FATAL CHRISTMAS

FBI agent Sara Vaughn believes a group of pharmaceutical businessmen are engineering drugs with deadly results. Her boss won’t approve a sting operation, so she goes rogue—following the suspects on a hike in the Cascade Mountains to record evidence. But when Sara witnesses them murder one of their own, they target her. Saved by a handsome volunteer mountain rescue worker, Sara at first suspects Will Rankin is another bad guy hunting her. But when the widowed father of two risks everything to save her, she knows that Will is all that’s standing between her and seeing Christmas morning.

Echo Mountain: Saving lives and finding love in the mountains of Washington State

“Why do you think someone wants to harm you?” he asked.

“I witnessed a crime.”

They turned a corner and he stopped short.

“What?” She looked around him.

A stranger was coming out of Will’s cabin.

“Do you recognize him?” she said.

“No.” He motioned to a nearby tree. “Hide back there. I’ll check it out.”

“It could be dangerous.”

“Or simply a hiker lost in the mountains. Kinda like you.” Will smiled and nodded toward the tree. “Go on.”

“Maybe you should take this.” She offered him the gun.

An odd smile creased his lips. “Thanks, but you keep it.”

She nodded and watched him walk away, shielding herself behind the tree. From this vantage point she could watch the scene unfold, not that she had a great escape plan.

Suddenly, a gunshot echoed across the property.

An eternal optimist, HOPE WHITE was born and raised in the Midwest. She and her college sweetheart have been married for thirty years and are blessed with two wonderful sons, two feisty cats and a bossy border collie. When not dreaming up inspirational tales, Hope enjoys hiking, sipping tea with friends and going to the movies. She loves to hear from readers, who can contact her at hopewhiteauthor@gmail.com.

Christmas Undercover
Hope White

www.millsandboon.co.uk

May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace

as you trust in Him, so that you may overflow with hope

by the power of the Holy Spirit.

—Romans 15:13

This book is dedicated to Mark Jamieson of the Seattle PD, who generously answers my many questions.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

About the Author

Title Page

Bible Verse

Dedication

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

SEVENTEEN

Dear Reader

Extract

Copyright

ONE

FBI agent Sara Vaughn awoke with a start, her heart pounding against her chest. Darkness surrounded her and it took a second for her eyes to adjust.

Panic took hold. No, she was beyond that. She’d outgrown it.

She counted to three, taking a deep breath, then exhaled. She clicked on her headlamp. Tall, majestic evergreen trees stretched up toward the starlit sky.

The mountains. She was in the Cascade Mountains following a lead that her supervisor, Greg Bonner, said was a waste of time.

Sara knew better.

The sound of deep male voices echoed from beyond a cluster of trees to her left.

“Be reasonable, David!” a man shouted.

David Price was one of the three business partners who were on this mountain getaway. The other men were Victor LaRouche and Ted Harrington, and together they owned the drug company LHP, Inc.

Sara made her way toward the sound of raised voices.

She was proud of herself for managing to get on the trail guide team hired to lead them up Echo Mountain. This isolated spot in the Cascade Mountains of Washington would surely give the men the privacy they needed to solidify their plan.

Getting a dangerous drug into the hands of unsuspecting consumers.

“Why do you have to make this so hard?”

She recognized Vic LaRouche’s voice because of its Southern twang.

She stayed off the main trail, not wanting to alert them to her presence, and made her way through the brush. Edging around a large boulder, she stepped over a fallen branch in silence. She needed to stay invisible, hidden. Something she was good at.

The men were no doubt having this discussion a safe distance away from the lead guide, Ned, so as not to wake him. It didn’t take much to wake Sara. Even in sleep, she was always on alert.

“It’s not right and you both know it,” David said.

“It was an anomaly, a mistake,” Ted Harrington said.

“A mistake that could kill people.”

“Don’t be dramatic,” LaRouche said.

This was it—the evidence she’d been looking for.

She pulled out her phone, hoping to record some of their conversation. If she could catch them admitting to their plan, it would go a long way to proving she was right, that she wasn’t just an “overzealous” agent trying to prove something.

She crept closer, shielding herself behind a towering western hemlock. Digging her fingers into the bark, she peeked around the tree. The three men hovered beside a small campfire, the flames illuminating their faces. LaRouche and Harrington were tall, middle-aged men, older than David Price by at least ten years.

“I’m not in business to hurt people,” David said.

“We’re helping people, sport,” Harrington said, slapping David’s shoulder. “Letting them sleep like they never have before.”

“And they don’t wake up.”

“That hasn’t been irrefutably proved,” Harrington said.

“Even one death is too many.”

LaRouche, a tall, regal-looking man, jumped into the conversation. It grew into a shouting match, giving Sara the chance to sneak even closer. She darted to another tree, only ten feet from the men.

She clicked off her headlamp.

Hit the video record button on her phone.

And held her breath.

“I didn’t sign on for this!” David said.

“Majority rules,” Harrington countered.

“Then, I’m out. I’ll sell you my share of the company.”

Harrington threw up his hands and paced a few steps away.

“If you leave, stock prices go down,” LaRouche said calmly.

“I don’t care. Some things are more important than money.”

“Like your family?” LaRouche taunted.

“Is that a threat?” David said.

“Sure, why not?”

David lunged at LaRouche. Harrington dived in between them. “Enough!”

The two men split apart, David glaring at his partners.

“Calm down. Let’s talk this through,” Harrington said.

“Talk? You mean threaten me?” David said.

“I like to think of it as persuading you, David,” LaRouche countered.

“No, I’m done.” David started to walk away.

It seemed as if the conversation was over.

Then LaRouche darted around the fire, grabbed David’s arm and flung him...

Over the edge of the trail.

The chilling sound of a man crying out echoed across the mountains.

Sara gasped and took a step backward.

A twig snapped beneath her boot.

LaRouche and Harrington whipped their heads around and spotted her. They looked as stunned as she felt. The three of them stared at each other.

No one moved. She didn’t breathe.

Heart racing, she watched the expression on LaRouche’s face change from stunned to something far worse: the look of a murderer who was hungry for more.

“It was an accident,” Harrington said.

LaRouche reached into his jacket, no doubt for a weapon.

In that millisecond, her only conscious thought was survival.

Sara clicked on her headlamp and took off, retracing her steps over the rugged terrain. She was outnumbered and couldn’t retrieve her off-duty piece quick enough. She had to get safe and preserve the video evidence against them.

Shoving the phone in her pocket, she hopped a fallen branch and dodged the boulder on the other side. As she picked up speed, she heard a man grunt as he tripped and hit the ground behind her.

“Where are you going? We need your help!” Harrington called.

Beating back the tentacles of fear, she searched for a trail, or at least a more even surface. She’d left everything at the campsite but the clothes on her back, so her odds for survival weren’t great, especially considering the cold temperatures in the mountains this time of year.

Stop going to that dark place, she scolded herself. She had to figure out how to contact her boss and report the murder before the men reported it as an accident.

Call her boss, right, the man who’d ordered her to take time off. He didn’t even know she was chasing a lead he’d proclaimed was a dead end.

“David fell and we need your help!” Harrington yelled.

David fell? Is that what you call it when you fling a man off a cliff?

She sucked in the cool mountain air, pumping her arms, trying to get a safe distance away where she could get a cell signal and call for help.

“Let’s talk about this!” Harrington pressed.

Like they’d “talked” to David Price? The memory of his desperate cry sent shivers across her shoulders.

She found the trail, but if she found it, so would they. They were taller than her five foot three, their strides longer. It wouldn’t take them long to catch her.

And kill her.

They’d probably fabricate a story about how she was responsible for David’s death. That would wrap everything up in a neat bow—just in time for Christmas.

No. She wouldn’t let them win.

A gunshot echoed across the mountain range.

She bit back a gasp. How would they explain her body riddled with bullet holes? Unless they hoped wild animals would rip it apart, making cause of death that much harder to determine.

Suddenly she ran out of trail. She peered over the mountain’s edge into the black abyss below.

“Think,” she whispered.

She realized her rope was still hooked to her belt. She hadn’t planned to drift off to sleep earlier, so she hadn’t taken off her gear. She wrapped the rope around a tree root jutting out from the side of the mountain below the trail and pulled it tight.

