Hope White - Christmas Undercover

The mystery woman leaned into Will and he held his breath. Maybe she’d decided to trust him?

“What’s your name?” he said.

She pushed away from him.

He put up his hands. “I’m sorry.”

Clutching her wrist to her stomach, her blue-gray eyes widened, her lower lip quivering.

“At least let me wrap your wrist?” he said.

She glared.

“The longer we wait, the more it will swell. I’ll wrap it, then ice it to reduce the inflammation. It might hurt less once it’s iced.”

She didn’t shake her head, so he thought she might be open to the idea. He pulled an elastic bandage out of his first-aid kit and extended his hand. “May I?”

She tentatively placed her wrist in his palm. It didn’t look broken, but they wouldn’t know for sure until she had it X-rayed.

“Did this happen when you fell in the creek?” he asked.

She nodded affirmative.

“It’s probably a sprain.” He slid his palm out from under her wrist. “I need you to hold this steady between your thumb and forefinger,” he said, placing the bandage just right.

He wrapped the bandage down to her wrist and back up between her thumb and forefinger, noting how petite her fingers were.

“They’ll obviously do this better at the hospital,” he said, guiding the bandage to circle her wrist a few times. He secured it with a plastic clip. “I’ve got some pain reliever.”

He dug in his backpack and found ibuprofen. When he turned to her, she’d scooted away from him again, her eyes flaring at the sight of the bottle.

“What do I need to do to convince you I’m a friend, not an enemy?”

“Give me my gun.”

“I’d rather not.”

She clenched her jaw.

“You’re dehydrated and not thinking clearly,” he explained. “The gun could go off by accident.”

She pulled her knees to her chest, her hands trembling.

He grabbed an extra blanket off the foot of the bed and shook it open. He started to drape it across her shoulders, but noticed she’d gone white. He hesitated. Yet he had to get her warm somehow.

Gently draping the blanket around her, he pulled it closed in front.

“Hold it together,” he said, as softly as possible.

She reached up with her right hand and their fingers touched.

She burst into a more violent round of shivers.

It tore Will apart that she was having this kind of reaction to him. Maybe it was a physical reaction to near hypothermia.

“We need to warm you up. Let me try something.” He rubbed her arms through the thick blanket.

He thought he was being gentle, but after a minute she pinched her eyes shut as if suffering severe pain. He snapped his hands from her body and stood abruptly.

“You can’t get warm with those wet jeans soaking your skin. You can take them off, and wrap this around your waist.” He pulled his spare blanket out of his pack and laid it on the bed. “And ice the wrist. I’ll go try to get the phone working.”

He shifted his backpack onto his shoulders and turned to leave.

“Wait,” she said.

He hesitated, hopeful.

“My gun?”

His heart sank. He pulled the weapon out of his jacket pocket and slid it onto the kitchen table.

“I’ll be outside if you need me.” Will shut the door and strode away from the cabin, kicking himself for his last remark. Of course she wouldn’t need him. She thought Will the enemy, a man out to kill her.

“She’s dehydrated,” he muttered. “And confused.”

Which made him a complete idiot for leaving her alone with the gun. Although he’d removed the clip, there was still one bullet in the chamber.

Talk about not thinking straight—he’d been thrown off-kilter since he’d found her. What else would explain his behavior? She’d practically broken his nose, yet he still wanted to help her. She’d tied him to a tree, and he’d cut his own skin to free himself so he could save her life.

He glanced at his wrist. He should have bandaged it while he was in the cabin, but had completely forgotten about his own wounds, and he’d left the first-aid kit behind. The cuts weren’t that bad. A good thing since the woman would probably lock him out of the cabin.

The woman. He still didn’t know her name.

He took the phone out of his pocket and removed the battery. Trying to power it up while wet could cause more problems, so he’d try to dry it out. He sat on a rock and dug into his pack for the small can of compressed air. His friends often teased him about the random things he carried in his pack, but after Marissa had dropped his phone into the town’s water fountain, he knew anything could happen where his girls were concerned, and he had to be ready.

Glancing at the cabin, he realized he hadn’t been ready for today’s events. He hadn’t been prepared to stumble upon a wounded, vulnerable woman in the mountains, nor had he been prepared to have to fight so hard to help her.

He aimed the compressed air nozzle at his phone and squeezed. As it blew away the moisture, he considered that maybe he should accept the fact he would never win this woman over. Perhaps he should cut his losses and head back to town, leaving her to her own devices until SAR could make the save.

He stilled, removing his finger from the compressed air button. No, he was not his father. He did not abandon those who needed him. Wasn’t that exactly why he’d gotten involved in Echo Mountain SAR?

A crack of thunder drew his attention to the sky. Clouds rolled in quickly from the south. Not good.

Although the compressed air might have helped, he knew he’d have to wait a few hours before reinserting the battery and trying it out. He pocketed the phone and battery, and headed back to the cabin.

He hoped she wouldn’t shoot him on sight.

* * *

As soon as he left, Sara grabbed the gun and sneaked out of the cabin. Maybe not the smartest move, but then staying with this man, this very manipulative man, could prove much worse.

She was actually starting to believe him.

As she trudged up a trail, clutching a wool blanket around her shoulders, she realized how close she’d come to dying back there at the hands of her captor.

Dying because he was so good at his job.

He’d nearly convinced her of his sincerity as he’d gently tended her wounds and warmed her body with his strong hands. And to think, when their fingers touched, she’d felt a sense of calm she’d never felt with another man.

Dehydration. A concussion. General insanity. Check on all of the above. LaRouche and Harrington must have paid big bucks to send such a master manipulator out here to find her.

At least she still had her gun. She pulled it out of her pocket, only then realizing the clip was missing. “Great.”

Her head ached, her ribs ached and now her wrist was throbbing thanks to breaking her fall when she went facedown in the creek.

The creek. Will the assassin had saved her life after pulling her from the water. He hadn’t had to do that, had he?

She focused on the rugged trail ahead to avoid any missteps. There’d be no one to catch her this time.

A flash of Will’s green eyes assessing her injury as he’d held her upright taunted her. A part of her wished he’d truly been the man he’d claimed to be: a single dad on a hiking trip to commune with God.

But then, Sara wasn’t a fool. She knew how that relationship worked—people prayed and God ignored them.

She stuck her gun back into the waistband of her wet jeans. At least she had one bullet left in the chamber.

A deep roar echoed through the woods. She froze.

Another roar rattled the trees.

She snapped her gaze to the right...

And spotted a black bear headed her way.

Everything in her body shut down—her mind, her legs, even her lungs. She couldn’t breathe. Frozen in place, she stared at the beast as it lumbered toward her.