Yuletide Suspect

by Lisa Phillips

  His head throbbed but he ignored it. This was probably the most important conversation he and Liberty were ever going to have. There was no way he would let an injury come between him and the answer he’d been wanting on for a year.

  “Tell me why, Lib.”

  She sniffed but didn’t move. Didn’t say anything.

  Her phone rang.

  “Leave it.”

  She shifted and pulled it from her jacket pocket. “It’s Locke.” Liberty answered it, putting the call on speaker. “Yes, Locke?”

  Tate gritted his teeth to keep from throwing the offending phone out the window.

  “I just got a call from the hospital.” Locke’s voice was crackly through the phone. “Agent Bearn. Francis.” The director cleared his throat. “He didn’t make it through surgery. They tried to revive him, but there wasn’t much they could do. His injuries were too extensive.”

  “Okay, thanks for letting us know.” Liberty said the words deadpan, looking crushed while Tate’s mind was a million miles away from this conversation. Was she going to claim she still couldn’t tell him what had caused her to tear both of their lives apart?

  “It’s been a seriously long day.” Locke sighed. “But I’ll keep you posted if Braden moves.”

  Liberty hung up.

  Tate said, “Tell me why, Lib.”

  * * *

  “I had a good reason.” God, I actually want to tell him. So why couldn’t she just come out and say it? That time in her life had been so painful, and she didn’t relish the idea of reliving it. But Tate deserved to know.

  “And as much as the reason still stands, I can see us together. Which is crazy,” she said. “But you’re right, since I got to Montana I see us as a team. It wasn’t why I came here.” She thought for a second. “I wanted to help you, but maybe I also wanted to see that you were in as much pain as I was... That blog.” A sob worked its way up to her throat. “It was so horrible. Everything I thought you wanted to say to the Secret Service. To me.”

  “Lib.”

  “It was awful, Tate, and I thought it was you.” She tried to collect herself. “Whether it turns out it was Braden or not, it hurt.”

  Tate reached over and slid his hand on the back of her neck. “I’m sorry for what he said.”

  “But you do think that. You think I wanted to hurt you, and that’s why we broke up, or that you weren’t worth me keeping you forever. He said so in the blog, and it’s true. Isn’t it?”

  He didn’t nod, but she knew.

  “I wanted to be with you forever. And I wanted to give you everything. But that meant I had to let you go.” She shook her head. “The number of times we talked about it. Working together somewhere, life after the Secret Service. Us. Kids.” Her voice broke on that last word.

  “We did say that, didn’t we?” His tone was measured. So careful. There was so much tenderness in his voice, and there was no way she deserved it.

  More tears escaped. Where Tate was, there would always be tears. At least that was how she felt. “I knew how much you wanted kids.” She sucked in a breath. “And it wasn’t even that something happened. Just a routine checkup. Oh, by the way, you have this medical condition. You’ll probably never be able to have children. The chance of it happening is so minor you may as well consider it nil.”

  She couldn’t stop. The words were flowing now, and if she broke off then she would never be able to finish. “I knew how much you wanted them—how much we wanted them. I would never be able to give you that, while someone else would.”

  Liberty looked at him then. His eyes flashed, wet with unshed tears. Movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention. She looked over at the building. “Braden’s leaving.”

  Thank You, God, for something else to concentrate on. He hadn’t given her much, and it honestly felt like He’d taken more from her than He’d ever gifted, but God was still good.

  Her struggles didn’t change His inherent goodness or His grace in sending His Son for her. Why hadn’t she remembered that? As she drove after Braden’s car, Liberty realized she’d ignored Him for a year while she licked her wounds. She’d turned her back on God instead of letting Him minister to her and be what she’d desperately needed with Tate no longer in her life.

  I’m so sorry, Lord. She should never have done that. It wasn’t how love acted. And she did love God. She’d just put herself and her own hurt feelings above Him in her life.

  A sense of peace flooded her.

  Thank You, God. He was there with the riches of His grace, ready to extend comfort and hope even now. Are Tate and I going to find our way back to each other again? She desperately wanted to know if God’s plan included that. After all, what had been the point of the last year? Liberty had grown stronger, forced to weather this all on her own. What if it was so she could go into a marriage with Tate on the firm foundation God had given her?

  Maybe that had been His plan, even while she tried to figure her life out on her own.

  “Liberty.”

  She glanced at the passenger seat where Tate wiped his eyes. He pulled up his sleeve and used the material to soak up the emotion. “I’m sorry, Tate.”

  She didn’t want to admit that she should have told him, because she wasn’t convinced it was true. If he’d never asked, she wouldn’t have. And nothing had really changed. There was still this gulf of what they would never have between them.

  Braden turned a corner that led to the center of town, and she followed him a few cars behind in the flow of traffic. If she had told Tate about her diagnosis a year ago, he’d probably have said it was no big deal. But the idea he might settle for something less than what he should have had hurt the most.

  “I’m not sorry,” he said as she drove. “Okay, maybe I’m sorry that I reacted the way I did to you breaking up with me.”

