Classified Christmas Mission

by Lynette Eason

  “No new shoes. Boots.”

  “Okay. New boots then.”

  “No. Old boots.” He fell silent and continued to focus on the game.

  Amber pursed her lips. “What is it about these boots that you like so much anyway?”

  Sam didn’t acknowledge her question and she didn’t force the issue. He had two pairs of shoes he’d wear without a tantrum. The ones she’d just removed from his feet and the pair sitting in his closet at the home he’d never return to.

  She set the boots on the floor, walked to the windows near the back door and glanced out. Darkness had fallen but the full moon allowed her to see fairly well outside. The lake looked like a dark pool of black ink surrounded by trees and white snow. She could see her footsteps leading up from the lake and prayed that the people after them wouldn’t think to look in the backyards of the homes surrounding the lake. Or that the once-again falling snow would fill in the tracks before they started looking.

  Amber moved to the front windows, scanning the area. The driveway branched off into a side road that led to the main road she’d been traveling when the goons had shot at her.

  She glanced at her phone. Her untraceable throwaway phone. And was very tempted to dial her brother Clay’s number. She bit her lip, indecision warring inside her. Her handler would be waiting for her to call, to let her know where she was. Or did she already know?

  For the first time since her flight with Sam, she had a moment to think. Kathryn Petrov. Her handler and friend, a woman Amber could trust with her life. Or so she thought. She and Kat had been through a lot together, and she never would have imagined the woman capable of betrayal. Now she didn’t know what to think or who to trust.

  The knock on the door froze her for a split second. Sam didn’t bother to look up from his game. Amber slid her weapon into her hand and stepped on bare feet over to the door.

  Another knock. “Amber, it’s me, Lance. Let me in. I’m freezing.”

  She slid her gun back into the holster and opened the door. When he stepped inside, he squished. “You walked in the lake, too?” she asked.

  “Yes. I walked in your prints. I left my SUV at the site of the wreck.” He held up a suitcase. “But I brought this.”

  “Oh, thank you.” She took it from him. “Take your shoes and socks off, we’ll throw them in the dryer.”

  While he discarded his wet boots and pulled his socks off, she opened the dryer and checked on hers. “Still a bit soggy. Might as well add yours to them.”

  Lance padded over in his bare feet and handed her the wet socks and shoes. She tossed them in the dryer and got it started once again and hoped they wouldn’t have to leave the cabin in a hurry.

  When she turned to face him, her nose collided with his chest and his hands came up to grip her elbows. She lifted her head, her heart thudding into overdrive. And there it was. The attraction she’d felt for him since...oh, forever. The childhood crush she’d never outgrown. She remembered the crushing despair when she’d learned that he’d married someone else. And as a result, she’d thrown herself into her job to push his memory aside. It had worked for a while. But now...now Krissy, his wife, was dead and he’d been alone for a long time. Had his heart healed from his wife’s betrayal and criminal activities? Was he ready to find someone else? And why was she even wondering?

  She swallowed and tried to figure out her next move. Close in for a kiss or step back and pretend she didn’t see the spark of interest in his brown eyes?

  He took the decision out of her hands. He cleared his throat. “So, do you have time to talk?”

  Disappointed that the choice was suddenly gone, she tilted her head and kept her gaze on his. “Of course. Tell me what happened at the scene.”

  “I answered a lot of questions and managed to keep them from finding the car. For now. If you look over the edge, you can’t see the vehicle immediately. When you hit those trees, snow fell and covered the top of it. There’s also a small overhang that sort of hides it, so...” He shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m not sure Gretchen was convinced everything was fine, but I did manage to buy the time you said you needed.”

  “Good,” she breathed as relief filled her. “What about the tracks I left going down the side?”

  “I parked my SUV over most of them to hide them.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Of course everyone wanted to know what happened to the person involved.”

  She winced. “What did you say?”

  “That the person involved walked away from the wreck and was going to be fine. Although I did kind of hint at an abusive relationship and the longer we gave the person to get away the better off she’d be. They quit asking questions after that.”

  She blew out a low breath. “Well, it’s the truth. Sort of. Thanks.”

  He nodded and rubbed his hands together. “It’s starting to warm up in here.”

  “Finally.” She walked over, shut the oven off and closed the door.

  “I can’t believe the power and water are still on.”

  “And no one’s broken in,” she added.

  “That’s due to the security that patrols this area. You’re going to have to keep a low profile if you want to stay here very long.”

  “I don’t plan to be here too long. I’m hoping to get what I need and get moving again.”

  “What you need?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay, I guess that brings us full circle. Who shot at you, Amber? Who are you running from and why?”

  Amber pursed her lips then motioned for him to have a seat at the kitchen table. Instead, he walked to the window and looked out. He placed his wallet and keys on the end table next to the sofa. “It’s quiet in the back.”

  “Yes. For now.” She pushed aside the curtain above the sink. “The front is, too.” She scanned the area. “No headlights, no shadows. The full moon is helpful.”

  “How did they find you?”

