Deadly Holidays

by Lisa Phillips

  It didn’t matter what had gone on through the year.

  Christmas was here.

  Epilogue

  Rachel faced the mirror, smoothing down the front of her dress. Megan’s mother’s Virginia house was beautiful, and she’d jumped at the chance to host an impromptu Christmas wedding.

  The door opened behind her and she turned, unable to hide the wince.

  Steve frowned as he entered. “That’s what I was afraid of.” He held up his hands, hiding her white wedding dress from his view. “I’m not looking at it until you convince me you’re well enough to do this.”

  Rachel set one hand on her hip. “Oh, I’m doing this.”

  “Not good enough. You want me to send Bradley in here?”

  “No!” She didn’t need him playing big brother. Underneath the gruff and the complaining, she figured he was happy for her. He just also needed time to adjust to the fact she was getting married.

  Rachel said, “It’s too late now, anyway. We’re already dressed, and the shrimp is going to get warm if we don’t get on with it.”

  She looked down then. His suit was amazing. “You look so handsome.”

  Steve smoothed down his tie and smiled. He held out one hand, and she placed hers in it. He took her in, head to toe and then back up. “Wow.”

  “I forgot to get shoes.”

  “Go barefoot.”

  Rachel laughed, then groaned and laid a hand on her stomach.

  “You aren’t okay.”

  She shook her head, still holding his hand. “I want to do this. I might need a nap in a couple of hours, but I don’t want to wait.”

  Maybe she was rushing just so the fear didn’t take hold, but she was also trusting God that He would work it all out. They had the rest of their lives to figure out the little things. Rachel wanted to be in his arms, safe. Warm and comforted. Nothing denied, nothing but the two of them together in all the ways they could be.

  New, beautiful memories to wash away the past.

  He lifted his eyebrows. “Am I invited to this nap?”

  She smiled. “Only after it’s official.”

  “Good.” He closed the distance between them. “I’m ready to start adding more tallies to the list of honorable things I’ve done in my life.”

  He crouched and lifted her into his arms.

  “There’s nothing wrong with my legs.”

  “I know.” He strode to the door, carrying her.

  “I can walk.”

  He said nothing.

  “I love you.”

  He stopped in the hallway, short of where all their friends waited for them, and smiled down at her. “Merry Christmas.”

  Rachel smiled, happier than she’d ever been in her life. “Yes, it is.”

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  Visit www.authorlisaphillips.com for news about a brand new romantic suspense series, coming Spring 2019!!

  Keep turning pages to read chapter 1 of FIRST WAVE.

  Introducing the Northwest Counter Terrorism Team.

  Chapter 1

  Tonight wasn’t the first night Dakota had spent alone in the woods. The last time had been years ago, long enough she’d almost convinced herself she didn’t remember.

  She hadn’t forgotten the cold, though. The way her ears numbed, because she’d pulled her dark hair back in a ponytail. Then and now.

  Tucked in her pocket, Dakota’s phone vibrated. She lifted a hand and used slender fingers she’d always thought were awkwardly long to answer the call on her Bluetooth headphones.

  “Pierce.” Her quiet voice sounded far too loud in the stillness of past midnight.

  “Here I thought you might be doing something interesting this late on a Friday night for once.” The director’s voice was void of any kind of tone. She never gave anything away. “And yet, when I locate your phone it seems like you’re sitting on the side of a mountain, fifteen miles from the Canadian border.”

  Dakota said nothing.

  “It’s thirty-eight degrees. It’ll get to twenty-seven by morning.”

  She let her eyes drift across the tops of the trees in the valley below. The fence that bordered the apple orchard, along with a dusting of snow.

  Director Bramlyn sighed. “I suppose it was too much to assume you’d wait until Monday. Look into this then, maybe in the company of one of your team members. You know, the three people who are supposed to have your back.” She didn’t include herself in that count. The director’s support came in a different way that was no less effective.

  “Case’ll be closed by then.”

  “You found something?”

  “Not yet,” Dakota replied. All they had so far was chatter that’d been picked up. Movement from here to the border. A park ranger who’d been paid off, then disappeared. The local sheriff was next on her list of people to track down. Hopefully he’d still be breathing when she found him.

  “Keep me apprised.”

  “Will do.” Dakota pressed her lips together. “And I’ll call Special Agent O’Caran if I need some help.”

  “I guess I can’t argue with that.”

  Of course, needing help had different definitions for different people. Dakota knew how to spend a night in the woods by herself. Predators came in all shapes and sizes, and she hadn’t met one yet that she couldn’t handle with one of the two guns, or the knife, that she carried. Occasionally she only needed to utilize a well-placed boot to subdue an uncooperative suspect.

  “So long as you actually do lean on the resources available to you when you could use them,” the director said. “After all, it’s why I pay my taxes.”

  The corner of Dakota’s mouth crept up. “I thought you had some under the table deal so you didn’t have to.”

