A CHILD’S LIFE IS AT STAKE

When Christopher Jordan sees the fear in Ashley Wilson’s eyes, he knows he can’t let her request for help go unanswered. Despite their tumultuous history, he’s the only person his ex-fiancée can trust to find her kidnapped nephew. But how can Christopher trust her when he finds out that Ashley’s “nephew” is actually his son, the one she never told him about? With a terrorist cell convinced Ashley holds the key to accessing top secret government files, time is running out. And Christopher will stop at nothing to bring their little boy home in time for Christmas.

The Security Experts: Defenders against danger

Christopher leaned close enough that Ashley could feel his breath on her cheek. “Stay here.”

“Where are you going?” She grabbed his arm, desperate to keep her only known ally close—even if he had broken her heart at one time.

He locked gazes with her, that same confidence that had always made her feel safe shining in his gaze. “I’m going to find something to fight with.”

“But they have guns!”

“If I go down, I’m going to go down fighting, Ashley.” His voice was steady, holding not even a hint of disbelief. “I want you to stay in here. Understand?”

He tried to stand but Ashley pulled him back down. “I came here for your help, not to get you killed.”

His eyes softened for a moment. “I know. Trust me. Okay?”

She didn’t know if she could ever trust him again. But, in this moment, she had no choice. She nodded. Her heart pounded in her ears as he pulled the door open.

Something creaked outside.

The steps. Someone was coming up the steps.

Fear squeezed tighter as she braced herself for whatever was about to come.

CHRISTY BARRITT

loves stories and has been writing them for as long as she can remember. She gets her best ideas when she’s supposed to be paying attention to something else—like in a workshop or while driving down the road.

The second book in her Squeaky Clean Mystery series, Suspicious Minds, won the inspirational category of the 2009 Daphne du Maurier Award for Excellence in Suspense and Mystery. She’s also the coauthor of Changed: True Stories of Finding God in Christian Music.

When she’s not working on books, Christy writes articles for various publications. She’s also a weekly feature writer for the Virginian-Pilot newspaper, the worship leader at her church and a frequent speaker at various writers’ groups, women’s luncheons and church events.

She’s married to Scott, a teacher and funny man extraordinaire. They have two sons, two dogs and a houseplant named Martha.

To learn more about her, visit her website, www.christybarritt.com.

High-Stakes Holiday Reunion

Christy Barritt

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid.

—John 14:27

This book is dedicated to my readers. Your friendship and notes of encouragement mean the world to me and always brighten my day.

Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

EPILOGUE

DEAR READER

QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION

EXCERPT

ONE

As Ashley Wilson rounded the corner, her foot slammed onto the brakes.

What...?

In the distance, her brother’s house came into view. A commotion on the lawn caused her blood to freeze.

Three men in suits scuffled near the sidewalk. Her brother Josh’s tall, lanky form jerked in the middle of the crowd as he struggled against the men. What were they doing to her brother? Who were these men?

Her gaze went to the two black sedans parked at the curb. The men were trying to...force her brother into one?

She yanked her gaze from the scene to her clock. David. Where was the eight-year-old? His bus hadn’t come yet. It couldn’t have. Ashley was on her way to meet him, but had arrived a good ten minutes early.

Still, panic raced through her.

She wanted to throw the car into Park, rush from her seat and intercede. But there was no way she could overtake all of those men.

Her gaze zoomed in on the black metal at one of the men’s waistband. A gun. These men were armed.

Her heart stopped when she saw a tiny head bobbing in the crowd.

David. Her precious nephew, David. Her reason for waking up in the morning. Her reason for working at home as a web designer with flexible hours. Her heartbeat.

They had David. She covered her mouth as a guttural cry escaped.

How had they gotten David? He was supposed to be in school. Had Josh pulled him out early today?

Some of her logic returned, hitting her with the force of a lightning bolt. The police. She had to call the police. That was all there was to it.

She reached into her purse and fumbled with the cell phone, her hands trembling so badly she wasn’t sure she could dial.

She glanced up just in time to see one of the men point her way and yell something.

Two of the men pulled their guns and began running toward her car.

Toward her.

She threw the car in Reverse. She had to get away. If they caught her then there’d be no way she could help. She slammed her foot onto the accelerator. Her neck snapped back with the force, but she didn’t care. Adrenaline pumped through her veins.

That’s when she heard the first pop. Her heart sped. They were shooting at her. She ducked just as the windshield shattered.

She screamed but kept going. Reaching the street behind her, she pulled hard on the steering wheel, threw the car into Drive and squealed off. Another pop sounded behind her but didn’t reach her car.

She glanced in her rearview mirror. The men had stopped running. She’d lost them. For now.

She craned her neck, trying to see beyond the eerie, spiderweb-like lines etched into her windshield. She could hardly see the road. Finally, she reached the street leading away from the neighborhood.

Her mind raced a million miles a minute. What had just happened? What should she do now?

The police, she remembered. She needed to call the police.

Grief crushed her heart. David. Poor David. She needed to help him, to soothe him and wipe his tears. Since Josh’s wife had died, Ashley had filled in as a mother figure. Now her heart squeezed with a maternal grief.

No, the best thing she could do was to let the authorities know. There was no way her 120 pounds could take down all three of those men. Probably not even one of them.

Keeping one eye on the road, she grabbed the phone, which had fallen to the floor in her haste to escape. Her fingers trembled on the keypad. Before she could dial, the phone beeped with an incoming call.

She saw the number, and her heart raced—first with hope, then dread. Her brother?

She looked back at the road, swerving away from an oncoming car. Quickly, she answered. “Josh? What’s going on?”

“You can’t call the police, Ashley.” His words tumbled into each other, and panic laced his voice, making its pitch rise.

“Josh, I’m scared.”

“Ashley—”

Before he could finish, another voice came on the line. “We’ll find you and kill you, Ashley Wilson. You weren’t supposed to see that.”

The words sent cold fear through her. “Who is this? What do you want with my brother?”

“Stay out of it,” the man growled.

Even the sound of his voice conjured up images of evil, of a heartless man. “What about David? Can I just get David? Leave him out of this. Please. He’s just a child.”

Suddenly, the black sedan appeared in her rearview mirror—coming fast and closing the space between them too quickly. Memories of her accident began to crush her last shred of sanity. No, she couldn’t let her mind go there. Not now.

She swerved onto a side road, the phone slipping from her hand as she gripped the wheel. She didn’t have time to worry about it now. She accelerated. A glance behind her confirmed that the car turned down the same street. A man hung out the side window, a gun in hand.

She had to think, and quickly. She didn’t have much time.

Just then, the back glass shattered. She screamed, trying to maintain her control of the car. Wind—cold and sharp—whipped around her. Pellets of glass rained down from her hair. She couldn’t drive like this much longer. It wasn’t safe—for her or anyone around her.

But her survival instinct was greater than her fear. She had to stay alive—not for her sake, but for David’s.

A busy highway waited ahead. Before she reached it, she turned onto another side street. Immediately, she pulled into a parking lot. A shopping center shadowed her car as she drove full-speed in front of the structure. At the corner, she swerved around the building and slammed on the brakes.

Maybe they hadn’t seen her. Hopefully, they’d assumed that she’d gone straight.

But just in case they didn’t, she grabbed her purse and her phone and jumped out of the car.

Two delivery trucks were parked behind the strip mall, and their drivers were unloading boxes of product. Ashley picked the closest one and ran toward him. He looked up as she approached, his eyebrows furrowed in curiosity.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, not stopping to ask permission. She ran through the propped-open door instead, darted through the back offices and break room and into a hardware store.

Her gaze fluttered wildly about the building. Where now? Where could she hide?

The black sedan flew past the front windows of the store. They knew she’d come this way. Now what did she do?

She crouched down, waiting until the car disappeared.

