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Christmas Justice
Christmas Justice
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Christmas Justice

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He strode toward the door.

“Garrett,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Thank you. For everything.”

“Don’t thank me yet, Laurel. Thank me when this is over. Until then, I may just be the worst person you could have come to for help.”

* * *

GARRETT STOOD SILENTLY in the kitchen doorway as Laurel padded into the living room.

“She asleep?”

Laurel whirled around. Then her head bowed as if it were too heavy for her shoulders. He could see the fatigue in her eyes, the utter exhaustion in every step.

“She was bushed. It’s been a rough few days. She just downed the last of her medicine, so hopefully the strep throat is gone.”

He tilted his head toward the sofa. “You look ready to collapse. Have a seat. My deputy’s been busy tonight calming the town. He received a report of an SUV speeding out of town early tonight. I told him to keep out of sight but watch for it. If they’re smart, they’ll dump the vehicle.”

“But they won’t give up,” Laurel said.

“I doubt it.”

Laurel lowered herself to one end of the sofa, twisting her hands on her lap. “You work for the agency? With my father?”

Garrett sat in the chair opposite her. “In a way.” No need to volunteer that he was off the roll. If the agency didn’t think he was dead, he’d probably be awaiting execution for treason.

Just one of many reasons he shouldn’t allow himself to get too close to Laurel.

But even as he faced her, he felt the pull, the draw. And not because she was gorgeous, which she was, even with that horrible haircut and dye job. Beauty could make him take notice just like any man, but that didn’t turn him on half as much as how she’d fallen on top of Molly to protect her.

She was a fighter—a very good thing. She’d have to be for them to get out of this mess alive.

Which put her off-limits. That and the fact that she was James’s daughter.

“Your father trained me,” Garrett said, trying not to let himself get lost in his attraction for her. “He saved my life, actually.”

Laurel tucked her legs beneath her. “I thought it had to be something like that. I used to watch Dad train in the basement when I was a kid. I recognized that move when you dived to the ground.” She rubbed her arms as if to ward off a chill. “Ivy worked every night to perfect it. In spite of Dad.”

“I heard about the destruction to his office. I don’t think James wanted her to join up.”

“He was furious, but Ivy has...had,” she corrected herself, “a mind of her own.” Her voice caught and her hands gripped her pants, clawing at the material. “Dad raised us to be independent. She wanted more than anything to follow in Dad’s footsteps. She wanted to make the world safe.”

Laurel’s knuckles whitened and she averted her gaze from his. Every movement screamed at him not to push. Garrett could tell she was barely holding it together, and if she’d given him the slightest indication he would have crossed the room and pulled her into his arms and held her. Instead, he leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, studying her closely. He hated to ask more but he needed information. He had to know. She might not even be aware of the information she possessed. “Where’s James, Laurel?”

Her breath shuddered and she cleared her throat. “I don’t know. He stopped calling or emailing two months ago. Then out of nowhere a package arrived this week. He sent a charm bracelet to Ivy.”

This week. So if James had really sent the package, he’d been alive a week ago. Garrett’s shoulders tensed. “Did you bring it?”

Laurel pulled a silver bracelet from her pocket. She touched the small charms and the emotions welled in her eyes. Reluctantly she handed it to him. “Ivy shoved it into my hand as she was leaving that night...” Her voice broke. “She said it was important.”

He studied the silver charms. Nothing extraordinary. A wave of disappointment settled over him. Surely there was something here. He studied each silver figure, looking for a clue, a message from James. A horse, a dog. A seashell. Several more. Nothing that Garrett understood, but he’d bet Laurel had a story to tell about each one. The question was, did any of those stories have a hidden message? He handed her back the treasure.

“Tell me about the figures.”

She walked through a series of memories. A trip to the ocean with the family right before her mother passed away. Their first dog and his predilection for bounding after fish in freezing mountain streams just to shake off and soak everyone. A horse ride that ended in a chase through a meadow. Her voice shook more with each memory, but the hurt didn’t provide anything new. Garrett couldn’t see a connection.

He let out a long, slow breath. He had to ask. “How did Ivy die?”

Laurel stared down at the floor. He knew exactly how she felt. Sometimes even looking at another human being could let loose the tears. After Lisa and Ella, he hadn’t allowed himself to give in to his emotions. He’d shoved the agony away, buried it in that corner of his mind where it wouldn’t bring him to his knees. Garrett had focused on revenge instead. He’d had to in order to survive.

