Holiday Defenders : Mission: Christmas Rescuespecial Ops Christmashomefront Holiday Hero (9781460341254)

by Bailey, Jodie; Sleeman, Susan; Giusti, Debby

  “At Fort Rickman. A couple hours south of Atlanta.”

  “It’s nice you could come home for Christmas.”

  “Actually, I’m on convalescent leave.”

  “What!” She startled, unable to sort through the concern tugging at her heart. “You were injured?”

  “Nothing serious, but the docs thought I needed to recuperate for a month or so.”

  “I...I didn’t know. Zack never mentioned—”

  “No need,” he quickly added.

  “He could have at least—”

  Nick touched her hand. “High school was a long time ago, Liz. I understand.”

  “Understand?” What was he talking about?

  She was the one who didn’t understand why he’d betrayed her trust.

  FOUR

  Nick was grateful for the buzzer that rang when the coffee was ready. Seeing the surprise written on Lizzie’s face when he’d mentioned convalescent leave had him hoping she might still have feelings for him. Then he realized his mistake. The past was long gone.

  He pointed her toward the kitchen. “I’ve got milk in the fridge, and the sugar bowl is on the counter.” He pulled two mugs from the cabinet and filled them.

  “Black works for me,” she said, accepting the cup he offered.

  He took a sip. Hopefully, the hearty brew would clear his mind. He was way too aware of Lizzie—Elizabeth. He needed to stay focused and on task. The mission came first. He understood that in combat. He needed to remember that now. He couldn’t let Lizzie’s nearness veer him off course.

  “Let’s take a look at Zack’s computer.” Nick ushered her toward the table in the great room.

  Her eyes widened as she ran her hand over the smooth surface. “The wood’s beautiful.”

  “Thanks. As they say, one man’s junk is another man’s treasure.”

  He smiled at her raised brow and went on to explain, “I found the table in a flea market north of here, near the Kentucky state line. Solid oak and built in the mid-1800s, but covered with layers of chipped paint. Bringing the wood back to its original beauty was a work of love.”

  “And the chairs?” She pointed to the set of Windsors with spindle backs sturdy enough to support even someone his size.

  “Another find that required hours of labor but was worth the effort.”

  She scooted into one of the chairs while he opened Zack’s laptop. Sitting next to her, he pushed the power button and waited for the password request.

  “Annabelle’s birthday.” Elizabeth provided the date.

  After he punched in the digits, the screen saver came into view, showing Zack’s wife, cradling an infant in her arms, no doubt Joey. Their toddler daughter stood cuddled at her side.

  The depth of the family’s loss tugged at Nick’s heart. “Mary Grace looks just like her mother.”

  Elizabeth nodded. “And Joey takes after Zack.”

  Nick smiled. “A future investigative reporter, perhaps?”

  “I hope not.” The seriousness in her tone reminded Nick—as if he needed a reminder—that Zack’s search for the truth had placed his life in danger.

  “I’ll pull up his documents.”

  Working quickly, Nick looked for anything that might shed light on the identity of the murdered informant or Zack’s current investigation. He read through a series of files with information Zack had probably used in past blog posts. Some of them focused on the Lassiter police department and possible corruption, which wouldn’t put Zack in good stead with the local authorities. Whether that played into what had happened tonight, Nick wasn’t sure.

  He double-clicked on a file Zack had opened yesterday. A list of names unfolded across the screen. “Recognize anyone?”

  Liz leaned closer and pointed out two names. “These guys were a couple years behind me in high school. I see them around town occasionally, but I don’t know them personally.”

  “Can you think of anything they share in common other than attending the same high school?”

  She shook her head. “Unfortunately, no.”

  After working through the majority of the files without success, Nick stretched back in his chair and rubbed his neck. “Zack isn’t making this easy.”

  Liz scooted away from the table and stood. “You keep searching. I’ll check on the children.”

  Nick was relieved to have some breathing room. Being close to Lizzie required self-control. He wanted to touch her hand and feel the softness of her skin.

  He chuckled inwardly. Silly for him to think she’d feel the same attraction, almost a magnetic force that was stronger than he could handle at the moment.

  Everything about Lizzie was a distraction and seeing her concern for the children was even more so. She’d make a great mom and should have a houseful of kids of her own. Instead, she taught a classroom of other people’s children. No doubt, she was a terrific teacher, but she needed a family, as well.

  Maybe caffeine would help clear his head.

  “Want some more coffee?” he called up to her as she climbed the stairs to his bedroom.

  “A glass of water would be good.” He heard the smile in her voice and his chest tightened, wanting to do anything to make her happy.

  Her face had been washed with worry since he’d arrived at Zack’s house. No wonder. Hard to look beyond the danger they were in. If they could elude the killers until Zack could hand his information over to the proper authorities, then this mission would end on a good note.

  It had to end well.

  Shaking off the ominous feelings that came with his thoughts, Nick dropped his cup into the sink and poured water into two glasses. He gulped half a glass and refilled it before carrying both to the table.

  The local all-night television channel aired news on the hour. He hit the remote and lowered the volume. A commercial played across the screen.

