Silent Night Threat. Michelle Karl

in his half crouch, mouth open and fingers brushing the edge of the material. He blinked rapidly, all color drained from his cheeks as he stared at her wrist. Her bracelet? She touched it, then glanced up to meet his eyes.

      “I’m Natasha,” she said. “But you said something else. My last name.”

      He nodded, gaze flicking back to the shiny bracelet. “Stark. Your name is Natasha Stark, you’re an astronaut with NASA’s Orion space program, and twenty-four hours ago, you disappeared.”

      * * *

      Christopher Barton hardly believed his eyes. It was nearly impossible to reconcile the woman sitting in the dirt with the memory of the last time he’d seen her. Twelve years ago, Natasha Stark had been a shrinking image in his rearview mirror as he’d driven away from her and the future they’d planned on having together, and for those twelve years he’d done everything he could to put the memory of his first and only love out of his mind.

      And now here she was, tossed right back into it. All it had taken was joining the FBI and getting reassigned to Brevard County in Florida after his two-year probation as a new agent, combined with raising his hand on a missing person’s case that had come up early this morning. He should have asked who the missing person was before volunteering to spearhead the search. He should have also backed down the moment he realized that it was none other than Natasha Stark, his former fiancée.

      He could still scarcely believe it, and yet here she was, sitting on the ground with a gun by her side, looking up at him as though she’d never seen him before in her life. Something was very, very wrong.

      “Natasha...Stark?” she asked, voice wavering. He took the shirt from her outstretched hand, and sunlight glinted off the gold bracelet around her wrist. His breath caught, and he didn’t trust himself to say another word. “I believe you. Good thing I wore my bracelet,” she mumbled, and he wasn’t sure if she was being serious or trying to make a joke. “I’m fortunate you recognized me with a face this dirty. Or did the bracelet help with that, too?”

      “It didn’t have to,” he said, willing his limbs to move. He poured more water on the shirt and pressed it against her head as gently as possible. His entire body had begun to tremble, and his ankles wobbled in the crouch. He’d thought he’d be fine, once he found her. That it wouldn’t matter. Twelve years was a long time. “Hold this here. Looks like you’re not bleeding anymore, but just in case.”

      “What do you mean it didn’t have to?”

      Was she playing with him? It would be just like Natasha to play a prank on him—like the Natasha he knew twelve years ago, when they were still kids. Well, technically not kids but teenagers, but it seemed like more than a lifetime ago. The way she looked at him now, though...he didn’t see any mirth. She looked nervous and scared.

      He tried to put the pieces together. Head trauma, confusion and a gun within reach. According to NASA, she hadn’t shown up for an appointment yesterday morning and no one had been able to get in touch with her since, putting the timeline since she’d been missing at approximately twenty-four hours. He’d only searched this area of highway based on a tip a passerby had phoned in to local police. This wasn’t the kind of case the FBI would normally be called in on, but Natasha’s situation wasn’t normal. He’d never in a million years have anticipated that she would become, of all things, an astronaut. It meant working with other people from different walks of life, different economic backgrounds, in a more sensitive capacity than many other jobs. International partnerships were on the line, and occasionally crew members on the same team didn’t even speak the same language or more than a few common critical words and phrases. Not exactly the kind of thing her parents had been great at, and he’d thought their influence had rubbed off on her. They might still be together if it hadn’t.

      He pulled his phone out of his pocket and tapped it against the palm of his hand. “Let’s try to put some pieces together while we wait for help to arrive. What’s the last thing you can remember?”

      A shallow sigh escaped her lips. “I’m not sure. But what you said sounds right...feels right. NASA? Yeah. I think I went in for...a physical exam. No, I was on my way to a physical exam. A checkup.”

      “That’s a good start. You’re doing great. Can you tell me anything about that appointment? What time? What building?” She started to shake her head but grimaced at the movement. A humming in the distance cut through the sounds of nature and the occasional whoosh of a passing car, but he focused his attention on Natasha. She definitely needed a doctor and fast. Head trauma wasn’t the kind of injury that a person could take their time getting checked out, and considering the important details she’d already forgotten... Well, the longer the delay, the more severe the injury could become. Right now, she didn’t even remember herself, let alone him.

      “At work,” she mumbled. “Because I was in space.”

      “Even better. See? You haven’t forgotten everything.” He tried to reassure her and keep her calm as the buzzing noise grew louder. Were they near an airfield? He didn’t think so. “Sit tight. An ambulance will be here soon. A lot of people have been looking for you, and they’ll be glad to hear you’re all right.”

      “Thank you.” Her gaze shifted past his shoulder. She squinted, like she couldn’t figure out what she saw. “Is that a drone?”

      Chris twisted to look as a sudden gust of air whipped past his cheek. Dirt kicked up in the small space between them.

      She coughed. “What was that?”

      “That’s definitely a drone,” he said, taking in the boxy shape and the rotating blades that whipped around at high speeds to keep the device aloft. “What is it doing out here?”

      The drone dropped several feet and moved closer—and this time, Chris heard the muffled bang.

      “It’s shooting at us!” Natasha shouted, dropping the borrowed T-shirt. Alarm flared in Chris’s stomach. He lunged for her and wrapped her in his arms, picked her up and then dived for cover behind his truck as the drone released another shot. He opened the passenger door and lifted Natasha inside. They couldn’t stay out in the open; the drone operator could maneuver around to the other side of the vehicle and easily continue shooting.

      “Lie down in there,” he instructed. “Make yourself into as small a target as possible. Cover your head.” She did as he instructed, and as soon as she was in position, Chris climbed in on her side, stepping over her to slide into the driver’s seat. A bullet slammed against his door with a clank as he started the Suburban. His window cracked and bowed inward, protecting them for now, but the bulletproof glass could only take so many hits. Without hesitation, he stepped on the gas and veered his SUV back onto the road, heart pounding in his chest.

      “Tasha? You still with me?” His insides tightened as he anticipated her response.

      “Yes” came her thin, choked reply. “Is it gone?”

      He checked the rearview mirror. The drone still hovered in the air, but it didn’t appear to be following them. He continued checking as they drove away, and eventually the machine became a black dot in the distance. Who on earth would use a drone to shoot at Natasha? He supposed it was possible that the drone had been shooting at him, but an armed drone was the kind of weapon to be used on a fixed target—it took time to fly one, and the operator needed to know where to go. He’d been driving around for hours. She’d been by the side of the road for who knew how long. It seemed like an inefficient and cumbersome way to assassinate a person, even though it did provide an element of anonymity. Unless the police were able to take the thing down. He hadn’t gotten a good look at it, but a weaponized drone was no small thing to buy, equip and maneuver with accuracy. And if someone wanted to kill her outright, why on earth had he found Natasha lying in the dirt with no memory of how she’d gotten there and with a gun by her side?

      “It’s gone,” he said. “Do you have any idea why someone would be shooting at you?”

      She grew silent. Her shuddery breathing told him that not only was she in physical pain but