Her Christmas Guardian

by Shirlee McCoy

  She nodded, because she couldn’t catch enough air to breathe, and because anything she might have wanted to say was trapped in the lump of terror that clogged her throat.

  “Good. I’m going to check things out. Stay here until I get back or until Lamar or Rodriguez comes to escort you to the house.”

  His weight lifted, and she could breathe again, think again, and what she was thinking was that they should both stay right where they were and let the FBI or the police find whoever was skulking through the woods.

  “Boone, wait!” she whispered as he eased into the foliage.

  He looked back, his ocean-blue eyes blazing in the afternoon sun. He didn’t look like the man who’d held her when she’d cried. He didn’t look like the guy who’d eaten handfuls of animal crackers from the box. He didn’t look like the grieving father still searching for his daughter. He looked...dangerous, deadly.

  “Stay here and stay down and stay silent.” The words were clipped, his tone dead of all emotions. He turned away, slid into the thick undergrowth, barely rustling the leaves as he moved.

  She lay where she was, counting silently in her head. Sixty seconds. One hundred and twenty. No one exited the house. Nothing moved in the woods, but the birds were silent, the afternoon eerily quiet. Thick bushes and brambles butted up against her yard, dead fall leaves covering the ground. She’d hear someone coming, wouldn’t she?

  And if she did, then what?

  Would she lie still like Boone had said?

  Run for the house?

  Fight?

  The police were in her house; the FBI was there. Someone had to be aware of what was happening. Didn’t they?

  She reached in her pocket, pulling out the cell phone she’d stuck there. She’d been carrying it everywhere, because she hadn’t wanted to miss a call from the kidnapper.

  Stay here and stay down and stay silent!

  That was what Boone had demanded she do, but what if there was more than one person in the woods? What if Boone was ambushed because she’d stayed silent and complacent? She couldn’t live with that. She had to call 911, make sure that the men and women in the house knew what was happening outside.

  The phone buzzed, and she nearly dropped it in surprise. She glanced at the caller ID. Anonymous.

  She knew who it was.

  Knew that the man who had her daughter was calling her again. She had to answer. She didn’t care if someone heard her talking or took a shot at her because of it.

  “Hello?” she said, her voice trembling, her body stiff and tense. She expected a gunshot, expected to feel the pain of a bullet piercing her flesh.

  “Tell your friend to back off.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she lied, because she wanted to buy time, give Boone a chance to catch up to whoever it was he was hunting.

  “You tell him he’s in my crosshairs. Tell him he keeps coming and he’s not going to live to see another day. Maybe he won’t care so much about that, but he’s not the only one on the wrong end of the barrel. First him. Then your kid.”

  Then the phone went dead.

  It was a trap. She was almost certain of it, but she couldn’t not go after Boone. Not just for Lucy’s sake. For his, because he’d done so much and asked so little, and because he deserved more than to die in a cold forest on the outskirts of River Valley.

  She jumped up, plunged into the woods, branches breaking, twigs snapping. Behind her, someone shouted, but she didn’t stop. She could lose Boone and Lucy, and the fear of that was greater than the fear of being kidnapped, wounded or killed.

  * * *

  Branches snapped, twigs broke, the sounds reverberating through the forest as Boone stepped across a small creek and climbed the steep embankment on the other side. He paused at the top, crouched low as he listened. Someone was coming, and he wasn’t being quiet about it.

  Not the guy Boone was tracking. That was for sure.

  He was up ahead. Close enough that Boone had caught a glimpse of him scrambling over the embankment.

  Running scared, and he should be. The Feds had already set up a roadblock to keep anyone from entering or exiting the country road that wound through the sixty-acre park that Scout’s property backed onto.

  If the perp had parked there, he’d be caught before he made it to the main road.

  If he hadn’t, he’d be traveling a long way by foot before he could get to his vehicle. Stella was on that, checking parking areas and neighborhoods that butted up against the park. No doubt the local P.D. and Feds were doing the same.

  He stepped behind a tall spruce, the boughs shielding him from whoever was following. More twigs snapped; feet splashed through water. Feet and hands scrambled on dirt, and Boone could hear rocky earth falling into the creek. Finally, his pursuer made it up the embankment.

  Boone didn’t wait. Didn’t even hesitate. He had limited time to get this job done, to dispatch his pursuer and get back to hunting the guy he was pursuing.

  He lunged from his cover, saw dark blond hair a moment before he made contact.

  Scout!

  He rolled onto his back to keep from crushing her as they fell, grabbed her arms as she tried to fight him off.

  “Cool it!” he hissed, so angry he could barely get the words out.

  “Boone?” She stopped struggling, looked up into his face with such abject relief that some of his anger faded away.

  “Lucky for you,” he spat, all his frustration seeping out in the words. “Didn’t I tell you to stay put?”

  “I got a call from Lucy’s kidnapper. He said he had you in his crosshairs and that if you didn’t back off, he was going to shoot you. He said Lucy was next.” She was out of breath, the bandage that had covered her wound gone, exposing staples from the middle of her forehead to her temple.

  “You could have been first.” He pulled her to her feet. “Did you think of that before you came tearing out into the woods?”

