Christmas Witness Pursuit. Lisa Harris

she said.

      “Are you sure?”

      She nodded.

      Her answer surprised him. There were three helmets on the bikes. She could be wrong, though it seemed to be the events after the crash that she could remember—like the dead bodies at the scene and the men chasing after her—but not events or things that had happened before the accident, including her name. Either she’d hit her head or was experiencing some kind of dissociative amnesia from the trauma. But the whys didn’t matter right now.

      He clicked the key fob as they approached his vehicle and unlocked his car, then headed toward the motorcycles. “Go get inside. You’ll be safe.”

      “Where are you going?”

      “I’ll be right back. I promise.”

      Sunlight broke through the gray clouds above them as he quickly searched the tree line for the men. If he hadn’t had to worry about the woman, he would have gone after them. However, for the moment, his number-one priority had to be to get her to safety. The problem was that he still had no idea where the men were. And that had him worried. Not only were they armed, he’d be outnumbered if they showed up. That meant ensuring she wasn’t hit in any cross fire would be difficult, so he had to slow the men down. He stopped next to the two motorcycles and quickly jerked out the spark plug wires on each bike.

      But he was running out of time. He could now hear the men crashing through the underbrush without even bothering to quiet their steps. A bullet hit the side of his squad car. He ran back to his car and jerked open the driver’s-side door. A searing pain shot through him as the second bullet hit its mark.

       TWO

      She couldn’t breathe and her heart felt as if it were about to burst out of her chest. She’d just been rescued from the men trying to kill her, but this was far from over. Blood was rapidly spreading across the deputy’s right sleeve as he spoke to his dispatcher to give an update on the situation.

      “You’ve been hit,” she said as he disconnected the call.

      “It’s just a flesh wound. My primary goal right now is to get you out of here. Backup is on its way to arrest the guys that attacked you.”

      She stared out the rear window to where the men were trying to figure out why their bikes wouldn’t start and then focused back on his arm. “You have no idea how bad it is. You’re running on adrenaline now. I need to look at it, and you certainly shouldn’t be driving.”

      “We’re twenty minutes out of Timber Falls,” he said, pressing on the accelerator. “I can wait that long to get treated.”

      “We need to get the bleeding stopped before then.” She grabbed for a T-shirt on the back seat and started pressing it against the wound. This was insane. She couldn’t remember her name or what she did for a living, but somehow her response felt automatic. “What kind of first-aid equipment do you have in the back of your car?”

      “A basic medical kit, exam gloves, a tourniquet...”

      She pressed the shirt tighter, praying the bleeding stopped. “What did you do to their bikes?”

      “They’re disabled for now.”

      “So they can’t follow us?”

      “Not unless they flag down a ride. I’ve got their spark plug wires.”

      “That will buy us some time.” But she needed to stop the bleeding now. “I might not know my name, but somehow I know how to deal with this. Are you feeling light-headed?”

      “No.”

      “Nauseated?”

      “No.”

      She felt for his pulse. It was fast but strong and steady. “I should drive.”

      “Except you’ve just been in involved in an accident and hit your head. Out of the two of us, I’m definitely in a better position to get us out of here.”

      “We make quite a pair.” She frowned at his stubbornness, but wasn’t backing down. “Drive another three or four miles then pull over so I can patch you up properly.”

      “I’m not sure we should stop—”

      “A gunshot wound isn’t something to play around with, and you’re losing blood. I need to assess how serious it is.”

      She took his nod as confirmation that he would do what she asked, then listened as he spent the next mile or two telling her what he’d found out at the scene. The FBI badges and the file that said they’d been transporting a witness for a trial...

      “Do you remember any of this?” he asked.

      She fought to resurrect memories she knew had to be there, but instead only encountered a mounting frustration. “I’m sorry, but no. I can’t remember anything.”

      “Don’t worry about it. Your memories will return.”

      “Maybe, but from what you’re telling me, I’m not sure I want to remember.”

      What had she seen? It had to have been something horrible, like another murder.

      A minute later he pulled the car off at an overlook with a stunning view of the mountains to the west. But she barely saw it. Instead her mind was fighting to focus on the one thing she knew she could do. She hurried to the trunk of the car with him then started going through his first-aid kit, trying not to give in to the panic.

      Seconds later she carefully helped him out of his jacket and uniform, leaving on his T-shirt, so she could get to the wound.

      “Ouch.”

      Her eyes widened. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those macho men who faint at the sight of blood.”

      “Hardly, but you’ve got to give me a little credit. I was just shot.”

      “According to you, it’s just an insignificant flesh wound.”

      “Are you always this ornery?” He shot her a stern look, but his eyes were smiling.

       Do you flirt with every woman you have contact with?

      She bit back the question on the tip of her tongue.

      “Honestly, I have no idea.” She shrugged, unable to avoid his grin or to ignore just how good-looking he was with those dark brown eyes. She shoved the ridiculous thoughts away.

      “The good news is that you were right about one thing,” she said. “The bullet skimmed your arm and the blood’s already clotting. You’ll need stiches, but you’ll survive.”

      He smiled again. “That’s a relief.”

      She looked way, focusing on his arm as she disinfected her hands then started cleaning the wound. The routine seemed familiar. Comfortable. And was the first time she’d felt in control since the accident.

       Or at least as much as I can feel in control in a situation like this.

      The reminder sent panic flooding through her again. She might not remember why she’d been in that car, but she did know those men were still out there. And something told her that missing spark plug wires weren’t going to slow them down for long.

      She opened a butterfly bandage to hold the wound together, trying to stomp out her anxiety at the same time. “They could have flagged down a car to follow us.”

      “I know. But there aren’t a lot of cars out on these back roads right now, especially with the storm coming. Besides, backup should be there by now.”

      “I hope so.”

      “Which means we’re even now,” he said. “I saved your