Lisa Phillips - Yuletide Suspect

Tate opened the door, stepped outside and headed for the shed. Joey barked and raced out into the snow behind him, ready for whatever adventure they were going on.

Tate turned to the house and called for Joey to follow him back inside. The dog bounded up the porch steps where Liberty stood, while Tate stayed at the bottom. Liberty jumped aside at the last minute, a nervous look on her face. Was she scared of dogs? He hadn’t thought so. Hadn’t she had a dog once? It was possible something had happened recently that he didn’t know about. Tate figured it was just another indication of their incompatibility.

“You still have that ugly cat?”

Liberty’s mouth dropped open. “Yes. You’ve already asked me that, Tate.”

The sheriff stepped out with them and shut the door, almost choking in an attempt to hide his laughter. “I’ll wait for the Secret Service and then take that guy in.” He motioned to his car, where the intruder sat.

Liberty walked down the porch steps after Tate. “Just answer one question before we go find the plane.”

Tate waited.

“What is up with the Christmas decorations? Your house looks like a postcard.”

“It was a wreck, so I fixed it up. The Realtor’s coming by first thing tomorrow morning for a showing.”

She looked like he’d kicked her ugly bald cat.

Tate flicked two fingers toward the sheriff, who drove away with the intruder, and then stepped into the dark of the shed. He fired up the snowmobile and drove it out. Liberty walked over on black boots. She gaped. Tate just ignored it and said, “Get on. We’ve got a plane to find.”

That got her moving. She jumped on behind him and set her hands on his shoulders. Tate reached back and pulled her arms around him. Before the feeling of her being so close could take root, he set off. Liberty squealed and held on tighter. She would get the hang of it pretty soon, and until then he would ignore the fact that she was holding on to him for dear life.

Tate found the path through the trees and headed up the mountain, toward the valley to the west of town. The snow was a thick covering, but the temperature wasn’t too bad. He’d been out in colder weather than this, when the wind beat against him and he’d felt like he was frozen down to his bones.

As he drove, he prayed they would find the plane and the missing people—and that when this was done and Liberty went home, his heart would still be intact.

Four miles later her grip on his waist began to loosen. Half a mile after that she started to slide to the side. Tate shook his head. She’d fallen asleep, probably exhausted from a day of travel and then showing up at his house only to face intruders. Tate slowed the snowmobile to a stop and left it to idle while he reached back and shifted Liberty so she was sitting upright.

She looked even paler in the moonlight. He held her with one arm and then put his free hand on her face. When her eyebrows twitched, he took off his glove and touched the cool of her skin with his warm fingers. This would turn out to be a mistake, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself from hugging her. It had been too long since he’d received any kind of affection from anyone. Dog slobber didn’t count.

Liberty roused. Tate shifted her so he could see her face and said, “Are you okay?”

She nodded, but couldn’t quite hide the wince. “Headache, but that’s all.”

“Aside from the fact that you’re exhausted.” She always downplayed it when she was hurting. “Can you hang on some more? It’s not much farther.”

She looked up at him as though he’d paid her the nicest of compliments. Tate had seriously missed that look in the last year but didn’t want to dwell too much on the fact that he was soaking it up now. It wasn’t going to help him when she left if all he could do was remember what she looked like. What she felt like. How she smelled. He had to get this woman out of his head if he was going to survive alone for the rest of his life.

Liberty straightened. “I’m good.”

“Okay then.” Tate turned back around to face forward and set off again.

* * *

For the first time since she’d shown up at his house, Liberty had seen the man she’d fallen in love with. She hugged his middle again, and felt the prick of tears in her eyes. Everything good they’d ever had between them...she’d ruined it all when she gave him back his ring and said she’d realized it wasn’t going to work.

Which was true. Considering what she’d learned, there was no way a relationship between them would’ve worked. There was just so much unsaid now. She’d seen the question in his eyes, the pain of their relationship being torn apart when there was nothing either of them could do about it.

And nothing had changed since.

They’d both found some semblance of peace. Liberty could hardly believe that their lives now were what God had wanted for them, but what else were they supposed to have done? This was what God had given them, and it simply didn’t work for them to share their lives.

Liberty wanted to ask Tate if he’d moved on, if he’d found someone to care about, but she couldn’t voice the words out in the cold, dark night, silent except for the rumble of the snowmobile’s engine. She hoped he’d found someone else.

Because she never could.

Tate revved the engine. Liberty saw something out of the corner of her eye and glanced over. Her whole body solidified as she spotted a man dressed in dark clothes, a weapon pointed at them.

“Gun!”

Tate shot forward even faster as the man opened fire. They both ducked and the shots rang out, each one as loud as a firework.

Blast after blast flashed in the dark, illuminating his position. His aim chased the snowmobile’s path as Tate flew across the terrain. Liberty pulled her own gun out and fired back two shots, but the ride was too bumpy. She would never be able to hit him. Still, she gripped Tate tighter with her other arm and both knees and tried not to fall off.

Unless...

The shots continued. Liberty shifted back and launched herself off the snowmobile. She landed on her back in a berm of snow and heard Tate yell. He gunned the snowmobile, then turned it in a wide arc, coming back for her.

Liberty ran for the nearest tree so that at least there’d be some cover from the shots. While Tate raced back to her, she returned fire at the man who now sent bullets at both her and Tate in turn. Then he swung his arm back and fired at her.

Liberty ducked and the bullet took out a chunk of bark. She raced for the next tree, moving closer to the man.

The roar of the snowmobile engine raced up behind her. She glanced over, but Tate wasn’t coming for her. He drove the snowmobile past her, toward the man trying to kill them. What was he doing? His weapon was in the backpack on her back.

Liberty shifted for a better position and fired to give him the cover he needed. Over and over. One shot managed to clip the gunman in the shoulder, and then Tate was in her line of fire and right on top of the man. He launched himself from the snowmobile and tackled the guy to the snow.

The vehicle they’d been riding continued on, but the engine lost power fast and careened into a tree.

Liberty raced over while they fought. The gun went off. She ducked and went to one knee. Tate had the man on the ground. He shifted, put his knee on the guy’s elbow and grabbed the weapon.

Liberty relaxed one tiny notch.

Gun at the ready, she made her way to them. “You good?”

Tate didn’t look at her. The man on the ground was bleeding, but Tate hauled him to his feet. Liberty pulled out her phone.

“Won’t get any signal out here.”

“So what do we do with him then?”

Tate shifted the man’s collar. “Same tattoo. Russian as well, I’m guessing. Maybe the first guy from my house. He’s wearing the right clothes.”