High-Stakes Holiday Reunion. Christy Barritt

      “Forget about it. That’s probably how they traced you here. All those new-fangled phones have built-in GPSs. You’re better off without it.” He grabbed his jacket—surprisingly still intact—from the back of a chair.

      “But what if Josh or David try to call?”

      “If you’re dead, it will do no good.”

      They stepped out of the front door—which had been ripped from its hinges—and onto the front porch. His truck had bullet holes in the window also, but the tires looked fine. “I’m glad you’re wearing a coat. It might be a cold ride.”

      He opened the door and, using the thick sleeve of his jacket, he brushed broken glass shards from the seat. Then he ushered Ashley inside, instructing her to be careful. They didn’t have much time. Every minute counted.

      He cranked the engine—and the heat—and turned around in the driveway. The cold wind hit his face as he took off down the road. Ashley sat beside him, seat belt strapped across her chest, and her arms wrapped over her. He wished he had a blanket to offer her. Instead, he pulled off his coat and draped it over her.

      “You’re going to freeze,” she muttered.

      “You’re always cold, even without thirty-degree wind hitting you in the face. I’ll be fine.”

      He remembered that about her. He remembered a lot about her. Now wasn’t the time to think about those things. Now he had to think about staying alive.

      This was not what he needed right now. No, right now he needed time to enjoy a quieter pace. He needed time to let his soul heal.

      But instead, God had brought Ashley Wilson back into his life.

      As if that wasn’t more of an emotional storm than he could handle, throw in the fact that someone was trying to kill her and, in effect, him also.

      This was not the relaxing, healing time he’d anticipated when he’d come home and taken this new job.

      When he’d last spoken to Ashley, she’d been finishing up her degree at a local college. She’d been working two jobs, trying to make ends meet. He’d always said that she was one of the hardest workers he’d ever met. She’d been focused, at the top of her class in academics and determined to do things on her own. Her dad had retired on disability after an injury at work, and money had been tight with her family. She’d even had the opportunity to play volleyball on a partial scholarship for a college down in North Carolina, but she’d turned it down to be close to her mom, dad and brother.

      Guilt plagued him about that decision. He knew part of the reason she’d said no to that scholarship was because of him. They’d been planning their future together. She’d wanted to stick close by both for her family and because she felt it was important to give their relationship the time and effort it required.

      Was she angry still? He couldn’t blame her if she was. He’d broken her heart.

      “I can’t believe this is happening,” Ashley muttered.

      “It feels surreal to me, too, if it makes you feel better.”

      She shook her head. “I just want to wake up and discover this is all a bad dream.”

      He wondered if by all she included him? Probably.

      His eyes watered from the wind. Thankfully, he didn’t see anyone behind him. A glance at his watch told him it was past midnight now. There wasn’t usually much traffic out on these back roads, especially not at this time of night.

      From the corner of his eye, he saw Ashley shivering in the seat beside him. If he’d had another vehicle, he would have driven it. But desperate times called for desperate measures. Wasn’t that how the saying went?

      He took back roads, all the way from Isle of Wight where he lived, through the neighboring Suffolk into Chesapeake and finally to Virginia Beach. Nearly an hour after he left, he pulled up to a guardhouse, showed his ID, had his truck searched as standard procedure and pulled through the gates.

      “Where are we?” Ashley asked.

      “We’re at Iron, Incorporated’s headquarters. You’ll be safe here for the night. I promise.”

      * * *

      Ashley stared at the huge, lodgelike building in front of her. So this was the prestigious paramilitary contracting firm she’d heard hints about. They were secretive in what they did, but people around town always whispered about them with pride. Rumors had it that they’d guarded ambassadors in the Middle East and developed cutting-edge technology that was soon to be released to help keep soldiers safer. They were said to be the best of the best.

      She didn’t feel like soaking in the awe of the Eyes’ campus, though. She couldn’t even feel her skin anymore, not after the brutal wind had frozen it on the way here. All she wanted was to get off this roller-coaster ride for a moment and clear her head.

      When they pulled to a stop, she didn’t wait for Christopher to get her door. Instead, she opened it, watching as some leftover glass rained to the ground below. She slid out, landing with a bounce on the asphalt.

      They started walking toward the door when Christopher called her name and stopped her. He reached for her hair. Just the feeling of his fingers tangled in her tresses caused a shiver to race down her spine. It was like her body was betraying her. It should know better than to get warm fuzzies about Christopher, especially after all that had happened.

      He held up a shiny speck. “Just some glass.”

      She nodded, stuffed her hands in her pockets and kept walking. Christopher hurried ahead to the door and pulled it open for her. She gladly stepped inside the quiet and warm space. Her gaze swept the area—the ceiling stretched more than two stories high. Fireplaces flanked either side of the large lobby, which was also filled with leather couches and plush rugs. A majestic Christmas tree stretched high in the corner, filled with ornaments that looked like they’d been made by schoolchildren. She didn’t have time to dwell on that now. She walked over to the fireplace and knelt in front of it, letting the heat melt her frozen limbs.

      “I’m going to get coffee,” Christopher called. “You still like yours black?”

      She nodded, holding her hands up to the flames. He remembered. What did she expect? That he’d totally forgotten about their time together? That he’d erased it from his memory?

      He returned a moment later with a steaming mug. She remained in front of the fire and took a sip. The liquid burned her mouth, but she didn’t care. Warmth was more important now. Maybe it would cause her shivers to finally stop.

      “I’ve got to make a phone call, Ashley. Are you going to be okay here for a moment?”

      She nodded again, wishing he wasn’t acting so concerned. It was easier not to like him if he acted mean and nasty. But when had he ever been mean and nasty?—unless you counted when he broke up with her. But even then, he’d been compassionate. His eyes had even welled with tears at one point.

      The day flashed back into her memory. She could tell that something was wrong when he’d called her by phone. His voice had sounded too serious, too strained.

      He’s going to tell me he’s going to the Middle East again, she’d thought.

      She’d braced herself for the conversation, fluctuating between wanting to be supportive and wanting to beg him to stay.

      Be a good fiancée. Accept that this is his job. Let him go, even if it means postponing the wedding.

      He’d asked if they could meet down at the Virginia Beach boardwalk—one of their favorite places. She’d bundled up—it was cold outside—and waited for him on their favorite bench. Die-hard joggers had paced past, seagulls had complained overhead, salty air had filled her nostrils.

      As soon as she’d seen Christopher walking toward her, she could tell something was wrong.

      Her spine had stiffened.