For the first time in her life, she appreciated Uncle Matt’s insistence that she take wilderness survival courses, along with self-defense. She used to think he’d forced her to take the classes because her small frame made her a target for bullies. She eventually realized it was because of the nightmares. He thought the classes would empower her, make her feel safe.

Sara had never felt safe.

She dropped to her stomach and shimmied over the edge. Clinging to the rope, she let herself down slowly, hoping to hit a ledge or plateau where she could wait it out. She clicked off her headlamp. At least if she could disappear for a few hours until sunrise, she might be able to make her way out of Echo Mountain State Park.

She calmed her breathing, questioning her decision to follow this lead on her own. Was her boss right? Was she too determined for her own good?

Sara gripped the rope with gloved hands and steadied herself against the mountainside with her boots.

“What do you want to do?” Harrington said.

His voice was close, right above her close. She held her breath.

“We’ll send Bill to find her,” LaRouche said. “He’s got climbing experience.”

“Wouldn’t it be better if we—”

“No, we need answers, like who sent her and what she heard. Then she needs to disappear.”

Disappear. They were determined to kill her. Sara’s pulse raced against her throat.

As she hung there, suspended in midair, she searched her surroundings, trying to see something, trying to stay grounded.

All she could see was a wall of black, which reminded her of...

Stay in here and don’t make a sound.

But, Daddy—

I mean it. Take care of your brother.

Suddenly someone tugged on the rope, yanking her out of the memory.

“Sara Long, is that you?” LaRouche said.

She was relieved they only knew her undercover name, Sara Long. That should keep them from discovering her true identity.

Then, suddenly, they started pulling her up. No, she wouldn’t let them get away with it, killing people, innocent people.

Killing her.

She released the rope and grabbed the tree root, then edged her way down the side of the mountain, grabbing onto whatever felt solid.

She grabbed onto a branch...

It pulled loose from the earth and she started to slide. Flailing her arms, she reached for something, anything, to slow her descent.

But it was too dark, and the fall too steep.

It wouldn’t surprise the guys in her field office if she died out here like this: alone, on some rogue assignment gone south.

She didn’t care. At least this time she’d taken on the enemy instead of hiding from him.

I’m sorry, Daddy. I should have done something to save you.

She came to a sudden stop. Her head whipped back, slammed against something hard, and she was swallowed by darkness.

* * *

Will Rankin approached the end of the trail and made the final turn. His breath caught in his throat at the stunning view, sunlight sparkling off the calm, turquoise water at the base of Echo Mountain, with the Cascade Mountain range spanning the horizon behind the lake. This was it, the perfect place to open his heart to God, hoping for peace to ease the resentment lingering in his heart.

Intellectually Will knew it was time to let it go for so many reasons, not the least of which being his daughters. They needed a loving, gentle father, not a bitter, angry one.

Will thought he had coped with Megan’s death pretty well over the past two years, but the dark emotions continued to have a stronghold over his heart. He was still angry with his wife for shutting him out as she battled cancer, and he struggled with resentment about his mother-in-law, who challenged nearly every decision Will made about Claire and Marissa.

I love my girls so much, Lord. Isn’t that enough?

Apparently not to his mother-in-law.

No, he wouldn’t think about that today. Today he’d commune with nature and pray: for his daughters, for emotional peace and for the strength to get him through the upcoming Christmas season, the girls’ second Christmas without their mom.

It was unseasonably warm at the base of the mountain. Although a recent light snowfall dusted the area around the lake with a layer of white, it would probably melt off by noon. He smiled, thinking about how much the girls were looking forward to playing in the snow.

Then something else caught his eye across the lake.

A splash of red.

Curious, he pulled out his binoculars and peered through the lenses. It looked like a woman in a red jacket, jeans and hiking boots. Her long brown hair was strewn across her face.

She looked unconscious, or worse.

Will shoved the binoculars into his pack and took off. He had to get to her, had to save her. He glanced at his cell phone. No signal.

Please, Lord, let me save her.

As he sped toward the unconscious woman, he wondered how she’d ended up here. Was she a day hiker who hadn’t brought enough hydration? He didn’t see a backpack near her body, yet even day hikers knew better than to head into the mountains without supplies since the weather could change in a flash.

By the time he reached the unconscious woman, his heart was pounding against his chest. He shucked his pack and kneeled to administer first aid. “Ma’am?”

She was unresponsive.

“Ma’am, can you hear me?”

What had happened to this fragile-looking creature? He wondered if she got separated from her party or had fallen off a trail above.

He gently brushed jet-black hair away from her face. She had color in her cheeks, a good sign. He took off his glove and pressed his fingers against her wrist to check her pulse.

“No!” She swung her arm, nailing Will in the face with something hard.

He jerked backward, stars arcing across his vision. He pinched his eyes shut against the pain. Gripping his nose, he felt blood ooze through his fingers. He struggled to breathe.

“Don’t touch me!” she cried.

“I’m trying to help.”

“Liar.”

He cracked open his eyes. She towered above him, aiming a gun at his chest.

“Please,” he said, putting out one hand in a gesture of surrender. “I’m sorry if I upset you, but I really do want to help.”

“Yeah, help them kill me.”

He noticed a bruise forming above her right eye and lacerations crisscrossing her cheek.

“You’re hurt,” he said.

“I’m fine.”

Will guessed she was frightened and confused. Maybe even dehydrated.

“I’m Will Rankin, a volunteer with Echo Mountain Search and Rescue.”

“Sure, and I’m Amelia Earhart.”

“Check my pack. My driver’s license is in the side pocket.”

It was worth a try, although he knew all the sensible conversation in the world may not get through to someone in her condition.

Narrowing her eyes, she grabbed his backpack and stepped a few feet away. Never lowering the gun, she unzipped the side pocket.

“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.

Strong, firm hands gripped her arms, keeping her upright. Will’s green eyes studied her face, as if assessing her head injury. He must have realized his mistake, that he was still holding on to her, because his hands sprung free and he raised them, as if to say, please don’t shoot me.

She stepped back and dropped the backpack on the ground. “It’s throwing me off balance.”

He picked up the pack and adjusted it across his shoulders with ease. “That bruise above your eye—” He hesitated. “Are you experiencing blurred vision?”

“I’m fine.” She flicked the gun barrel toward the trail.

He continued walking.

“I have ice packs at the cabin,” he said. “And pain reliever.”

She hated that he was being so polite. It was an act, his strategy to discover how much she knew. Those were LaRouche and Harrington’s orders, right?

Much like her official orders had been to leave it alone, put aside the LHP, Inc., investigation due to lack of evidence. But she’d pushed and pushed until Bonner had had enough, and told her to take a couple of weeks off.

So she did, and spent her vacation going undercover and buying her way on to the trail guide team that LaRouche, Harrington and Price had hired to take them up the mountain. Her goal: watch and listen, glean whatever information she could from the men who were on vacation with their guards down.

“Would you like some water?” Will offered.

She ignored him. Sara might be hurting, but she wasn’t stupid. It would be too easy for Will to slip something into her water, rendering her unconscious.

“Guess not,” he said softly.

She took a deep breath and bit back a gasp at the stab of bruised ribs. She decided it was a good thing because the pain would keep her conscious and alert.

He slowed down, closing the distance between them.

“Keep walking,” she said through clenched teeth.

“I thought you might need to rest.”

“I don’t.”

With what seemed like a frustrated sigh, he continued. Sure, he was frustrated. He wanted to finish this job quickly and move on to his next high-paying assignment.

She focused on his backpack as she struggled to place one foot in front of the other without losing her balance. It wasn’t easy when she felt as though she’d stepped off the Tilt-A-Whirl at the county fair.

They continued in silence, her pulse ricocheting off the inside of her skull with each step. She had to make it, had to put these arrogant criminals behind bars.

She hoped they could pull the video recording off her phone, even though she’d noticed it had been damaged in the fall.

Will’s phone was working just fine. Maybe they were close to getting reception. She pulled his phone out of her pocket, but her trembling fingers dropped it. She snapped her gaze to Will, fearing he’d seen her weakness. He continued up the trail.

She waited until he was a good distance away and knelt down to retrieve the phone. When she stood, her vision blurred and she could barely make out Will’s form. She squinted through the haze to see him.

He was no longer within sight.