Then she sprinted out the front door and toward the opposite end of the row of shops. What store had that other delivery truck been stopped behind? She pictured the design on the truck. Pastries.

Taking a guess, she slipped inside a drug store, running until she reached the back.

“Hey, what are you doing?” A man in a cashier’s smock held up a hand to stop her as she charged into the door marked “Employees Only.”

“Sorry.” She didn’t stop to hear his response. She went straight to the back door. She paused there, slowly peeking around the edge of it.

She spotted the black sedan parked haphazardly beside her car. A man jumped from the vehicle and ran in through that same delivery door and into the hardware store. It was only a matter of moments before they found her and killed her. She couldn’t let that happen.

The other delivery truck wasn’t far away. Only a few feet. The driver had packed up and was climbing into the front. That truck seemed her only hope at the moment.

She crept outside, concealed behind a Dumpster. If she ran, she might make it onto the back of the truck before the driver realized what was happening. She had to. It was her only chance.

Staying low, she slunk toward the truck. The engine started. She didn’t have much time. If she was going to make a move, it had to be now.

Lord, help me.

She lunged toward the back door. Her hand connected with the handle.

It opened. Praise God, it opened.

She swung into the back of the truck, colliding with a rack full of prepackaged donuts and cupcakes. She closed the door just as the man in black exited the hardware store.

She was going to get away, she realized.

But her heartbeat didn’t slow as she wondered if her brother and nephew would be so fortunate.

* * *

Christopher Jordan ran a hand over his face, weariness from a long, hard week of work compounding until a pulsing headache thumped at the back of his head. He’d worked too late—again. Now darkness surrounded his car as he drove the hour back to his house.

He really should buy a place closer to work. But this house had lots of memories for him, and he couldn’t give those up yet. He needed those memories now. He needed good memories to push out all of the bad ones.

He turned off the highway, and the streets became quieter, darker. Just like his soul, he thought. Ever since he returned from war, he hadn’t felt like himself.

Just how was he going to remedy that?

Good memories, he thought. He just needed to hold on to the good. That, along with his faith in God, would help to pull him through his inner turmoil.

Finally, he turned onto his street. All he could think about was getting home for the weekend, being alone and not doing anything for as long as humanly possible—which meant until Monday came and it was back to work again.

He knew his stress was from more than just his work. He’d only been back from the Middle East for three months, and memories of the place still haunted him. Every night, nightmares jolted him awake. Too many images stained his mind. It seemed as if they’d been imprinted on his soul, and for the rest of his life he’d carry the burden of his time deployed.

He’d gotten out of the military, taken a job as a training specialist at the private security contracting firm Iron, Incorporated, also known as Eyes. He taught tactical training, such as sharpshooting and use of force to law-enforcement groups that came to Eyes for instruction. Eyes worked with both local law-enforcement communities, as well as the Department of Defense, in training personnel, developing programs and equipment, and for other special assignments.

He’d taken the job in hopes of repairing some of the damage his psyche had suffered. He’d thought he was stronger than all of this. But the deaths of those around him had begun to take their toll on him, and now he wondered if he’d ever be the same.

He’d poured himself into work at his new job, hoping to erase the pain. But it was always there, cold and achy and throbbing.

The two-story house that his grandfather had left to him came into view. The place was out in the middle of nowhere. Some would call it isolated. Christopher called it breathing room. He slowed as he turned into his driveway, his headlights skimming the front of the house.

His foot pressed on the brakes. Was that something on his porch? In his rocking chair?

In the dark, he could hardly tell. Something was out of place, but whatever was on the rocking chair only appeared to be a shadow.

He should have left the porch light on, he supposed, but he hadn’t thought about it when he left home this morning. Now all of his instincts were on alert. Could it have to do with his SEAL team bringing down the leader of that terrorist group? Had their names been leaked? They’d all be logical targets in the aftermath of the terrorist group’s demise.

But especially Christopher. He’d been the one to pull the trigger.

He reached under the front seat and pulled out the gun he kept there. He carried it with him at all times as a part of his job.

Slowly, cautiously, he got out of his car. Yes, there was definitely something on his porch. Or was it...someone?

He crept toward the steps. The bitter cold air filled his lungs, heightening his awareness even more. Who would be hanging out on his porch at night? Had one of the terrorists found him?

With his other hand, he fingered the phone in his pocket. Should he call for backup? No, not yet. They’d only think he was paranoid, only push him harder to get more counseling for PTSD. The last thing this soldier wanted to do was talk about his feelings, especially with a stranger.

He scanned the usually welcoming porch again. The railing still looked intact. Even the strands of evergreen that he’d draped there, complete with red Christmas bows, were in place. He didn’t see anyone lurking behind the bushes or peeking around the corner of the house.

With the skill of a trained fighter, he climbed the steps, his gun pointed at the figure on his porch. He couldn’t see a face. The person appeared to be hiding underneath a coat—arms, legs, face and all.

He cocked his gun, all of his instincts on alert, each of his muscles poised for action. “You have three seconds to show yourself before I fire.”

The figure flinched, and a mad fluttering of limbs ensued. Finally, a head popped up. Familiar eyes stared at him, wide with fear. The facts hit him one by one. Honey-blond hair. Oval face. Slim build. He couldn’t see the color of her eyes, but he instinctively knew they were blue.

The woman raised a slender hand. “Please, don’t shoot. It’s me.” Her voice sounded soft, lyrical—and desperate.

“Ashley?” He lowered his gun, disbelief washing over him. It couldn’t be. No, not Ashley. Not his ex-fiancée, the woman whose heart he’d broken when he’d called off their engagement. Their parting had been one of the most painful conversations he’d ever had, and still when he thought about it today, an ache formed in his chest. He’d had to make a decision between his career or a family. His country had needed him, so he’d chosen his career. He tried to live without regret; he thought he was stronger than that. But whenever he allowed himself to think about Ashley, regret was the very emotion that tried to creep into his mind. He’d loved that woman at one time. Times had changed, though; he had changed.

She nodded slowly, raw emotion lining her eyes. She pulled the white, wool coat around her more tightly as the wind picked up again, sweeping dry leaves across the porch. The sound tightened his nerves.

“Christopher.”

Instinctively, he stepped closer. He’d both dreamed and had nightmares about this moment for so long. During those dark moments on the battlefield, he’d wondered what it would be like to see Ashley again.

And never had he imagined it like this. Not him with a gun in his hand and her with a look of absolute vulnerability straining each of her lovely features. No, in his moments when he’d faced death, he’d imagined Ashley forgiving him, smiling, picking up where they’d left off. He knew that would never happen. Even if there weren’t any hard feelings between them, Christopher knew he was too broken and damaged to be in a relationship right now.

He remembered their last conversation and paused, unsure how to greet her. Not with a hug. Not with the way things had ended. A handshake seemed too formal when considering their past relationship. Instead, he settled for putting his gun away and making an effort to relax his shoulders.

He and Ashley had met at a mutual friend’s house on New Year’s Eve more than a decade ago, and it had been a textbook case of love at first sight. Not only had he instantly thought she was beautiful, but her smile, her love for life, her hope for the future had hooked him. She’d pulled him out of the shell he easily sucked himself into—most people didn’t see it because he’d hidden it well with easygoing small talk. But Ashley had always seen right through him. She had a way about her that made him open up.

Their two years together were filled with easy, effortless moments. Relationships like that didn’t happen often. Six months before the wedding, he’d called things off.

Ashley brushed a hair out of her face and licked her lips. Her eyes implored him. “I’m sorry to show up here, but I didn’t know where else to go.” Her voice sounded tight and strained.

He reached toward her, compassion and concern pounding through his veins, but his hand dropped midway. “Are you okay?”

She hesitated and then shook her head. Those wide, pleading eyes met his again. “I need your help.”

He stared at her another moment, thoughts and emotions colliding inside him. His help? What could he possibly help her with? Whatever it was, his gut told him it was serious. “Let’s go inside. Get you out of the cold.”