But since Laurel had landed underneath him on the streets of Trouble, the pain he’d hidden had begun scraping at him, digging itself out.

She didn’t look up. She simply twisted the denim fabric in her fists. “The explosion burned Ivy almost beyond recognition. She lived. She gave me your name. Then they shot her in the head.”

Her voice strangely dispassionate, she went through every detail. When she told him about the single cop’s arrival, Garrett closed his eyes. At least one law-enforcement officer on the take. Probably more.

Asking for help was out of the question. And with James AWOL, they were on their own. She knew it. So did Garrett.

Laurel lifted her lashes and silent tears fell down her cheeks. She wouldn’t be facing this alone. In a heartbeat, Garrett knelt at her feet. He pulled her into his arms and just hugged her close.

She clung to him with a desperation he understood. Her fingers dug into his arms. The tiny tremors racing through her tore at his heart. Laurel’s heart was broken, and she had a little girl who needed her to be strong.

Laurel needed him, but his body shook as the memories assaulted him. How many nights had he dreamed of his wife and daughter calling out to him, begging for him to save them? But Laurel’s pleas were real, in every look, in every touch as she clung to him.

The similarities between Ivy’s death and his wife’s and daughter’s couldn’t be denied. He’d find the culprits this time. They wouldn’t get an opportunity to hurt anyone else.

Garrett stroked Laurel’s back slowly, but she didn’t let him go. Her grip tightened.

His pocket vibrated. With one arm still holding Laurel close, he tilted his phone’s screen so he could see it. He blinked once at the number. The country code was too familiar. Afghanistan.

“Hello?” He made his greeting cautious, unidentifiable. This was Sheriff Garrett Galloway’s phone and number. No one from Afghanistan should know it. That was a life he’d hidden away.

“Garrett?” A weak voice whispered into his ear. A voice he knew.

“James?”

Laurel froze in his arms.

“Garrett, listen to me. The operation has been compromised. Go to Virginia. Get my daughters to safety. They’re in danger.”

“James, Laurel is with me. What’s going on? Where have you been?”

“Oh, God,” James cursed. “Ivy knows too much. You have to get her out of there.”

Garrett nearly cracked. He didn’t want to tell his old friend the worst news a man could receive. Garrett knew the pain of losing a child. Your heart never recovered.

Laurel snagged the phone away from Garrett. “Daddy?” she shouted.

“Laurel, baby. Don’t believe what anyone tells you,” James said, his voice hoarse. “Promise.”

Shouts in Arabic reverberated through the phone. “Find him!”

“Laurel,” James panted. “Remember. Ivy’s favorite toy.”

A spray of gunfire exploded through the speaker.

The phone went silent.

Chapter Three (#ulink_9b5fa633-d14d-5922-9317-0d3a1ce2356c)

The phone slipped from Laurel’s hand. Her father couldn’t be gone. “Daddy?” Her knees gave way and she slid to the floor. She looked up to Garrett. “Get my father back, please.”

Garrett scooped up the phone and pocketed it. “I’m sorry. I can’t.”

He slid his arms beneath her and lifted her. Laurel grasped at him. Her mind had gone numb. She couldn’t feel a thing.

With silent steps he carried her to the sofa and sat down on the smooth leather, anchoring her beside him. “Laurel.” He used a finger to force her to meet his gaze. “Stay with me, honey.”

Her body shuddered, and she couldn’t stop the trembling. This couldn’t be happening. She wanted to bury herself in Garrett’s arms and just forget everything. Pretend the past few days hadn’t happened. But she couldn’t.

Molly. Molly needed her.

She fisted the material of her jeans, fighting to calm the quake that threatened to overtake her. She had to know. Slowly she lifted her gaze to meet his. “My father? H-he’s dead, isn’t he?”

Laurel hated the words coming out of her mouth. The last bit of childish hope, that her father would rescue her and Molly, disintegrated into a million tiny pieces.

Garrett’s face resembled a stone statue. He gave nothing away from his expression. He didn’t have to say anything.

A burning crept behind her eyes and she pressed the heels of her hands against them, trying to curtain the emotions. “God.”

James McCallister had always been invincible. But after the past few months, when she and Ivy had been braced for the worst, for a few brief moments tonight Laurel had gotten her father back.

Now she’d lost him again. Maybe for good this time.