She shoved the phone into her pocket and clutched the gun grip with both hands. Where did he go? Had he taken off up ahead, waiting to ambush her? She approached a sharp turn, blocked by a boulder.

Took a slow, shallow breath...

Darted around the corner.

And spotted Will, on his knees, with his hands interlaced behind his head.

“What are you doing?” she said.

“Waiting for you.”

“Get up.”

He stood, his back to her. “Are you all right?”

“Go on, keep moving.”

He continued along the trail and she followed. He was waiting for her? More like he was messing with her head, and doing a good job of it.

“The cabin’s not far,” he said.

She ignored him, knowing how these guys worked. They insinuated themselves into your psyche and destroyed you from the inside out. This guy was luring her with his father-of-the-year, single-parent story. She’d seen the wallpaper on his phone of two adorable girls with strawberry blonde hair and big smiles. This guy was a master.

They trekked the rest of the way in silence, Sara focusing on breathing through the pain and shutting out the panic taunting her from the fringes of her mind. She was in the middle of nowhere with an assassin, and her next step could be her last.

No, she was tough. Even if others didn’t believe it, she knew it in her heart.

If only she’d been tough when she was twelve.

They turned a corner to an open field with a cabin in the distance. Surely she’d be able to get a signal out there, in the middle of the field.

He marched in the direction of the cabin.

“Stop,” she said. She’d be a fool to let him go inside with her. No doubt that was where he kept his tools of the trade—coercion tools.

“Sit down, over there.” She jerked the gun barrel.

He sat down beside a fallen tree.

“You have rope in your pack?” she said.

“I do.”

“Get it.”

He unzipped his pack and pulled out what looked like parachute cord.

“Toss it over here. And put your hands behind your back,” she said.

He did, not making eye contact. With a fortifying breath, she grabbed the rope off the ground and climbed over the downed tree.

“Lean forward.”

He did as ordered. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“You’re right, you won’t.”

She quickly bound his wrists behind his back, and secured him to a limb of the fallen tree. She stood and started walking.

“Drink some water,” he said. “It will help with the headache.”

“You can stop now.”

“The best cell reception is over there, by that cluster of boulders.” He nodded, ignoring her comment.

With determination and focus, she marched toward the field, on the other side of a narrow creek. That had to be the spot where she’d find a signal. It would also put her out in the open, making her vulnerable, an easy target. No, these guys usually worked alone. She checked his phone, hopeful and more than a little desperate, but she still had no bars.

She glanced up. A ray of sunlight bounced off the creek and pierced her vision. Pain seared through her brain. She snapped her eyes shut, but it was too late. A sudden migraine blinded her.

She stumbled forward. Had to get to...had to get service. Call her boss...

“What’s wrong?” Will shouted.

She broke into a slow jog. Had to get away from him. Get help.

Breathing through the pain, she stepped onto the rocks to cross the creek. One foot in front of the other. She could do it.

But she slipped, jerking forward. She put out her hands to break her fall.

And landed in the water with a splash.

The man’s shouts echoed in the distance.

She feared he would somehow free himself and finish her off.

She crawled through the creek, her soggy clothes weighing her down. Pain bounced through her head like a pinball.

With a gasp, she surrendered—to the pain, to her own failure—and collapsed into the cold, bubbling water.

TWO

“Ma’am!” Will shouted, pulling on the rope binding his wrists. She was down, unconscious in the creek. Was her head even above water?

“Hey!” He realized he didn’t even know her name. “Ma’am, get up!”

She didn’t move.

“Argh!” he groaned, pulling violently on his wrists. This was not going to happen. He was not going to sit here and watch a woman die in front of him.

“Get up!” he shouted.

She didn’t move.

He yanked on his wrists and dug the heels of his boots into the ground, trying to get leverage. This craziness wasn’t going to do him any good. He took a deep breath and forced himself to be calm.

“Think,” he said. He remembered that his pocketknife was clipped to the side of his backpack.

He stretched out, making himself as long as possible, practically dislocating a shoulder in the process. With the toe of his boot, he caught the strap of his pack and dragged it across the soft earth. In a low crouch, he kicked it behind him until his fingers could reach the knife.

He flicked it open and sawed away at his bindings, unable to see what he was doing. A sharp pain made him hesitate when the blade cut his skin. He clenched his jaw and continued.

“Ma’am!” he called out. “Ma’am, answer me!”

She didn’t move.

He continued to dig at the rope with the blade, and accidentally cut his skin again. Didn’t matter, he had to get free and—

Snap! He jerked his wrists free, reached around and started working on the rope that bound him to the tree.

“Come on, come on,” he muttered. The parachute cord he kept in his pack was meant to be strong, which was why it felt as if it was taking forever to cut himself loose.

Please, God, help me get to her in time.

He finally sliced through it, pocketed the knife and grabbed his pack. Racing across the property, he focused on the woman, who was only partially submerged in the creek. What if she’d swallowed water and it blocked her airway?

He rushed to her side, looped his forearms under her armpits and dragged her out of the creek.

He leaned close. She wasn’t breathing.

“No,” he whispered.

With one hand on her forehead, and the other on the tip of her chin, he tilted her head backward. He hoped it was only her tongue blocking the airway. He pinched her nose and administered two deep breaths.

She coughed and a rush of relief whipped through his chest. Will rolled her onto her side. “It’s okay. You’re okay now,” he said, although his heart was still racing at breakneck speed.

He had to call for help, get Echo Mountain Search and Rescue up here and quick. He spotted his smartphone, partially submerged in the creek. He snatched it out of the cold water. It would dry out and be usable at some point, but until then Will was on his own.

The shiny glint of metal caught his eye. The woman’s gun lay mere inches away from him. He wasn’t a fan of guns, but couldn’t leave it here for a random stranger to pick up. He shoved it into his pocket.

The woman coughed. “P-p-please don’t hurt me.”

He snapped his attention to her shivering body. She was clutching her jacket above her heart, terrified.

“You don’t have to be afraid of me,” he said. “I’m going to help you.”

She closed her eyes, as if she didn’t believe him. He wondered if she saw him pocket the gun and assumed the worst.

“Do you think you can get up?” he said.

“Yeah.”

He extended his hand. She ignored it and shifted onto her hands and knees. A round of coughs burst from her chest. That didn’t sound good. He feared the water in her lungs might lead to something worse.

She stood, but wavered. Her eyes rolled back and he caught her as she went down. Hoisting her over his shoulder, he marched to the cabin. He had to get her dry, tend to her head wound and then determine what other injuries she’d sustained. It was obvious she had a severe headache, and most likely suffered from dehydration. He could treat those easily enough, but didn’t have the ability to treat internal bleeding from her fall, or other, more serious injuries.

He’d do his best. The rest was in God’s hands.

Taking quick, steady steps, he made it to the cabin and laid her on the single bed. He grabbed logs and started a fire to warm the room. Once he got it lit, he refocused on the woman.

The woman. He wished he knew her name.

He pulled her into a sitting position, leaning her head against his shoulder to remove her jacket. He noticed it was water-resistant.

“Smart girl,” he whispered.

Most of her clothes, except for her jeans, were dry thanks to the jacket. She could remove her jeans to dry out when she regained consciousness. He wouldn’t do anything that would make her feel uncomfortable.

He adjusted her on the bed, covered her with a wool blanket and pulled the bed closer to the fire.

Rushing into the kitchen area, he grabbed more first-aid supplies from the cabinet. Her groan echoed across the small cabin. Cracking an ice pack a few times to release the chemicals, he grabbed a kitchen chair and slid it close to her.

“Let’s get a better look.” He analyzed the lacerations on her face, retrieved an antiseptic wipe from the first-aid kit, and pressed it against the scrapes scarring her adorable face.

Adorable, Will? Really?

Shaking off the thought, he cleansed the debris from her head wound, and then placed a bandage over the cut. He pressed the ice pack against a lump on her head that was sure to swell and probably leave her with at least one black eye, if not two.

“Uh,” she groaned.

“I’m sorry, but this will reduce the inflammation.”

She pinched her eyes shut as if in extreme pain, which indicated a concussion.

“Where else are you hurt?” he said.

She didn’t answer. He noticed she gripped her left wrist against her stomach.

“Your wrist?” he said. “May I see it?”

