Deadly Christmas Secrets

She’d been scared earlier. Terrified, even, but she’d thought the danger was over. She had wanted to believe that the man who’d been driving the sedan had disappeared—gone for good.

She’d been wrong.

If she hadn’t allowed Logan and Stella to stay...

What?

Would Picasso have warned her in time? Would Harper have been able to load the shotgun? Protect herself from the threat?

“Something is burning,” Stella said so calmly, the words didn’t register with Harper.

The smell did—the sharp scent of gasoline, the acrid smell of smoke.

“Must have hit the gas line and sparked. We need to get out, but we need to be smart about it,” Stella continued as if she were talking about the color of the sky or the temperature of the air.

“Smart? Smart would be getting out while we have the chance,” Harper exclaimed, grabbing her door handle.

“Smart would be staying alive. The likelihood this car is going to explode is little to none. The likelihood one of us is going to be shot dead by the guy who’s after you? That’s higher. You get out your side, and you’ll be in the middle of the road. We’re getting out on my side. Back door, because it’s right up against the trees. You go over the seat first. I’ll follow.”

Harper scrambled over the seat, the scents of gasoline and smoke getting stronger. She didn’t see flames, but she was sure the interior of the SUV was growing hotter.

She reached the door and jerked at the handle. She scrambled for the lock, her fingers shaking as she tried to find it.

“Calm down,” Stella barked so close to her ear, she jumped. “Panicking gets people nowhere really fast.”

She reached past Harper and unlocked the vehicle.

“Let’s go,” she urged, pressing close as Harper stepped into the scratchy embrace of a spruce. The scent of evergreen needles mixed with gasoline and smoke, and she gagged, pushing deeper into the trees, the blackness nearly complete there.

She knew the woods like the back of her hand, knew every inch of her property, but they’d gone beyond that, traveling a few miles down the gravel road. She thought she was heading toward the creek. Branches scratched at her face, pulled at her hair and ripped at her clothes, but she kept a steady pace, heading deeper into the woods, and hopefully farther away from the danger.

She thought she heard the creek up ahead and was heading for that when something crashed through the brush beside her, the sound bringing to life every nightmare she’d ever had, every secret fear.

Stella said something, but she didn’t hear. She was too busy running, sprinting through the woods as if it was an open field, everything inside telling her to go and keep going.

She slammed into something.

Not a tree. A man. His chest hard, his body tall and firm.

She tried to jump back, but strong arms wrapped around her, pulling her in. She struggled against the hold, tore at the arms, used every fighting tactic she’d learned as a kid growing up in one of the roughest neighborhoods in DC, because she wasn’t going to die in the woods. Not before she found out the truth about Amelia.

* * *

“Calm down,” Logan said, grabbing Harper’s fist just before it connected with his jaw. “It’s me.”

“Logan?” She stilled, her arms dropping to her sides, her eyes wide in the darkness.

She’d come barreling out of the woods as if a couple of bears were chasing after her, but he couldn’t hear anything but the quiet burble of the creek and the soft rasp of her breath.

“You nearly scared the life out me,” she said, stepping away from him, her voice a little shaky.

“Where’s Stella?” he asked, because there was no way his coworker had left Harper to fend for herself. Not if she were capable of anything else.

“Right here,” Stella responded, stepping through the thick trees to his right. “With the dog. If the perp is still around, I haven’t seen him. Not since he destroyed my brand-new car.”

“I took a shot at him after he hit your fuel line. I was a little out of range, but I think I might have hit him.”

“That explains why he didn’t wait around for us to get out of the SUV,” Stella responded drily.

“He’s heading east. Straight toward the highway.”

“That’s five miles away,” Harper commented, her hand on Picasso’s head. She looked smaller in the darkness, her body diminished by the vast forest surrounding them.

“Five miles isn’t all that far,” Stella responded. “Not for someone who’s desperate, and he is. He sticks around here and the police are going to catch him. Or one of us will.”

“One of us is planning to,” Logan said, pulling a Maglite from his coat pocket. He hadn’t used it before, but now that the perp was on the run, he’d take every advantage he could to hunt the guy down before he made it to the highway.

“Are you going to try to track him?” Stella asked. She’d let him take the lead on this. That was the way Stella was. No fuss. No muss. If it wasn’t her assignment, she took a backseat, followed orders, made herself as much of an asset to the team as she could.

“He’s heading for his escape vehicle. I want to get to him before he reaches it.”

“The police could do the job as easily,” she remarked. No judgment in the words. Just a statement of fact. “And you know how Chance is—he likes to let the local PD handle their problems.”

“This isn’t their problem. This is my problem. I was hired to—”

“Find Harper. Which you’ve done.”

True, but finding Harper had put her in danger. He felt responsible for that, which made him responsible for her. Whether Chance thought so or not. And whether Harper did or not.

And he didn’t think she did.

She hadn’t wanted twenty-four-hour protection, had seemed determined to go on the way she had before he’d showed up with a gunman on his tail. She’d finally conceded when Stella had mentioned her niece.

Amelia seemed to be the key to all of this, and she seemed to be the key to getting Harper to accept protection and help.

“I’m right here,” Harper muttered. “I’ve been found.” She sounded tired, and he wondered what it must feel like to go from a peaceful and quiet existence to chaos and trouble.

“And now you’re in danger.”

“Not because of you,” she responded. “So let’s all go back to my place and wait for the police. They can do what they need to, and we can decide the best way to proceed.”

That wasn’t going to happen.

He wanted this guy, and if he waited for the police to show up, he wasn’t going to get him.

He glanced at Stella. “I’ll meet you back at the cabin. Can you call the sheriff? Ask him to have someone on the road, searching for the perp? He might want to notify the local hospital, too.”

“But—”