  She shook her head and took a left turn. “No, don’t say that. I broke your heart, Tate. You were upset, and mad, and you had every right to be. I don’t blame you and you shouldn’t have to apologize.”

  “So where does that leave us? I can’t say I don’t want you to come here and work with me. That would be a lie.”

  And so they had journeyed full circle back to where they’d been a year ago. Liberty’s heart wanted to break all over again, but there weren’t any pieces left to shatter. She was going to have to tell him again that it wasn’t going to work. She couldn’t be who he needed her to be.

  “Tate...” She hardly knew what to say.

  The car in front braked, and Liberty did the same. If the GPS was right, then they were coming up on a spot where the road split into two right by a big chain store. On the other side of the street was the giant hospital.

  They crawled to a stop in the line of traffic. She tried to peer around the car in front to see Braden, but it blocked her view. A car idled to her right, more cars behind both of them. The median in the middle was raised, blocking her in. She’d have to bump over it to get out of this spot and then drive down the center of the road.

  There was nothing to do but talk.

  “It really has been good to see you the past couple of days, despite the craziness and both of us getting hurt. I’m not going to regret coming here.”

  “But...”

  She glanced at him. He was right; there was more. “But I still don’t see how we could work together without falling in love more. At least, I couldn’t. And it would only be even more painful than it was last time when you realize I can’t give you everything you want.”

  “And if I tell you I don’t need us to have kids, that I’ll be happy with just you and me?”

  She shook her head and kept her attention on the van that pulled up beside them on the other side of the raised median. “You say that now, Tate. But I don’t want to be the biggest regret of your life.�
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  “And if you already are?”

  The pain cut through her like a knife. “I’m sorry.” What else was she supposed to say?

  “You can fix this, Lib. My biggest regret is how I walked away after you broke things off. But you’re the only one who can choose happiness for us going forward.”

  Men jumped out of the van, guns drawn. She glanced at Tate, but her gaze fell on the window of his door—where more men jumped out of the vehicle stopped on his side.

  The butt of a gun was tapped on her door. “Get out!”

  EIGHTEEN

  “Do as they say.” Tate’s warning was met with a nod from Liberty. She didn’t like it, but she would listen to him.

  The man beside him cracked open Tate’s door. “Let me see your weapon.”

  Tate pulled the gun he was carrying from the glove box. He handed it over with his other hand raised. There was no sense in fighting these guys. He and Liberty couldn’t take four men—that he could see—without getting shot in the process. Not when they already had enough injuries between the two of them.

  The man passed Tate’s weapon to a guy behind him, and then tugged on Tate’s arm. “Get out.”

  He moved slowly, which was fine because moving at all hurt. Sitting had been nice. The guy didn’t need to think he was too agile. He wouldn’t try as hard if he thought Tate couldn’t fight back.

  Tate cleared the door frame and stared the men down like an injured man who had no fight left. He wanted to look at the line of cars behind them. Surely someone was on their phone, calling 911. It was a risky move, taking them in public. And where was Locke? Surely he was in one of these vehicles, or had he been tailing Braden closer than Liberty and Tate? He could’ve been in front of them. Gone now.

  Help us, Lord.

  “You don’t look so good, man.” They walked him around the car to where Liberty stood beside a guy who was at least six foot two. He had his hand around her upper arm—her good arm, thankfully.

  He looked for tattoos, thinking these guys might be more Russians, but couldn’t see any. It didn’t mean they weren’t affiliated, though. Liberty looked scared out of her mind, making her appear almost helpless when he knew she was anything but. Likely most of the emotion was residual from the conversation they’d been having. He was only glad it served their cause.

  I’ll never be able to have children. And she’d given him up so he could have that family he’d always wanted—without her.

  He’d barely seen the strength Liberty had inside her when they were together. He’d had no clue she was courageous enough to let him go. Would he have done the same thing? Tate would’ve liked to say yes, he’d have let her go to live her life, but maybe he was just too selfish, because Tate didn’t think he could’ve ever let her go.

  The barrel of a gun pressed into his spine. Tate started walking, his hands raised. “Wanna tell me where you’re taking us?” He asked the question over his shoulder, half not even expecting a reply. They could have simply shot Liberty and Tate in their car, but instead got them out and were now transporting them elsewhere. Still, he was glad they were wanted alive, because he and Liberty still had plenty to talk about.

  Tate and Liberty were shoved into the back of the van, and silver tape was wrapped around their wrists. Tate made sure he kept a gap between his wrists as they were tied in front of him, and glanced over at Liberty to see she had done the same.

  The van set off, and they all jerked with the motion.

  “I kind of thought you’d put up a fight.” The one who’d taken his gun studied Tate, almost like he was disappointed. “But you didn’t.”

  “Sorry I ruined your evening, but I don’t plan on getting shot in the street.”

  The man glanced at Liberty. He touched her cheek. “I can see why you keep this one around.”

  She turned her face away from the man’s hand.

