Amish Hideout. Maggie K. Black

choose between the community he came from and the call to serve and protect as a cop. Somehow it had just welled up inside him, taking both his heart and mind by surprise.

      He eased his hand away from Celeste’s lips. “Are you all right, Miss Alexander?”

      “I’m okay, and please call me Celeste,” she said, taking a step back and shaking off his hand. Faint tears glittered in the corners of her eyes, and he suspected she was “okay” mostly because she’d decided to be. “Can I call you Jonathan?”

      “Sure thing.” He nodded, appreciating her directness.

      “How did you even know how to find me?” she asked. “I couldn’t see a thing.”

      “I helped my dad evacuate a major barn fire when I was a child,” he said. “People and animals. Guess some of it stuck with me.”

      He wasn’t sure why he’d told her that. His childhood was about as comfortable a conversation as his faith was. He’d loved everything about growing up plain except for the fact the Ordnung guidelines that ordered society made it clear that being Amish and a cop were incompatible. Not that he expected a city-dwelling computer programmer to feel anything but disdain or amusement at a life without technology. But, judging by the way her shoulders relaxed, it seemed to set her at ease. “Did everyone make it out alive? From the barn fire?”

      “Yes, they did.” A slight and unexpected grin brushed his lips. “Even the barn cats. And I’m going to get you out of here alive and safely now. When did you get here?”

      “Last night.” Those compelling eyes grew wider.

      He frowned. He disliked informing a subject of too much of an operation, but the walkie-talkies were down and she had information he needed. Hopefully, she was as levelheaded as her file had led him to believe.

      “On my way here I got an email from Marshal Karl Adams telling me that there was a change of plans and you weren’t arriving until tomorrow,” he said. The rise of her brows told him in an instant how right he’d been to suspect something was up. “It told me to turn around and go home. But I decided to proceed. As I got closer, I saw a black SUV parked by the road ahead and no one was answering the walkie-talkie. So I called for backup and hid my vehicle, then cut through the woods and came in through an underground tunnel entrance. How many hostiles have you seen?”

      “None,” she said. “I just saw the explosion and heard gunfire. I was with Stacy and Karl in the living room and then the windows exploded. There was just so much smoke and gunfire I barely knew which way was up. We need to make sure they’re okay. I really don’t think Karl sent that email. He seems pretty straight up. They both do. I suspect someone hacked his email and also jammed the walkie-talkies.”

      She was probably right about Karl. In fact, Karl’s casual openness about his Christian faith had the irritating habit of reminding Jonathan how much he missed his own.

      “Well, if you can get me to the walkie-talkie jammer, I can disable it so you can be back in communication with your team.”

      Her chin rose. He blinked. He was here to protect her. She was the one in danger and she was offering to help him?

      “Agents Preston and Adams are well trained and dedicated, as are the other marshals on-site,” he said. Without a doubt they were all currently risking their lives to find and protect Celeste. “Contacting them and letting them know you’re all right will be my top priority, once I’ve got you to safety. Right now, all that matters is getting you out of here alive. Follow me and I’ll take you out the way I came in.”

      He switched off the flashlight and waited for his eyes to adjust. One of the benefits of growing up plain was that he’d always known the darkness as a friend to be embraced and not an enemy to be combatted with a glare of electric lights. Sunrise was less than twenty minutes away. He needed to get her into his truck before then. He eased the door open a crack and listened. Gunfire sounded in intermittent bursts from somewhere else on the property. Smoke seeped down the hall, but he neither felt nor heard flames. It had been a small explosive device, he imagined, just intended to take out the front door and windows, making it easier to breach the building.

      He steadied himself to lead her down the hall to freedom, but instead felt the furtive brush of her hand on his arm. “I need to go back to my room. It’s upstairs.”

      “I’m sorry, there isn’t time.” He didn’t turn. “But there’s a bag of spare winter clothes hidden in the passage and more necessities in my truck.”

      “But I need a charger for my tablet—”

      “No, you don’t. You shouldn’t be on the grid at all.”

      Again Jonathan readied himself to go. This time her hand tightened on his arm.

      “I wasn’t planning on going ‘on the grid.’ I need to review some of Dexter Thomes’s data while completely off the grid, and until I can get my tablet charged, it’s dead.”

      Something as strong as iron moved through her voice. Even in the dim light he could see the firm jut of her shoulders. He remembered looking at her file and wondered how anyone—let alone a well-meaning citizen—could possibly have the patience and determination to sit at a computer for eighteen hours chasing down a criminal hacker. Now he was beginning to see. “The feds have people chasing the money. All you need to focus on is staying alive long enough to testify.”

      Gunfire erupted somewhere to their right. He could hear the voices of US marshals shouting. Sounded like hostiles were about to breach the house. Then he heard a familiar voice coming down the hall. He stepped through the door, keeping Celeste safely behind him.

      “Karl!” he called, relief filling his chest as his eyes fell on the familiar form. “I have Celeste! I’m taking her out through the underground passage. I’ve called for backup and I’ll get in touch once we’re safe.”

      “Thank You, God,” Karl prayed. He said, “You’re a sight for sore eyes. We have four hostiles on the perimeter. Stacy is holding down the front door. Communication’s down.” Gunfire grew louder. Stacy’s voice echoed through the darkness, calling for Karl. “Stay safe.”

      “You, too.”

      Karl turned and ran toward the front of the house. Jonathan reached for Celeste’s hand, enveloped it in his and ran down the hallway. They pushed through a door into a large country kitchen. He closed the door behind them, then glanced down at the woman whose small hand had slid so naturally into his. He dropped her hand, an odd heat rising to his face. Now why had he done that? They started across the kitchen floor toward the cellar. Suddenly the door behind them flew back. A thin man in a dark ski mask burst through with a gun in his grasp. Celeste screamed. The man set her in his sights and fired. But Jonathan had thrown himself between Celeste and the gunman before the bullet could meet its mark. They tumbled to the ground as he heard the bullet strike the wall behind them.

      Jonathan rolled up to one knee and returned fire. The gunman fell back behind the door. “Celeste! Get behind the counter and stay low!”

      Jonathan gritted his teeth and braced his hand against the wooden floorboards. There was no way to reach the cellar now, not without running straight into the line of fire. Even if they managed to make it, they’d tip the criminal off about where they were going and there’d be nothing to stop him from following. He’d spent the first eighteen years of his life in a huge country kitchen like this one and now he was going to die in one, trying to protect a woman he’d barely met and yet who had already managed to tug at strings he hadn’t even known he had. Another bullet flew through the kitchen door, shredding the corner of the countertop and sending wood chips flying. Suddenly he knew their way out.

      “Celeste! There’s a pantry behind you. Crawl inside and wait for me there.”

      “Got it!” She started crawling, and he followed, keeping low to the ground. They reached the pantry and slipped inside. He closed the door behind them and pushed a shelf against it.

      “Now,