She buried it deeper into her stomach. Yeah, it was injured, all right. Her reaction was similar to Marissa’s when she’d broken her wrist after falling off her bike last spring.

The mystery woman wasn’t making this easy, but he wouldn’t force the issue. He suspected that dehydration intensified her confusion and fear, and he wouldn’t risk making it worse.

He grabbed a water bottle out of his pack. “You need to hydrate.”

Supporting her with his arm, he sat her up and offered the water. Slowly, her eyes blinked open.

“You really need to drink something,” he encouraged.

She pursed her lips, and her blue eyes clouded with fear. Ah, she thought he’d put something in the water.

“It’s filtered water, see?” He took a swig, and made sure to swallow so she could see him. “Delicious.”

He sounded as though he was trying to convince five-year-old Marissa to eat her broccoli.

The woman nodded and he held the bottle to her lips. He tipped it and she sipped, but coughed. He pulled her against his chest and gently patted her back. How long had it been since he’d comforted a woman like this? Lord knew Megan wouldn’t accept his comfort during the last months of her life.

The mystery woman leaned into Will and he held his breath. Maybe she’d decided to trust him?

“What’s your name?” he said.

She pushed away from him.

He put up his hands. “I’m sorry.”

Clutching her wrist to her stomach, her blue-gray eyes widened, her lower lip quivering.

“At least let me wrap your wrist?” he said.

She glared.

“The longer we wait, the more it will swell. I’ll wrap it, then ice it to reduce the inflammation. It might hurt less once it’s iced.”

She didn’t shake her head, so he thought she might be open to the idea. He pulled an elastic bandage out of his first-aid kit and extended his hand. “May I?”

She tentatively placed her wrist in his palm. It didn’t look broken, but they wouldn’t know for sure until she had it X-rayed.

“Did this happen when you fell in the creek?” he asked.

She nodded affirmative.

“It’s probably a sprain.” He slid his palm out from under her wrist. “I need you to hold this steady between your thumb and forefinger,” he said, placing the bandage just right.

He wrapped the bandage down to her wrist and back up between her thumb and forefinger, noting how petite her fingers were.

“They’ll obviously do this better at the hospital,” he said, guiding the bandage to circle her wrist a few times. He secured it with a plastic clip. “I’ve got some pain reliever.”

He dug in his backpack and found ibuprofen. When he turned to her, she’d scooted away from him again, her eyes flaring at the sight of the bottle.

“What do I need to do to convince you I’m a friend, not an enemy?”

“Give me my gun.”

“I’d rather not.”

She clenched her jaw.

“You’re dehydrated and not thinking clearly,” he explained. “The gun could go off by accident.”

She pulled her knees to her chest, her hands trembling.

He grabbed an extra blanket off the foot of the bed and shook it open. He started to drape it across her shoulders, but noticed she’d gone white. He hesitated. Yet he had to get her warm somehow.

Gently draping the blanket around her, he pulled it closed in front.

“Hold it together,” he said, as softly as possible.

She reached up with her right hand and their fingers touched.

She burst into a more violent round of shivers.

It tore Will apart that she was having this kind of reaction to him. Maybe it was a physical reaction to near hypothermia.

“We need to warm you up. Let me try something.” He rubbed her arms through the thick blanket.

He thought he was being gentle, but after a minute she pinched her eyes shut as if suffering severe pain. He snapped his hands from her body and stood abruptly.

“You can’t get warm with those wet jeans soaking your skin. You can take them off, and wrap this around your waist.” He pulled his spare blanket out of his pack and laid it on the bed. “And ice the wrist. I’ll go try to get the phone working.”

He shifted his backpack onto his shoulders and turned to leave.

“Wait,” she said.

He hesitated, hopeful.

“My gun?”

His heart sank. He pulled the weapon out of his jacket pocket and slid it onto the kitchen table.

“I’ll be outside if you need me.” Will shut the door and strode away from the cabin, kicking himself for his last remark. Of course she wouldn’t need him. She thought Will the enemy, a man out to kill her.

“She’s dehydrated,” he muttered. “And confused.”

Which made him a complete idiot for leaving her alone with the gun. Although he’d removed the clip, there was still one bullet in the chamber.

Talk about not thinking straight—he’d been thrown off-kilter since he’d found her. What else would explain his behavior? She’d practically broken his nose, yet he still wanted to help her. She’d tied him to a tree, and he’d cut his own skin to free himself so he could save her life.

He glanced at his wrist. He should have bandaged it while he was in the cabin, but had completely forgotten about his own wounds, and he’d left the first-aid kit behind. The cuts weren’t that bad. A good thing since the woman would probably lock him out of the cabin.

The woman. He still didn’t know her name.

He took the phone out of his pocket and removed the battery. Trying to power it up while wet could cause more problems, so he’d try to dry it out. He sat on a rock and dug into his pack for the small can of compressed air. His friends often teased him about the random things he carried in his pack, but after Marissa had dropped his phone into the town’s water fountain, he knew anything could happen where his girls were concerned, and he had to be ready.

Glancing at the cabin, he realized he hadn’t been ready for today’s events. He hadn’t been prepared to stumble upon a wounded, vulnerable woman in the mountains, nor had he been prepared to have to fight so hard to help her.

He aimed the compressed air nozzle at his phone and squeezed. As it blew away the moisture, he considered that maybe he should accept the fact he would never win this woman over. Perhaps he should cut his losses and head back to town, leaving her to her own devices until SAR could make the save.

He stilled, removing his finger from the compressed air button. No, he was not his father. He did not abandon those who needed him. Wasn’t that exactly why he’d gotten involved in Echo Mountain SAR?

A crack of thunder drew his attention to the sky. Clouds rolled in quickly from the south. Not good.

Although the compressed air might have helped, he knew he’d have to wait a few hours before reinserting the battery and trying it out. He pocketed the phone and battery, and headed back to the cabin.

He hoped she wouldn’t shoot him on sight.

* * *

As soon as he left, Sara grabbed the gun and sneaked out of the cabin. Maybe not the smartest move, but then staying with this man, this very manipulative man, could prove much worse.

She was actually starting to believe him.

As she trudged up a trail, clutching a wool blanket around her shoulders, she realized how close she’d come to dying back there at the hands of her captor.

Dying because he was so good at his job.

He’d nearly convinced her of his sincerity as he’d gently tended her wounds and warmed her body with his strong hands. And to think, when their fingers touched, she’d felt a sense of calm she’d never felt with another man.

Dehydration. A concussion. General insanity. Check on all of the above. LaRouche and Harrington must have paid big bucks to send such a master manipulator out here to find her.

At least she still had her gun. She pulled it out of her pocket, only then realizing the clip was missing. “Great.”

Her head ached, her ribs ached and now her wrist was throbbing thanks to breaking her fall when she went facedown in the creek.

The creek. Will the assassin had saved her life after pulling her from the water. He hadn’t had to do that, had he?

She focused on the rugged trail ahead to avoid any missteps. There’d be no one to catch her this time.

A flash of Will’s green eyes assessing her injury as he’d held her upright taunted her. A part of her wished he’d truly been the man he’d claimed to be: a single dad on a hiking trip to commune with God.

But then, Sara wasn’t a fool. She knew how that relationship worked—people prayed and God ignored them.

She stuck her gun back into the waistband of her wet jeans. At least she had one bullet left in the chamber.

A deep roar echoed through the woods. She froze.

Another roar rattled the trees.

She snapped her gaze to the right...

And spotted a black bear headed her way.

Everything in her body shut down—her mind, her legs, even her lungs. She couldn’t breathe. Frozen in place, she stared at the beast as it lumbered toward her.

Closer.

Don’t stand here, idiot. Run!

Could she outrun a bear? Were you even supposed to try? She struggled to remember what she’d learned about bears, but her brain had completely shut down. One thing she did know was that she couldn’t defend herself if he decided she’d make a good appetizer.

“Don’t run or he’ll attack,” a deep male voice said from behind her.

Will.

“Wh-wh-what are you...doing here?” she whispered, unable to take her eyes off the bear.

“Listen to me carefully. Do not look into the bear’s eyes. Okay?”

She nodded and redirected her attention to the ground.

“Now back away slowly. Toward the sound of my voice.”

She hesitated.

“It’s okay. Slow movements shouldn’t spook her,” he said.

