Christmas Undercover

“May I sit up to stop my nosebleed?” he asked.

She nodded that he could.

He would continue to act submissive so she wouldn’t see him as a threat. It was the best way to keep her from firing the gun by accident. He sensed she wasn’t a killer, but rather she was disoriented and frightened.

Sitting up, he leaned forward and pinched his nose, just below the bridge. He’d have dual black eyes for sure and didn’t know how he’d explain that to his girls, or their grandparents.

You’ve got bigger problems than a bloody nose. He had to talk this woman down from her precarious ledge.

She rifled through his wallet and hesitated, fingering a photograph of Claire and Marissa.

“My girls,” he said. “They’re in first and third grades.”

She shot him a look of disbelief and shoved his wallet and the photos haphazardly into his pack.

“Did you fall from a trail above?” he asked.

“I’m asking the questions!” She straightened and pointed the gun at his chest again. “And you’d better give me the right answers.”

“Please,” he said. “My girls... I’m all they’ve got. Their mother...died.”

He thought he’d gotten through to her.

She flicked the gun. “Get up.”

He slowly stood, realizing how petite she was, barely coming up to his chest.

“Where are they?” she demanded.

“Who?”

“LaRouche and Harrington.”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Right, you randomly happened to find me.”

“I did.”

“Uh-huh. And you’re out here, in the middle of nowhere, why?”

“I’m spending a few days in the mountains for—” he hesitated “—solitude.”

“You’re lying. There’s more to it.”

“I’m not lying, but you’re right, there is more to it.”

She waited and narrowed her eyes, expectant.

“I come to this spot by the lake to find emotional peace—” he hesitated “—with God’s help.”

“Yeah, right. Great story, Will.”

He didn’t miss the sarcastic pronunciation of his name, nor the paranoid look in her eye.

She dug in her jacket pocket and pulled out her phone. She frowned.

“You have a phone?” she asked.

“I do.”

She shoved hers back into her pocket. “Give it to me.”

He pulled it out, dropped it between them and raised his hands. “You won’t get a signal here, but there’s a spot by my cabin where I can usually find service.”

“Your cabin?”

“I’m renting a cabin about a quarter of a mile north.”

She eyed his phone, must have seen there weren’t any bars, and shoved it into her other pocket.

“Let’s go.” When she picked up his pack, a groan escaped her lips.

“Do you want me to—”

“Walk,” she demanded, her eyes watering.

They were obviously tears of pain. He guessed from the rip in her jacket and strained look on her face, she might have cracked a rib or two.

With a nod, he turned and headed toward the cabin. She was hurt and confused, and the worst part was, she wouldn’t accept his help.

He’d have to rely on patience, kindness and compassion to make her feel safe. That would go a long way to ease her worry and earn her trust.

Hopefully that would be enough.

* * *

Sara wasn’t sure how far she’d get before passing out from the excruciating pain of her headache, but she’d fight until she dropped. She had somehow survived the fall, and wouldn’t allow herself to die at the hand of a hired thug.

It figures LaRouche and Harrington would send a handsome, clean-cut guy to find her—a real charmer, this one. Will or Bill or whatever his name was, had to be over six feet tall, with chestnut brown hair and green eyes, and he spoke with such a gentle, calming tone. What a story he’d crafted for himself: he’d come out here to pray?

He’d laid it on thick, all right. Those were probably his little girls in the photograph, girls who had no idea what their daddy did for a living.

In her ten years with the FBI, Sara had learned plenty about sociopaths and how they used their cunning intelligence and polished charisma to convince an interrogating agent of their innocence.

Clutching the gun, she took her finger off the trigger in case she stumbled and pulled it by accident. He wouldn’t know the difference. As long as Will thought she aimed a gun at his back, he’d do as she ordered.

The trees around her started drifting in and out of focus. She blinked to clear her vision, and stumbled on a rock jutting out of the ground.