Lynette Eason

Classified Christmas Mission


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the trunk and pulled the two backpacks from it. She’d have to get the suitcase later.

      “You can’t leave the scene of the accident.”

      “I don’t have a choice. No one else is involved, no one is hurt. I can leave. Now you can be a friend and help me or stay here, but we’re leaving. And don’t tell anyone you saw me or Sam, got it?”

      “Why?”

      She wanted to stomp her foot and yell at him. Instead she took a deep breath. “Because whoever just shot at us and ran us off the road isn’t going to stop there. They’ll be back, and I want to be gone when they show back up.”

      “Why is someone trying to kill you?”

      Frustration pounded through her. “I don’t have time to explain right now. Help me get to the cabin and I’ll tell you everything.”

      He hesitated for a fraction of a second more then gave a low groan and punched his phone’s screen with quick jabs. “Gretchen? Yeah. Cancel the backup. Yes, I’m sure. We’re good.”

      Lance grabbed the backpacks from her. Amber moved to the back passenger door on the side away from the overhang, reached in and grabbed two heavy coats from where they’d fallen to the floorboard. “Come on, Sam, we have to go.” He ignored her. The sirens grew closer then went silent. “Sam. Number One Mom would want you to come with me.”

      He didn’t look up, but scooted across the seat and out the door, his gaze still on his game. She gave a sigh of relief. She never was very sure what would work with him and what wouldn’t. Telling him his mother wanted him to do something seemed wrong, but if it was to save his life she’d do it. She held his coat for him and after a brief hesitation, he allowed her to help him put it on. She zipped it and pulled a hat on his head. “Gloves are in your pockets, Sam.” He simply stood there. “Sam? Your hands will get cold if you don’t put on the gloves.” She reached for the first pocket and he stepped back.

      “No.”

      She placed a hand on his arm and he didn’t pull away. She was never sure if she could touch him or not. They’d forgo the gloves for now. “Sam, I have to hold you while we walk up with the rope, okay?”

      “Will he let me piggyback him?” Lance asked.

      “No. Probably not.” She slipped her arms into her coat and zipped it. Then she got Sam’s attention and pointed. “See? We have to climb the rope up to the top.” He didn’t acknowledge her. She wrapped an arm around his waist with one hand and grasped the rope with the other. “Walk with me, Sam.” At first he resisted. Tried to pull away from her. She let him go and he slipped and fell on his rear. She held out a hand. “I have to help you, okay?” She reached for his arm again and helped him up. When he didn’t pull away, she scooted him behind her. “Walk in my steps. Count how many steps it takes to get to the top, will you?” She started off again, Lance staying silent behind Sam. She knew if the boy fell again, he’d catch him.

      This time Sam put one foot in front of the other. “Good job, Sam.” He was either too distracted to notice her touch or just didn’t care at the moment. He let her lead, stepping carefully into the footprints she left in the snow. He held the game at his side, forgotten in this new adventure of “step in Amber’s steps.” His other hand clutched her belt and she heard him counting under his breath.

      Amber led the way, memories of exploring these woods with her brothers and Lance crowded her mind. She’d had a great childhood, running free without a care in the world—except when one of those brothers took it upon himself to tease her...or scare her...or talk her into doing something that would get her in trouble with her parents. Yes, those were good times. Times that seemed like a hundred years ago.

      And now she was running from killers. With a special-needs child to keep safe. She’d do it or die trying, but she had to admit, the responsibility scared her to death. Almost more than being caught by the people chasing them. Once they were in Lance’s car, she would find the road that led to the cabin. Or she could just let Lance get them there. She glanced at the man beside her. He would remember which road to take.

      She kept her gun within reach, nerves humming since she halfway expected someone to jump out of the trees. But that was silly. Finally, she crested the hill. She let go of the rope and led Sam to stand next to the Ford.

      “Why is someone shooting at you?” Lance said as he caught up with her.

      He wanted to discuss this now? “Because I have something they want.”

      She spotted the road she’d been looking for. “And there it is. We almost made it.” The exertion had kept them warm but she knew that once they weren’t moving, she would be cold. Very cold. “How many steps, Sam?”

      “Sixty-seven.”

      He always answered her questions about numbers. Such an interesting kid. And she loved him fiercely.

      “The cabin’s not too far from here,” Lance said. “Get in and I’ll take you there.”

      She opened the back door for Sam then paused. “No, wait.” She shut the door. “You can’t take us, we need to walk through the woods.”

      “Are you crazy?”

      “Getting that way. If the people who shot at me come back, they’ll see the tracks and know I went off the road. Then they’ll look for tracks leading away. If you drive us, you’ll leave fresh tracks straight from here to the cabin.”

      “What about your footprints?”

      She looked up. It was snowing fast enough to fill shallow steps but not the deep grooves his SUV would make. Maybe. “I’ll just have to take that chance. As long as we’re moving through the woods, we should be all right.”

      “What if you walk along the edge of the lake?”

      “And let the water cover our tracks?”

      “And come up to the house from the back. They’ll be looking for tracks on this side.”

      She looked at Sam.

      He tilted his head and looked at the ground. “Hungry. Number five for six forty-nine plus add cheese for ninety-nine cents and a number twenty-four for two ninety-nine. The subtotal is ten forty-seven plus sixty-three cents for tax. The grand total is eleven dollars and ten cents.”

      Lance lifted a brow. “A human calculator?”

      “Something like that. And he likes lists.”

      “I guess we know what he wants for dinner,” Lance said. “What restaurant?”

      “Burgers-N-Shakes To Go. But that’s going to have to wait.”

      She picked up the pace and looked back to make sure Sam was still in her footsteps. He was. And Lance was right behind Sam.

      She heard the car on the road behind them before she saw it. She spun and motioned for Lance to get behind a tree. But he was already moving, crossing the street to the wooded area. He stashed the backpacks and drew his weapon then slid behind the large oak and faced the road.

      Amber did the same. “Sam, over here. Hurry.” Sam didn’t look up, just trudged toward her. She positioned him where she wanted him. He was small enough that she knew he was invisible from the road. “Stay here, okay? Don’t move. Count how many seconds we stand here quiet without making a sound. Start now.”

      He didn’t look at her but he didn’t move either. She just prayed that he stayed that way. She took cover behind one of the other larger trees nearest to Sam. If she had to grab him and run, she would. The car slowed, looking at the SUV parked on the edge of the road. She knew her car wasn’t visible from where the sedan was positioned, but if they got out and looked close, it would be. She held her breath and caught Lance’s eye. He was ready to act should he need to.

      The car was the same one she’d seen behind her just a while ago. The same one the bullet had come from. The same