Sara followed his directions and backed up, but the bear kept coming. Will stepped in front of her.

The bear roared, aggravating her headache.

“What does she want?” she said.

“Probably the same thing you want. To be left alone. Maybe she’s got cubs nearby.”

“I have the gun.”

“That’ll only make her angry. Back up slowly.”

She took a step back, then another.

“That’s it,” he said.

As she and Will tried to distance themselves, the bear slowly followed.

“This isn’t working,” Sara said, panic gripping her chest.

“Easy now. Don’t make eye contact. You’re doing great.”

Sara continued to step back. “What if she charges us?”

“We make ourselves big and threatening. I have a feeling you’ll do great.”

Was he teasing her? As they were both about to be torn apart by a bear?

They kept backing away and Sara was stunned when the bear hesitated.

“That’s right, we’re boring hikers, mama bear,” he said in a hushed voice.

That smooth, sweet voice he’d used on Sara.

They backed away until they were out of sight. Will turned and gripped her arm. “Let’s move.”

“You think she’ll follow us?”

“Doubtful, but we’re safer in the cabin. What were you thinking, taking off with nothing but a blanket?”

“I was... That you were—”

“Enough. I don’t want to hear any more about how I’m going to kill you. The dehydration is messing with your head.” He stopped and looked deeply into her eyes. “If I wanted you dead, I would have let Smokey eat you for dinner, right?”

True. An assassin wouldn’t have risked his own life to save a mark from a bear, only to kill her later. In LaRouche’s and Harrington’s minds, a dead witness was the best witness, yet Will have saved her twice.

Which meant she’d been abusing this innocent man, Good Samaritan.

Single father.

She sighed as they kept walking.

“Thanks,” she said. “For the bear thing.”

“You’re welcome. I don’t suppose that warrants me knowing your name?”

“Sara.”

“Nice to meet you, Sara. I’d rather you not run off again and get eaten by wild animals on my watch.”

“No promises,” she half joked.

“Ah, you like pushing back for the fun of it,” he teased.

But he’d nailed it. Sara was always pushing, although, not necessarily for fun.

“Why do you think someone wants to harm you?” he asked.

“I witnessed a crime.”

They turned a corner and he stopped short.

“What?” She looked around him.

A man was coming out of the cabin.

“Do you recognize him?” she said.

“No.” He motioned to a nearby tree. “Hide back there. I’ll check it out.”

“It could be dangerous.”

“Or simply a hiker lost in the mountains. Kinda like you.” Will smiled and nodded toward the tree. “Go on.”

“Maybe you should take this.” She offered him the gun.

An odd smile creased his lips. “Thanks, but you keep it.”

She nodded and watched him walk away, shielding herself behind the tree. From this vantage point she could watch the scene unfold, not that she had a great escape plan. Hiking back up the trail meant crossing paths with the bear, but sticking around meant being interrogated by the real assassin, if that’s who the stranger was.

If it was the man hired by LaRouche and Harrington, that meant Will, a single father of two girls, was walking into trouble.

For Sara.

“No,” she whispered, and peered around the tree, wanting to go to him, to tell him not to take the chance.

A gunshot echoed across the property.

And Will dropped to the ground.

THREE

Will hit the dirt, thinking Sara had come after him and took her best shot. But that didn’t make sense. She was smart enough to know it was safer where he’d left her, camouflaged by the trees.

Sara might be confused, but she wasn’t foolish.

He struggled to slow the adrenaline rush flooding his body.

“Hey, sorry about that,” a man’s voice said.

Will eyed a man’s hiking boots as he approached.

“I saw a mountain lion and wanted to scare him off.”

Will stood and brushed himself off, irritated both by the hiker’s decision to discharge a firearm and by his own reaction to the gunshot. It was a defense response developed from growing up in a house with a volatile, and sometimes mean, drunk.

“I’m B. J. Masters.” B.J. extended his gloved hand and Will shook it.

“Will Rankin.”

B.J. was in his late thirties, wearing a top-quality jacket and expensive hiking boots. He didn’t seem like an amateur hiker, nor did he seem like the type to be hunting a helpless woman.

“Whoa, what happened?” B.J. motioned to Will’s face.

Bruising must have formed from Sara nailing him with the gun.

“Embarrassing hiking moment,” Will said. “Would rather not go into the details. I noticed you were in my cabin.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” B.J. said, glancing at the ground. “I thought maybe it was abandoned, but once I went inside I saw your things and the fire going. Didn’t mean to trespass.”

“No problem. You on a day hike or...?”

“Yeah, I’m scouting places to hold a retreat for guys at work. I’m with Zippster Technologies out of Seattle.” He handed Will a business card. “I was surprised to see a cabin in this part of the park.”

“A well-kept secret. Where are you headed today?”

“Squawk Point.”

“That’s a nice area,” Will said.

He eyed Will’s cabin. “You rent the cabin through the park website?”

“I do.”

“I wonder how many guys could fit in there?”

“Probably eight to ten,” Will said. “After that it might get a little crowded.”

“Yeah, well, probably not big enough for our team.” B.J. gazed across the field, then back at the cabin. “But a nice area, for sure. Well, thanks for not calling the cops on me for breaking and entering.”

“Actually, I dropped my phone in the creek. Don’t suppose I could borrow yours to call my girls and let them know I’m okay?”

Will figured he’d call SAR.

“Wish I could help you out, but the battery’s dead. This new-model smartphone is worthless.”

“What if you run into trouble?”

“I’ve got a personal locator beacon. Besides, what trouble could I possibly get into out here?” He gazed longingly at the mountain range.

“You’d be surprised,” Will muttered.

“Well, nice meeting you.” B.J. extended his hand again.

“You, too. Have a good day.”

With a nod, B.J. headed for the trail.

Will went to the side of the cabin and pretended to get wood for the fireplace. Once B.J. was out of sight, he’d retrieve Sara and bring her to the cabin. Made no sense letting B.J. know of her presence, especially if the men who were after her questioned random hikers about seeing her.

When he’d found Sara just now, he noted her pale skin and bloodshot eyes. At least she was walking around, and maybe even thinking a little more clearly than before.

That woman was tough, no doubt about it, tough and distrusting.

Will wandered to the side of the property to search for a cell signal. The sooner he could get Sara medical attention the better.

He pressed the power button, but the phone was still dead.

He gazed off into the distance. B.J. was turning the corner, about to disappear from view. Will waited until he could no longer see the hiker, then started for the trail where he’d left Sara. She was already on her way down, clutching the gun in her right hand.

“Who was that?” she said.

“A techie from Seattle scouting out retreat spots.”

“And you believed him?” She scanned the area.

“Sara, it’s okay.” He reached out.

His mistake.

She jerked back as if his touch would sear her skin. “Get inside.”

He put up his hands and prayed for patience. What more could he do to make her feel safe?

“Are you hungry?” he said, going into the cabin. “I thought I’d heat up some red beans and rice for supper.”

She followed him inside and shut the door. “I’m fine.”

“I didn’t ask if you were fine. I asked if you were hungry.”

“Stop being nice to me.”

“Would you rather I be mean to you?” He pulled out supplies for dinner.

“He could have been working for Harrington and LaRouche,” she said.

“Doubtful. He gave me his business card.” Will offered it to her. She took it and sat on the bed, still clutching the gun.

He pulled out a pot and found a can opener in a drawer. “As soon as the phone dries off, I’ll get a signal and call SAR, but it might not be until tomorrow morning.”

“Go ahead. Ask me,” she said.

“Ask you what?”

“What I’m doing out here, and why men from a tour group I was assisting with are after me.”

“My goal is to get you back to town for medical attention. If you want to tell me what’s going on, that’s completely up to you.”

He heard the bed creak and her soft groan drift across the cabin. She was hurting. The adrenaline rush from her encounter with the bear had probably masked her pain, and now that she considered herself relatively safe, she was feeling every ache, every pinch of pain.

“How about some pain reliever?” he asked.

“Yeah, probably a good idea.”

“Check my backpack, side pocket,” he said, pleased that she was accepting his help. “You’ll find a small container with ibuprofen and vitamins. Probably wouldn’t hurt for you to chew on a few vitamin Cs to boost your immune system.”

Filling the pot with water, he went to the fireplace to warm it. He didn’t look at her for fear he’d scare her again, that she’d retreat behind a wall of paranoia and fear.

