Christmas Undercover

by Hope White

  “Yeah, well, probably not big enough for our team.” B.J. gazed across the field, then back at the cabin. “But a nice area, for sure. Well, thanks for not calling the cops on me for breaking and entering.”

  “Actually, I dropped my phone in the creek. Don’t suppose I could borrow yours to call my girls and let them know I’m okay?”

  Will figured he’d call SAR.

  “Wish I could help you out, but the battery’s dead. This new-model smartphone is worthless.”

  “What if you run into trouble?”

  “I’ve got a personal locator beacon. Besides, what trouble could I possibly get into out here?” He gazed longingly at the mountain range.

  “You’d be surprised,” Will muttered.

  “Well, nice meeting you.” B.J. extended his hand again.

  “You, too. Have a good day.”

  With a nod, B.J. headed for the trail.

  Will went to the side of the cabin and pretended to get wood for the fireplace. Once B.J. was out of sight, he’d retrieve Sara and bring her to the cabin. Made no sense letting B.J. know of her presence, especially if the men who were after her questioned random hikers about seeing her.

  When he’d found Sara just now, he noted her pale skin and bloodshot eyes. At least she was walking around, and maybe even thinking a little more clearly than before.

  That woman was tough, no doubt about it, tough and distrusting.

  Will wandered to the side of the property to search for a cell signal. The sooner he could get Sara medical attention the better.

  He pressed the power button, but the phone was still dead.

  He gazed off into the distance. B.J. was turning the corner, about to disappear from view. Will waited until he could no longer see the hiker, then started for the trail where he’d left Sara. She was already on her way down, clutching the gun in her right hand.

  “Who was that?” she said.

  “A techie from Seattle scouting out retreat spots.”

  “And you believed him?” She scanned the area.

  “Sara, it’s okay.” He reached out.

  His mistake.

  She jerked back as if his touch would sear her skin. “Get inside.”

  He put up his hands and prayed for patience. What more could he do to make her feel safe?

  “Are you hungry?” he said, going into the cabin. “I thought I’d heat up some red beans and rice for supper.”

  She followed him inside and shut the door. “I’m fine.”

  “I didn’t ask if you were fine. I asked if you were hungry.”

  “Stop being nice to me.”

  “Would you rather I be mean to you?” He pulled out supplies for dinner.

  “He could have been working for Harrington and LaRouche,” she said.

  “Doubtful. He gave me his business card.” Will offered it to her. She took it and sat on the bed, still clutching the gun.

  He pulled out a pot and found a can opener in a drawer. “As soon as the phone dries off, I’ll get a signal and call SAR, but it might not be until tomorrow morning.”

  “Go ahead. Ask me,” she said.

  “Ask you what?”

  “What I’m doing out here, and why men from a tour group I was assisting with are after me.”

  “My goal is to get you back to town for medical attention. If you want to tell me what’s going on, that’s completely up to you.”

  He heard the bed creak and her soft groan drift across the cabin. She was hurting. The adrenaline rush from her encounter with the bear had probably masked her pain, and now that she considered herself relatively safe, she was feeling every ache, every pinch of pain.

  “How about some pain reliever?” he asked.

  “Yeah, probably a good idea.”

  “Check my backpack, side pocket,” he said, pleased that she was accepting his help. “You’ll find a small container with ibuprofen and vitamins. Probably wouldn’t hurt for you to chew on a few vitamin Cs to boost your immune system.”

  Filling the pot with water, he went to the fireplace to warm it. He didn’t look at her for fear he’d scare her again, that she’d retreat behind a wall of paranoia and fear.

  “Wouldn’t hurt to drink more water,” he suggested. “To help the dehydration, and probably the headache.”

  She grabbed the water bottle off the bed and sipped.

  “Why are you here?” she said.

  “It’s my cabin, at least for a few more days.”

  “Why don’t you leave me alone?”

  “That wouldn’t be very gentlemanly of me.”

  “Gentlemanly, huh?” she said.

  “You sound as if you’ve never heard the word before.” He stirred their dinner.

  “Or I haven’t met many—” she paused “—gentlemen.”

  “That’s unfortunate.”

  “It’s life.”

  He dropped the subject, not wanting to antagonize her with a philosophical discussion on how men were supposed to be gentlemen, especially to women, that men weren’t supposed to think solely of themselves.

  And abandon their children to a volatile mother.

  Whoa, shelve it, Will. This getaway was supposed to be about easing the resentment from his heart, not battling the scars from childhood.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Will noticed Sara shivering as she popped off the top of the ibuprofen bottle.

  “If you remove your wet jeans we can dry them by the fire,” he offered.

  “No, thanks.”

  “Okay.”

  “No offense, but I won’t get very far without my pants.”

  “Nor will you get very far if you come down with pneumonia.”

  “Okay, Dad.”

  He sighed. “Sorry, guess I clicked into parent mode.”

  He refocused on the water heating in the pot. For whatever reason, she still couldn’t completely trust him.