As she stepped closer, Christopher wanted to soak her in, to absorb all the changes in her over the past several years. But he couldn’t do that. It was no longer his right.

He unlocked the door, noticing that she was shivering uncontrollably. From the cold? Or from something deeper?

He flipped the light on in the entryway and dust bunnies floated across the wooden floor. Perhaps he’d neglected housekeeping more than he should have. He offered an apologetic grin. “I wasn’t expecting to see you. I would have straightened up some.”

She stepped inside, her face grim with...sorrow? Fear? Grief? His grin slipped. With a hand on her back, he led her into the living room where boxes still waited along the walls for him to unpack.

She shivered again. “Believe me. I wasn’t expecting to be here. I only came here because I was desperate.”

The brutal honesty of her words stung. She’d made it clear when they last talked that she never wanted to see him again. Christopher couldn’t blame her. Things had ended badly. He’d made the best decision possible at the time. But in hindsight, he’d wondered if it was the worst decision ever.

He didn’t have time to think about what could have been now. Instead, he led her to the couch, one that had been left here by his grandfather. This was probably the same sofa that had been here back when he and Ashley were dating, when they used to come over and play dominoes with his granddad. “Have a seat.”

She lowered herself and folded her arms across her chest. Her legs were crossed at the ankles, and trembles still claimed her muscles. Her gaze pulled on his. “I’m in trouble, Christopher. I didn’t know where else to go.”

His jaw flexed under the weight of her words, but he nodded. “Go on.”

“My brother and nephew have been kidnapped, and you’re the only one who can help.”

TWO

Ashley swallowed hard as she watched Christopher blink and tilt his head. It would take anyone some time to comprehend her words. She was still having a hard time comprehending them.

“Say that again?” His voice held a touch of disbelief and confusion.

She shook her head, emotion tightening her muscles. “Listen, I know it’s a lot to take in. I’m still trying to take it all in. It just seems like a nightmare, but it’s not.” She closed her eyes, wishing this was all just a bad dream and that she’d wake up to find everyone safe and sound. Things like this didn’t happen to ordinary people like Ashley. Only it had happened.

Christopher shifted in his seat and leaned toward her, his full attention on her. He’d always been such a good listener. At one time, it had been one of the many qualities she’d loved about him. Their breakup had devastated her, though. Now almost every memory of him caused hurt instead of joy. Those hurts had been compounding for nearly a decade. Only desperation would lead her back here.

“Why don’t you start from the beginning?” Christopher urged.

She sucked in a deep breath before recounting the story, detail by detail. Christopher listened quietly, nodding on occasion. He murmured words of encouragement as he tried to grasp her story.

“You jumped on the back of a bakery truck to escape?” He squinted.

She nodded, knowing how crazy she sounded. It was amazing the things a person did while fighting to survive. She’d been there before—emotionally, at least. “I jumped off at the next stop.”

“And how’d you end up here?”

“I ran into Karina about a month ago at the grocery store, and she told me that you were back in town.” Karina was married to a SEAL and remained a distant but mutual friend. “I used my cell phone to find Karina’s number and asked if she knew where you were living now. She said at your granddad’s old place. I snuck off the truck, called a taxi and now I’m here.”

He stared at her a moment, an unreadable expression on his face. “Ashley, if you don’t mind me asking, why here? Why me?”

How could she tell him the truth about how Josh and David’s disappearance affected him also? She couldn’t. Not yet. She’d only tell him the secret she’d been carrying with her for years as a last, desperate measure.

For so long, she’d been bitter about Christopher walking out of her life. Now here she was, basically at his mercy. Where did she even start?

She held her hands in the air to show her confusion. The action also showed her surrender. She’d basically raised her white flag when she arrived here, an unspoken agreement to put the past behind them. But could she really do that? She let out her breath slowly. “I don’t know where else to go. I can’t go to the police. I think these men would kill Josh and David if I did.” She glanced at her hands, now in her lap. “I thought maybe you could help.”

Christopher leaned forward. He’d aged since Ashley had last seen him. He used to have the boy-next-door look about him. He’d been all-American with his tousled blond hair, easy smile and friendly green eyes. What had changed besides the fact that he was beefier now, more man and less boy? He was still chiseled and defined. He carried himself with his head raised high and his eyes wide and alert. He was confident, capable and tough.

But right now, whenever he looked at her, a strange emotion loomed in the depths of his eyes. Weariness? Hardness? Apathy? She didn’t know.

“Why would someone abduct your brother and his little boy, Ashley? That’s what doesn’t make any sense to me.”

She shook her head, grief clutching her heart again as their parting images filled her mind. “I don’t know. Josh had been working on some big projects for his company. He never told me any details, though, as to what exactly he was doing.”

He shifted but kept his gaze on her. “He’s some kind of computer genius, right?”

She nodded. “He’s absolutely brilliant when it comes to anything to do with technology. There’s nothing he can’t do.”

He rubbed his hands on his jeans and shook his head. “How about his wife? Have you talked to her? Does she know about any of this?”

“She died three years ago. Cancer.” Her heart panged as she said the words aloud.

“I’m sorry, Ashley. You said they had a son? I knew they’d been trying.”

Ashley’s throat burned as she nodded. She remembered all of the Sunday brunches Christopher had shared with her family. He’d seemed to fit right in. That part of her life seemed so long ago. So much had changed since then. “David. He’s eight, and he’s a wonderful little boy.” Her voice caught. “I’m so worried about him, Christopher.”

Christopher stood and ran a hand over his face. “I’m not an expert at tracking down missing persons, Ashley. Terrorists, maybe. But this...I want to help. I really do. I just...”

“Please, Christopher. I don’t know where else to go.” She looked up at him, hoping her eyes conveyed her desperation. She would have never come to him unless she was desperate. He had to know that.

He was silent a moment before nodding. “Let me call some of my friends at Eyes. Maybe they can—”

“Eyes?”

He nodded. “They’re a private security contracting firm.”

“I’ve heard murmurs about them in the area. I didn’t realize you worked for them now. Karina just said that you were a contractor for the Department of Defense.”

“That’s right. I’m a training specialist. It’s a nice change from what I was doing. I’m sure someone there can help us. The men who run the operation have connections...well, everywhere. Local law enforcement, FBI, CIA, you name it.”

“That sounds perfect. Thank you.” A touch of hope filled her for the first time since all of this had happened.

He pointed outside. “In the meantime, the apartment over the garage isn’t much, but you can stay there tonight, if you want.”

She shook her head harder than intended and started to rise. “I can’t even think about sleeping. I need to go find them, Christopher. Now. Don’t you understand?”

His hand covered her arm, and he pulled her back down onto the sofa. “Ashley, I know you want to go out there and search, but we have no idea where to even look. We need a plan. We at least need a clue. If we go out there right now, all we’ll be doing is driving around in circles. It’s best if we get a good night’s rest and start fresh tomorrow morning.”

The truth of his words washed over her. It wasn’t what she wanted to hear, but he did make sense. If they left tonight, where would they go? What exactly would they do? She had no idea.

Finally, she nodded. “You’re right. I can call a taxi, though. Go to a hotel for the night.”

“Don’t be silly. You should stay close, just in case.”

Just in case what? Her throat burned, but the question wouldn’t leave her lips. Instead, she said, “Okay. I hate to impose, but I don’t have a lot of choices right now.”

Her cell phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out and saw that she had a text message.

Tell anyone and the boy dies

She gasped and dropped the phone. They wouldn’t really hurt little David, would they? She squeezed the skin between her eyes and began praying.

* * *

“What is it?” Christopher leaned down and picked up the phone. The words he read there made his blood go cold. He glanced up at Ashley and saw that her face was deathly pale. The woman looked as if she were on the brink of a breakdown. Who wouldn’t be, in her shoes? Two of the people she loved most in the world had been snatched right in front of her, and she was sure to feel helpless about what to do.

