Christmas Undercover. Hope White

the mug.

      She noticed blood smudging his skin. “What happened to your wrist?”

      “Ah, nothing,” he muttered. He dug into his pack and pulled out an antiseptic wipe. “I’ll bet you’re a city girl.”

      “That obvious, huh?”

      “A good guess.”

      “What about you?” she said.

      “I live in Echo Mountain,” he said as he cleaned blood from his wrist.

      “What’s that like, living in a small town?”

      “It’s nice, actually.” He opened a dehydrated packet of food, poured hot water into it, sealed the bag and set it aside. “Never thought I’d end up living in a small town, but I’ve been here for ten years and can’t imagine living anywhere else.”

      “You moved here from...?”

      “Denver,” he said. “My wife was from here originally, but she wanted to live near the Rockies so she got a job in Denver after college. We met on a group hike and...” He glanced at the fire.

      “What?” Sara asked.

      Will stood and went to the kitchen. “I should find us something to eat on.”

      She sensed he regretted talking about his wife. Sara wondered what had happened to her but wouldn’t ask.

      “Tell me more about your girls,” she said.

      Walking back to the fire, he handed her a spoon. She used it to stir the instant coffee.

      “Claire’s my eldest daughter. Eight going on eighteen.” He shook his head and sat in a chair beside the fire. “I’m not sure how I’m going to make it through her teenage years without getting an ulcer.”

      “That’s a ways away. Perhaps you’ll remarry.”

      The flames danced in his green eyes as he stared at the fire. “Perhaps.”

      “How long were you married?” she pushed, sipping her coffee.

      “Ten years. Claire was six when her mother died, and little Marissa was only three.”

      “It’s hard for kids to lose a parent.”

      “So I’ve been told,” he said.

      There wasn’t a day that went by that Sara didn’t ache for her mom and dad.

      She pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders. They spent the next few minutes in silence. Will seemed temporarily lost in a memory about his wife, and Sara beat herself up for not getting enough evidence to put LaRouche and Harrington away sooner.

      Sure she’d recorded their conversation and the murder, but when she’d checked her phone earlier, she’d noticed it had been damaged in the fall. Hopefully a tech could retrieve the file.

      Will opened the packet of rice and beans, dumped it onto a metal plate and handed it to her.

      “What about you?” she said.

      “I’ll eat whatever’s left over.”

      She hesitated before taking it.

      “Go on, it’s not bad,” he said.

      “But it’s your food.”

      “I’ve got more.”

      She took the plate, avoiding eye contact. The more time she spent with Will, the more frustrated she became about her situation, and relying on his good nature.

      Relying on anyone but herself was dangerous.

      Since she hadn’t eaten in nearly eighteen hours, she took the plate. “Thanks.”

      “Tell me more about the man who is after you,” he said.

      “Hired by two businessmen who killed their partner.” She took a few bites of food and sighed. “I saw them toss the guy over a cliff.”

      “They killed their partner?” he said. “Why?”

      “Who knows, money?” She didn’t want to share too much with Will because it could put him in danger.

      “I can see why you’ve been so frightened,” he said. “I’m sorry if I haven’t been patient enough.”

      Her jaw practically dropped to the floor. What was he talking about? He was apologizing after everything she’d done? Given him two black eyes and verbally abused him?

      After a few minutes, she handed him the half-empty plate.

      “You sure?” he said. “I can always heat up something else for myself.”

      “No, go ahead.”

      With a nod, he accepted the plate and started eating. She took a deep breath, then another, staring into the fire.

      Maybe it was the flames dancing in the fireplace, or the sound of his spoon scraping against the plate. Whatever the case, she found herself relaxing, fighting to keep her eyes open.

       Stay awake!

      “Relax and I’ll keep watch,” he said, as if sensing her thoughts.

      Will might think they were safe in the cabin, but Sara knew better. Danger was almost always on the other side of a closed door.

      The warmth of the fire filled the cabin and she blinked, fighting to stay alert. Exhaustion took hold and she felt herself drift. She snapped her eyes open again, and spotted Will lying on the floor on top of his sleeping bag. He wore a headlamp and was reading a book.

      He was definitely a trusting man, but was he really so naive to think they weren’t in danger? He was a civilian determined to protect her. Yet she’d brought the danger to his doorstep.

      For half a second, she wanted to believe there were quality men like Will Rankin who rescued failed FBI agents, and protected them from bears and assassins.

      Comforted her with a gentle hand on her shoulder. She drifted again...

       Don’t make a sound...

      She gasped and opened her eyes. Will was no longer on the floor beside the fire. She scanned the room. She was alone.

      The door opened and she aimed the gun. Will paused in the threshold. “Needed more wood.” He crossed the small cabin and stacked the wood beside the fireplace.

      “What time is it?” she said.

      “Nineish,” he said.

      “I’ve been out for...”

      “A couple of hours. Your body needed it.”

      Her mind ran wild, panicked about what could have happened in the past two hours. How close the assassin was to finding her.

      “Give me your phone.”

      He handed it to her. She stood and headed for the door.

      “I don’t think it will work yet,” he said.

      “I’ve got to try.”

      “Want me to come with?”

      “No.” She spun around and instinctively pointed the gun at him. The look on his face was a mixture of disbelief and hurt.

      “Sorry.” She lowered the gun. “Just...stay here.”

      “Try a few hundred feet that way.” He pointed, and then turned back to the fire, his shoulders hunched.

      The minute she stepped out of the cabin a chill rushed down her arms. She should have brought the blanket with her, but wasn’t thinking clearly. Why else would she have pointed the gun at Will?

      His hurt expression shouldn’t bother her. She hardly knew the man. Yet shame settled low in her gut.

      Focus!