“Wouldn’t hurt to drink more water,” he suggested. “To help the dehydration, and probably the headache.”

She grabbed the water bottle off the bed and sipped.

“Why are you here?” she said.

“It’s my cabin, at least for a few more days.”

“Why don’t you leave me alone?”

“That wouldn’t be very gentlemanly of me.”

“Gentlemanly, huh?” she said.

“You sound as if you’ve never heard the word before.” He stirred their dinner.

“Or I haven’t met many—” she paused “—gentlemen.”

“That’s unfortunate.”

“It’s life.”

He dropped the subject, not wanting to antagonize her with a philosophical discussion on how men were supposed to be gentlemen, especially to women, that men weren’t supposed to think solely of themselves.

And abandon their children to a volatile mother.

Whoa, shelve it, Will. This getaway was supposed to be about easing the resentment from his heart, not battling the scars from childhood.

Out of the corner of his eye, Will noticed Sara shivering as she popped off the top of the ibuprofen bottle.

“If you remove your wet jeans we can dry them by the fire,” he offered.

“No, thanks.”

“Okay.”

“No offense, but I won’t get very far without my pants.”

“Nor will you get very far if you come down with pneumonia.”

“Okay, Dad.”

He sighed. “Sorry, guess I clicked into parent mode.”

He refocused on the water heating in the pot. For whatever reason, she still couldn’t completely trust him.

Understanding comes from walking in the other person’s shoes. Reverend Charles’s advice when Will struggled to understand Megan. No matter how hard he’d tried, he couldn’t make sense of why she’d pushed him away.

Since he and Sara would be stuck in this one-room cabin for a while, he tried seeing the world from her point of view to better understand her reactions. She seemed clearheaded, not as delusional as before, and she feared someone was out to harm her. That was her reality. He had to respect that fact. She was also wounded and stuck in a remote cabin with a stranger who, in her eyes, was somewhat of an enigma because he considered himself a gentleman.

The fact that the thought of a good man was so foreign to Sara probably intensified her distrust.

Will realized that in order to take care of her, he needed to respect her space, and not act aggressive or domineering. He hoped she would open her mind to the possibility that he truly wanted to help.

* * *

Gripping the gun firmly in her hand, Sara found herself struggling to stay awake. Not good. Things happened when she slept.

Bad things.

“Do you have any coffee?” she asked.

“Sure.”

Will went into the kitchen. She eyed the bottle of ibuprofen in her lap, then the chewable vitamin C tablets. She’d taken both, thanks to Will’s suggestion.

Will. A stranger with really bad timing who’d happened upon a woman with a target on her back. A stranger who wouldn’t leave her, even after she’d told him her life was in danger, that she could be putting his life in danger.

“It’s instant,” he said, returning to the fire to warm water.

“That’s fine.” She handed him the chewable vitamin bottle. “You could probably use some extra C, as well.”

He popped one into his mouth. “Thanks.”

She watched his jaw work and his Adam’s apple slide up and down as he swallowed. He fascinated her, this gentle, strong and honorable man.

He scooped coffee into a mug and added water. “You can take up to five of those vitamin Cs if you want.”

“What I want is to be home,” she let slip.

“Which is where?” He handed her the mug.

She noticed blood smudging his skin. “What happened to your wrist?”

“Ah, nothing,” he muttered. He dug into his pack and pulled out an antiseptic wipe. “I’ll bet you’re a city girl.”

“That obvious, huh?”

“A good guess.”

“What about you?” she said.

“I live in Echo Mountain,” he said as he cleaned blood from his wrist.

“What’s that like, living in a small town?”

“It’s nice, actually.” He opened a dehydrated packet of food, poured hot water into it, sealed the bag and set it aside. “Never thought I’d end up living in a small town, but I’ve been here for ten years and can’t imagine living anywhere else.”

“You moved here from...?”

“Denver,” he said. “My wife was from here originally, but she wanted to live near the Rockies so she got a job in Denver after college. We met on a group hike and...” He glanced at the fire.

“What?” Sara asked.

Will stood and went to the kitchen. “I should find us something to eat on.”

She sensed he regretted talking about his wife. Sara wondered what had happened to her but wouldn’t ask.

“Tell me more about your girls,” she said.

Walking back to the fire, he handed her a spoon. She used it to stir the instant coffee.

“Claire’s my eldest daughter. Eight going on eighteen.” He shook his head and sat in a chair beside the fire. “I’m not sure how I’m going to make it through her teenage years without getting an ulcer.”

“That’s a ways away. Perhaps you’ll remarry.”

The flames danced in his green eyes as he stared at the fire. “Perhaps.”

“How long were you married?” she pushed, sipping her coffee.

“Ten years. Claire was six when her mother died, and little Marissa was only three.”

“It’s hard for kids to lose a parent.”

“So I’ve been told,” he said.

There wasn’t a day that went by that Sara didn’t ache for her mom and dad.

She pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders. They spent the next few minutes in silence. Will seemed temporarily lost in a memory about his wife, and Sara beat herself up for not getting enough evidence to put LaRouche and Harrington away sooner.

Sure she’d recorded their conversation and the murder, but when she’d checked her phone earlier, she’d noticed it had been damaged in the fall. Hopefully a tech could retrieve the file.

Will opened the packet of rice and beans, dumped it onto a metal plate and handed it to her.

“What about you?” she said.

“I’ll eat whatever’s left over.”

She hesitated before taking it.

“Go on, it’s not bad,” he said.

“But it’s your food.”

“I’ve got more.”

She took the plate, avoiding eye contact. The more time she spent with Will, the more frustrated she became about her situation, and relying on his good nature.

Relying on anyone but herself was dangerous.

Since she hadn’t eaten in nearly eighteen hours, she took the plate. “Thanks.”

“Tell me more about the man who is after you,” he said.

“Hired by two businessmen who killed their partner.” She took a few bites of food and sighed. “I saw them toss the guy over a cliff.”

“They killed their partner?” he said. “Why?”

“Who knows, money?” She didn’t want to share too much with Will because it could put him in danger.

“I can see why you’ve been so frightened,” he said. “I’m sorry if I haven’t been patient enough.”

Her jaw practically dropped to the floor. What was he talking about? He was apologizing after everything she’d done? Given him two black eyes and verbally abused him?

After a few minutes, she handed him the half-empty plate.

“You sure?” he said. “I can always heat up something else for myself.”

“No, go ahead.”

With a nod, he accepted the plate and started eating. She took a deep breath, then another, staring into the fire.

Maybe it was the flames dancing in the fireplace, or the sound of his spoon scraping against the plate. Whatever the case, she found herself relaxing, fighting to keep her eyes open.

Stay awake!

“Relax and I’ll keep watch,” he said, as if sensing her thoughts.

Will might think they were safe in the cabin, but Sara knew better. Danger was almost always on the other side of a closed door.

The warmth of the fire filled the cabin and she blinked, fighting to stay alert. Exhaustion took hold and she felt herself drift. She snapped her eyes open again, and spotted Will lying on the floor on top of his sleeping bag. He wore a headlamp and was reading a book.

He was definitely a trusting man, but was he really so naive to think they weren’t in danger? He was a civilian determined to protect her. Yet she’d brought the danger to his doorstep.

For half a second, she wanted to believe there were quality men like Will Rankin who rescued failed FBI agents, and protected them from bears and assassins.

Comforted her with a gentle hand on her shoulder. She drifted again...

Don’t make a sound...

She gasped and opened her eyes. Will was no longer on the floor beside the fire. She scanned the room. She was alone.

The door opened and she aimed the gun. Will paused in the threshold. “Needed more wood.” He crossed the small cabin and stacked the wood beside the fireplace.

“What time is it?” she said.

“Nineish,” he said.

“I’ve been out for...”

“A couple of hours. Your body needed it.”

Her mind ran wild, panicked about what could have happened in the past two hours. How close the assassin was to finding her.

“Give me your phone.”

He handed it to her. She stood and headed for the door.

“I don’t think it will work yet,” he said.

“I’ve got to try.”

“Want me to come with?”

“No.” She spun around and instinctively pointed the gun at him. The look on his face was a mixture of disbelief and hurt.

“Sorry.” She lowered the gun. “Just...stay here.”