A tear trickled down her face. She looked so alone with her arms pulled across her chest. Christopher put her phone on the table and impulsively pulled her into his arms in a feeble attempt to offer comfort.

She stiffened in his embrace. Bad idea, he realized. Really bad idea.

He released her, his throat tight with emotion. “I’m sorry, Ashley.”

She sighed. “I am, too.”

The way she said the words made him wonder about their meaning. What was she sorry about? That he was the only one who could help her?

Her eyes met his, and he could see the emotions pulling at her.

“I didn’t come back to rekindle a romance, Christopher,” she whispered. “You know that. Right?”

He nodded, picking up on the compassion and sensitivity in her words. “Of course.”

Part of him had never forgotten about Ashley, but he knew she wouldn’t forgive him for calling off their engagement. It was just as well that way. At least their rift would help them both keep their distance.

He pointed toward the back door, ready to end this conversation. “How about if I show you upstairs?”

Maybe some time away from each other would be just what they both needed. Put them in the same room for ten minutes and fireworks had begun exploding—and not the good kind of fireworks, either.

He grabbed some sheets and blankets before they stepped out the back door. Darkness surrounded them. Christopher reached back inside to flip on a small light, but nothing happened. “Must be burned out,” he muttered. “Just watch your step.”

The full force of winter was evident in the dried leaves along the wooden floorboards beneath them and the skeletal outline of trees in the distance. The entire back side of the house faced the beautiful and massive James River. The grass faded into marshland and then into glimmering blue water—when you could see it during the daytime hours, at least. Tonight, all that was visible was the blackness.

“Follow me.” Christopher led her up a flight of wooden stairs, pulled out some keys and unlocked the door just as another breeze swept over the area. “I heard we might get some snow,” he muttered, pushing the door open. Their conversation somehow seemed awkward, like they were strangers trying to fill the silence.

“Yeah, I heard that, too. It’s been a while since we’ve had a good snowstorm in this area.” Her cheeks flushed as she said the words.

Christopher remembered a snowstorm they’d had here nine years ago. He and Ashley had spent the whole weekend huddled inside together by the fire and talking about forever. They’d talked about marriage and children and how they were going to celebrate their 25th anniversary. Too many memories for his comfort.

They stepped into the apartment, which was located over a detached garage. He tried the light switch, but again, nothing happened. “Must be a breaker. I’ll check on it in a second. Let me just put these sheets down.”

As he placed the sheets on the bed in the darkened room, his gaze scanned the place quickly. He’d only been up here once since he’d been back, but the place appeared untouched. He turned back toward Ashley, who stood uncomfortably in the center of the room, her arms wrapped around herself again. His gaze latched on to her a moment. Was it even possible that she was more beautiful than before? She’d filled out more, but the extra weight looked good on her. She looked more naturally beautiful with only a little makeup on and her hair straight and long—fuss-free, if he had to guess.

She looked up at him, the strain in her eyes obvious. “I know this is awkward, and I’m sorry about that. I’ll repay you for your help. I don’t know how, but I will.”

How did Christopher tell her that he was the one who needed to repay her for all of the heartache he’d caused? He bit down on his lip. He couldn’t.

All he could do was to help her find her brother and nephew.

* * *

As much as Ashley resented the man in front of her, God had been trying to teach her a lesson in forgiveness lately. Yet she’d kept holding on. Now she would have no choice but to face her feelings of resentment and abandonment head-on.

Christopher stepped closer, the raw look in his eyes making her throat go dry. She wondered what had changed in him over the past several years since she’d seen him last. “I’m glad you came to me, Ashley. I want to help.”

Nothing will ever make up for your choosing your career over me. She didn’t say the words aloud. Instead, she reached for the sheets on the bed. “I’ll be fine. If you don’t mind hitting the breaker, I can take care of the rest in here.”

He continued staring until finally he stepped back and nodded, his hands on his hips. “Good night, Ashley.”

She hugged the sheets to her. “Good night, Christopher.”

He took a step toward the door when gunfire exploded outside.

“Get down!” Christopher threw her to the floor, covering her body with his.

Her heart pounded louder than a drum in her ears as prickly fear took hold of her. What was going on? Had those men found her?

Her gaze skittered across the room. They had to hide—but where? There was only this room, a closet and a small bathroom. There was no other escape except the door they’d entered through, and stepping outside now would make them open targets.

The gunfire continued. Glass broke. A car alarm wailed. It sounded like a war outside.

She turned enough to see Christopher. She flinched when she saw the expression on his face. She’d seen a lot of expressions on him before, but never one like this. His face was tight, his eyes livid, his lips pulled into a rigid line. He looked like a cat ready to pounce.

The war. Karina had warned Ashley in their brief conversation earlier that the war had changed him. Was this what she meant?

Fear unlike anything she’d ever felt before today threatened to suffocate her. It was only a matter of time before the gunmen found them up here. It was only a matter of time before they killed her and Christopher.

Ashley scooted from beneath him and crouched by the wall. “Do you still have your gun?” she whispered.

Christopher pulled himself up and squatted beside her, alert and ready to spring into action. He shook his head. “I left it on the table inside. Wasn’t planning on needing it.”

“They’re going to kill us.” Her voice cracked as the gunfire continued. Was it her imagination or was the sound getting closer and closer?

He gripped her arm, his voice stern. “Don’t say that. We’ll get out of this somehow.”

Was he in the same place she was? “We’re sitting ducks. It’s just a matter of time before they find us.”

“Don’t talk like that. I’ve gotten out of worse before.” He nodded toward the bathroom. “Stay low and go into the bathroom. We’ll buy ourselves as much time as possible.”

Her hands trembled against the floor as she dragged herself toward the small space. He’d gotten out of worse than this? She couldn’t imagine. Didn’t want to imagine.

Nausea roiled in her gut. Lord, help us. Help David and Josh.

Just who were these men? Why did they want her dead? How had they found her? The questions repeated themselves over and over.

Her hands connected with the cool tile of the bathroom floor. Gunshots continued to explode outside. They were trying to make sure Ashley was dead, weren’t they? And out here in the country, there was no one else around to hear the commotion and come help.

Fear threatened to seize each of her muscles. Christopher jetted into the bathroom behind her and quietly shut the door. Ashley climbed into the bathtub—located against an interior wall—and Christopher sat beside her. She pulled her knees to her chest and tried to even out her breathing.

The cold air seemed to crackle with fear, with certainty of death.

Then everything went silent outside.

Ashley wasn’t sure which was worse—the gunfire or the silence.

What were the gunmen doing? Had they gone inside the house to look for them, to make sure a bullet had pierced their flesh?

When they discovered Ashley wasn’t there, would they come out to the garage to finish the job? She pressed herself harder into the cool tile.

Christopher leaned close enough that Ashley could feel his breath on her cheek. “Stay here. Understand?”

“Where are you going?” She grabbed his arm, desperate to keep her only known ally close—even if he had broken her heart at one time.

He locked gazes with her, that same confidence that had always made her feel safe shining in his eyes. “I’m going to find something to fight with.”

“But they have guns!” She squeezed harder, her own fear creeping in.

“If I go down, I’m going to go down fighting, Ashley.” His voice was steady, holding not even a hint of disbelief. “I want you to stay in here. Lock the door when I leave. Understand?”

She couldn’t answer. She only stared at him silently. Despair threatened to bite deep.

“Understand?”

Finally, she nodded as reality set in.

He tried to stand but Ashley pulled him back down. “I came here for your help, not to get you killed.” Her voice cracked with fear and regret. How had her life turned into this?

His eyes softened for a moment. “I know. Trust me. Okay?”

She didn’t know if she could ever trust him again. But in this moment, she had no choice. She nodded. Her heart pounded in her ears as he pulled the door open. She held her breath, waiting for more gunfire to break out—only this time closer.