  “I have my theories.”

  “Such as?”

  “A tracker on my vehicle. One that I didn’t find in spite of my careful search. Maybe.”

  “Ah.”

  Lance pulled out a chair and planted himself there. Amber turned and opened the freezer. “Oh, thank You, God,” she breathed.

  “What?”

  “Food.” She turned back to him with a frown. “Are you sure no one’s been living here?”

  He shrugged and rubbed his head. “Now that I think about it, Mrs. Landers’s grandson may have been here sometime last month around Thanksgiving.”

  “Then all the food in this freezer is probably good.”

  “You’re going to eat it?”

  Her frown deepened. “I’ll pay him for whatever I take, but yes, if it means the difference between going hungry and eating this food, we’ll eat.”

  “Of course, I didn’t mean you should starve.”

  She smiled. “I know. And I understand that I’ve just broken into someone else’s home. Then again Mrs. Landers always liked me. She taught my Sunday school class when I was in middle school and she used to have us girls over to hang out and go waterskiing in the summertime. She was always telling me to make myself at home. I think she’d be more than happy to offer her help if she could.”

  He knew she was right, but still...the law was the law. Then again, someone had just tried to kill her and for now, this cabin was a safe place for her and Sam. Sam, who hadn’t budged when Lance walked in. Sam, who wanted a hamburger and fries and a chocolate shake. Lance sighed. Their talk could wait until they’d eaten. He stood. “You have any hamburger meat in there?”

  “Yep.” She pulled out the patties and passed them to him.

  At least the kid would have his burger. “Get me a frying pan. We’ll see if they’re still good.” />
  “You cook?”

  “Out of survival, but yes.”

  She dug in the cabinet next to the sink and came up with a frying pan. She handed it to him. “Have at it. I’m going to check on Sam then check all the windows again. I would walk outside, but don’t want to leave any more footprints than we already have.”

  He frowned, but nodded. It was still hard to wrap his brain around the fact that Amber was here. She left and he turned the stove on. Within minutes Lance had the burgers cooking.

  When he turned, he nearly ran Sam over. The boy stood behind him, watching him. “Hi.”

  “Hi.”

  “You like hamburgers, I hear.”

  “Hamburgers. Yes.”

  “Well, they’ll be ready shortly. You know how to set the table?”

  “Three plates, three forks, three glasses, three napkins.”

  “That should work.”

  “Three hamburgers, three pieces of cheese, three tomato slices, three squirts of ketchup, three squirts of mayonnaise, three buns.”

  “I hate it, but I don’t think we have all that.” Lance turned back to the stove and pressed the spatula against the meat. The smell made his stomach rumble, so he was going to go with the conclusion that the meat was fine to eat. He opened the pantry and found a bag of chips, a half-opened pack of cookies and a bag of dried fruit. He checked the dates. All good.

  Now that he had time to think about it, he remembered overhearing someone at the diner in town talking about the fact that Jason Landers was going to sell the place. He glanced at the window. New curtains. He looked at the cabinets. They’d been repainted. Yep, Jason had been here working, fixing up the place. He hoped the man didn’t show up anytime soon or they were going to have some explaining to do.

  He opened the cabinet and pulled down three plates and three glasses. He handed them to Sam who put them on the table. Lance noticed the boy’s precise movements. The plates went exactly in front of the chairs, the glasses just to the right of the plates.

  Lance handed him the silverware from the drawer. Again, Sam placed them perfectly. “Nice job.”

  “Yes. Nice job. Hungry.”

  “We’ll eat in just a couple of minutes. As soon as Amber gets back in here, all right?”

  As though she’d heard him, she came from the back of the cabin and crossed the small den into the kitchen. “Wow, this looks great.”

  “Just burger patties tonight, I’m afraid. No buns or salad, but we’ve got chips and dried fruit.”

  She waved a hand. “Protein is good. All of that is perfect. I’ve got peanut butter and crackers if we need them.”

  “French fries,” Sam said.

  Amber bit her lip. “We don’t have any fries tonight, Sam, I’m sorry. Eat the chips, though, they’re made from potatoes just like French fries.” She watched him carefully and Lance wondered if she was trying to guess how the boy would react.

  She let out a breath when he simply sat and stared at his plate. Lance doled out the three burgers and the rest of the food and they ate them in silence.

  Sam finished his last bite. “Television, please.”

  Amber looked up. “There’s one in the bedroom. Come with me and we’ll get you set up.” She shot a look back over her shoulder at Lance and he interpreted it to mean they’d talk when she had Sam distracted.

  He cleaned up the kitchen, leaving it cleaner than he’d found it, then walked into the den to check the windows once again. As he stared out into the night his gut twisted. What was Amber involved in? Who was after her and Sam? And why did he have a feeling his life was going to get flipped upside down?

  Amber walked back into the living area and moved from window to window, doing exactly what he’d done just moments before. “CIA?” he asked.

  She turned to face him, her face blank. “What?”

  “You’re with the CIA, aren’t you?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “Just answer the question.”