  Tate said, “Don’t touch her.”

  The gunman glanced at him. “I get paid to do what I want.”

  “You’re not taking orders?”

  “I deliver. That’s good enough.” He shifted closer to Liberty. “How about you, darlin’? What do you do?”

  Tate said, “You have anything to say, you say it to me.”

  The man smirked. “That’s cute, cupcake. But she’s cuter.”

  Tate looked out the front windshield but didn’t know which tree-lined road around town this was. Where were they being taken? He worked at the tape, even though he could break it faster with one swift motion, easier than those zip ties the last guys had tied them up with. That would be too noticeable right now, though.

  These guys seemed to enjoy the rush of the capture. Maybe they were hoping Tate and Liberty would try to get away so they could hunt them down and catch them again before they turned them over to whoever had paid them. Maybe they did stuff like this for the rush.

  When the van made the next turn, Tate’s eyes widened. “We’re going to my house?”

  “We’re going to the address they gave us,” the gunman said. “What do I care whose house it is?”

  Were the dogs here? Tate couldn’t remember what Dane had said he’d do with Gem and Joey after he picked Tate up from the hospital, and they wound up taking Braden to the sheriff’s office.

  Probably he’d put them in the K-9 kennels. If they were here, though, they would be immensely helpful in taking down these guys. He didn’t relish the idea that his dogs might get hurt, but they were trained in protection.

  They pulled up on the snow-covered front drive, and the man closest to the door slid it open. Liberty shivered. Tate’s Christmas lights had been turned off, but the porch light was on. The men held their weapons ready as Liberty and Tate were hauled from the van. They walked them to the barn.

  “Inside.”

  Tate didn’t argue, but he had weapons in the house if he could figure out a way to get to them. The barn had a few dog agility items and a bunch of indestructible toys Joey loved. The smell of dog hit him, and he felt the pang. He missed his buddies. They’d been his companions the last year, a gift from God to get him through the days of aching loneliness without Liberty in his life. I know I’ve said it before, but thank You. It was worth saying again now.

  Tate was shoved to the far corner.

  “Sit.”

  Liberty was told to sit as well, and she did so right beside him. Close enough her good shoulder touched his.

  Tate’s head pounded. Not just under the bandage, but also from the realization that Liberty hadn’t given up on him because he wasn’t worth keeping. He’d thought for so long it was only God who considered him worth anything. It was hard to let go of the belief that the woman he’d loved had thought him dispensable. He thought she’d given him up because he hadn’t measured up, when the reality was otherwise. Liberty was the one who thought she wasn’t worth it in their relationship.

  Tate leaned over and kissed the top of her head. His heart broke that she’d thought being unable to get pregnant meant she wasn’t worthy of his love and their marriage. They could be happy together. So happy. But she thought he deserved better.

  And she couldn’t have been farther from the truth.

  One of the gunmen walked in the door. “They’re fifteen minutes out.”

  The man who’d been talking to them earlier nodded. “Good.” He turned to Liberty. “Means we have time for some fun.”

  Tate moved so he was covering her with his body. The man closed in and brought his gun down on Tate. He shifted at the last second so it glanced off his shoulder. The impact hit and he cried out. It felt like his shoulder had been shattered.

  Liberty was hauled to her feet. “Let me go!”

  The man dragged her across the room.

  “Lib!” Tate called out, but it didn’t help. He couldn’t
go to her. He could hardly see.

  He heard her grunt, then cry out in pain. Then a thud. “Ow!” The man called her a foul name.

  Tate climbed to his feet, swaying. He had to help her.

  * * *

  Liberty kicked out at the man, using the distraction of a fight to snap the tape on her hands. Her shoulder might be hurt, but there was nothing wrong with her legs. He grunted and fell to the floor while his buddies looked on, laughing.

  “Guess you met your match,” one of them said.

  Tate was about to fall over, so she went back to him and they both sat down together. She wasn’t going to stay anywhere near that awful guy again.

  The men ribbed each other, apparently content to ignore her and Tate, which she thanked God for. They hadn’t noticed she was free of her tape. She wanted to stay strong, which was way preferable to dissolving into scared tears.

  She’d already cried enough today.

  A car pulled up outside. Maybe more than one. Doors slammed, and she could hear the crunch on snow of people approaching. Tate was still beside her, ready for what was about to happen. Liberty wanted to hold his hand, but settled for her arm against his as she worked at the tape on his wrists. It was as close as she could get without sitting on his lap, which would have been very nice. She’d always loved having his arms around her.

  Liberty didn’t move, though, because neither of them could afford to get too close. Leaning on each other led straight to relying on each other, which led to trust...which ended with her never leaving because she couldn’t imagine her life without him.

  Exhaustion weighed down her body. At this point she would have paid money for a clean bed—maybe in a nice hotel room—and a solid fourteen hours of complete quiet. Maybe God could help with that—after He got them out of this.

  The door opened and a bunch of men walked in. The tape on Tate’s hands ripped all the way, and he lowered them to his lap so no one noticed.