There was nothing.

He pointed to the lock before closing the door. Tears rolled down her face as she turned the button and heard the mechanism click in place.

Lord, be with him. Please. He may have broken my heart, but I never wanted this.

Something creaked outside.

The steps. Someone was coming up the steps.

Fear squeezed tighter as she braced herself for whatever was about to come.

THREE

All Christopher had been able to find in the closet was an old metal pipe that was probably leftover from some plumbing work. It wasn’t a gun or a grenade, but it would work. He didn’t have any other options.

He stood on the other side of the door frame, pressed into the wall and ready to swing into action. Adrenaline surged through him, intensifying his heart rate and causing sweat to dot his forehead. If he could catch the shooter off guard, maybe he had a chance.

The problem was that he’d estimated there to be at least three shooters. All of that gunfire had come from more than one weapon. These men carried semiautomatics, and they’d brought no shortage of ammunition. One man he might be able to take. But an unarmed man taking on three men with semiautomatic weapons?

Another round of gunshots cracked the air outside of his home. Flashbacks of the Middle East pounded his memories. Mortar shells, improvised explosive devices, enemy combatants. Men bleeding, women crying, children searching for their parents.

He ran a hand over his eyes. No, he was in Virginia now. Not a dusty village in Afghanistan. So why could he practically smell the burning of C-4? Why did his skin feel gritty with sand and dust?

He shook his head. Snap out of it, Jordan.

But the memories continued to batter him. He squeezed his eyes shut, wishing he could turn off his thoughts as easily as turning off a TV.

Another creak on the stairs pulled him back to reality, back to the here and now. Someone was definitely coming up. Christopher gripped the pipe tighter, bracing himself for the coming struggle.

Another creak. Then another. They were getting closer. They had to be only a few steps away.

Christopher would swing as soon as they opened the door. Best-case scenario, he’d knock the man out and grab his weapon. Worst-case scenario...well, he wouldn’t go there.

All he knew was that he and Ashley might be the only hope for saving a little boy. That was worth fighting for.

A wooden step outside moaned under the weight of an intruder. Whoever the man was, he was right outside the door now. Christopher could practically hear him breathing, could almost feel his presence only inches away, separated by the door.

He tightened his grip on the cylinder in his hands. His muscles were wound tight enough to spring. Sweat trickled down from his temple. It was do or die.

Just then, a bullet pierced the air. His gaze darted across the dark room. Where had that gunshot come from? It was too far away to have come from the man outside the door. Even more concerning—had it pierced the garage? Was Ashley okay?

He stared at the door, waiting to see the handle jiggle. He anticipated more shots exploding. Something hit the landing outside the door with a loud thud. A moan followed, then a grunt.

He willed himself to remain still. Everything in him wanted to open the door and see what was happening. He had to remain silent, though. Patience could mean life or death; winning a battle or losing it. He’d learned that through experience.

Afghanistan flashed into his mind again. At once, he was transported back in time and pressed against the wall of an abandoned house. Rags—or were they clothes?—were strewn across the dirty floor. The air smelled like death.

Where was Liam? Why wasn’t he answering his radio? The insurgents were—

Another thud sounded outside. Christopher snapped back to reality, shaking his head to dislodge his memories of war. The thud was followed by what sounded like something large being dragged away. What in the world was happening out there? The sounds repeated for a few minutes until finally there was silence again.

He waited. And waited.

Were these men planning something else? Or had their original plans been thwarted? By what, though?

Staying low, he crept back to the bathroom. He tapped on the door once. “Ashley. It’s me.”

The door opened so quickly that Christopher was certain her hand had been on the knob the whole time. She practically fell into the room, fell into him. Her limbs shook with fear.

“You’re alive,” she whispered. She started to reach for him but stopped.

He grabbed her elbow anyway, but only to help her stay upright. “I’m fine. You okay?”

Worry stained her gaze. “What’s going on? I thought...I thought you’d been shot. I heard...” She didn’t finish her thought.

His heart tugged with compassion, but he shoved those emotions aside. Right now there was only room for one thing—logic. Emotions would only lead him astray. “I don’t know what happened out there. It’s been quiet now for ten minutes. I don’t want to take the chance that they’re still out there trying to wait us out. We should lay low for a little while longer.”

She nodded quickly. Christopher wanted to sit beside her, to offer her some comfort and put her mind at rest. He wished that he could distract her with chitchat—do something to keep her mind off the matters at hand. But he couldn’t. Instead, he stood by the bathroom door, still gripping that pipe. The last thing he wanted was for someone to catch him off guard.

Ashley showing up today had already filled his quota on that for a lifetime.

* * *

Ashley pulled her knees to her chest, hating feeling so helpless, hating that she’d gotten Christopher into this mess. Her anxiety had her feeling nauseous and jittery. So she just kept praying the same prayers over and over again. Lord, help us. Help David and Josh.

Then there had been her crazy worry over Christopher. She’d heard that gunshot—it had sounded so close—and she was sure he’d been hit. All she could think about were the many unfinished conversations they needed to have. She needed to have.

Which caused another swell of anxiety to rise in her.

The strangest comfort filled her when she saw the pure determination on Christopher’s face as he stood in the doorway. He’d always been tough and protective. They were two of the things she’d loved about him at one time. She couldn’t imagine feeling safer around anyone. But feeling physically safe was entirely different from feeling emotionally safe.

Christopher had made it clear when he left that she wasn’t important to him. She obviously hadn’t captured his heart enough for him to try and make their relationship work. No, true love hadn’t conquered all. Or they hadn’t had true love. She wasn’t sure which was worse.

She wondered if he’d found his perfect woman yet, the one he would do anything to be with. That person was not her. Despite that, she knew that Christopher would give his life for her, whether she was his fiancée or just someone from his past.

She understood what it was like to feel protective of someone. Without a second thought, she would take a bullet for her nephew. Whenever they were together, it seemed like she was trying to protect him from something—viruses, bullies, drivers who weren’t paying attention. She tried to protect him from other things, too, things like the heartbreak of losing his mom and loneliness from a father who worked too much.

What she wouldn’t give to be able to protect him now. Her heart squeezed with pain.

Minutes ticked by. Just what was going on outside? Had the shooters given up? That just didn’t seem likely. But why else would they leave? Or had they?

She hugged her knees tighter.

Lord, help us. Help David and Josh.

“I’m going to go down and check things out.” Christopher’s voice pulled her from her heavy thoughts.

New alarm spread through her. She straightened, forcing herself not to grab him. “But what if they’re still there?”

His jaw flexed. “I haven’t heard a sound in a half hour.”

“But—”

“I’ll be careful, Ashley. I’ve been in hostile situations before. I can handle myself.”

She stared at him a moment, knowing that his mind was equally as strong and tough as his well-defined muscles and quick reflexes. She had to trust him. What other choice did she have? Finally, she nodded.

She wanted to blurt out everything on her mind before he walked to his possible death.

Just in case you never come back, I thought you should know that I found out a month after we broke up that I was pregnant with your child. My brother adopted the baby, and his name is David. I’ve been wanting to tell you for years...

She sucked on her bottom lip.

It’s your son who was snatched today.

How exactly did someone tell her ex-fiancé that?

How did she tell him that back when they’d been young and foolish, that one night of passion had turned into a baby? The sweetest little baby that Ashley had ever laid eyes on. Giving him up for adoption had been the most gut-wrenching thing she’d ever done. But she couldn’t provide for a baby. Not only had she been in college and without a job or the ability to get a job that paid more than minimum wage, but then there was the car accident that happened when David was only two months old. Ashley had spent six months in the hospital, and she’d had months of physical therapy after that. Her brother and his wife had been so desperate for a child and she’d been unable to take care of little David. They’d adopted him before his first birthday.

That’s why she knew Christopher was the only person who could help her right now. This was his son.