“Try a few hundred feet that way.” He pointed, and then turned back to the fire, his shoulders hunched.

The minute she stepped out of the cabin a chill rushed down her arms. She should have brought the blanket with her, but wasn’t thinking clearly. Why else would she have pointed the gun at Will?

His hurt expression shouldn’t bother her. She hardly knew the man. Yet shame settled low in her gut.

Focus! It was late, but she had to call her boss if she could get a signal.

The full moon illuminated the area around the cabin. She pressed the power button and practically jogged toward a cluster of trees up ahead.

“Come on, come on.” She held the button for a few seconds. The screen flashed onto the picture of the two redheaded girls.

“Yes,” she said.

But still, no signal.

She waved the phone above her head, eyeing the screen, looking for bars.

The click of a gun made her freeze.

“There you are.”

FOUR

A firm hand gripped a fistful of Sara’s hair. “Did you think you could outrun us?” a man’s deep voice said.

Us? They’d sent more than one of them after her?

“Nice to meet you, Sara. I’m Bill.” He snatched the gun from the waistband of her jeans and pushed her toward the cabin.

“What do you want?”

“Why’d you run off from the group?”

“I had a family emergency.”

“Sure,” he said, sarcastic. “Who sent you in the first place?”

“No one. I work for Whitman Mountain Adventures.”

“Convenient how you showed up out of nowhere and worked your way onto LaRouche and Harrington’s camping trip.”

“I needed the job.”

“Yeah, yeah. We’re meeting up with them tomorrow so you can explain yourself. We’ll sleep here tonight.”

Sleep here? In the cabin? Where Will was innocently stoking a fire?

“No,” she ground out.

“Yes.” He shoved her forward.

She opened the door to the cabin, but Will was gone.

“Where’s your friend?” the man asked.

“What friend?”

He pushed her down in a chair. “The guy I met earlier today. Before our pleasant chat, I noticed your torn jacket on the bed. I guessed you were close. Where’d he go?”

“I have no idea.”

A thumping sound echoed from the front porch.

“You sit there and be quiet while I go hunting.” Her attacker bound her wrists in front.

When she winced at the pressure against her sprained wrist he smiled as if taking pleasure in hurting her. He leaned close. So close she was tempted to head-butt him. Instead, she stared straight ahead, acting like the innocent victim she claimed to be. He tied another rope around her midsection, securing her to the chair.

“Behave,” he threatened.

He turned and went outside in search of Will. Why had Will gotten himself involved in this? Why had he had to help her when he’d found her unconscious body next to the lake?

Silence rang in her ears as fear took hold. The assassin would kill Will, leaving two little girls without a father. No, she couldn’t let that happen. Couldn’t let those girls suffer through the kind of mind-numbing grief Sara had experienced, especially since Will’s girls had already lost their mom.

“Never give up,” she ground out. And she wouldn’t, ever, unlike the cops who’d given up on finding Dad’s killer.

She dragged the chair into the kitchen, awkwardly opening drawers in search of a weapon.

She found a multipurpose fork in a drawer. It would have to do.

The door swung open with a crash.

She spun around, aiming her weapon...

At Will.

“You’re here,” she gasped.

He rushed across the small cabin. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” Will untied her and searched her face, as if fearing she’d been beaten up.

Sara shook her head. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.” He led her back to the fireplace, removed his backpack and dug inside. “Let me find—”

The assailant charged into the cabin, wrapping his arm around Will’s throat.

“Let him go!” she cried.

Will tried to elbow the guy in the ribs but the assassin was too strong. Digging his fingers into the guy’s arm, Will gasped for air. Sara darted behind the guy and wrapped her arm around his neck. The guy slammed her back against the cabin wall, sending a shudder of pain through her body. She collapsed on the floor.

He dragged Will outside and Sara stumbled after them. “Stop! Let him go!”

He threw Will to the ground and stomped on his chest, over and over again. “You like that?”

“Leave him alone!” Sara charged the assassin. He flung her aside, but not before she ripped the gun from the waistband of his jeans.

He continued beating on Will, unaware she had his weapon.

Sara scrambled to her feet. Aimed the weapon. “Stop or I’ll shoot!”

The assassin was drowning in his own adrenaline rush, the rush of beating a man to death. She squeezed the trigger twice and the guy went down. She rushed to Will, who’d rolled onto his side clutching his stomach.

“Will? Will, open your eyes.”

He coughed and cracked them open. “That was...the guy who was after you?”

“He was hired to find me, yes.”

“So someone else will come—” he coughed a few times “—looking for you?”

“Not tonight. He was supposed to take me to meet up with them tomorrow.”

“Is he dead?”

“I don’t know.”

Will groaned as he sat up, gripping his ribs. “We need to check. If he’s not dead, we need to administer first aid.”

She leaned back and stared at him, stunned by his comment. “He tried to kill you.”

He pressed his fingers to the assassin’s throat. A moment later he nodded at Sara. “He’s gone.”

Will coughed a few times as he scanned the area. “We can’t leave him out here. Animals.”

She didn’t have a response for that, either, speechless that Will could show compassion for a man who most certainly would have beaten him to death if she hadn’t shot him first.

She eyed the body.

The dead body.

She’d just killed a man.

Her fingers tightened around the grip of the gun and her hand trembled uncontrollably, sending a wave of shivers across her body.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Will said, rushing to her. “Let’s get you inside.”

She thought she nodded, but couldn’t be sure.

“Relax your fingers,” he said, trying to take the gun away.

Staring at her hand, she struggled to follow his order but couldn’t seem to let go.

“Sara, look at me.”

She took a quick breath, then another. With a gentle hand, he tipped her chin to focus on his green eyes. Green like the forest after a heavy rain.

“That’s it,” he said. “Everything’s okay. You can let go now.”

But she didn’t feel okay. Her hands grew ice cold and thoughts raced across her mind in a random flurry: her boss’s disappointed frown, her cousin Pepper’s acceptance into med school, the look on her father’s face when he savored a piece of coconut cream pie.

A long time ago. Before...before...

Her legs felt as if they were melting into the soft earth.

She gasped for air...

And was floating, her eyes fixed on the moon above before she drifted into the cabin.

It was warm inside. It smelled like burning wood, not death. She was placed on the bed in front of the fire, but she didn’t lie down because she didn’t want to sleep, to dream, to be held captive by the nightmares.

“Keep the blanket around your shoulders,” Will said.

It was then that she realized he’d carried her inside. He pulled the blanket snugly around her, and poked at the fire. It flared back to life.

He kneeled in front of her. “You’re probably going into shock, but you’ll be fine.”

Those green eyes, brimming with promise and sincerity, made her believe that things would actually be okay.

It only lasted for a second.

Because in Sara’s life, things were never okay.

“I’ll be right back.” Will squeezed her shoulder and left.

That was when the terror of her life came crashing down on her.

If she were a religious person, she’d go as far as to say she’d sinned in the worst possible way.

She’d killed a man.

She’d become like the monsters she’d sworn to destroy.

Like the monster that killed her father.

* * *

Will clicked into overdrive. He tossed logs out of the wood container, rolled the body onto a tarp and dragged him across the property.

A part of him was shocked, both by the murder of a stranger, and by his own reaction. He found himself more worried about Sara than the ramifications of this man’s death.

It should be justified in the eyes of the law, since she’d shot him to save Will’s life. The guy would have surely beaten Will to death, leaving his children parentless. Will wasn’t sure Sara had had another option. The man was about brutality and death, and that was how his life had ended.

But taking another man’s life was a sin, so after Will placed the body and weapon into the wood container, he kneeled beside it and prayed. “Father, please forgive us. In our efforts to live, we took another man’s life.”

Guilt clenched his heart. He still couldn’t believe what had happened. But he couldn’t dwell on it, not while Sara was going into shock. He needed to tend to her.

As he went back to the cabin, he noticed the man’s blood on his gloves. He took them off and dropped them outside the door. The sight of blood might upset her further. He stepped inside the cabin.

Sara was not on the bed where he’d left her. He snapped his head around. “Sara?” His heart slammed against his chest. Had she left again? Was she wandering aimlessly in the mountains in a state of shock?

“Sara!”

The echo of his own voice rang in his ears. He turned, about to race out into the dark night.

