Christmas Undercover. Hope White

quickly and move on to his next high-paying assignment.

      She focused on his backpack as she struggled to place one foot in front of the other without losing her balance. It wasn’t easy when she felt as though she’d stepped off the Tilt-A-Whirl at the county fair.

      They continued in silence, her pulse ricocheting off the inside of her skull with each step. She had to make it, had to put these arrogant criminals behind bars.

      She hoped they could pull the video recording off her phone, even though she’d noticed it had been damaged in the fall.

      Will’s phone was working just fine. Maybe they were close to getting reception. She pulled his phone out of her pocket, but her trembling fingers dropped it. She snapped her gaze to Will, fearing he’d seen her weakness. He continued up the trail.

      She waited until he was a good distance away and knelt down to retrieve the phone. When she stood, her vision blurred and she could barely make out Will’s form. She squinted through the haze to see him.

      He was no longer within sight.

      She shoved the phone into her pocket and clutched the gun grip with both hands. Where did he go? Had he taken off up ahead, waiting to ambush her? She approached a sharp turn, blocked by a boulder.

      Took a slow, shallow breath...

      Darted around the corner.

      And spotted Will, on his knees, with his hands interlaced behind his head.

      “What are you doing?” she said.

      “Waiting for you.”

      “Get up.”

      He stood, his back to her. “Are you all right?”

      “Go on, keep moving.”

      He continued along the trail and she followed. He was waiting for her? More like he was messing with her head, and doing a good job of it.

      “The cabin’s not far,” he said.

      She ignored him, knowing how these guys worked. They insinuated themselves into your psyche and destroyed you from the inside out. This guy was luring her with his father-of-the-year, single-parent story. She’d seen the wallpaper on his phone of two adorable girls with strawberry blonde hair and big smiles. This guy was a master.

      They trekked the rest of the way in silence, Sara focusing on breathing through the pain and shutting out the panic taunting her from the fringes of her mind. She was in the middle of nowhere with an assassin, and her next step could be her last.

      No, she was tough. Even if others didn’t believe it, she knew it in her heart.

      If only she’d been tough when she was twelve.

      They turned a corner to an open field with a cabin in the distance. Surely she’d be able to get a signal out there, in the middle of the field.

      He marched in the direction of the cabin.

      “Stop,” she said. She’d be a fool to let him go inside with her. No doubt that was where he kept his tools of the trade—coercion tools.

      “Sit down, over there.” She jerked the gun barrel.

      He sat down beside a fallen tree.

      “You have rope in your pack?” she said.

      “I do.”

      “Get it.”

      He unzipped his pack and pulled out what looked like parachute cord.

      “Toss it over here. And put your hands behind your back,” she said.

      He did, not making eye contact. With a fortifying breath, she grabbed the rope off the ground and climbed over the downed tree.

      “Lean forward.”

      He did as ordered. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

      “You’re right, you won’t.”

      She quickly bound his wrists behind his back, and secured him to a limb of the fallen tree. She stood and started walking.

      “Drink some water,” he said. “It will help with the headache.”

      “You can stop now.”

      “The best cell reception is over there, by that cluster of boulders.” He nodded, ignoring her comment.

      With determination and focus, she marched toward the field, on the other side of a narrow creek. That had to be the spot where she’d find a signal. It would also put her out in the open, making her vulnerable, an easy target. No, these guys usually worked alone. She checked his phone, hopeful and more than a little desperate, but she still had no bars.

      She glanced up. A ray of sunlight bounced off the creek and pierced her vision. Pain seared through her brain. She snapped her eyes shut, but it was too late. A sudden migraine blinded her.

      She stumbled forward. Had to get to...had to get service. Call her boss...

      “What’s wrong?” Will shouted.

      She broke into a slow jog. Had to get away from him. Get help.

      Breathing through the pain, she stepped onto the rocks to cross the creek. One foot in front of the other. She could do it.

      But she slipped, jerking forward. She put out her hands to break her fall.

      And landed in the water with a splash.

      The man’s shouts echoed in the distance.

      She feared he would somehow free himself and finish her off.

      She crawled through the creek, her soggy clothes weighing her down. Pain bounced through her head like a pinball.

      With a gasp, she surrendered—to the pain, to her own failure—and collapsed into the cold, bubbling water.

       TWO

      “Ma’am!” Will shouted, pulling on the rope binding his wrists. She was down, unconscious in the creek. Was her head even above water?

      “Hey!” He realized he didn’t even know her name. “Ma’am, get up!”

      She didn’t move.

      “Argh!” he groaned, pulling violently on his wrists. This was not going to happen. He was not going to sit here and watch a woman die in front of him.

      “Get up!” he shouted.

      She didn’t move.

      He yanked on his wrists and dug the heels of his boots into the ground, trying to get leverage. This craziness wasn’t going to do him any good. He took a deep breath and forced himself to be calm.

      “Think,” he said. He remembered that his pocketknife was clipped to the side of his backpack.

      He stretched out, making himself as long as possible, practically dislocating a shoulder in the process. With the toe of his boot, he caught the strap of his pack and dragged it across the soft earth. In a low crouch, he kicked it behind him until his fingers could reach the knife.

      He flicked it open and sawed away at his bindings, unable to see what he was doing. A sharp pain made him hesitate when the blade cut his skin. He clenched his jaw and continued.

      “Ma’am!” he called out. “Ma’am, answer me!”

      She didn’t move.

      He continued to dig at the rope with the blade, and accidentally cut his skin again. Didn’t matter, he had to get free and—

      Snap! He jerked his wrists free, reached around and started working on the rope that bound him to the tree.

      “Come on, come on,” he muttered. The parachute cord he kept in his pack was meant to be strong, which was