  Understanding comes from walking in the other person’s shoes. Reverend Charles’s advice when Will struggled to understand Megan. No matter how hard he’d tried, he couldn’t make sense of why she’d pushed him away.

  Since he and Sara would be stuck in this one-room cabin for a while, he tried seeing the world from her point of view to better understand her reactions. She seemed clearheaded, not as delusional as before, and she feared someone was out to harm her. That was her reality. He had to respect that fact. She was also wounded and stuck in a remote cabin with a stranger who, in her eyes, was somewhat of an enigma because he considered himself a gentleman.

  The fact that the thought of a good man was so foreign to Sara probably intensified her distrust.

  Will realized that in order to take care of her, he needed to respect her space, and not act aggressive or domineering. He hoped she would open her mind to the possibility that he truly wanted to help.

  * * *

  Gripping the gun firmly in her hand, Sara found herself struggling to stay awake. Not good. Things happened when she slept.

  Bad things.

  “Do you have any coffee?” she asked.

  “Sure.”

  Will went into the kitchen. She eyed the bottle of ibuprofen in her lap, then the chewable vitamin C tablets. She’d taken both, thanks to Will’s suggestion.

  Will. A stranger with really bad timing who’d happened upon a woman with a target on her back. A stranger who wouldn’t leave her, even after she’d told him her life was in danger, that she could be putting his life in danger.

  “It’s instant,” he said, returning to the fire to warm water.

  “That’s fine.” She handed him the chewable vitamin bottle. “You could probably use some extra C, as well.”

  He popped one into his mouth. “Thanks.”


  She watched his jaw work and his Adam’s apple slide up and down as he swallowed. He fascinated her, this gentle, strong and honorable man.

  He scooped coffee into a mug and added water. “You can take up to five of those vitamin Cs if you want.”

  “What I want is to be home,” she let slip.

  “Which is where?” He handed her the mug.

  She noticed blood smudging his skin. “What happened to your wrist?”

  “Ah, nothing,” he muttered. He dug into his pack and pulled out an antiseptic wipe. “I’ll bet you’re a city girl.”

  “That obvious, huh?”

  “A good guess.”

  “What about you?” she said.

  “I live in Echo Mountain,” he said as he cleaned blood from his wrist.

  “What’s that like, living in a small town?”

  “It’s nice, actually.” He opened a dehydrated packet of food, poured hot water into it, sealed the bag and set it aside. “Never thought I’d end up living in a small town, but I’ve been here for ten years and can’t imagine living anywhere else.”

  “You moved here from...?”

  “Denver,” he said. “My wife was from here originally, but she wanted to live near the Rockies so she got a job in Denver after college. We met on a group hike and...” He glanced at the fire.

  “What?” Sara asked.

  Will stood and went to the kitchen. “I should find us something to eat on.”

  She sensed he regretted talking about his wife. Sara wondered what had happened to her but wouldn’t ask.

  “Tell me more about your girls,” she said.

  Walking back to the fire, he handed her a spoon. She used it to stir the instant coffee.

  “Claire’s my eldest daughter. Eight going on eighteen.” He shook his head and sat in a chair beside the fire. “I’m not sure how I’m going to make it through her teenage years without getting an ulcer.”

  “That’s a ways away. Perhaps you’ll remarry.”

  The flames danced in his green eyes as he stared at the fire. “Perhaps.”

  “How long were you married?” she pushed, sipping her coffee.

  “Ten years. Claire was six when her mother died, and little Marissa was only three.”

  “It’s hard for kids to lose a parent.”

  “So I’ve been told,” he said.

  There wasn’t a day that went by that Sara didn’t ache for her mom and dad.

  She pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders. They spent the next few minutes in silence. Will seemed temporarily lost in a memory about his wife, and Sara beat herself up for not getting enough evidence to put LaRouche and Harrington away sooner.

  Sure she’d recorded their conversation and the murder, but when she’d checked her phone earlier, she’d noticed it had been damaged in the fall. Hopefully a tech could retrieve the file.

  Will opened the packet of rice and beans, dumped it onto a metal plate and handed it to her.

  “What about you?” she said.

  “I’ll eat whatever’s left over.”

  She hesitated before taking it.

  “Go on, it’s not bad,” he said.

  “But it’s your food.”

  “I’ve got more.”

  She took the plate, avoiding eye contact. The more time she spent with Will, the more frustrated she became about her situation, and relying on his good nature.

  Relying on anyone but herself was dangerous.

  Since she hadn’t eaten in nearly eighteen hours, she took the plate. “Thanks.”

  “Tell me more about the man who is after you,” he said.

  “Hired by two businessmen who killed their partner.” She took a few bites of food and sighed. “I saw them toss the guy over a cliff.”

  “They killed their partner?” he said. “Why?”

  “Who knows, money?” She didn’t want to share too much with Will because it could put him in danger.

  “I can see why you’ve been so frightened,” he said. “I’m sorry if I haven’t been patient enough.”

  Her jaw practically dropped to the floor. What was he talking about? He was apologizing after everything she’d done? Given him two black eyes and verbally abused him?