Everything that she’d tried so carefully to control was slipping away. She couldn’t protect David. She couldn’t keep Christopher at a distance. She would have to face her fears and eventually tell Christopher the truth. The walls she’d so carefully constructed were coming down fast.

She sucked in a long, deep breath. Silence surrounded her again. Was Christopher okay? She’d heard nothing since he left.

At least nothing meant no gunfire, either. Right?

How long did she wait before checking on him? She glanced at her watch. Ten more minutes. That was as long as she could possibly stand it. What if he was bleeding and hurt? What if he needed her help? She’d sent him into a battle that wasn’t his to fight.

She let her head fall back against the cold tile wall. All was quiet. Suspiciously quiet. The silence was driving her mad.

She stood and began pacing the small space. Maybe she could go to the window and peer out. She could be quick and quiet.

It beat sitting here and doing nothing.

Before she could second-guess herself, she twisted the doorknob. Slowly, she pushed the door open. Her gaze roamed the space there. Everything looked the same. No figures lurked in the shadows...she didn’t think, at least.

She took her first step out, every cell of her body alert and ready to pounce into action. Slowly, she tiptoed across the floor to the window, not relaxing for even a second. Would someone jump out at her? Were they lying in wait?

She ducked low under the window and carefully raised her head to peer out. She flinched when she saw all of the windows in Christopher’s house had been shattered. Christmas wreathes that had once graced the glass panes now lay like corpses on the deck and in the flower beds.

She watched for a sign of movement, but saw nothing. Where was Christopher? What was taking him so long?

She crawled across the floor to the closet. Was there anything left in here she could use as a weapon? She spotted a vacuum, some old coats and a wooden bar full of clothes hangers that stretched across the top. It would have to do. She stood and wedged the bar from its holders. It wasn’t much, but at least it was something.

Doubt filled her as she crept toward the door. She shouldn’t do this. But she had to. If they were going to shoot her, they would shoot her. But if they were gone and Christopher needed help, then she had to get downstairs.

Stark fear gripped her as she opened the door. She listened. Nothing except the wind blowing some stray leaves across the ground. Her heart leaped into her throat when she saw blood across the wooden landing at her feet.

Blood? Whose blood? What had happened? She followed the trail all the way to the bottom. Someone had been shot up here and then dragged back down. Terror rose in her.

She couldn’t turn back now. If she let fear dictate what she did, she might be in the bathroom for days, afraid to leave. But each step down the stairs felt like a step closer to her death.

Be strong, Ashley. You can do this. She’d never been a quitter. Not even when she gave David up for adoption. No, she’d simply been giving him the opportunity for a better life—a life that she could still be a part of.

But if she hadn’t given him up for adoption, would he be in this situation now? Regret squeezed her heart again. She couldn’t think like that. Not now.

She continued her descent. Everything remained silent. She gripped the wooden rod like a baseball bat, wishing it would protect her from bullets.

At the bottom of the stairs, she saw that the blood trail ended at the edge of the deck. Whoever had been shot had been dragged onto the grass. Into the woods? She couldn’t be sure.

She swung her head back up, soaking in her surroundings. She had to pay attention. Her life depended on it.

The back door of Christopher’s house was wide open. She paused at the corner of the garage and slowly peered around. Nothing. No one. As quickly as possible, she darted across the deck. She stopped at the doorway.

With baited breath, she raked her gaze across the inside. Lots of broken glass. A splintered coffee table. The Christmas tree lay wounded on its side.

But no one was in sight. Not even Christopher.

Certainly he hadn’t abandoned her. Not again.

She shook her head. No, he wouldn’t do that. Not in this situation.

Still, doubt trickled down her spine. Trust was such a fragile, fickle thing at times.

She stepped inside. Glass crunched at her feet. She froze, waiting for the telltale sound that someone had heard her.

Nothing.

Slowly, carefully, she crept forward. She kept her back to the wall. Her breathing sounded so heavy in her own ears that she wondered if she’d even hear someone sneak up on her.

When she heard a noise upstairs, she knew she would.

Someone was in the house. Had that person killed Christopher, dragged his body into the woods and gone back upstairs to check for her?

Just then, the stairs creaked. Someone was coming down. Coming toward her.

She glanced around, desperate for a place to hide. Instead, she pressed herself into the wall.

When the intruder got to the bottom of the steps, she would swing the stick and hit him.

And she’d pray that her hit would knock him out.

But before she had a chance to swing, a gun cocked behind her, and the fear that was becoming all too familiar froze her blood—again.

FOUR

Christopher approached the intruder from behind, veering off the main staircase at the last minute and taking a second set of stairs on the other end of the house. There was still one person in the house. Just one, best he could tell.

It was dark, void of any light. The air was hazy, evidence of a smoke bomb. And the smell of ammunition hung heavy in the atmosphere.

The sounds, the smells...they all reminded him of another time, another place.

A time and place he was trying to forget.

He rounded the corner and spotted someone crouching beneath the first staircase. Crouching, ready to attack?

He cocked his gun, drawing on all of his training. It was time to get some answers.

“Don’t move,” he commanded. “Or I’ll shoot.”

The figure twirled around, a stick in hand. Wide, familiar eyes met his. Fear stretched across their depths.

His muscles relaxed a moment, but the relief was quickly replaced with agitation. “Ashley? Are you crazy? I told you stay in the garage!”

“Christopher?” Ashley blinked, her stick still hoisted over her shoulder as if she might swing.

He lowered his gun and glared at the woman in front of him. Even in the dark, Christopher could tell that her face was void of any color or life. “Yes, it’s me. It’s a good thing I didn’t shoot you. I heard the glass crunching downstairs and thought the men were back to finish the job.”

“I saw the blood on the stairs. I thought you were...dead. I...”

He raised an eyebrow. “You were coming to defeat the bad guys with a dowel rod?”

She shrugged. “I had to do something. I couldn’t stay up there forever.”

He stepped closer so she would be sure to see the irritation in his gaze. “I told you I’d be back.”

She didn’t look away. She was still as stubborn as ever. “You’ve been gone for hours.”

“Twenty minutes.” He sliced his hand through the air. “Twenty minutes is all.”

She frowned and lowered her stick before jutting out her chin again. “It felt like hours.”

He scowled again and ran a hand over his face as he dragged in a ragged breath. Images of war continued to beat at him. They tried to transport him back in time. He wouldn’t let them. Still, Ashley coming up on him like that could have been ugly. Really ugly. That was the second time he’d pulled a gun on her in less than four hours. “Are you okay?”

She nodded, strain pulling at each of her features. “I’m fine. Are the men gone?”

“Best I can tell. They messed this place up, didn’t they?” His gaze roamed around them. It looked like a massacre, only thankfully, the only casualties were his furniture, belongings and the house itself.

“I’m sorry,” she blurted. “I should have never come.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. This is just stuff. It can be fixed. Besides, you weren’t the one with the gun.”

Big, luminous eyes looked up to meet his. “Who was? Who were those men?”

He looked away before he got lost in the depths of those baby blues and shook his head. “I have no idea. But they mean serious business.”

“Why’d they leave?”

“That’s what I want to know, also. They didn’t do all of this damage just to send a message. They used a smoke bomb and everything. They came here to kill us. I want to know why they left before finishing the job.”

“And where did the blood come from by the garage?”

“Another great question.” He put his hand on her back. “I know one thing. We’re getting out of here before they decide to come back. I called Eyes and they’re sending some men out. They should be here any minute, but we’re not waiting around.”

“Where are we going?”

“I have an idea.” He led her toward the front door.

She reached back. “My phone. It was in the living room.”

“Forget about it. That’s probably how they traced you here. All those new-fangled phones have built-in GPSs. You’re better off without it.” He grabbed his jacket—surprisingly still intact—from the back of a chair.

“But what if Josh or David try to call?”