  “Yes.” She raised her chin a notch, her eyes blazing. “And I decided you and Lucy were worth the risk.”

  What could he say to that?

  It made sense, and he knew that if he’d been in her position, he’d have done the same.

  “Here’s the thing,” he said, trying to tamp down the frustration that was hammering away at his chest. “I was an army ranger before I joined HEART. I know how to track someone without becoming his victim. I know how to bring someone down without making a sound. You—” he shook his head, because he still couldn’t wrap his mind around what she’d done “—are a librarian.”

  “What does that have to do with anything?” she demanded.

  “You aren’t trained for this. You know nothing about it. You came running through the trees making enough noise to wake the dead. In a situation like this, that’s a surefire way to get yourself killed!”

  “I did that on purpose,” she protested. “To distract the kidnapper.”

  If the situation hadn’t been so serious, he would have laughed. “Did you really think he was going to be distracted?”

  “What I thought,” she said quietly, all her defensiveness gone, nothing left in her eyes but emptiness and loss, “was that you and my daughter were in danger and if I had to sacrifice myself to save you both, I would.”

  That hit him harder than it should have. He’d worked with plenty of men and women in the military who’d have given their lives for a comrade. He’d found the same in his buddies at HEART. But out in the great wide world where ordinary men and women lived ordinary lives doing ordinary things, it wasn’t often he ran into someone willing to risk everything for those she loved.

  “That’s admirable,” he said gently, taking her arm and leading her back toward the embankment. “But you being dead won’t keep me or your daughter from dying. Remember
, the guy who kidnapped Lucy believes you have something he wants. Since it wasn’t in your house, he’s going to need you to find it. More than likely, he was trying to flush you out, get you away from the safety of the people who are trying to protect you.”

  “And I was walking right into his trap?”

  “You were running,” he corrected. “Loudly.”

  She smiled at that, but there was still a hint of sadness in her eyes and a whole bucketload of loss. “And with purpose. For the record, I knew that I was probably heading into a trap, Boone. I just didn’t care. I figured if I was kidnapped, maybe they’d bring me to Lucy. If I was killed...” She shrugged. “Anyway, I may just be a mousy little librarian, but I’m not stupid.”

  “Mousy? I don’t recall saying anything about that,” he said as he walked along the edge of the embankment.

  “You didn’t have to,” she responded, following so closely behind him, they might as well have been one person. “I know what I am.”

  “I don’t think you do,” he responded. “Because from where I’m standing, you are beautiful, interesting, kind. That’s a pretty heady combination for a guy like me,” he said honestly, because he’d never been the kind of guy to beat around the bush. When he wanted something, he went after it. When he thought something, he said it. When a woman intrigued him, he didn’t see any reason to hide it.

  And Scout did intrigue him.

  “What kind of guy is that?” she asked.

  “One who is just trying to make the best of the hand he’s been dealt.”

  “You do more than that,” she said softly, and he glanced over his shoulder, met her eyes.

  “Some days I think I do. Some days, I’m not so sure. This spot looks good. I’m going to climb down. Then I’ll give you a hand.”

  “I can—”

  “Scout,” he interrupted. “You may intrigue me, but you also irritate the living daylights out of me. Please, can we just skip the argument so I can get you back to the house and get back to my search?”

  “You’re not going to keep chasing the guy, are you?” she asked, and he sighed, dropping down over the side of the embankment. He landed on soft moist earth, then reached up to help Scout down when something moved in his periphery. Not something. A man. Slipping out from between the trees.

  “Get down, Scout!” Boone yelled, pivoting and pulling his gun in one smooth motion.

  ELEVEN

  Scout dropped to the ground, expecting the world to explode in a barrage of gunfire, expecting that everything she’d been hoping to avoid by running into the woods was about to happen.

  “Hold your fire!” a man called, and she lifted her head, looked down into the creek bed.

  “Are you nuts, Mitchell?” Boone growled. “You about near got your head blown off.”

  “When have you ever fired a gun without knowing exactly what you were going to hit?” the man asked, stepping out from the shadow of the trees.

  “Good to know you’ve got so much confidence in me, but I’d have rather you let me know you were out here.” Boone reholstered his gun.

  “Kind of hard to do when you said you wanted radio silence.” Mitchell looked up, his dark eyes settling on Scout. “You must be Scout.”

  “Yes.”

  “Cyrus Mitchell. With HEART.”

  “Nice to meet you,” she said, scrambling to her feet and wondering how she was going to get into the creek bed without tumbling onto her butt.

  “Just shimmy over the edge,” Boone said as if he knew exactly what she was thinking. “It’s only ten feet. I’ll help you to the ground.”

  “Okay. Sure.” Except that ten feet looked a whole lot more like twenty when you were standing on the top of it.

  “Are you really going to start doubting me now?” Boone sighed. “I’ll come up and lower you down to Cyrus.”

  “No!” No way ever was she going to let him lower her down anywhere. “I’m coming.”

  She slid over the edge, pressed her feet to rocky soil, her fingers slipping in dry leaves.

  “I’ve got you,” Boone said, grabbing her waist.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Scout, you weigh less than my grandmother’s prized turkey. Just let go!”

