were kept running through the night, he estimated it would take at least four to five hours before they got to the secondary roads like the one that led to his house and the other homes in the area.

  He nodded off momentarily. A noise caused him to startle awake. He turned around to see Natasha standing beside the love seat, holding a plate of food. “Thought you might be hungry. I opened a couple of cans and rummaged through some cupboards. I’m having a hard time staying awake down there. There is an old saying that food is the same as sleep. Not sure if it’s true or not.”

  He stood and reached out for the plate. “Thanks.”

  She met his gaze for a moment and then hurried back down the stairs. He stared at the crackers and beans. She’d also placed a cup on the plate that was filled with canned peaches. As he ate and stared out the window, he felt himself perking up. As much as he needed sleep, he knew they both needed to remain alert. Still watching through the window, he finished the meal and set the plate on the floor.