“If you’re dead, it will do no good.”

They stepped out of the front door—which had been ripped from its hinges—and onto the front porch. His truck had bullet holes in the window also, but the tires looked fine. “I’m glad you’re wearing a coat. It might be a cold ride.”

He opened the door and, using the thick sleeve of his jacket, he brushed broken glass shards from the seat. Then he ushered Ashley inside, instructing her to be careful. They didn’t have much time. Every minute counted.

He cranked the engine—and the heat—and turned around in the driveway. The cold wind hit his face as he took off down the road. Ashley sat beside him, seat belt strapped across her chest, and her arms wrapped over her. He wished he had a blanket to offer her. Instead, he pulled off his coat and draped it over her.

“You’re going to freeze,” she muttered.

“You’re always cold, even without thirty-degree wind hitting you in the face. I’ll be fine.”

He remembered that about her. He remembered a lot about her. Now wasn’t the time to think about those things. Now he had to think about staying alive.

This was not what he needed right now. No, right now he needed time to enjoy a quieter pace. He needed time to let his soul heal.

But instead, God had brought Ashley Wilson back into his life.

As if that wasn’t more of an emotional storm than he could handle, throw in the fact that someone was trying to kill her and, in effect, him also.

This was not the relaxing, healing time he’d anticipated when he’d come home and taken this new job.

When he’d last spoken to Ashley, she’d been finishing up her degree at a local college. She’d been working two jobs, trying to make ends meet. He’d always said that she was one of the hardest workers he’d ever met. She’d been focused, at the top of her class in academics and determined to do things on her own. Her dad had retired on disability after an injury at work, and money had been tight with her family. She’d even had the opportunity to play volleyball on a partial scholarship for a college down in North Carolina, but she’d turned it down to be close to her mom, dad and brother.

Guilt plagued him about that decision. He knew part of the reason she’d said no to that scholarship was because of him. They’d been planning their future together. She’d wanted to stick close by both for her family and because she felt it was important to give their relationship the time and effort it required.

Was she angry still? He couldn’t blame her if she was. He’d broken her heart.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” Ashley muttered.

“It feels surreal to me, too, if it makes you feel better.”

She shook her head. “I just want to wake up and discover this is all a bad dream.”

He wondered if by all she included him? Probably.

His eyes watered from the wind. Thankfully, he didn’t see anyone behind him. A glance at his watch told him it was past midnight now. There wasn’t usually much traffic out on these back roads, especially not at this time of night.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Ashley shivering in the seat beside him. If he’d had another vehicle, he would have driven it. But desperate times called for desperate measures. Wasn’t that how the saying went?

He took back roads, all the way from Isle of Wight where he lived, through the neighboring Suffolk into Chesapeake and finally to Virginia Beach. Nearly an hour after he left, he pulled up to a guardhouse, showed his ID, had his truck searched as standard procedure and pulled through the gates.

“Where are we?” Ashley asked.

“We’re at Iron, Incorporated’s headquarters. You’ll be safe here for the night. I promise.”

* * *

Ashley stared at the huge, lodgelike building in front of her. So this was the prestigious paramilitary contracting firm she’d heard hints about. They were secretive in what they did, but people around town always whispered about them with pride. Rumors had it that they’d guarded ambassadors in the Middle East and developed cutting-edge technology that was soon to be released to help keep soldiers safer. They were said to be the best of the best.

She didn’t feel like soaking in the awe of the Eyes’ campus, though. She couldn’t even feel her skin anymore, not after the brutal wind had frozen it on the way here. All she wanted was to get off this roller-coaster ride for a moment and clear her head.

When they pulled to a stop, she didn’t wait for Christopher to get her door. Instead, she opened it, watching as some leftover glass rained to the ground below. She slid out, landing with a bounce on the asphalt.

They started walking toward the door when Christopher called her name and stopped her. He reached for her hair. Just the feeling of his fingers tangled in her tresses caused a shiver to race down her spine. It was like her body was betraying her. It should know better than to get warm fuzzies about Christopher, especially after all that had happened.

He held up a shiny speck. “Just some glass.”

She nodded, stuffed her hands in her pockets and kept walking. Christopher hurried ahead to the door and pulled it open for her. She gladly stepped inside the quiet and warm space. Her gaze swept the area—the ceiling stretched more than two stories high. Fireplaces flanked either side of the large lobby, which was also filled with leather couches and plush rugs. A majestic Christmas tree stretched high in the corner, filled with ornaments that looked like they’d been made by schoolchildren. She didn’t have time to dwell on that now. She walked over to the fireplace and knelt in front of it, letting the heat melt her frozen limbs.

“I’m going to get coffee,” Christopher called. “You still like yours black?”

She nodded, holding her hands up to the flames. He remembered. What did she expect? That he’d totally forgotten about their time together? That he’d erased it from his memory?

He returned a moment later with a steaming mug. She remained in front of the fire and took a sip. The liquid burned her mouth, but she didn’t care. Warmth was more important now. Maybe it would cause her shivers to finally stop.

“I’ve got to make a phone call, Ashley. Are you going to be okay here for a moment?”

She nodded again, wishing he wasn’t acting so concerned. It was easier not to like him if he acted mean and nasty. But when had he ever been mean and nasty?—unless you counted when he broke up with her. But even then, he’d been compassionate. His eyes had even welled with tears at one point.

The day flashed back into her memory. She could tell that something was wrong when he’d called her by phone. His voice had sounded too serious, too strained.

He’s going to tell me he’s going to the Middle East again, she’d thought.

She’d braced herself for the conversation, fluctuating between wanting to be supportive and wanting to beg him to stay.

Be a good fiancée. Accept that this is his job. Let him go, even if it means postponing the wedding.

He’d asked if they could meet down at the Virginia Beach boardwalk—one of their favorite places. She’d bundled up—it was cold outside—and waited for him on their favorite bench. Die-hard joggers had paced past, seagulls had complained overhead, salty air had filled her nostrils.

As soon as she’d seen Christopher walking toward her, she could tell something was wrong.

Her spine had stiffened. This is about more than Afghanistan, isn’t it? But what? In their two years together, they’d never even had a major fight. That’s how easy and natural their relationship had been.

Those expressive green eyes had held torn emotions as he sat beside her. His shoulders even looked burdened. “I can’t be with you, Ashley,” he’d told her.

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve realized that I can’t be a good SEAL and a good husband.”

“What are you talking about?” She’d blinked back her confusion, certain that she hadn’t heard him correctly. What he said didn’t make sense.

He’d grabbed her hand. “You’re the only person I want to be with, Ashley. But that’s not fair to my country. I promised them I would protect our freedoms. I’m not doing that when I’m thinking about you. Being a SEAL...it’s almost like being married. And I’ve already made that commitment.”

“You’re breaking up with me?” Her voice had cracked in disbelief. How had things gone from perfect to this?

Water had filled his eyes. “I’m sorry, Ashley. I’ve been pretending I could do both, but it’s become clear that I can’t.”

She snapped back to the present and the blazing fire in front of her. Funny, she hadn’t thought about Christopher’s tear-filled eyes in a long time. Oh, she’d thought about the breakup, but somehow she’d blocked out memories of how anguished he’d looked during their conversation. Christopher was the last person she wanted to be thinking about right now.

She dragged her mind from one bad thought to another—David. Where was he right now? Was he warm? Comfortable? Had they fed him?

She took another sip of coffee, her hands still trembling as her heart ached.

Please, Lord, don’t let him be scared.

As anxiety squeezed her, she nearly dropped her coffee when a hand reached out and grabbed it. She looked up and saw Christopher there. Just in the nick of time. Again. Like always.

Except when he’d left her.

She had to stop thinking about that and start concentrating solely on the matters at hand. Her heart was just in such a fragile state right now that it kept going other places. Christopher helped her into a plush chair. She set her coffee on the table, unsure if her hands could hold it any longer.