  “I wish.” Victoria laughed. The director sounded like a classy matron from the TV shows Dakota would never tell the team she watched—just without the British accent. “Are you sure you’re good?”

  She was really worried? Dakota said, “My nose is cold and I think one of my feet went to sleep.”

  “Don’t freeze to death,” Victoria said. “We’ll have to hike in there and carry you out.”

  “Nah, just leave me for the animals.”

  Victoria choked. But she didn’t say anything.

  Because she knew.

  “For goodness sake, just be careful.”

  Dakota said, “You know I will.” Her capability wasn’t in question. Victoria knew her history—all of it. That was the deal they’d struck when Dakota came on board. She didn’t want secrets. She also had no intention of being babied just because Victoria didn’t want this place to mess with her head. She said, “I’m good.”

  “Try to at least sound convincing when you say stuff like that.”

  “I always sound convincing.”

  “Maybe to all the other people you lie to.” But not Victoria.

  “Just…mark me down as camping for the weekend, or something.”

  “Did you even take a tent with you?”

  Dakota waited a second, then said, “I think my phone battery is dying.” She even reached up and touched the mute button a couple of times, so it sounded like she was cutting out.

  “If you don’t call me in twelve hours I will send the entire team as well as backup from the state police to look for you.”

  Dakota lowered her hand. “Deal.”

  Plenty of time for surveillance here. If nothing happened she would pay the sheriff a visit. Flash her badge and watch him squirm.

  They all squirmed.

  “I’m going to regret this.” Victoria sighed, and the call ended.

  A rustle in the brush to her left cut through the silence. Dakota blew out a breath, slow enough there was no cloud of white. She shifted her weight and lifted her left foot, rotating the a
nkle. It clicked every time. Had ever since…

  She didn’t finish that thought.

  The past was something she didn’t remember. And whether that meant she’d strived to forget, or was still convincing herself it was forgotten, the outcome was the same. Dakota was alive now. That was all that mattered.

  Grass under her feet. Cold night air in her lungs. Mountains behind her, and the lights of civilization in the distance.

  One eye on the rustling brush, Dakota lowered her foot back down. Her gun hand was free, but she didn’t reach for the weapon holstered under her arm. Her other hand held a thin flashlight not much larger than a pen, her thumb steady on the button so she could turn it on when she needed to.

  Dakota crept between trees, as silent as the night. She made her way down the slope toward the orchard, where rows of apple trees lined the outermost field. The property was huge, the house a hundred acres to the west of where she stood, over the slope. Chatter had mentioned the road that led to this end of the place specifically.

  Movement accompanied a low rustle. Dakota froze, her right shoulder and hip pressed against a tree trunk.

  A dog raced between apple trees, nose to the ground. One of those police dog types, black and brown coloring. It even had a vest on. No markings, though. There was barely a breeze tonight, but she had no idea if she was upwind or downwind of the animal. The last thing she needed was to be scented.

  Twenty feet behind the dog, a man followed in a half-run. Tracking with the dog’s progress but giving it space. He moved like a man trained, his stance alert even with his focus on the animal. Military maybe, or some kind of agency. Not an operation here tonight or Victoria would have passed that information on. Most of the time that exchange of information worked. Not always. So she didn’t write this off as random.

  Dakota tracked their progress as she made her way to the base of the hill and hopped the fence. She skirted the edge of the orchard, making sure she stayed out of the way.

  Was this one of them? They seemed like they were looking for something, but it was possible this guy was a scout and whoever had sparked the chatter about a new “weapon” moving through here intended to show up.

  Fifty feet to the west she stopped.

  Where was…

  “Following me?” The man’s voice was low. Not deadly, she knew what that sounded like. This had a ring of authority but without a layer of intent to do her harm.

  Like she was the one who shouldn’t be here.

  Dakota reached for her weapon. She heard the unmistakable snick of a gun being drawn from its holster and she froze.

  “Drop what you’re holding and put your hands up.”

  **

  What was probably a flashlight dropped to the dirt. The woman lifted her gloved hands. She’d been reaching for something, he just didn’t know what. Josh heard the familiar sound of Neema’s panting as the she padded closer to his left leg. They were a team, and the dog was an asset—considering she’d realized someone else was there before Josh had.

  Who was this woman?

  Josh clicked on his flashlight. “Turn around slowly.”

  She started moving and he shone the light on the darkest of brown hair, almost black, as she turned. Her mouth was set at an unhappy slant. The frown that marred her features drew her dark eyebrows together. With the lack of light, her eyes looked as black as her hair. Her skin was smooth and flawless.

  The sight of her distracted him enough he forgot what he was doing for a second.

  “You wanna get that light out of my face?” The lift of her hands splayed her jacket wide enough he saw the gun in its holster.

  “Tell me why you were following me, and I will.”

  She reacted like he was an annoyance, nothing more or less. “Tell me why you’re here.”

  Like she had as much right to be as he did? Maybe more?

  Josh said, “I show you mine, and you’ll show me yours?” before he thought it through.

