Christmas Undercover

by Hope White

  “I’m trying to help.”

  “Liar.”

  He cracked open his eyes. She towered above him, aiming a gun at his chest.

  “Please,” he said, putting out one hand in a gesture of surrender. “I’m sorry if I upset you, but I really do want to help.”

  “Yeah, help them kill me.”

  He noticed a bruise forming above her right eye and lacerations crisscrossing her cheek.

  “You’re hurt,” he said.

  “I’m fine.”

  Will guessed she was frightened and confused. Maybe even dehydrated.

  “I’m Will Rankin, a volunteer with Echo Mountain Search and Rescue.”

  “Sure, and I’m Amelia Earhart.”

  “Check my pack. My driver’s license is in the side pocket.”

  It was worth a try, although he knew all the sensible conversation in the world may not get through to someone in her condition.

  Narrowing her eyes, she grabbed his backpack and stepped a few feet away. Never lowering the gun, she unzipped the side pocket.

  “May I sit up to stop my nosebleed?” he asked.

  She nodded that he could.

  He would continue to act submissive so she wouldn’t see him as a threat. It was the best way to keep her from firing the gun by accident. He sensed she wasn’t a killer, but rather she was disoriented and frightened.

  Sitting up, he leaned forward and pinched his nose, just below the bridge. He’d have dual black eyes for sure and didn’t know how he’d explain that to his girls, or their grandparents.

  You’ve got bigger problems than a bloody nose. He had to talk this woman down from her precarious ledge.

  She rifled through his wallet and hesitated, fingering a photograph of Claire and Marissa.

  “My girls,” he said. “They’re in first and third grades.”

  She shot him a look of disbelief and shoved his wallet and the photos haphazardly into his pack.

  “Did you fall from a trail above?” he asked.

  “I’m asking the questions!” She straightened and pointed the gun at his chest again. “And you’d better give me the right answers.”

  “Please,” he said. “My girls... I’m all they’ve got. Their mother...died.”

  He thought he’d gotten through to her.

  She flicked the gun. “Get up.”

  He slowly stood, realizing how petite she was, barely coming up to his chest.

  “Where are they?” she demanded.

  “Who?”

  “LaRouche and Harrington.”

  “I’m sorry, but I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Right, you randomly happened to find me.”

  “I did.”

  “Uh-huh. And you’re out here, in the middle of nowhere, why?”

  “I’m spending a few days in the mountains for—” he hesitated “—solitude.”

  “You’re lying. There’s more to it.”

  “I’m not lying, but you’re right, there is more to it.”

  She waited and narrowed her eyes, expectant.

  “I come to this spot by the lake to find emotional peace—” he hesitated “—with God’s help.”

  “Yeah, right. Great story, Will.”

  He didn’t miss the sarcastic pronunciation of his name, nor the paranoid look in her eye.

  She dug in her jacket pocket and pulled out her phone. She frowned.

  “You have a phone?” she asked.

  “I do.”

  She shoved hers back into her pocket. “Give it to me.”

  He pulled it out, dropped it between them and raised his hands. “You won’t get a signal here, but there’s a spot by my cabin where I can usually find service.”

  “Your cabin?”

  “I’m renting a cabin about a quarter of a mile north.”

  She eyed his phone, must have seen there weren’t any bars, and shoved it into her other pocket.

  “Let’s go.” When she picked up his pack, a groan escaped her lips.

  “Do you want me to—”

  “Walk,” she demanded, her eyes watering.

  They were obviously tears of pain. He guessed from the rip in her jacket and strained look on her face, she might have cracked a rib or two.

  With a nod, he turned and headed toward the cabin. She was hurt and confused, and the worst part was, she wouldn’t accept his help.

  He’d have to rely on patience, kindness and compassion to make her feel safe. That would go a long way to ease her worry and earn her trust.

  Hopefully that would be enough.

  * * *

  Sara wasn’t sure how far she’d get before passing out from the excruciating pain of her headache, but she’d fight until she dropped. She had somehow survived the fall, and wouldn’t allow herself to die at the hand of a hired thug.

  It figures LaRouche and Harrington would send a handsome, clean-cut guy to find her—a real charmer, this one. Will or Bill or whatever his name was, had to be over six feet tall, with chestnut brown hair and green eyes, and he spoke with such a gentle, calming tone. What a story he’d crafted for himself: he’d come out here to pray?

  He’d laid it on thick, all right. Those were probably his little girls in the photograph, girls who had no idea what their daddy did for a living.

  In her ten years with the FBI, Sara had learned plenty about sociopaths and how they used their cunning intelligence and polished charisma to convince an interrogating agent of their innocence.

  Clutching the gun, she took her finger off the trigger in case she stumbled and pulled it by accident. He wouldn’t know the difference. As long as Will thought she aimed a gun at his back, he’d do as she ordered.

  The trees around her started drifting in and out of focus. She blinked to clear her vision, and stumbled on a rock jutting out of the ground.

