Lynette Eason - Classified Christmas Mission

“I’ll explain later. Just get me the backup.” He hung up. At the bedroom door, he paused. “Amber,” he whispered.

Her eyes opened immediately and she sat up. Whatever she saw in his face had her reaching for the weapon that hadn’t left her side. In one smooth move she swung her feet over the side of the couch. She found the boots, slipped her feet in and fastened the Velcro straps. She stood, weapon palmed and ready. She nodded and Lance led the way back into the den area. “What is it?” she asked as soon as they were in the hall with the door cracked.

“Someone’s outside,” Lance said. “I saw his rifle.”

“They found the footprints.”

“That’s my guess.”

She took the front window while he watched the back. Fortunately, the room was small enough that they could communicate without yelling.

“See anything out the front?” he asked, keeping his voice low.

“No, what about you?”

“Not at the moment. How many are there?”

“Probably two.” She checked her weapon again. “The good thing is, they probably don’t expect you to be here.”

“I walked in your footsteps so...”

“Exactly. So it just looks like me alone, although they probably figured I’d carry Sam.”

The glass shattered in front of his face and he jerked back, left cheek stinging. Cold air rushed in, and he lifted his weapon to fire back two quick rounds. The front window ruptured.

“Sam!” Amber fired three shots in the direction the bullets had come from then raced down the hallway to the bedroom.

Silence fell for a moment, and Lance figured their attackers were assessing the situation. They hadn’t expected someone to fire back from both sides of the house. Amber reappeared with Sam in her arms, the child wrapped in the comforter from the bed. She stayed in the windowless hallway and set Sam on the floor. “Stay here, Sam, understand?” The child looked sleepy and a little grumpy, but otherwise unalarmed. Amber handed him the ever-present game but he simply set it on the floor beside him, laid down and closed his eyes.

* * *

Amber flinched when the gunfire started up again. More bullets riddled the walls of the cabin and shattered the windows in the kitchen. She swung her weapon to aim through the broken window in the den and fired back. “We’ve got to get out of here,” she gasped. More bullets came her way, and she jerked back against the end table next to the sofa. The lamp crashed to the floor, and she didn’t have time to worry about it. She caught sight of movement to the left, aimed and squeezed the trigger once more. The figure cried out, stumbled and went to his knees.

“Help should be on the way,” Lance said. “I called dispatch. I’m not even sure they’ll be able to get here, but I’m hoping if they do, the sirens will send these goons running.”

“I think I hit one,” she said. She fell silent as she studied the front area and waited for the sound of gunshots to ring through the night air once again. When it didn’t, she looked back at Sam. He lay still where she’d put him, his eyes watchful, trusting.

He sat up. “One thirteen.”

Amber blinked. “What?”

“One thirteen.”

“One hundred thirteen? What does that mean, Sam?”

“Paper said one thirteen.” Then he laid his head back on the floor and closed his eyes.

Amber knew Sam had just told her something very important, but she had no clue what it meant. And she didn’t have time to think about it now. She had to get them out of the cabin and to a safe place.

She heard the roar of an engine and looked out to see a snowmobile glide to a stop. The rider held out a hand to his wounded partner in crime and pulled him up behind him. They sped away and Amber grabbed Lance’s keys from the floor then raced to Sam. She picked him up and he struggled against her for a brief moment then let her carry him.

Lance was already at the back door. She slapped the keys into his hand. “Let’s get to my car,” he said. “We can head to my ranch. We’ll be safe there. I have a couple of guys who work for me. They’ll help watch out for us.”

“First we need to get to your car.”

“Follow me.”

“I need to grab my backpack. And Sam’s shoes.”

“I’ll get it. I’ll throw his shoes in, too.” Lance bolted to the back of the house and returned within seconds.

Amber tried to decide the best course of action. She was used to making split-second decisions when it came to her own safety, but the child in her arms brought a whole new meaning to the word fear. She couldn’t make a wrong move when it came to protecting him. As a result, she hated to leave the security of the cabin, even as iffy as that security was, to venture into the wide-open space of outside.

But they had no choice. She followed Lance out the door, hovering over the boy in her arms. Sam held himself rigid, but didn’t protest her carrying him. A fact for which she was very grateful.

Lance held his weapon ready, pointing one way, then the other. He led the way and she darted after him. She believed that the two who had been shooting at the cabin were gone, but she wasn’t absolutely sure so that meant her nerves were standing on edge.

Lance didn’t hesitate. He kept going through the ankle-deep snow. At least it had stopped coming down for the moment. She didn’t care about the fact that they would be able to follow their prints. Not now.

“Almost there,” Lance said.

Amber’s arms started to ache. It didn’t help that Sam began wriggling. “Down.”

“Be still, Sam. Please.” She huffed. She was in excellent physical condition, but Sam weighed a little over fifty pounds and conditions were working against her.

“Let me take him,” Lance said.

“He won’t go to you. Just keep going, okay?”

Lance didn’t argue. They continued the trek with Amber anxiously watching over her shoulder. Her breath came in puffs, but she didn’t stop.

They raced down the hill, along the tree line, using the trees for cover as much as possible. It felt like a lifetime, but in actuality was probably only about ten minutes before she found herself back on the road. She crossed the street and slipped into the woods. Lance led her to a small clearing where he’d pulled his Ford. Snow covered the vehicle and had hidden the tracks he’d made when he’d pulled in.

He opened the door and helped her buckle Sam in the backseat. She tucked the blanket around him and he leaned his head against the door.

The exertion had kept her warm, but now she shivered in the cold as she hadn’t had time to grab her coat before bolting from the cabin. Amber raced around to the passenger door and climbed into the seat beside Sam. If someone discovered them and bullets started flying again, she wanted to be able to cover Sam with her body.

Or shoot back through the window if she had to.

Within seconds, Lance flipped on his headlights and pulled from his hiding place. “Give it a minute to warm up and I’ll turn the heat on.”

“That’s fine.” She tucked her right hand under her left armpit to warm her nearly frozen fingers. She needed to keep them limber in order to be able to pull the trigger should the need arise.

“A snowmobile picked up that wounded guy,” he said. “I never heard it approach.”

“They parked far enough away then walked in.”

“And when the shooting started, they realized we could hold our own on the firepower. One of them went after it.”

“He had to in order to pick up the guy I shot.”

“Yeah.”

The chains on the tires gripped through the snow and ice and Lance was able to move at a steady, if slow, pace toward his home.

“You’ll need to check with hospitals nearby and see if anyone comes in with a GSW,” she said.