Debby Giusti - Holiday Defenders

Lizzie glanced at the boy. The strain that furrowed her brow eased, and a hint of a smile teased her lips.

“His name’s Joey,” she said, her voice thick with emotion.

“I seem to recall Nick telling me that big sister is named Mary.”

Turning to her niece, Lizzie stroked her fingers through the child’s curly hair and gave her a reassuring smile.

The little one smiled back. With her bow-shaped mouth, upturned nose, golden hair and blue eyes, she’d steal many a boy’s heart when she grew up.

“My name’s Mary Grace,” she informed him without hesitation. “Aunt Lizzie calls me Sunshine ’cause I brighten her day. I’m six years old.”

Nick inwardly chuckled. Little Miss Sunshine was cute as a button. “You’re so grown up. I’m sure you help your dad around the house.”

“Daddy says I need to help take care of Joey, too.”

“Because he’s younger or because he’s your brother?” Nick played along and paired his seriousness to hers.

“No.” She shook her head emphatically. “’Cause he doesn’t talk.”

Nick threw a questioning glance at Lizzie, who remained silent.

“Joey hasn’t talked since Mama died,” Mary Grace explained.

Nick felt a stab of remorse at the children’s pain. How could a so-called loving God allow their mother to be taken?

Nick’s own dad had died some years earlier. After three deployments with the military, Nick had been up close and personal with death, but what rocked him to the core was senseless loss of life, like Zack’s wife.

And Jeff.

His army buddy shouldn’t have died. If only Nick hadn’t—

“Aunt Lizzie, where’s Baby Jesus?” Mary Grace asked, her eyes suddenly wide with concern.

“Here, honey.” Lizzie unzipped the tote she’d packed for the children and removed the Nativity play set.

Mary Grace tugged on the Velcro fasteners and pulled out Mary, Joseph and the infant babe, along with a lopsided donkey and a two-humped camel. With a contented sigh, she rested her head on the back of her car seat.

Once the child was asleep, Elizabeth glanced over her shoulder at the road behind them. “Any chance we’re being followed?”

Nick studied the darkness. “I’ve kept to the side roads and doubled back a few times. So far I haven’t seen anyone on our tail.”

Seemingly satisfied, Lizzie settled into the seat and glanced at Joey to ensure he was asleep, before she lifted her gaze. “I’m worried about Zack.”

Nick was, as well, but he wouldn’t tell her. She needed something to hold on to, something that provided hope.

“Your brother’s been snooping into other people’s business since before we graduated high school. He’ll be okay.”

She rubbed her arms and stared out the passenger-side window. “You don’t understand. He’s placed himself in danger too many times since Annabelle died. Sometimes I think he’s running away from her death, trying to overfill his life so he doesn’t have time to remember how good it was when she was alive.”

Nick could relate. He’d run away from Lassiter and the townsfolk who never let him forget his father was a failure, and who seemed convinced that Nick was following in his dad’s footsteps. Back then, no one believed in Nick. No one except Zack and Lizzie.

“Your brother has never worried about danger,” Nick said, unwilling to dwell on his own past failures. The army had changed him, thankfully for the better.

“Maybe not, but Zack needs to be careful, especially with two young children.”

She was right, of course. “Tough break to lose a spouse. Cancer, right?”

She nodded. “Thirteen months ago. Everything happened fast. Annabelle was fine one minute and gone the next.”

A weight settled on Nick’s shoulders. He knew too well how quickly life could change.

“But then...” Lizzie stared at him from the backseat. “I’m sure you understand about leaving without notice.”

Her words were a stab to his heart. His gaze locked on hers for a long moment but then broke away. They both knew the history of their past. No reason to bring it up again. She’d moved on. So had he.

Headlights pulled his focus to the road behind them. A vehicle moving quickly. He swallowed down a rise of concern.

“We’re being followed.”

She glanced over her shoulder.

“Get down, Lizzie,” he warned.

Slipping lower in her seat, she placed her hands protectively on the children.

“Is it a van?”

He shook his head. “I can’t tell.”

They crested a hill. On the far side of the ridge, he cut the lights and made a sharp turn onto a smaller two-lane that led into a warehouse parking area. Doyle Manufacturing. The largest employer in the county. Nick braked to a stop behind a tractor trailer and killed the engine.

“What are we doing?” she whispered.

“Hiding.” He peered past the semi to the main road. “I want to see who’s behind us.”

Headlights crested the hill at a rapid speed. The vehicle came into view. A utility van.

Nick’s gut tightened.

“It’s them, isn’t it?” Lizzie had unbuckled her seat belt and scooted forward in her seat.

Her closeness affected him. For a long moment, he closed his eyes and tried to shrug off the sensations playing havoc with his emotions. Steeling himself, he blinked his eyes open and started the engine.

“At least we know which direction they’re headed,” he said, hoping to reassure her.

With a sigh, Lizzie buckled her seat belt. “I don’t like this, Nick.”

“Everything’s going to be okay.” Of course, he hoped it would be, but his internal warning radar was on high alert. Something very wrong was happening in Lassiter, Tennessee.

Pulling onto the two-lane, he steered away from the main road the van had traveled. Staring into the darkness, he saw the faint outline of the mountain ahead in the distance.

The killers wouldn’t follow them there, especially not on a snowy night. At least, that’s what Nick hoped.

If he were a praying man, he’d ask for the Lord’s protection. Regrettably, he couldn’t rely on God. He couldn’t rely on anyone or anything except his own instincts to keep Liz and the children safe.

He glanced back. Her head rested on the seat, and her eyes were downcast. Perhaps she was praying.

Lizzie didn’t realize the pain he had endured when he’d left Lassiter. In hindsight, her father had been right years ago. Lizzie deserved better than a nineteen-year-old punk aimlessly drifting through life. Nick may have done well in the military, but she still deserved more than he could offer. When this was over, he’d remove himself from her life once again. But in the meantime, he’d do whatever it took to keep her safe.

THREE

Liz’s eyes flew open when the car braked to a stop. She glanced first at Nick and then at the expansive A-frame rising up at the end of the driveway. How long had she been asleep?

Nick stepped from the car, opened the back door and leaned over Mary Grace, which put him much too close. Liz unbuckled her seat belt, needing to distance herself from the man who made her equilibrium falter.

Inwardly she chastised herself, ashamed at her own inability to stay awake earlier. Violent men were after them, yet she’d closed her eyes and drifted to sleep. What if Nick hadn’t been a trusted friend of Zack’s and someone suspect instead. Would she have dropped her guard then?

Nick unclasped the harness buckle on Mary Grace’s car seat and, with strong, powerful arms, lifted the sleeping child into his embrace. For half a second, Liz remembered after prom when they had stood on her front porch, saying good-night, wrapped in each other’s arms.

Enough nonsense. She hurriedly unlatched Joey’s harness and carried the child out the door Nick held open.