  She hesitated and he could almost see her thinking about lying. Finally, she frowned. “Yes. What gave it away?”

  Lance shrugged. “The fact that I know you. The fact that your family believes you’re a travel writer and the articles that come out don’t sound like anything you might write.”

  She raised her eyes at that statement and he shrugged.

  “Yes, I read them. Then there’s the fact that you’ve missed a lot of important family milestones and I don’t think anything less than life or death would have kept you away from being here for those. A travel article wouldn’t have kept you away. And also the fact that you handle yourself like a trained professional. It just fits. Now that I think about it anyway.”

  She pursed her lips and nodded. “I came home for Thanksgiving.”

  “Last year. And then you missed Christmas. And Aaron and Zoe’s wedding this past June.”

  Her jaw tightened. “It couldn’t be helped.”

  “I’m beginning to understand that. But what really kind of gave it away was that you found Zoe’s brother, Toby, and brought him with you for Christmas, for Zoe.” Aaron Starke had fallen in love with Zoe Collier, a woman who’d been trying to keep her nine-year-old daughter, Sophia, safe from people who’d been trying to kidnap her. Aaron and Zoe had fallen in love and been married almost six months ago. “Then the day after Christmas, you two disappeared together because you had work that wouldn’t wait.” She pressed her lips together. “So that brings me to my next question,” he said.

  “Which is?”

  “Why haven’t you contacted your handler?”

  “How do you know I haven’t?”

  “Call it instinct.”

  “I was on assignment in Ibirizstan and only one person in the world knew where I was.”

  “Your handler.”

  “Yep.”

  “Is your cover blown?”

  “Wide open.”

  “And you think he had something to do with that?”

  She sighed and checked the windows again. “She. And I don’t know. Before that happened, I would have trusted her without thought. But now... I was in California three days ago. My informant was killed. Her name was Nadia Pirhadi. She was my best friend and Sam is her son. I’ve been living with her and her family for the past four years working as Sam’s nanny.” Her jaw worked as though holding back emotion and Lance found himself wanting to go to her, to hold her. He curled his fingers into fists and forced himself to remain still. “When everything went south, I grabbed my car keys, Sam and bolted.”

  “And everyone thinks you’re a travel writer.”

  “That’s what they’re supposed to think.”

  He rubbed his eyes then looked at her. “So what makes you think your handler is involved?”

  “Because as I was leaving, I heard Sam’s father, who’d just killed Sam’s mother, yell my name.”

  Realization hit him. “Your real name, not your covert name.”

  “Yes. He called me Amber.”

  “And now you have no one to trust and nowhere to turn.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Well now you’ve got me. And you need to read in Clay.”

  She twisted her fingers together then released them to rub her eyes. “I would rather not involve him.”

  “He can help us.”

  She turned a fierce gaze on him. “There is no us. You’re going to leave and go back to your normal life and forget that you ever saw Sam or me.”

  Lance stared at her for a brief moment before letting out a humorless laugh. “Well, I can tell you right now, that’s not happening. You’re stuck with me for the duration.”

  “I don’t think you understand. The last two people who’ve gotten involved with me have died. I can’t let that hap
pen to you or anyone else.”

  “And yet you came home,” he said softly.

  She paused. “What?”

  “You ran home.”

  “Yes, but it’s just a pop in, pop out kind of thing. I left something here that I needed.”

  “But you left it here. At home.”

  “Yes.” She gave a short humorless laugh. “Is there supposed to be some deep psychological meaning to that?”

  “I don’t know. What do you think?”

  She stood frozen for a millisecond then her jaw trembled. “Maybe there is,” she whispered. She glanced toward the back of the house. “I’ve been in a lot of tight spots over the last five years, but this time, it’s very possible I’m in over my head.”

  “Then let us help.”

  She paused. Paced from window to window then turned and met his gaze. “If you help me, you could be putting yourself in the kind of danger that a lot people don’t live to talk about.”

  He didn’t flinch. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

  FOUR

  Once Amber had helped Sam get a quick sponge bath and into some clean sweats and a long-sleeved T-shirt, she waited for him to climb beneath the covers. But then he pushed the blankets away and sat up. “Book. Number One Mom read a book. Please.”

  “Number One Mom isn’t here, Sam, I’m sorry.”

  He blinked. “Number One Mom is gone.”

  “Yes, she is, Sam. She...died.” She didn’t know how much he understood, but he seemed to grasp the concept that his mother wasn’t coming back. Maybe. In some ways he was brilliant and yet, he was definitely still a six-year-old child.

  “Number Two Mom read a book. Please.”

  Amber opened the app on his phone and brought up his favorite book. A book about dogs and numbers. She read it to him three times before she saw his eyes getting heavy. She closed the app and plugged the phone in next to him. She wasn’t a huge fan of allowing children his age unlimited use of technology, but right now, in their situation, she had to use whatever she could to keep him happy. Once she knew they were safe and his father was either in prison or dead, then they would reevaluate the device usage.