  Hearing Lizzie’s footfalls coming down the stairs, he turned. She smiled at him, and he felt buoyed by her gaze.

  “Both children are sound asleep,” she said.

  “They’re great kids.”

  “The best.” She glanced at the table. “Thanks for the water.”

  He handed her the glass. Stepping closer to take it, she glanced up. The look on her face was telling. Lizzie had stepped too close.

  His heart pounded in his chest. The thump, thump, thump was so strong, she’d surely think a snare drum was coming from the TV.

  She didn’t mention his heartbeat. Instead, she focused on his lips, her eyes scorching him with their gaze.

  The world faded away, and all he saw was Lizzie, even more beautiful than he remembered. More than anything, he wanted to reach for her and pull her close. Everything inside him yearned for her kiss.

  She leaned in closer, almost as if she wanted the kiss as badly as he did. But then she glanced at the television, the spell of the moment broken.

  Her face darkened. She gasped. Nick followed her gaze to the photograph plastered on the plasma screen.

  A photo of Zack.

  The newscaster’s voice, although faint, could be heard in the stillness.

  “Zack Tate, noted investigative reporter and author of the controversial blog “Z” Notes, is wanted in connection with a man found murdered in the roadside park off Phillips Road.”

  “No,” Lizzie moaned as she walked closer to the television. Nick picked up the remote and increased the volume.

  “The unidentified man was shot to death and found in the rear of the park rest stop a short time ago. A police spokesperson said evidence found at the site of the murder makes Zack Tate a person of interest. He’s considered armed and dangerous, and the public is asked to use caution and call the authorities if they spot Tate.”

  Nick put his hand on her shoul
der, offering support.

  The newscast continued. “Most people know Tate from his blog. Over the years, many of the stories he’s featured have been highly inflammatory toward local authorities. The police have long said Tate paints law enforcement in a less than favorable light, which has hindered their effectiveness within the community.”

  “No wonder the cops are upset,” Nick said. “Zack exposed their duplicity.”

  Lizzie shuddered when Annabelle’s name was mentioned.

  “Tate’s wife died thirteen months ago, and an unnamed source questions whether foul play could have been involved. His two young children, age six and four, are missing along with his sister, Elizabeth Tate, a teacher at Lassiter Elementary. She’s also wanted for questioning.”

  Nick didn’t like hearing Lizzie’s name mentioned in connection with the murder. If law enforcement wanted to question her, she would be in added danger if the police turned a blind eye to the law.

  When the newscast went to a commercial break, Nick lowered the volume and threw the remote on the couch. “Zack was right. Everyone’s on the take. He’s being set up to take the fall for the informant’s death. They want so badly to smear his name that they’re even creating suspicions about his wife’s death.”

  “At least the police haven’t apprehended him yet.”

  The police wouldn’t find Zack if the four thugs had already grabbed him. Not that Nick would share that thought with Lizzie.

  “His past blogs hit too close to home,” he said. “Someone must have decided he needed to be silenced. Maybe the meeting with the whistleblower was a setup to lure Zack in. Dirty cops can’t be trusted, especially if someone threatens to expose their underhanded dealings.”

  She rubbed her arms. “What’s our plan if the killers come looking for us?”

  “We’ll grab the kids and then head out the back door off the kitchen. I’ll park your SUV on a small path that leads higher up the side of the mountain. With the long access road, we should have time to spot an approaching vehicle and get away.”

  “But they’ll keep following us.”

  “The access road dead ends here at the cabin. If they don’t know about the mountain path, they’ll think we left before they arrived.”

  “At least that’s what you’re hoping.”

  She had given voice to his own concerns. Nick glanced at his watch. They had a few hours before dawn. Hopefully they’d be secure here, at least for now.

  They still needed to uncover information that could lead them to Zack, or give them leverage against the men trying to kill him. Knowledge was power, and they had to uncover the corruption that had placed him in danger and led to the taking of another man’s life.

  Just so the violence ended there. Nick wouldn’t let anything happen to Lizzie and the children. He’d protect them with his last breath, if need be. If only they could be safe.

  FIVE

  Lizzie’s head was still reeling from seeing Zack’s picture on the news. Hoping to calm her racing pulse, she pulled back the blind and watched Nick maneuver the SUV out of the driveway and onto a path that rounded the cabin.

  The night was pristine and still and devoid of anything that seemed threatening. Feeling a need to breathe in the freshness of the outdoors, she opened the front door and stepped onto the porch.

  Her gaze took in the expansive mountain landscape dotted with evergreens, heavy with snow. Moonlight wove through the bare branches of the hardwoods and bathed the snow-covered walkway in light.

  Something on the side of the path caught her eye. Relief swept over her, seeing the camel from Mary Grace’s Nativity set. The child doted on the various figures and had played with them constantly during the holiday season as if to draw closer to the mother she missed.

  Lizzie hurried down the steps and ran to where the object lay. The plump camel must have fallen to the snow when Nick carried the sleeping child inside. Bending, she picked up the stuffed animal and clutched it to her heart, finding comfort in the tiny toy. Turning back to the house, she stared for a long moment at the A-frame, once again appreciating the simple lines of the mountain lodging and Nick’s expert craftsmanship.

