Classified Christmas Mission

Amber walked back into the living area and moved from window to window, doing exactly what he’d done just moments before. “CIA?” he asked.

She turned to face him, her face blank. “What?”

“You’re with the CIA, aren’t you?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Just answer the question.”

She hesitated and he could almost see her thinking about lying. Finally, she frowned. “Yes. What gave it away?”

Lance shrugged. “The fact that I know you. The fact that your family believes you’re a travel writer and the articles that come out don’t sound like anything you might write.”

She raised her eyes at that statement and he shrugged.

“Yes, I read them. Then there’s the fact that you’ve missed a lot of important family milestones and I don’t think anything less than life or death would have kept you away from being here for those. A travel article wouldn’t have kept you away. And also the fact that you handle yourself like a trained professional. It just fits. Now that I think about it anyway.”

She pursed her lips and nodded. “I came home for Thanksgiving.”

“Last year. And then you missed Christmas. And Aaron and Zoe’s wedding this past June.”

Her jaw tightened. “It couldn’t be helped.”

“I’m beginning to understand that. But what really kind of gave it away was that you found Zoe’s brother, Toby, and brought him with you for Christmas, for Zoe.” Aaron Starke had fallen in love with Zoe Collier, a woman who’d been trying to keep her nine-year-old daughter, Sophia, safe from people who’d been trying to kidnap her. Aaron and Zoe had fallen in love and been married almost six months ago. “Then the day after Christmas, you two disappeared together because you had work that wouldn’t wait.” She pressed her lips together. “So that brings me to my next question,” he said.

“Which is?”

“Why haven’t you contacted your handler?”

“How do you know I haven’t?”

“Call it instinct.”

“I was on assignment in Ibirizstan and only one person in the world knew where I was.”

“Your handler.”

“Yep.”

“Is your cover blown?”

“Wide open.”

“And you think he had something to do with that?”

She sighed and checked the windows again. “She. And I don’t know. Before that happened, I would have trusted her without thought. But now... I was in California three days ago. My informant was killed. Her name was Nadia Pirhadi. She was my best friend and Sam is her son. I’ve been living with her and her family for the past four years working as Sam’s nanny.” Her jaw worked as though holding back emotion and Lance found himself wanting to go to her, to hold her. He curled his fingers into fists and forced himself to remain still. “When everything went south, I grabbed my car keys, Sam and bolted.”

“And everyone thinks you’re a travel writer.”

“That’s what they’re supposed to think.”

He rubbed his eyes then looked at her. “So what makes you think your handler is involved?”

“Because as I was leaving, I heard Sam’s father, who’d just killed Sam’s mother, yell my name.”

Realization hit him. “Your real name, not your covert name.”

“Yes. He called me Amber.”

“And now you have no one to trust and nowhere to turn.”

“Exactly.”

“Well now you’ve got me. And you need to read in Clay.”

She twisted her fingers together then released them to rub her eyes. “I would rather not involve him.”

“He can help us.”

She turned a fierce gaze on him. “There is no us. You’re going to leave and go back to your normal life and forget that you ever saw Sam or me.”

Lance stared at her for a brief moment before letting out a humorless laugh. “Well, I can tell you right now, that’s not happening. You’re stuck with me for the duration.”

“I don’t think you understand. The last two people who’ve gotten involved with me have died. I can’t let that happen to you or anyone else.”

“And yet you came home,” he said softly.

She paused. “What?”

“You ran home.”

“Yes, but it’s just a pop in, pop out kind of thing. I left something here that I needed.”

“But you left it here. At home.”

“Yes.” She gave a short humorless laugh. “Is there supposed to be some deep psychological meaning to that?”

“I don’t know. What do you think?”

She stood frozen for a millisecond then her jaw trembled. “Maybe there is,” she whispered. She glanced toward the back of the house. “I’ve been in a lot of tight spots over the last five years, but this time, it’s very possible I’m in over my head.”

“Then let us help.”

She paused. Paced from window to window then turned and met his gaze. “If you help me, you could be putting yourself in the kind of danger that a lot people don’t live to talk about.”

He didn’t flinch. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

FOUR (#u16a06754-c547-5bb3-b3ec-0df9084834d8)