Can She Get Home for Christmas Page 3

  “How did it get there?”

  “It looks like it was put there,” he muttered, not liking the implications.

  “Why?”

  That was the sixty-four thousand dollar question. He’d been taking this route back and forth from his cabin. He’d been super careful. But what if someone noticed and thought to trip him up? Lucky it was just a tree branch and not an animal trap. But that would have been hard to hide—even in the snow.

  “Why?” she asked again.

  “I don’t know,” he answered honestly, hating this sudden surprise.

  If someone didn’t want him out here, it could be a property owner thinking to trip up a trespasser. But what if it was the killer?

  He clenched his fists, remembering things he’d sensed in the past few days. Nothing he could prove. But he’d had the uneasy feeling that someone else had been around the cabin. He’d been extra careful. Now he hated the idea of taking Samantha there. But he had no choice. And maybe the snowstorm would help protect them.

  He made a dismissive sound.

  “What?”

  “I’m getting into conspiracy theories, and maybe someone just tossed away a walking stick.”

  She studied his face. “But you don’t think it’s innocent.”

  “I hope it is,” he answered, when he was really wondering if Sam had tripped on some kind of silent alarm.

  “What?” she asked, still studying his expression.

  “Just considering the possibilities.”

  If he’d had any other alternative, he would have retraced their steps and headed away from his cabin. But the storm had made escape impossible. He was cold. Probably Sam was colder. He had to get her into shelter before she ended up with hypothermia or frostbite.

  “Can you stand?” he asked, praying that she hadn’t turned her ankle—or worse. Reaching out, he helped her up and watched her test her footing.

  “I’m good.”

  “You’ve already taken a beating tonight,” he muttered.

  ###

  “I’m tougher than I look,” Samantha answered.

  In a million years, she wouldn’t have picked a tramp through the woods on a day like this. Now she thanked God that she was here instead of lying in the back of the SUV, chained to a ring in the cargo compartment—headed for horrors she didn’t want to imagine.

  “I’m lucky you came along,” she said to the man who had helped her up.

  “Yeah, but we can’t stay here,” he said. “Not in this weather.”

  “I know. But give me a minute.” She adjusted the duffel on her back. When she indicated she was ready, he started off again, still breaking the trail through the mounting snow. She noted that he’d slowed his pace a bit as she walked in his boot prints.

  It was almost dark now, and she hoped he knew where he was going because she saw no indication of any buildings ahead of them. But she kept doggedly following him, shifting the duffel on her back to a more comfortable position.

  When he stopped, she almost plowed into him.

  Looking up, she saw they were standing in the woods about twenty-five yards from a small wooden building that was almost invisible in the dark.

  “This is where I’ve been camping out.” He turned to face her. “Sorry, but I wasn’t expecting company. It’s pretty rough.”

  “That’s okay,” she said, before she even got an idea of how rough.

  “Wait here a minute.”

  She saw him put down the carry bags and pull out a semiautomatic.

  “You have a gun,” she breathed. “But you didn’t use it back there.”

  “I couldn’t take the risk of shooting you.”

  “So you tried to plow into his car.”

  “Yeah.”

  She was still eyeing the weapon.

  “Do you know how to shoot?” he asked.

  “Yes. At a shooting range. Because we lived in a rural area, Dad used to take us out to a private range he’d set up. He believed that girls should have the same skills as boys.”

  “Agreed.”

  “But I’ve never used a gun against a person,” she added quickly, “only for target practice. And the targets were concentric circles, not silhouettes of people like you see in cop shows.”

  “But if you had to defend yourself, you could do it?”

  “I hope.” She gave him a long look. “Are you expecting trouble?”

  “Hopefully, no. But I’m not going to break protocol,” he said as he moved carefully forward toward the cabin. When he reached the door, he unlocked it with one hand and held the gun in the other. Easing the door open, he reached inside. She saw dim yellow illumination through the slim opening. After he looked around inside, he came back out, picked up the bags, and carried them inside.

  “All clear.”

  Sam came out of the woods, crossed the snowy ground, and stepped into a small room that couldn’t be more than twelve by twelve. A small table by the door held a lamp. There was a space heater in one corner, a narrow cot, a counter along one wall with a hot plate on top and one of those small refrigerators underneath. A chest of drawers plus a table and two chairs completed the furnishings.