  “Fine, but if you break your back, it’s on your head.” She let go, and he lowered her to the ground.

  “See,” he whispered in her ear, his hands still on her waist. “Piece of cake. Which, by the way, I love. If you ever happen to have a need to bake one, and you’re looking for someone to eat it, I’m your man.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” She could have stepped away, but she liked the way it felt to be near him. Liked how secure and safe she felt when he was close. She liked the way his eyes softened when he looked at her, the way he smiled just a little, even though there really wasn’t anything to smile about.

  “Hate to interrupt this cozy moment,” Cyrus said drily. “But I came in here to bring Scout back to the house. Jackson’s orders.”

  If Boone was bothered by his comment, he didn’t show it. “Did he bring the box?”

  “With the Christmas stuff? Said it wasn’t there.”

  “It has to be there.” Scout had put the frame in it a few months after Christmas. She’d brought that and Lucy’s playpen. They didn’t use it anymore, but Scout hadn’t had the heart to sell it. Like the frame, it had been a gift from Amber. One she’d given to Scout before the move.

  “If it was, he couldn’t find it.”

  “It should have been easy to find. I marked the box, and it was sitting right near the door.”

  “Maybe so, but Jackson is a pretty savvy guy. If he didn’t see them, I’d guess it was because they’re gone.” He shrugged, his shoulders broad beneath a fitted coat. A white button-down shirt peeked out from beneath it, and his pants looked more suited for a board meeting than hostage rescue, but somehow he gave off an air of danger, his eyes so dark she couldn’t see the pupils, his face hard and just a little too handsome. “He wants to bring you over there anyway. Maybe you can find the stuff. Ready?”

  “Sure.”

  “Let’s get out of here, then. I’m not an outdoorsy kind of person.”

  Boone snorted. “You grew up outdoors, Mitchell.”

  “Doesn’t mean I want to grow old there. You coming back to the house or heading off to find the perp? Jackson says they’ve got a half dozen officers and agents combing the woods, so I’m thinking your time might be better spent somewhere else.”

  “You have an idea where that might be?” All the softness was gone from Boone’s eyes as he glanced at Cyrus, and Scout had the distinct impression that they were exchanging an unspoken message.

  “I do. I think you might be really interested, but if you want to stay out here, suit yourself. Come on, Scout. Let’s get you back home.” Cyrus took her arm and started leading her away.

  She didn’t want to go.

  Not without Boone.

  Which felt strange.

  She’d been just fine before he’d appeared in her life. She’d known what she needed to do, and she’d always got it done. She’d had only herself to rely on, and she’d never expected anyone to come running to the rescue.

  She hadn’t needed anyone to run to the rescue.

  The fact that she needed help finding Lucy didn’t change that. But she was still relieved when Boone stepped into place beside her.

  They walked to the house silently, the distant sound of voices filling the quiet afternoon. Cyrus had said there were a half a dozen people searching the woods, but Scout thought there might be more. It should have comforted her to know that they were trying to track down whoever had been in the woods. All she could think about was Lucy and what her kidnapper had said. He hadn’t hurt Boone, but he hadn’t had the opportunity. W
ould he hurt Lucy?

  “What are you worried about?” Boone asked as he opened the back door and ushered her inside. “Aside from the obvious.”

  “He said he was going to hurt Lucy if you didn’t back off.”

  “I backed off.”

  “And dozens of other people went after him.”

  “Would you rather they waited here and did nothing?” Cyrus asked bluntly. “At least if they catch him, they might be able to get the information they need to find your daughter. They let him go and he could be gone for good. Your kid with him.”

  “How about you lay off a little, Mitchell? Your mean is starting to show,” Boone cut in.

  “I’m being honest, and I’m pretty sure Scout would rather that than a pat on the back and an ‘it’s going to be okay.’”

  He was right, but she didn’t say it. Her tea was sitting on the counter where she’d left it. Cold now, but she didn’t bother heating it up. She couldn’t drink it.

  “Are we going to the storage unit?” she asked. It was so much easier to think about that than about Lucy being carried off to someplace where she would never be found.

  “Jackson’s in the living room. Why don’t you go ask him?” Cyrus suggested, glancing at Boone with that same look she’d seen in the woods.

  She didn’t like it, and she wasn’t going to ignore it. Not this time. “What’s going on?”

  “I already told you. We can’t find the box with the Christmas stuff in it. We’re going to need you to look for it.” Cyrus smiled, but there was no warmth in his eyes, and Scout didn’t believe a word he was saying.

  “There’s something else. If it has anything to do with my daughter, I want to know it.”

  “Scout?” Jackson appeared in the kitchen doorway. “I’m glad you’re back. I’ve called your landlady. She’s going to meet us at the storage unit to give us a hand looking for your things.”

  They’d planned this all out, choreographed everything, thinking that she’d just go blindly along with the plan. She wasn’t going to. Not this time.

  “You can meet with her yourself. I’m staying here.” She dropped down into a chair, her head aching, her pulse racing. They knew something about Lucy. She was certain of it. “Or you can tell me what’s going on, and then I’ll be happy to do whatever you want me to.”