Her Christmas Hero. Elle James

down, in and out of his ability to feel.

      Her touch caressed his lower back. “Can you feel me?” she asked.

      “Mmm-hmm.”

      She nipped at the back of his neck with her teeth. “How about now?”

      “Oh, yes.” He let his head fall forward while she explored.

      Her touch danced just beneath his shoulder blade. A sharp prick raced through him and he tensed.

      “Did I hurt you?” She yanked her hands away.

      “Don’t,” he said. “Just the nerves going crazy.”

      “How many surgeries did you have, Garrett?”

      “More than I can count. Skin grafts, shrapnel got embedded into my back. I was a mess.”

      Her fingers returned to his shoulder blade. “I guess that’s what happened here. There’s evidence of sutures. It’s strange—”

      A loud beeping sounded from Garrett’s phone. He jumped to his feet. “Get dressed. Someone’s broken the perimeter.”

       Chapter Eight

      Laurel rolled off the bed and yanked on her jeans, slipping on her shirt as she raced after Garrett. She followed him out of the bedroom and into his office. He flipped on a switch on one of the consoles. A map flickered to life on the screen. Two green dots headed directly to the center.

      “They’re getting close to the cameras,” he said, turning on another switch. Three monitors buzzed on, the infrared images fuzzy.

      A few trees, but nothing more.

      Laurel slipped on her shoes and glanced down at the computer monitor where she’d been running the decryption program. “We don’t have the password yet,” she rushed out. “It hasn’t finished. What are we going to do?”

      Garrett stared at the monitors. Slowly a figure came into view. She squinted, then recognized a man pushing through the trees, his movements jerky, holding a weapon. A second person followed behind him.

      He let out a loud curse. “How did they find us so fast?”

      “Who are they?”

      “Not the family I saw earlier today. There were three of them. And no one was carrying an M16. I could recognize the outline anywhere.” Garrett scanned the room and grabbed a duffel from the corner, tossing it toward her. “Pack up what you and Molly need. Only the bare necessities. There’s not much time.”

      At Garrett’s grim expression, Laurel’s stomach twisted in fear. She raced from the room and quietly opened the door to the bedroom where Molly slept. Using the shard of light piercing through the slit, she fumbled for a few sets of clothes and toiletries. And Ivy’s family’s picture. Everything else was luxury. Except Mr. Hairy Houdini.

      She slipped out of the bedroom and back into the office. “Done.”

      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.