Then he heard a squeak. Hesitating, he waited to see if he’d imagined it. Another squeak drifted across the room. He slowly turned back. The sound was coming from under the bed.

Will went to the bed and checked beneath it. Sara’s terrified blue eyes stared back at him.

“He won’t see me in here,” she said in a childlike whisper.

“No, he won’t. That’s a good hiding place.” He stretched out on his back and extended his hand. She looked at it. “Your hands must be very cold,” he said.

She nodded. “Like ice-cycles.”

“My hand is warm. May I warm the chill from your fingers?”

Her eyes darted nervously beyond him. “What if he comes back?”

“He won’t. He’s...” Will hesitated. Reminding her she’d killed a man would not help her snap out of shock. “He’s gone.”

“Are you sure?”

“One hundred and ten percent.” The number he used with his girls.

She eyed Will’s hand. He motioned with his fingers to encourage her to come out.

“I’m only safe if I stay hidden,” she whispered. “He won’t see me in here.”

That was the second time she used the phrase in here. Where did she think she was? Will suspected she might be drifting in and out of reality, the present reality mixed with a past trauma, perhaps? At any rate, he needed to keep an eye on her condition by making sure she was warm and comfortable. If she felt most comfortable under the bed, then that was where she’d stay.

“Are you warm enough?” he asked.

She shrugged.

“How about another blanket?” He snatched one off a chair and placed it on the floor.

Her trembling fingers reached out and pulled the blanket beneath the bed. “Thanks.”

“Is there anything else I can do for you?” he said.

“No, thank you.”

He positioned himself in front of the fire. A few minutes of silence passed as he stared into the flames. The adrenaline rush had certainly worn off, because he was feeling the aches and pains from the beating he’d survived.

Survived because of Sara. She’d saved him from an ugly, painful death.

As energy drained from his body, he struggled to stay alert. Will needed to protect Sara, take care of her.

He glanced left. Her hand was sticking out from beneath the bed. Was she trying to make a connection with him? He positioned himself on the floor and peered under the bed. She’d changed positions and was lying on her side, bundled up in the blankets.

Bending his elbow, he brushed his hand against her petite fingers. She curled her chilled fingers around his.

“Wow, you are warm,” she said.

“Yeah,” he said, barely able to speak. This connection, the fact that touching Will comforted her, filled his chest with pride.

“Do you have a fever?” she said.

“Nah. The warm body temperature is a family thing. My girls run hot, too.”

“Your girls.” She closed her eyes and started to pull away.

Will clung to her hand. “No, don’t. I...I need the connection.”

She opened her eyes. “You do?”

“Yes.”

“But I’ve been horrible to you. Accusing you of being an assassin, tying you up.” Her eyes widened. “Oh, my God, that’s why your wrists were bleeding. You had to cut yourself free.”

She snatched her hand from his and rolled away.

Well, good news was she’d returned to reality and was no longer caught up in some trauma from her past. The bad news was she blamed herself for whatever pain Will had suffered.

He went to the other side of the bed. The fire didn’t light this part of the room so he couldn’t see her face, but he still tried to connect with her, there, in the dark.

“It’s not your fault,” he said. “You were terrified and confused, and most likely suffering from dehydration.”

“I gave you a bloody nose.”

“I startled you.”

“You were trying to help me.” She sighed. “I’m so ashamed.”

“Why, because you were protecting yourself from men who wanted to harm you? You should be proud. You escaped. You survived.”

“No, they were right. I don’t belong out here.”

“Where, in the mountains?”

She didn’t answer him.

“Sara?”

She rolled over again and he went to the other side of the bed. He bit back a groan against the pain of bruised ribs as he stretched out on the floor next to her.

“Could you do me a favor and stay in one position so I don’t have to get up and down again?” he teased.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not that bad. But the ribs are a little sore.”

“I meant, I’m sorry for everything that’s happened.”

“Sara, it’s not your fault.”

“Yes, it really is.”

Silence stretched between them, punctuated by the sound of the crackling fire. Will sensed there was more behind her words, but he wasn’t going to challenge her. He tried another strategy.

“Thank you,” he said.

“For what?”

“For saving my life out there.”

“You saved mine first.” She extended her hand again and he grasped it. Unfortunately it was still ice cold.

“Do you want to sit by the fire to warm up?” he offered.

“Maybe later.”

He sensed she was still frightened and probably felt vulnerable. But the more he knew about her situation, the better he could help her.

“Are you up to talking about what’s going on?” he asked.

“Sure.”

“Men are after you because you witnessed a murder?”

“Yes. They want to know what I saw, and what I heard.”

“Did you hear anything?”

“Yes.”

He waited.

“I shouldn’t involve you further,” she said.

“How can I help you if I don’t know what’s going on?”

“I would never forgive myself if you, or your girls, were threatened because of your association with me,” she said.

She was a strong, determined woman, and an honorable one, as well. He couldn’t fault her for that.

She yawned and pulled the blanket tight around her shoulder. She hadn’t coughed in the past few hours, so he felt hopeful she wouldn’t come down with pneumonia.

“Perhaps we should sleep,” he suggested. “To be fresh for tomorrow. We’ll need to hike a bit to find a cell signal.”

“Okay, sleep sounds...good.” She yawned again.

Although he knew sleep would help him function tomorrow, he doubted he could relax enough to drift off. He decided to brainstorm the necessary steps to get them safely back to town.

As options whirled in his brain, exhaustion took hold, making his mind wander to other things like his girls, his latest work assignment, Megan’s death and the gray cloud of grief that hung over his house for so many months afterward. Could he have done something differently to help his girls adjust? No, ruminating about the past wouldn’t help him raise his girls with love and compassion.

Sara squeaked and squeezed his hand. She must have fallen asleep. Will focused on the feel of her cool skin clinging to him, and decided he’d been given another chance to help someone.

And he wasn’t going to blow it this time.

* * *

When Sara awoke, it took her a minute to figure out where she was, and whose hand she clung to.

Will.

Embarrassed, she considered pulling abruptly away, but didn’t. She wanted another moment of peace, and it felt so comforting to be holding on to him.

He slept on his back, breathing slow and steady. She envied him for such a peaceful sleep. Since childhood she’d struggled with nightmares that often left her feeling exhausted in the morning.

With a sigh, he blinked open his eyes as if he knew she was watching him. He turned his head toward her.

“Good morning,” he said, his voice hoarse.

“Good morning.”

“Did you sleep okay?”

It was then that she realized she hadn’t been plagued by nightmares. “Yeah, actually, I did.”

“Good.” He eyed his watch. “It’s eight. We must have needed the sleep.” He stood and offered his hand.

“I’m good,” she said.

“Want me to make coffee?”

“That would be great.” Sara climbed out from beneath the bed and stretched. “Uhh,” she moaned. Her body ached from her fingertips to her toes.

“Hey, easy there.” He went to her, touching her arm to help her sit in the chair.

“I’m okay, just sore.” She looked up into his eyes. “Coffee will make it better.”

“You got it.”

A sudden pounding on the door made her gasp.

FIVE

“Where’s the gun?” Sara said, anxiety rolling through her stomach.

“Outside in the wood container.”

The pounding continued.

Will grabbed a log from the woodpile by the fireplace and motioned for Sara to get behind him. But she was no weakling, and no matter what injuries she’d sustained, she wasn’t going to let Will fight this battle for her. He’d done enough.

Ignoring the pain of her injured wrist, she also grabbed a log and got on the other side of the door. If someone broke it down, he was going to get an unpleasant welcome.

The muffled sound of men talking on the other side of the door echoed through the thick wood. There were more than one of them? Not good. How had they found the isolated cabin? Then again, Bill had found it easily enough.

Another knock made her squeeze the wood so tight a sliver edged its way into her forefinger.

“Will? Will, you in there?” a male voice called.

“Nate?” Will dropped the log and reached out for the door.

Sara darted in front of him.

“Nate’s a friend of mine, a cop,” Will said. “It’s okay.”

She didn’t step out of his way. She trusted Will but didn’t trust the situation. It was too much of a coincidence that Will’s friend happened to be hiking nearby.

“Sara, it’s okay,” Will said, touching her shoulder. “Trust me.”

Maybe it was his gentle tone, or the sincerity of his rich green eyes that eased her worry. With a nod, she stepped aside, but didn’t drop the log.

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