  A sharp wind cut through her clothing. Shivering in the night air, she hurried toward the porch.

  A twig snapped behind her.

  She stopped short and listened. All she heard was the rumble of the car engine on the far side of the house.

  Snow crunched, signaling a footfall.

  Run!

  Liz stumbled forward, needing to get inside and lock the door. She had to protect the children.

  Her heart pounded, and she gasped for air, hearing another footfall.

  Cold winter air took her breath and clamped down on her lungs. Fear clogged her throat.

  Someone was behind her, closing in.

  Racing to the stairs, she struggled to maintain her footing. She slipped, righted herself and took the stairs two at a time.

  A hand grabbed her shoulder.

  Her heart burst.

  “I’ve got you.” A voice, low and menacing.

  Liz’s knees went weak.

  Tears stung her eyes.

  She had opened the door to danger and allowed the killer—or killers—access.

  Liz screamed for the one man who could save her.

  “Nick!”

  * * *

  Nick parked the SUV in the rear of the cabin, satisfied it was well hidden from sight, yet still close enough to the house for easy access. If need be, he and Lizzie could carry the children to the car and drive them away from danger before either the killers or the cops arrived.

  Good police he’d welcome on the mountain, but Zack had warned about cops on the dole. If they approached the police directly, it would be too hard to determine who was good and who was bad. Better not to deal with any of them.

  A voice screamed his name.

  Nick’s heart crashed against his chest.

  Lizzie.

  Racing at breakneck speed, he rounded the house and stopped short when he saw the burly mountain man. Full beard. Fur cap pulled low over his head with woolly flaps that covered his ears and tied under his chin. His left hand clasped Lizzie’s upper arm. His right hand held a rifle.

  “Burl?”

  The old codger kept a tight hold on Lizzie’s arm but turned in surprise at the sound of Nick’s voice. Recognition spread over his weatherworn face.

  “That you, Nick? I thought you were still fightin’ in Afghanistan.”

  Nick stepped closer and pointed to Lizzie. Her eyes were wide with fright, her face pale and drawn. She stared at him like a wounded animal caught in a trap.

  “You need to let the lady go.”

  “Is she causing you any harm, Nick?”

  Only to his heart, but that wasn’t what the old guy meant. “She’s a guest, Burl. I invited her here.”

  The mountain man dropped his hand and took a step back as if flustered by his evident mistake. “Sure am sorry I caused you any concern, ma’am. Nick trusts me to look after his property when he’s gone. Fact is, I’ve been laid up with the influenza for a few weeks and couldn’t make my rounds. Now that I’m better, I wanted to check the house. Thought you might be breaking in.” Burl sniffed. “Can’t be too careful.”

  Liz stared back at him. “And I...I thought you were—”

  Nick climbed the steps and put his hand on her arm, hoping to reassure her. “You’re safe, Lizzie. Burl didn’t mean any harm.”

  “That’s right, ma’am. I was just making sure the cabin was okay.”

  Nick glanced at the road that led up from the valley below. “Let’s go inside. We need to talk, Burl.”

  “I hope you’re not too upset, ma’am.”

  “Just startled.” She let ou
t a ragged breath. “The night seemed peaceful. I never thought—”

  “It’s okay, Lizzie.” Nick pushed the open door wide. “How about a cup of coffee, Burl?”

  “That’d be mighty nice.”

  Nick ushered Liz into the cabin. She rubbed her arms, no doubt appreciating the warmth that greeted her.

  Burl left his rifle at the door and followed them inside.

  “I’ll get the coffee while you two talk,” she volunteered.

  “Thanks.” Nick pointed to the table where the old man lowered himself into a chair, sniffed and peered down at the computer. “You’re working late.”

  “Just checking some information.”

  “I’m sorry about spooking your lady friend. I didn’t know you were back.” He whistled. “Course, it’s almost Christmas. ’Spect that’s the reason.”

  “Sorry you had the flu.”

  “Don’t worry, Nick. I’m still strong as an ox,” Burl said with a definitive nod. He then proceeded to talk about his illness until Liz brought them all mugs of coffee.

  “I’ve got a favor to ask,” Nick said when Burl took a sip of the hot brew.

  “What can I do for you, neighbor?”

  “A few guys from town have been giving me a hard time. They’re a mean bunch, and I don’t want them hurting my...” Glancing at Liz, he smiled. “My lady friend. Wouldn’t be appropriate to have them show up when she’s visiting.”

  Burl nodded. “I hear what you’re sayin’.”

  “They’re driving a beige utility van. Might be as many as four of them. Watch yourself, Burl. They’re packing and they’re mean.”

  Burl’s gaze narrowed as if he was seeing the killers in his mind’s eye.

  “You still have minutes on that mobile phone you bought at the Mega Mart?” Nick asked.

  Burl patted his chest pocket. “Don’t use it much, but it’s good to have. ’Specially if I get into a pinch.”

  “I could use your eyes for the next couple days, Burl. If you see anyone coming up the mountain, anyone at all, but especially someone in that van I described, give me a call. I’m using that throwaway phone I told you about.”