“Two of the guys from Eyes are coming down. Jack and Denton. They’re still here, working on a big project for the Department of Defense. They’re the best. They’ll be able to help.”

“Thank you,” she mumbled. After a few minutes of silence stretched between them, she asked, “How’d you end up here, Christopher? I never thought you’d leave the military. I thought you’d be a career guy.”

A new somberness seemed to come over him. “So did I. But life changes sometimes. It was time.”

“How long have you been back?”

“Three months.” He changed the subject. “How about you? You still a web designer?”

She nodded. “Started my own business about five years ago.”

“You’re a business owner now?”

“I was working for a corporation, but I was miserable. Great benefits, great pay, but no fulfillment, you know what I mean? So I took a leap of faith and started my own company. I design websites for some major companies, all while working in the luxury of my own home. I’ve been really blessed.”

A smile spread over his face. “I know that’s what you always wanted to do. I’m glad you were able to.”

“Yeah, at least some things worked out according to plan.” She clamped her mouth shut. Now why had she gone and said that? It wasn’t very mature of her. She glanced at her hands. “I’m sorry.”

“I deserved it.”

“No, you didn’t. I don’t know what’s gotten into me.”

“All of this is a lot to handle. I think you’re doing just fine.”

Her gaze connected with his. “It’s only by God’s grace we’re alive, isn’t it?”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

She stared at him. He meant those words, didn’t he? When they’d known each other before, neither had been Christians. She must have stared at him long enough that he felt obligated to give an explanation.

“When you’ve seen some of the things that I saw over in the Middle East, you start believing there’s a God pretty quickly.”

“I’d imagine.” When you have to give your child up for adoption, you start believing pretty quickly, too. She kept that part to herself.

Just then, two men tromped down the stairs. She drew in a deep breath, ready to formulate a plan to get her brother and son back.

* * *

Jack Sergeant, the CEO of Eyes, and Mark Denton, his second in command, came to a stop in front of them. Both looked like they’d been working long hours. They’d abandoned their ties and coats. The top button of Denton’s white shirt was open and the shadow of a beard had already formed on his cheeks.

Mark—who went by Denton—had helped to train Christopher as a SEAL before going to work for the CIA. He’d been Christopher’s contact in getting a job here and, for that, Christopher was grateful.

Christopher trusted Jack and Denton more than if they’d been brothers. Both had been SEALs and had earned reputations as being trustworthy and loyal, as well as innovative and at the top of their game in the paramilitary contracting world. He’d jumped at the chance to come work for them.

They introduced themselves to Ashley. Jack put his hands on his hips, his brow furrowed with concern. “What’s going on?”

Ashley glanced at Christopher before sucking in a deep breath and telling her story. Even though she had to be exhausted and scared, she maintained a calm demeanor that he could appreciate. Except for her voice cracking a few times, she stuck to the facts.

Denton stepped forward. “Is there anything you can remember about the car?”

She nodded. “The license plate number.”

Christopher raised his eyebrows. “You can?”

She nodded again. “I thought the police were the only ones who could do something with that information, though. I figured it would do us no good.”

Jack shook his head. “We’ll look into it. You have no idea who these men are?”

Ashley shook her head. “No, I have no idea. We’re just simple, everyday people. Things like this don’t happen to us.”

Jack grunted. Christopher knew that he understood what it was like when simple, everyday people got mixed up in things bigger than they seemed equipped to handle. That was how Jack had met the woman who was now his wife, for that matter. At least that reminded Christopher of how good things could come from bad situations, similar to the flower garden he’d stumbled upon in the middle of a military base. Some soldiers had decided to make the place feel like home and planted roses and hollyhocks and other varieties he couldn’t identify. How they’d made those flowers grow in that soil, he’d never know. But they had, and they’d proven to him that from the dust something beautiful could grow.

“You’re both welcome to stay here for as long as you need to,” Jack started. “Christopher, the men are at your place now, checking things out and boarding up your windows. You did the right thing by leaving immediately. In the meantime, we’ll look into that license plate number and see what we can find out.” He glanced at Ashley. “Why don’t you give us your address and a house key? We’ll search your place also, just to make sure there’s nothing we’re missing.”

“I appreciate it.” Her gaze met each person’s in the circle while her hand clutched the necklace at her throat. “I appreciate all of your help. I have no idea what I’m doing.”

Jack patted her arm. “We’re glad you’re here. Let us know if you need anything else.” He offered a curt wave before he headed back up the stairs.

Denton lingered, his gaze meeting Christopher’s. “Christopher, can I speak with you for a moment?”

Christopher nodded and followed him to a corner. He glanced back at Ashley and saw that she’d already gravitated back toward the fire again. By the set of her shoulders, she looked like she was carrying a weight far heavier than she should bear.

He turned back to Denton. “What is it?”

Denton lowered his voice. “Are you sure you can handle this?” His eyes showed that he was dead serious.

“Of course.” Christopher wasn’t sure what his superior was getting at.

Denton crossed his arms and shifted, his voice still low and conspirative. “You took this job to recover from war. You’re being thrown right back into a battle, though.”

Christopher straightened. “I can handle it.”

“I know you think you’re tough. You are tough. But even the toughest soldiers have to step away from the battle sometimes.”

“Sometimes a soldier has no choice but to go back into the fight. They have to reach down inside and find strength, even when they don’t think they have it. That’s what one of the men who once trained me said, at least.” He kept his chin raised and stood at full attention, though he knew Denton would tell him to be at ease.

Denton stared at him a moment before nodding. A smile stretched across his face and he gripped his arm. Denton had been that man who said those words. “I’m here for you if you need me.”

“You always have been. I appreciate that, sir.”

Denton leaned closer. “Listen, I don’t know what your past relationship is with Ashley, but I get the feeling you two were more than friends.”

“Yes, we were. We were engaged, to be exact.”

His eyes widened a moment. “This was the girl you were crazy about while you were in training, huh? I remember the way you talked about her like she was the best thing to ever happen to you.”

“She was the best thing to ever happen to me.” His heart squeezed as he said the words. They were true. Walking away from Ashley had felt like walking away from his heart.

“Don’t let your past get in the way of doing what you have to do.”

“Yes, sir.” He glanced back over at Ashley. Those words would be the hardest to follow through on. Remembering their time together was so bittersweet.

Somehow, he had to ignore the fact that she hated him and realize that God had brought her back into his life for some reason...maybe even just forgiveness and closure? He didn’t know.

But he did know that, in Christ, all things worked together for His good.

Somehow, someway, something good was going to come out of all of this.

The question was...what?

FIVE

Christopher stared at the alarm clock on the nightstand beside his bed. The red numbers stared back at him. Six-twenty, and he was wide awake.

He’d been wide-awake for a long time.

For most of the night, for that matter.

He tossed toward the other side of his bed, trying to grab a few more minutes of rest. Back at home, there was a bottle of sleeping pills lying on his nightstand. He’d refused to take them, despite his doctor’s encouragement. He liked to think he was strong enough to weather the storms of life without the help of any medication.

Even if he’d had the pills with him now, he wouldn’t have taken any last night. He wanted to be on guard.

Between his return home, the unexpected reappearance of Ashley in his life, and the danger surrounding her, sleep had just been a dream.

He should be used to it. He hadn’t had a good night’s rest in months. Too many images from Afghanistan haunted him.

He’d gone to counseling all of four times, and it hadn’t done him any good. All the counselor had wanted to do was talk about things. He was tired of talking about things. He just wanted to move on.

Being back in the States was an entirely different kind of battleground.

Hang on to the good memories, he reminded himself, punching his pillow with his fist.

He was thankful that Jack had given him a job at Eyes as a Training Specialist. He hoped his soul would have time to heal away from the battleground. But now he’d been thrust into the face of danger again, it seemed. But how could he turn Ashley away? He couldn’t.

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