Michelle Karl - Silent Night Threat

FORGOTTEN MEMORIES

None of her training prepares astronaut Natasha Stark for what she wakes up to three weeks after her groundbreaking space voyage: a target on her back—and no memories. But there’s something oddly familiar about the FBI agent who rescues her. Christopher Barton can’t believe he drew the mission of safeguarding his long-ago fiancée and her daughter—a child he has every reason to believe is his. To learn the truth, though, he has to help Natasha regain her memory. But with threats mounting against the family he hopes to join, Chris is running out of time to take down the assailants before they kill the woman he never forgot and the child he never knew existed.

Natasha couldn’t hold back the fear.

But she refused to cry at seeing her second dead crew member. “That could have been me,” she said, turning away from the body as she recalled the gunshots fired at her and the explosion at her home.

“I’m not going to let that happen to you. I promise.”

The funny thing was, she believed Chris. She didn’t know him, but there was something about him...something familiar, comforting, like the touch of his fingertips against her skin. Or was her scrambled brain imagining things?

Chris pulled away, and the moment was over. “I’m calling a team over. We need to mobilize as many resources as we can to get this figured out.”

“Good plan.” She’d delve into her hazy memories of this man another time. There were more important things to deal with right now. “We need to warn the other crew before it’s too late.”

The front window blew out, shattered by a bullet, and glass exploded at them.

She got the message, loud and clear: it was already too late.

Dear Reader,

Thank you so much for spending a little slice of your holidays with Chris and Natasha! You’re probably wondering about the Orion space program that features in this story—is the race to Mars a real thing? Sure is! NASA’s Orion program is real, and it’s under way, though I accelerated the timeline here for the sake of story. But you can read all about it on NASA’s website and elsewhere online.

Those of you who’ve read Outside the Law will likely recognize Natasha’s last name. She’s the niece of a dastardly character from that book, but she has worked hard to make a name for herself in a typically male-dominated field. I believe that as long as we’re following God’s leading in our lives, we can accomplish great things. Sometimes it will require leaning on a trusted team for support. Sometimes it will mean sacrifice. But when we’re inside God’s will, our lives are forever changed.

I love hearing from readers. Find me on Twitter ( @_MichelleKarl_) or at michellekarl.comand let me know if you’re having a snowy or sunny Christmas. Have a merry Christmas and happy New Year, friends!

Blessings,

Michelle

MICHELLE KARL is an unabashed bibliophile and romantic suspense author. She lives in Canada with her husband and an assortment of critters, including a codependent cat and an opinionated parrot. When she’s not reading and consuming copious amounts of coffee, she writes the stories she’d like to find in her “to be read” pile. She also loves animals, world music and eating the last piece of cheesecake.

Silent Night Threat

Michelle Karl

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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When I consider thy heavens, the work of thy fingers, the moon and the stars, which thou hast ordained;

What is man, that thou art mindful of him? and the son of man, that thou visitest him?

—Psalms 8:3–4

For Dave, Micah and Dad, who get the joke.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

About the Author

Title Page

Bible Verse

Dedication

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

EPILOGUE

Extract

Copyright

ONE

The nameplate on the gold bracelet that circled her wrist read Natasha. She winced at the sharp pain that split the back of her skull as she moved into a seated position and twisted the shiny chain, searching for something—anything—that might provide a clue as to what she was doing lying by the side of the road with a gun in her hand.

A gun! She scrambled backward in the dirt, leaving the weapon behind. A rumble in the distance told her a car was headed her way. Should she leave the gun there or throw it into the ditch?

Where am I? It felt as though her entire head was on fire, and black spots clouded her vision when she turned to try to take in her surroundings. What little she could make out didn’t help: a long road, grass on either side, trees along the edge of the grass. She sniffed the air but didn’t smell anything beyond lingering exhaust fumes, dirt and copper. Copper?

Warmth blossomed along the right side of her temple, a thicker and more concentrated heat than the sun’s rays beating down overhead during this unusually warm afternoon. Where was she? What day was it? What month, for that matter? No one with any sense would be lying outside midday in the heat and humidity, regardless of the location or time of year. She lifted her hand to the side of her head and touched something hot and sticky. Alarm shot through her insides as her fingers pulled back, slick with deep, crimson blood.

It’s not bright red, she thought. I’ve been here for a little while, at least.

But she had no idea how she’d gotten there. Or why. Or if she should even trust the bracelet around her wrist. Natasha? It sounded vaguely familiar, but felt strange as she rolled the word around on her tongue. She needed to get back to the city and ask... Ask who? What city?

Panic rose as her brain refused to recall important details. How did she get here? Did anyone know where she was, and would anyone miss her? Where did she work? Where did she live?

Her breath grew shallow as the lack of details increased in scope, and while some part of her cerebral cortex recognized the danger in hyperventilating while already injured and lying out in the sun, she couldn’t quell the sense of terror that threatened to send her consciousness retreating back into darkness. The black spots in her vision grew larger as the roar of the engine grew louder.

I should move, she thought, but her limbs refused to budge. I should get out of here, away from the gun. What if I’ve done something terrible?

A large shape passed by, and the vehicle engine cut out. The shape came into focus between the black spots at the same time as she heard a car door open and footsteps crunch across the side of the road toward her.

“Ma’am? Are you all right?”

She couldn’t respond. She didn’t know how, and her voice refused to cooperate. The person became clearer as he moved closer—a man with dark hair and a tanned complexion, bearing the broad shoulders of a weight lifter. She knew that because she lifted weights, too.