Michelle Karl - Silent Night Threat

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and tapped it against the palm of his hand. “Let’s try to put some pieces together while we wait for help to arrive. What’s the last thing you can remember?”

A shallow sigh escaped her lips. “I’m not sure. But what you said sounds right...feels right. NASA? Yeah. I think I went in for...a physical exam. No, I was on my way to a physical exam. A checkup.”

“That’s a good start. You’re doing great. Can you tell me anything about that appointment? What time? What building?” She started to shake her head but grimaced at the movement. A humming in the distance cut through the sounds of nature and the occasional whoosh of a passing car, but he focused his attention on Natasha. She definitely needed a doctor and fast. Head trauma wasn’t the kind of injury that a person could take their time getting checked out, and considering the important details she’d already forgotten... Well, the longer the delay, the more severe the injury could become. Right now, she didn’t even remember herself, let alone him.

“At work,” she mumbled. “Because I was in space.”

“Even better. See? You haven’t forgotten everything.” He tried to reassure her and keep her calm as the buzzing noise grew louder. Were they near an airfield? He didn’t think so. “Sit tight. An ambulance will be here soon. A lot of people have been looking for you, and they’ll be glad to hear you’re all right.”

“Thank you.” Her gaze shifted past his shoulder. She squinted, like she couldn’t figure out what she saw. “Is that a drone?”

Chris twisted to look as a sudden gust of air whipped past his cheek. Dirt kicked up in the small space between them.

She coughed. “What was that?”

“That’s definitely a drone,” he said, taking in the boxy shape and the rotating blades that whipped around at high speeds to keep the device aloft. “What is it doing out here?”

The drone dropped several feet and moved closer—and this time, Chris heard the muffled bang.

“It’s shooting at us!” Natasha shouted, dropping the borrowed T-shirt. Alarm flared in Chris’s stomach. He lunged for her and wrapped her in his arms, picked her up and then dived for cover behind his truck as the drone released another shot. He opened the passenger door and lifted Natasha inside. They couldn’t stay out in the open; the drone operator could maneuver around to the other side of the vehicle and easily continue shooting.

“Lie down in there,” he instructed. “Make yourself into as small a target as possible. Cover your head.” She did as he instructed, and as soon as she was in position, Chris climbed in on her side, stepping over her to slide into the driver’s seat. A bullet slammed against his door with a clank as he started the Suburban. His window cracked and bowed inward, protecting them for now, but the bulletproof glass could only take so many hits. Without hesitation, he stepped on the gas and veered his SUV back onto the road, heart pounding in his chest.

“Tasha? You still with me?” His insides tightened as he anticipated her response.

“Yes” came her thin, choked reply. “Is it gone?”

He checked the rearview mirror. The drone still hovered in the air, but it didn’t appear to be following them. He continued checking as they drove away, and eventually the machine became a black dot in the distance. Who on earth would use a drone to shoot at Natasha? He supposed it was possible that the drone had been shooting at him, but an armed drone was the kind of weapon to be used on a fixed target—it took time to fly one, and the operator needed to know where to go. He’d been driving around for hours. She’d been by the side of the road for who knew how long. It seemed like an inefficient and cumbersome way to assassinate a person, even though it did provide an element of anonymity. Unless the police were able to take the thing down. He hadn’t gotten a good look at it, but a weaponized drone was no small thing to buy, equip and maneuver with accuracy. And if someone wanted to kill her outright, why on earth had he found Natasha lying in the dirt with no memory of how she’d gotten there and with a gun by her side?

“It’s gone,” he said. “Do you have any idea why someone would be shooting at you?”

She grew silent. Her shuddery breathing told him that not only was she in physical pain but the situation had already begun to take a mental toll. He had no doubt that once she got cleaned up and received treatment for her injuries, she’d be much better equipped to begin dealing with what was clearly memory loss.

“I’m going to use my radio to contact local police and let them know what happened here—all right? When I went to get water for you earlier, I let the FBI know I’d found you, and they contacted emergency services.” She responded with a barely audible affirmative as he fired up his Bluetooth system to make the call. “But now that we’re in the car, I’d rather not wait. We should get you to a hospital to get looked over.”

As he called in the incident to police dispatch, Natasha worked her way back up to a seated position and buckled in. From the corner of his eye, he could see she appeared to be struggling to remain conscious. He needed to get her to a doctor as quickly as possible.

“Try to stay awake,” he said. “I know it’s hard and you must be in a lot of pain, but it’s going to be a whole lot worse if you fall asleep. I’ll get you into good hands as fast as I can, so just—”

Bam! His vehicle swerved to the right before he reacted to the hit. The Suburban’s tires crunched against dirt as he gripped the wheel and corrected the vehicle’s course.

What in the world...? He checked the rearview mirror and saw nothing, then turned his head just as a second hit slammed against them, once again slightly bumping the SUV off course. With his head turned, Chris saw a navy blue Range Rover with deeply tinted windows hiding in his blind spot. He couldn’t see the driver through the front windshield, but he had a bad feeling about the situation.

After all, someone had to have been in charge of the drone. And it appeared that they weren’t pleased that Chris had found Natasha. There was no doubt in his mind—someone wanted to kill Tasha Stark, and he’d just become her human shield.

TWO

Natasha braced against the door and seat. Another slam against the side of the vehicle attempted to push them off the road, but the man who’d rescued her—Chris? Yes, Chris—had a firm grip on the wheel and kept them on course. His biceps and forearms flexed from the strain of each hit, and his jaw was set in a determined grimace. She blinked against the exhaustion that had started to call to her, telling her to close her eyes and surrender to the darkness. But Chris’s earlier words and a memory deep within her consciousness told her that she had to remain awake at all costs.

She strained to look over the back of the seat and out the rear window, despite the agony of turning her head. The blue Range Rover had dropped back, moving away from the side of their vehicle.

“Are they done?” she mumbled. “Will they leave us alone, since they clearly aren’t going to get us off the road that way?”

Chris shook his head and spoke through clenched teeth. “There’s more than one way to run a car off the road.”

“It looks like they’re done, though. They’re slowing down.”

She wasn’t sure if she heard correctly or if Chris actually growled under his breath. “Sit back in your seat, Tasha. Brace yourself. Please.”

“But why?” She looked at him in confusion. “They’re not—” She swung her gaze back at the Range Rover. Despite having dropped back moments earlier, it was now gaining on their SUV at an alarming rate. With a gasp, she sat back and tensed her shoulders just as a heavy slam against the back door sent their vehicle lurching forward. Metal scraped against metal, sending a high-pitched screech through the cabin.