  Strong, firm hands gripped her arms, keeping her upright. Will’s green eyes studied her face, as if assessing her head injury. He must have realized his mistake, that he was still holding on to her, because his hands sprung free and he raised them, as if to say, please don’t shoot me.

  She stepped back and dropped the backpack on the ground. “It’s throwing me off balance.”

  He picked up the pack and adjusted it across his shoulders with ease. “That bruise above your eye—” He hesitated. “Are you experiencing blurred vision?”

  “I’m fine.” She flicked the gun barrel toward the trail.

  He continued walking.

  “I have ice packs at the cabin,” he said. “And pain reliever.”

  She hated that he was being so polite. It was an act, his strategy to discover how much she knew. Those were LaRouche and Harrington’s orders, right?

  Much like her official orders had been to leave it alone, put aside the LHP, Inc., investigation due to lack of evidence. But she’d pushed and pushed until Bonner had had enough, and told her to take a couple of weeks off.

  So she did, and spent her vacation going undercover and buying her way on to the trail guide team that LaRouche, Harrington and Price had hired to take them up the mountain. Her goal: watch and listen, glean whatever information she could from the men who were on vacation with their guards down.

  “Would you like some water?” Will offered.

  She ignored him. Sara might be hurting, but she wasn’t stupid. It would be too easy for Will to slip something into her water, rendering her unconscious.

  “Guess not,” he said softly.

  She took a deep breath and bit back a gasp at the stab of bruised ribs. She decided it was a good thing because the pain would keep her conscious and alert.

  He slowed down, closing the distance between them.

  �
��Keep walking,” she said through clenched teeth.

  “I thought you might need to rest.”

  “I don’t.”

  With what seemed like a frustrated sigh, he continued. Sure, he was frustrated. He wanted to finish this job quickly and move on to his next high-paying assignment.

  She focused on his backpack as she struggled to place one foot in front of the other without losing her balance. It wasn’t easy when she felt as though she’d stepped off the Tilt-A-Whirl at the county fair.

  They continued in silence, her pulse ricocheting off the inside of her skull with each step. She had to make it, had to put these arrogant criminals behind bars.

  She hoped they could pull the video recording off her phone, even though she’d noticed it had been damaged in the fall.

  Will’s phone was working just fine. Maybe they were close to getting reception. She pulled his phone out of her pocket, but her trembling fingers dropped it. She snapped her gaze to Will, fearing he’d seen her weakness. He continued up the trail.

  She waited until he was a good distance away and knelt down to retrieve the phone. When she stood, her vision blurred and she could barely make out Will’s form. She squinted through the haze to see him.

  He was no longer within sight.

  She shoved the phone into her pocket and clutched the gun grip with both hands. Where did he go? Had he taken off up ahead, waiting to ambush her? She approached a sharp turn, blocked by a boulder.

  Took a slow, shallow breath...

  Darted around the corner.

  And spotted Will, on his knees, with his hands interlaced behind his head.

  “What are you doing?” she said.

  “Waiting for you.”

  “Get up.”

  He stood, his back to her. “Are you all right?”

  “Go on, keep moving.”

  He continued along the trail and she followed. He was waiting for her? More like he was messing with her head, and doing a good job of it.

  “The cabin’s not far,” he said.

  She ignored him, knowing how these guys worked. They insinuated themselves into your psyche and destroyed you from the inside out. This guy was luring her with his father-of-the-year, single-parent story. She’d seen the wallpaper on his phone of two adorable girls with strawberry blonde hair and big smiles. This guy was a master.

  They trekked the rest of the way in silence, Sara focusing on breathing through the pain and shutting out the panic taunting her from the fringes of her mind. She was in the middle of nowhere with an assassin, and her next step could be her last.

  No, she was tough. Even if others didn’t believe it, she knew it in her heart.

  If only she’d been tough when she was twelve.

  They turned a corner to an open field with a cabin in the distance. Surely she’d be able to get a signal out there, in the middle of the field.

  He marched in the direction of the cabin.

  “Stop,” she said. She’d be a fool to let him go inside with her. No doubt that was where he kept his tools of the trade—coercion tools.

  “Sit down, over there.” She jerked the gun barrel.

  He sat down beside a fallen tree.

  “You have rope in your pack?” she said.

  “I do.”

  “Get it.”

  He unzipped his pack and pulled out what looked like parachute cord.

  “Toss it over here. And put your hands behind your back,” she said.

  He did, not making eye contact. With a fortifying breath, she grabbed the rope off the ground and climbed over the downed tree.

  “Lean forward.”

  He did as ordered. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

  “You’re right, you won’t.”

  She quickly bound his wrists behind his back, and secured him to a limb of the fallen tree. She stood and started walking.

  “Drink some water,” he said. “It will help with the headache.”

  “You can stop now.”

  “The best cell reception is over there, by that cluster of boulders.” He nodded, ignoring her comment.