“So many bullets flying,” she said, her voice hushed. “How could he possibly survive?”

He hugged her close. “James is smart. And resourceful. If anyone can survive out there, your father can. Right now, I’m more worried about you.”

Garrett pulled a small leather case from his pocket and unzipped it before grabbing a small screwdriver. He pulled his cell from his pocket and opened the phone. Quickly, he popped the battery and a small chip from the device and tossed it onto the coffee table before tucking his kit back in his jacket.

“You removed the GPS.” The truth hit her with the force of a fist to the chest. “If they’re tracing his calls, they know our location. That’s what I do for the CIA. Track locations from cell towers and satellites.”

“Then you know we can’t stay here.” Garrett stood.

Laurel swiped at the few tears that had escaped. “How long do we have?” She wasn’t stupid. She made her living analyzing data. A price came with being connected at all times. Cell phones, computers, tablets, internet—everyone left a trail. She rose from the couch, her body slightly chilled once she left the warmth of his. She shouldn’t get used to it. She knew better. “I’ll get Molly.”

At her turn, Garrett touched her arm, stopping her. “I’ll see you through this.”

Laurel paused. “I’ve driven clear across the country, and a phone call from Afghanistan is bringing whoever killed my family down on top of us...and you. How can it ever be all right? How can I ever keep Molly safe?”

The question repeated over and over in her mind. She knew better than most people how easy it was to track virtually anyone down. Biting her lip, she hurried into the bedroom and wrapped the blankets around Molly. There was no telling where they’d end up.

Molly squirmed a bit. “Aunt Laurel?” she whispered.

“Go back to sleep, Molly Magoo.”

“I had a bad, bad dream,” she said.

“I’ve got you,” Laurel whispered. “I won’t let you go.” She hugged Molly tight, humming a few bars of “Hush, Little Baby.” Thankfully, Molly snuggled closer, yawned and settled back to sleep.

Laurel exited the bedroom, hurrying to the garage door. It squeaked and she paused, praying Molly wouldn’t wake up.

Her niece didn’t budge. The dim garage light shone down. Garrett shoved a few last boxes into the back of his SUV and opened the back door, a tender expression when he looked at the sleeping girl in Laurel’s arms pushing aside the intensity of just a moment ago. “You better do it. Better if she sleeps.”

Laurel gently settled Molly onto the backseat, snapping the seat belt around her.

Garrett closed the door, his movements almost too quiet to hear. “Watch her. I’m going to wipe the house down.”

Laurel gave him a quick nod and he disappeared into the house. When he returned, he stuffed a microfiber cloth into his jacket pocket, hit the garage-door opener and slid into the SUV beside her. “Fingerprints would make it too easy for them,” he said. “You’re on file with the FBI because of your clearance, and so am I.”

With a quick turn of the key in the truck, the engine purred to life. He quickly doused the automatic lights and pulled out slowly.

After pressing the outside code, the garage door slid down. The house appeared vacant again.

Laurel looked through the windshield, right, then left, then behind. Tension shivered between them.

Garrett maneuvered onto the deserted street, still without headlights. Trouble had gone to sleep. He didn’t plan on anyone waking up as they left town.

He didn’t need lights to see anyway. The church auxiliary had gone and wrapped every lamppost and streetlight with garland and twinkle lights, ribbon and tinsel. With each gust of wind the decorations clattered against metal, leaving his neck tense and his hair standing on end.

He gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles whitening. God, he hated Christmas. Hated the memories it evoked. But at least the bulbs lit their way through Trouble.

“Where are we going?” Laurel asked, still alert and searching the surrounding landscape for anything out of the ordinary.

“The middle of nowhere,” Garrett said. “Even though some consider Trouble just this side of nowhere.”

The vehicle left the city limits, only a black expanse in front of them. This part of West Texas could seem like the end of the world at night, the only light the moon and stars above.

“They’ll keep looking for us,” Laurel said. “They want us dead.”

“No question.” Garrett watched the rearview mirror, but no lights pierced the black Texas night. So far, so good.

Laurel shifted in her seat beside him, peering out the front windshield. “It’s so—”

“Dark?” Garrett finished.

She glanced over at him, her face barely visible from the light of the dashboard dials. “I’ve never seen the sky so black.”

“When I first moved here from the East Coast, I couldn’t get over how bright the stars shone or how dark the countryside could be.”