Elle James - Her Christmas Hero

Garrett sat at one of his monitors. “I’m wiping the entire system. It will disable everything and leave no trace.”

“Are they close?”

“They’re making a beeline for the cabin, but they’re still a half mile away. In the dark in the woods. Idiots.”

“Do you recognize them?”

Garrett grabbed a control stick and zoomed in. “No. How about you?”

She squinted at the grainy green image. “I can’t tell.”

The computer next to her sounded her college fight song. Garrett’s eyes widened, and she flushed. “We were...enthusiastic.”

She plopped onto the chair. “I’ve got the password.” She typed it in. “I can download it.”

Garrett typed in a few commands on his screen. “Copy it. We’re out of time.”

Two figures appeared on the second screen. This time she could see the second man’s gun. Another automatic weapon.

“Military-issue weapons,” she said.

“Good eye. They’ve found us. No telling how many are out there. I’m getting you out of here.”

“We should have had another twenty-four hours at least,” Laurel said. She looked over at Garrett. “This is my fault.”

“Our opponent is better than we both thought.”

“Do you have a thumb drive?” Laurel asked.

He opened the drawer and handed her the small device. She stuck the drive into the system, copied the file, then ejected it.

“We’re out of time.” He grabbed the Remington from a closet, slung the strap over his shoulder and hit a button. The computers started whirring.

“Is it going to explode?” she asked.

“Nothing so Mission: Impossible,” Garrett said. “Just wiped clean and its components melted down. Can you carry this?” He lifted up a small backpack.

She took it from him and stuffed it into a duffel, zipping it up. She took her SIG and placed it in the back of her pants. She wished she had a holster. Next time she went on the run, she’d remember to bring one.

“I’ll carry Molly.” He hurried into the spare bedroom. The little girl had sprawled on her back, clutching her stuffed animal. He slid his hands under her body and lifted her up over his shoulder, settling her on one arm and hip.

“Let’s go,” he whispered, unclipping a narrow flashlight from his belt. “This has a red filter so it doesn’t kill the night vision. I’ll lead the way. Keep your weapon handy.”

He quietly closed and locked the door behind him. Laurel balanced the duffel on her shoulder. They stepped into the darkness. Only the moon lit their way. He pointed the beam of light at the ground in front of him. “Don’t veer off this path. You could walk off a cliff.”

Taking it slow but steady, they picked their way through the trees, around a series of rugged rocks, careful not to make any noise. Garrett jostled Molly once and she whimpered. He froze. Laurel held her breath. If Molly started crying she could give their location away.

They started off again.

A burst of gunfire in the distance peppered the night.

Laurel hit the ground. Garrett knelt, covering Molly. She yelped in fear. He placed his hand on her mouth. “Molly, listen to me.”

Laurel crawled over to Garrett. “I’m here with you, Molly Magoo. We have to be quiet, even if those noises are scary. Can you do that?”

She nodded her head.

Slowly, Garrett pulled his hand away. Molly slapped her hand on her mouth. “Good girl,” he said. “You’re very brave.”

“Will Santa know?” she asked.

“He’s definitely watching.”

“Do Mommy and Daddy know?” Molly asked, her voice muffled through her fingertips.

“They’re very proud of you, Molly Magoo.”

“Lay your head on my shoulder, sugar. We’re getting out of here.”

Laurel could tell, even in the moonlight, that Molly squeezed her eyes shut.

Another bevy of gunfire erupted.

Garrett didn’t slow. “It’s at the cabin. Keep moving.”

A loud curse pierced the night.

“He said a bad word,” Molly muttered. “Santa won’t visit his house.”

“Definitely not,” Garrett said. “Hush now.”

They trudged forward. It seemed so much farther back to the SUV than it had hiking up to the ranch house. Laurel focused on the ground in front of her. All she needed was to fall.

She stepped on a twig and the dry wood cracked beneath her weight. Garrett stilled. She stopped, her heart quickening. He motioned her forward.

Laurel didn’t know how long they walked before she finally recognized the outcropping of rocks ahead. Garrett paused. Laurel stopped as well, listening to the sounds of the night.

In December, not many animals sounded their call. But neither did the men following.

A twig snapped not that far behind them.

“Go!” he shouted. Placing the keys in her hand, he pushed her through a gap in the rocks. The SUV was just feet away.

“Take her.” Garrett shoved Molly into Laurel’s arms and took off running in the opposite direction.

* * *

GARRETT RACED AWAY from Laurel and Molly. How the hell had these guys found them? He slammed through the pine trees, making as much noise as possible. A gunshot echoed in the night, the bullet hitting a pine tree just above his ear. They had night vision. Great.

Garrett took his flashlight and turned the powerful miniature beam on high, then flipped off the filter, shining the bright light in the direction of the fired shot.

A curse of pain sounded toward him. The guy would be blinded for a few seconds. Garrett veered in the direction of the house. Anything to keep them away from Laurel and Molly. He prayed she’d gotten away, that no one else had intercepted them.

“This way!” one of the men shouted. Footsteps pounded at him. They weren’t even trying to be quiet. He took a ninety-degree turn away from the ranch, toward some of the cliffs. He had to keep his bearings. A rock outcropping should be coming up to his right.

Sure enough, the strange formation loomed from the ground.

The men following him kept coming.

The sound of a stumble, then a loud curse, filtered through the night. He hadn’t lost them. Garrett rounded the rock formation and paused. Fifteen feet away was the edge of a steep hill, its base jagged rocks. Dangerous, deadly and convenient.

He flipped off his flashlight and raced toward the hill. Those guys trailed after him as though they had radar on him.

Was he carrying a GPS? His phone shouldn’t be traceable. How did they have a bead on him? He couldn’t hear anything above him; a chopper would be crazy to fly at night in these mountains.

No time to figure it out.

He still couldn’t be sure if he wasn’t walking into a trap, if someone was waiting for him.

“Laurel, I hope you got away.”

He stopped in front of the drop-off. They shouldn’t have been able to find him, but the two men barreled into the clearing just in front of him.

The red-filtered flashlight one of them carried crossed his body, and they stopped.

A smile gleamed in the moonlight. “Two years late,” the man said, lifting his gun.

Garrett dived to the side just as the man charged. The guy tried to skid to a halt, but momentum carried him over the side. He shouted out and disappeared down the hill.

“Strickland!” the second man shouted. Garrett launched himself at the guy and pinned him. “Who are you?”

The man shook his head.

Garrett shoved the barrel of his Beretta beneath the guy’s chin. “I’m not playing games.”

“Yeah, well, neither is my boss. I’m dead if I say anything.”

The man’s eyes were resigned. A bad sign.

“How about we make a deal?” Garrett said, easing the gun just a bit. “You tell me your boss’s name. I let you go. You disappear out here. You’re a few hours from the border.”