  After a few minutes, she handed him the half-empty plate.

  “You sure?” he said. “I can always heat up something else for myself.”

  “No, go ahead.”

  With a nod, he accepted the plate and started eating. She took a deep breath, then another, staring into the fire.

  Maybe it was the flames dancing in the fireplace, or the sound of his spoon scraping against the plate. Whatever the case, she found herself relaxing, fighting to keep her eyes open.

  Stay awake!

  “Relax and I’ll keep watch,” he said, as if sensing her thoughts.

  Will might think they were safe in the cabin, but Sara knew better. Danger was almost always on the other side of a closed door.

  The warmth of the fire filled the cabin and she blinked, fighting to stay alert. Exhaustion took hold and she felt herself drift. She snapped her eyes open again, and spotted Will lying on the floor on top of his sleeping bag. He wore a headlamp and was reading a book.

  He was definitely a trusting man, but was he really so naive to think they weren’t in danger? He was a civilian determined to protect her. Yet she’d brought the danger to his doorstep.

  For half a second, she wanted to believe there were quality men like Will Rankin who rescued failed FBI agents, and protected them from bears and assassins.

  Comforted her with a gentle hand on her shoulder. She drifted again...

  Don’t make a sound...

  She gasped and opened her eyes. Will was no longer on the floor beside the fire. She scanned the room. She was alone.

  The door opened and she aimed the gun. Will paused in the threshold. “Needed more wood.” He crossed the small cabin and stacked the wood beside the fireplace.

  “What time is it?” she said.

  “Nineish,” he said.

  “I’ve been out for...”

  “A couple of hours. Your body needed it.”

  Her mind ran wild, panicked about what could have happened in the past two hours. How close the assassin was to finding her.

  “Give me your phone.”

  He handed it to her. She stood and headed for the door.

  “I don’t think it will work yet,” he said.

  “I’ve got to try.”

  “Want me to come with?”

  “No.” She spun around and instinctively pointed the gun at him. The look on his face was a mixture of disbelief and hurt.

  “Sorry.” She lowered the gun. “Just...stay here.”

  “Try a few hundred feet that way.” He pointed, and then turned back to the fire, his shoulders hunched.

  The minute she stepped out of the cabin a chill rushed down her arms. She should have brought the blanket with her, but wasn’t thinking clearly. Why else would she have pointed the gun at Will?

  His hurt expression shouldn’t bother her. She hardly knew the man. Yet shame settled low in her gut.

  Focus! It was late, but she had to call her boss if she could get a signal.

  The full moon illuminated the area around the cabin. She pressed the power button and practically jogged toward a cluster of trees up ahead.

  “Come on, come on.” She held the button for a few seconds. The screen flashed onto the picture of the two redheaded girls.

  “Yes,” she said.

  But still, no signal.

  She waved the phone above her head, eyeing the screen, looking for bars.

  The click of a gun made her freeze.

 
; “There you are.”

  FOUR

  A firm hand gripped a fistful of Sara’s hair. “Did you think you could outrun us?” a man’s deep voice said.

  Us? They’d sent more than one of them after her?

  “Nice to meet you, Sara. I’m Bill.” He snatched the gun from the waistband of her jeans and pushed her toward the cabin.

  “What do you want?”

  “Why’d you run off from the group?”

  “I had a family emergency.”

  “Sure,” he said, sarcastic. “Who sent you in the first place?”

  “No one. I work for Whitman Mountain Adventures.”

  “Convenient how you showed up out of nowhere and worked your way onto LaRouche and Harrington’s camping trip.”

  “I needed the job.”

  “Yeah, yeah. We’re meeting up with them tomorrow so you can explain yourself. We’ll sleep here tonight.”

  Sleep here? In the cabin? Where Will was innocently stoking a fire?

  “No,” she ground out.

  “Yes.” He shoved her forward.

  She opened the door to the cabin, but Will was gone.

  “Where’s your friend?” the man asked.

  “What friend?”

  He pushed her down in a chair. “The guy I met earlier today. Before our pleasant chat, I noticed your torn jacket on the bed. I guessed you were close. Where’d he go?”

  “I have no idea.”

  A thumping sound echoed from the front porch.

  “You sit there and be quiet while I go hunting.” Her attacker bound her wrists in front.

  When she winced at the pressure against her sprained wrist he smiled as if taking pleasure in hurting her. He leaned close. So close she was tempted to head-butt him. Instead, she stared straight ahead, acting like the innocent victim she claimed to be. He tied another rope around her midsection, securing her to the chair.

  “Behave,” he threatened.

  He turned and went outside in search of Will. Why had Will gotten himself involved in this? Why had he had to help her when he’d found her unconscious body next to the lake?

  Silence rang in her ears as fear took hold. The assassin would kill Will, leaving two little girls without a father. No, she couldn’t let that happen. Couldn’t let those girls suffer through the kind of mind-numbing grief Sara had experienced, especially since Will’s girls had already lost their mom.