  With determination and focus, she marched toward the field, on the other side of a narrow creek. That had to be the spot where she’d find a signal. It would also put her out in the open, making her vulnerable, an easy target. No, these guys usually worked alone. She checked his phone, hopeful and more than a little desperate, but she still had no bars.

  She glanced up. A ray of sunlight bounced off the creek and pierced her vision. Pain seared through her brain. She snapped her eyes shut, but it was too late. A sudden migraine blinded her.

  She stumbled forward. Had to get to...had to get service. Call her boss...

  “What’s wrong?” Will shouted.

  She broke into a slow jog. Had to get away from him. Get help.

  Breathing through the pain, she stepped onto the rocks to cross the creek. One foot in front of the other. She could do it.

  But she slipped, jerking forward. She put out her hands to break her fall.

  And landed in the water with a splash.

  The man’s shouts echoed in the distance.

  She feared he would somehow free himself and finish her off.

  She crawled through the creek, her soggy clothes weighing her down. Pain bounced through her head like a pinball.

  With a gasp, she surrendered—to the pain, to her own failure—and collapsed into the cold, bubbling water.

  TWO

  “Ma’am!” Will shouted, pulling on the rope binding his wrists. She was down, unconscious in the creek. Was her head even above water?

  “Hey!” He realized he didn’t even know her name. “Ma’am, get up!”

  She didn’t move.

  “Argh!” he groaned, pulling violently on his wrists. This was not going to happen. He was not going to sit here and watch a woman die in front of him.

  “Get up!” he shouted.

  She didn’t move.

  He yanked on his wrists and dug the heels of his boots into the ground, trying to get leverage. This craziness wasn’t going to do him any good. He took a deep breath and forced himself to be calm.

  “Think,” he said. He remembered that his pocketknife was clipped to the side of his backpack.

  He stretched out, making himself as long as possible, practically dislocating a shoulder in the process. With the toe of his boot, he caught the strap of his pack and dragged it across the soft earth. In a low crouch, he kicked it behind him until his fingers could reach the knife.

  He flicked it open and sawed away at his bindings, unable to see what he was doing. A sharp pain made him hesitate when the blade cut his skin. He clenched his jaw and continued.

  “Ma’am!” he called out. “Ma’am, answer me!”

  She didn’t move.

  He continued to dig at the rope with the blade, and accidentally cut his skin again. Didn’t matter, he had to get free and—

  Snap! He jerked his wrists free, reached around and started working on the rope that bound him to the tree.

  “Come on, come on,” he muttered. The parachute cord he kept in his pack was meant to be strong, which was why it felt as if it was taking forever to cut himself loose.

  Please, God, help me get to her in time.

  He finally sliced through it, pocketed the knife and grabbed his pack. Racing across the property, he focused on the woman, who was only partially submerged in the creek. What if she’d swallowed water and it blocked her airway?

  He rushed to her side, looped his forearms under her armpits and dragged her out of the creek.

  He leaned close. She wasn’t breathing.

  “No,” he whispered.

  With one hand on her foreh
ead, and the other on the tip of her chin, he tilted her head backward. He hoped it was only her tongue blocking the airway. He pinched her nose and administered two deep breaths.

  She coughed and a rush of relief whipped through his chest. Will rolled her onto her side. “It’s okay. You’re okay now,” he said, although his heart was still racing at breakneck speed.

  He had to call for help, get Echo Mountain Search and Rescue up here and quick. He spotted his smartphone, partially submerged in the creek. He snatched it out of the cold water. It would dry out and be usable at some point, but until then Will was on his own.

  The shiny glint of metal caught his eye. The woman’s gun lay mere inches away from him. He wasn’t a fan of guns, but couldn’t leave it here for a random stranger to pick up. He shoved it into his pocket.

  The woman coughed. “P-p-please don’t hurt me.”

  He snapped his attention to her shivering body. She was clutching her jacket above her heart, terrified.

  “You don’t have to be afraid of me,” he said. “I’m going to help you.”

  She closed her eyes, as if she didn’t believe him. He wondered if she saw him pocket the gun and assumed the worst.

  “Do you think you can get up?” he said.

  “Yeah.”

  He extended his hand. She ignored it and shifted onto her hands and knees. A round of coughs burst from her chest. That didn’t sound good. He feared the water in her lungs might lead to something worse.

  She stood, but wavered. Her eyes rolled back and he caught her as she went down. Hoisting her over his shoulder, he marched to the cabin. He had to get her dry, tend to her head wound and then determine what other injuries she’d sustained. It was obvious she had a severe headache, and most likely suffered from dehydration. He could treat those easily enough, but didn’t have the ability to treat internal bleeding from her fall, or other, more serious injuries.

  He’d do his best. The rest was in God’s hands.

  Taking quick, steady steps, he made it to the cabin and laid her on the single bed. He grabbed logs and started a fire to warm the room. Once he got it lit, he refocused on the woman.

  The woman. He wished he knew her name.

  He pulled her into a sitting position, leaning her head against his shoulder to remove her jacket. He noticed it was water-resistant.