  She made a dismissive noise with her mouth. “Hardly.”

  “Guess not, then. Sorry.” For politeness sake. “My mouth runs away from me sometimes.”

  “I’m glad you have better control of your dog.”

  His favorite subject. Josh smiled, though the woman couldn’t see it considering his light was in her face. He would’ve petted Neema’s head but he didn’t have a free hand, so he leaned his weight left. She braced her weight against his leg in response. Shared comfort, a united front. “This is Neema.”

  “Okay.”

  She didn’t like dogs? Josh gave the command to release Neema, so she could move around if she wanted to. The woman’s body shifted. A small movement he thought might’ve been a start. Was she really nervous about his dog?

  “She won’t bother you.”

  Neema didn’t move to the side to do her business, though. She wandered toward the woman and he could hear her nose working. The woman took a step back.

  “Unless there’s a hotdog in your pocket.”

  The woman chuckled, but it was nervous. She held her hands up but stood very still while the dog learned her scent.

  “Neema, leave it.” Sure, he could’ve given the command a few seconds ago, but where was the fun in that? He might need his dog to know her smell. Neema turned away and wandered to the edge of where he could see her.

  There was no reason why she couldn’t sniff around a little.

  The woman held herself as though she was in complete control—apart from the fact she was apparently nervous around dogs. It was debatable, between Neema and the woman, as to who had more presence. The gun won out, though. Neema could be vicious, but she didn’t have weapons to utilize.

  “So who are you?”

  She shook her head, a slight movement. “Lower the flashlight and I’ll show you my badge.”

  So she was here in an official capacity. “All right.” He shifted it down and to the side while he tried to figure out what he was going to tell her. Caught red-handed, in the middle of the night. Josh said, “Let’s see it.”

  She reached behind her, which he allowed considering her gun was under one arm. A move like that always made him tense though. Anyone given the opportunity to reach for something out of sight could meant the difference between life and death in a second. He’d had far too much training to ever relax in a situation like this.

  The woman pulled out a leather wallet and flipped it open. Badge and ID. “Homeland Security.”

  But she didn’t tell him her name.

  “Nice to meet you.” He figured she might appreciate the irony in that. “On a case?”

  “You could say that. You?”

  “Something like that.” Ish. Okay, not really at all. This was his weekend off, but what he was doing here was his business and not the business of this stranger who hadn’t identified herself.

  “What is your dog looking for?”

  Josh glanced around to see where Neema had gone. When he didn’t find her, he called out, “Yellow!”

  From his left, not far, Neema’s bark replied to him.

  “Yellow?”

  He shrugged once. “It just means bark. But no one else knows that except her and I. And now you.” And if the dog kept looking for what he was here to find, then it saved him time.

  The woman bent down and picked up her flashlight, which she slid into her jacket pocket. “Well, it was nice meeting you and all…”

  She let that trail off. Josh got the feeling it wasn’t all that nice to meet him.

  The woman continued, “But you’re going to have to tell me who you are, and what you’re doing here.” Her stance was loose. Still, he could see her readiness in the flex of her fingers. She could pull that gun in seconds, and he guessed she was fast.

  “I’m Josh,” he said. “Josh Weber.” He didn’t give more details than that, since he wasn’t here in an official capacity. What he did with his free time was his business.

  Would Neema find what they were looking for? He wanted the a
nswer to be yes, but had to face the fact he might have to return home with no news at all. The lead that had pointed them to this apple orchard was slim. Maggie might have only stuck around here long enough to post a picture to Instagram. Or they could’ve been driving through on the way to somewhere else.

  Maybe he would never find her.

  Neema let out a bark. One short, sharp alert.

  Josh broke from his conversation with the Homeland Security agent and raced between the rows of apple trees toward where the sound had come from. On the way he gave her the command to bark again.

  The female agent chased him the whole way there. He heard the shuffle of her clothing and the intake of breath as she inhaled and wondered if she would tackle him. Or give up and shoot him in the back.

  Neema sat beside a body, laid out on the grass. A trail of tire ruts stretched from the woman lying there and off to the north-west.

  Josh pulled up short. His stomach sank, but he said, “Good girl,” and scratched Neema’s neck.

  “Move the dog away from her.” The Homeland agent’s voice was sharp. She crouched beside the body, turned awkwardly so that one shoulder was up but her hips were flat on the ground. Face down. Arms spread. Hair wrapped around her head.

  The woman agent shifted hair aside and touched the neck. After a second of silence she glanced up at him, a dark look on her face. “She’s dead.”

  Coming 2019!

  About the author

  A British ex-pat who grew up an hour outside of London, Lisa attended Calvary Chapel Bible College where she met her husband. He's from California, but nobody's perfect. It wasn't until her Bible College graduation that she figured out she was a writer (someone told her). Since then she's discovered a penchant for high-stakes stories of mayhem and disaster where you can find made-for-each-other love that always ends in happily ever after.