Classified Christmas Mission

Once Amber had helped Sam get a quick sponge bath and into some clean sweats and a long-sleeved T-shirt, she waited for him to climb beneath the covers. But then he pushed the blankets away and sat up. “Book. Number One Mom read a book. Please.”

“Number One Mom isn’t here, Sam, I’m sorry.”

He blinked. “Number One Mom is gone.”

“Yes, she is, Sam. She...died.” She didn’t know how much he understood, but he seemed to grasp the concept that his mother wasn’t coming back. Maybe. In some ways he was brilliant and yet, he was definitely still a six-year-old child.

“Number Two Mom read a book. Please.”

Amber opened the app on his phone and brought up his favorite book. A book about dogs and numbers. She read it to him three times before she saw his eyes getting heavy. She closed the app and plugged the phone in next to him. She wasn’t a huge fan of allowing children his age unlimited use of technology, but right now, in their situation, she had to use whatever she could to keep him happy. Once she knew they were safe and his father was either in prison or dead, then they would reevaluate the device usage.

Amber walked back into the den to find Lance standing at the window, his weapon held by his side. She tensed. “What is it?”

“Thought I heard something, but then I caught sight of a doe so maybe I’m just twitchy.”

“Being twitchy might just keep us alive.”

“Right.” After twenty minutes and nothing else happening, she was finally able to relax a fraction. “I’m going to look in on Sam.”

He nodded. Amber walked down the hall to peer in on the child. He lay sprawled on his back, his chest rising and falling with each even breath. Keep him safe, God, no matter how You feel about me, keep that child safe, please. He’s so smart, brilliant really. I know You have some kind of special plan for him. Let him live to fulfill that. She felt tears prick at the back of her eyes and swallowed. Crying accomplished nothing. She wouldn’t start now. Amber returned to the den and found Lance at the back door, peering out the window. He glanced at her when she entered. “How’s he doing?”

“Sleeping. I’m not too surprised. He slept some in the car. It seemed like he slept a lot, but now that I think about it was more like catnaps. He needs a good night’s rest.”

“As do you, probably.”

She couldn’t help the yawn that escaped. “Mmm. Probably.” She walked to the dryer and checked her socks. Dry. Perfect. The boots were still damp so she left them in and started the dryer again. She handed Lance his socks and then sat in the nearest chair to pull hers on.

“Go get the rest, Amber.”

Amber hesitated. She’d had to rely on herself for so long that trusting someone else—even Lance Goode—wasn’t a likely possibility. “I probably wouldn’t fall asleep anyway.”

“You’ve got to or you’re going to get punchy and careless. Trust me, I know.”

Amber rubbed her gritty eyes. It had been all she could do to stay awake and read to Sam. She sighed. Lance was right, of course. She had to sleep. “All right. There’s a couch in Sam’s room. I’ll go try.”

“What about the other bedroom? That would be more comfortable.”

“No, I want to stay close to Sam. If he wakes up in a strange place he might get scared and start to wander. I’ll be fine.” He frowned but didn’t protest. “Wake me in a few hours and you can take a turn.”

He nodded and she headed back down the hall to the room where Sam slept. Sam rolled over and opened his eyes when she walked in. She went to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Go back to sleep, Sam. It’s all right.”

His eyes closed, and she waited for him to drift off again. When she was convinced he was once again sleeping soundly, she snagged a pillow from the other side of the bed, a musty blanket from the closet and made herself as comfortable as possible on the couch. She didn’t expect to sleep but told herself she could at least relax a little. Her lids closed and she breathed deep.

* * *

Lance rubbed his forehead and moved to another window. It had been three hours since Amber had disappeared into Sam’s room, and Lance had just looked in on them. They were both asleep in spite of Amber’s allegation she wouldn’t be able to. He’d figured she would. Her fatigue had rolled off her in waves. He’d pulled the boots out of the dryer and put his on. He’d placed hers by the couch where she now rested. She’d opened her eyes briefly when he’d entered, saw what he was doing and shut them again.

He glanced from her to the sleeping child and shook his head. It was a huge responsibility that she was taking on and he had to admire her determination. He just prayed she let people help her before it was too late.

From his position by the window, Lance caught a glimpse of shadowy movement in the trees near the edge of the drive. He pulled his weapon and narrowed his eyes. Another deer? Or something more sinister? He waited and watched the area.

Nothing.

But he knew he’d seen something.

And then it moved again. Someone was behind the trees. Tension flooded him. His pulse picked up speed and his brain flashed scenarios. Then the shadow broke away and slipped to the next tree closer to the house. Lance saw the rifle in the figure’s hands.

He snagged his phone from the clip on his belt, huffed a breath of relief that he had a signal and dialed his dispatcher even as he moved down the hall to wake Amber. “Gretchen, I need that backup after all. Send it to the Landers cabin. And now.”

“What’s going on, Lance? You need backup then you don’t. Now you do.”

“I’ll explain later. Just get me the backup.” He hung up. At the bedroom door, he paused. “Amber,” he whispered.

Her eyes opened immediately and she sat up. Whatever she saw in his face had her reaching for the weapon that hadn’t left her side. In one smooth move she swung her feet over the side of the couch. She found the boots, slipped her feet in and fastened the Velcro straps. She stood, weapon palmed and ready. She nodded and Lance led the way back into the den area. “What is it?” she asked as soon as they were in the hall with the door cracked.

“Someone’s outside,” Lance said. “I saw his rifle.”

“They found the footprints.”

“That’s my guess.”

She took the front window while he watched the back. Fortunately, the room was small enough that they could communicate without yelling.

“See anything out the front?” he asked, keeping his voice low.

“No, what about you?”

“Not at the moment. How many are there?”

“Probably two.” She checked her weapon again. “The good thing is, they probably don’t expect you to be here.”

“I walked in your footsteps so...”

“Exactly. So it just looks like me alone, although they probably figured I’d carry Sam.”

The glass shattered in front of his face and he jerked back, left cheek stinging. Cold air rushed in, and he lifted his weapon to fire back two quick rounds. The front window ruptured.

“Sam!” Amber fired three shots in the direction the bullets had come from then raced down the hallway to the bedroom.

Silence fell for a moment, and Lance figured their attackers were assessing the situation. They hadn’t expected someone to fire back from both sides of the house. Amber reappeared with Sam in her arms, the child wrapped in the comforter from the bed. She stayed in the windowless hallway and set Sam on the floor. “Stay here, Sam, understand?” The child looked sleepy and a little grumpy, but otherwise unalarmed. Amber handed him the ever-present game but he simply set it on the floor beside him, laid down and closed his eyes.

* * *

Amber flinched when the gunfire started up again. More bullets riddled the walls of the cabin and shattered the windows in the kitchen. She swung her weapon to aim through the broken window in the den and fired back. “We’ve got to get out of here,” she gasped. More bullets came her way, and she jerked back against the end table next to the sofa. The lamp crashed to the floor, and she didn’t have time to worry about it. She caught sight of movement to the left, aimed and squeezed the trigger once more. The figure cried out, stumbled and went to his knees.

“Help should be on the way,” Lance said. “I called dispatch. I’m not even sure they’ll be able to get here, but I’m hoping if they do, the sirens will send these goons running.”

“I think I hit one,” she said. She fell silent as she studied the front area and waited for the sound of gunshots to ring through the night air once again. When it didn’t, she looked back at Sam. He lay still where she’d put him, his eyes watchful, trusting.