  She looked around for windows and saw they were covered by blackout blinds. The only door was the one through which they’d entered.

  “Where do you get your electricity?”

  “Mostly batteries. But I have solar and a generator if I need it.” She kept looking around. “Um, does this place have a bathroom?”

  He jerked his hand toward the right. “Over that way.”

  “You mean an outhouse?”

  “Yeah. I’ll show you where it is—after I get some heat in here. It won’t be toasty, but it will be better than outside,” he said as he turned on the space heater.

  “Okay.”

  “Let me help you get the duffel off.”

  He came around in back of her and eased the makeshift pack off her back.

  “Leave your coat on,” he advised.

  She nodded as she worked her shoulders to get the kinks out, then turned to him. “Lead the way.”

  He grabbed a flashlight off the counter and took her back out. Again he was watchful as he scanned the area, then led her around the side of the cabin. Several yards away was a narrow little building that looked like it came straight out of the Kentucky hills.

  She lighted her way to the door that had a crescent moon carved just above eye level, and he moved a few yards away.

  “Are you going to stand there?”

  “Safer. And while we’re discussing safety, I don’t want you outside by yourself—understood?”

  “Yes,” she answered in a gritty voice. If she had to pee in the middle of the night, she’d have to wake him up.

  Repressing a protest, she went inside, closed the door and used the facilities as quickly as possible.

  When she came out, he was standing with his back to her but turned when he heard her emerge.

  After leading her back to the cabin, he checked the interior, then said, “I’ll just be a minute.”

  She stood in the doorway and watched him retrace his steps to the outdoor facility.

  Apparently he could have privacy but she couldn’t. When he returned, she ducked into the main cabin, twisting in a circle to survey his abode. He couldn’t have been expecting company. But though the place was sparse, it wasn’t messy.

  He caught her expression. “Until the car radiator started heating up, I thought I’d get you to Decorah headquarters.

  “Which are where?”

  “Beltsville.”

  “Not in this snow.”

  “I could have made it through the snow—but not with bullet holes in the radiator.” He made a wry sound. “And even if we had to stop at a motel, the more miles we put between us and him, the better.”

  She contemplated that last statement as she pulled out a chair at the table and sat.

  He broke the silence by saying, “Do you want some hot chocolate?”

>   “You don’t have any food, but you’ve got chocolate?”

  “I don’t neglect the necessities.”

  “Yes, I’d like some,” she answered, thinking that another guy would have offered her brandy. But she supposed he had considered himself on duty while he was here and therefore wouldn’t have any alcohol on hand.

  She glanced at the bags he’d set down. “I was bringing homemade chocolate chip cookies for Christmas. We could have some.”

  His eyes lit up, and she wondered when he’d last had home cooking.

  She watched him pour water from a plastic jug into a battered saucepan, turn on the hot plate burner, which she assumed ran on propane, and set the water to boil.

  Crossing to the carry bags, she got out the cookie tin, put it on the table, and gestured toward the contents.

  He took a cookie, bit in, and chewed—his expression going dreamy. “This is wonderful.”

  “Thanks.” She took a cookie and sampled her own work.

  As she ate, she kept her gaze on him, tension curling through her. The easiest thing would be to just keep her mouth shut, but she knew she couldn’t do that. She was in a small cabin with a strange man, and she needed to know more about him. “I think it’s time you told me about that special talent you don’t want to discuss.”

  Chapter 5

  Jax dragged in a breath and let it out. He could have pretended to be watching for the water to boil. Instead he crossed to the table, pulled out the chair opposite Sam, and sat down. He eyed the cookies, but since Sam didn’t take another, he didn’t either.

  All the way here, as they’d tramped through the snow, he’d been thinking that if they were going to be cooped up together, he was going to have to come clean with her.

  His “okay” of agreement made her visibly relax, and he figured she’d probably thought he was going to keep stonewalling her. Of course, he wasn’t going to tell her that a bunch of his friends were werewolves. But there were plenty of other talents he could mention among the group of Decorah operatives.

  “Let me start with some of my coworkers.”

  “Why?”

  “It might make it easier to understand where I’m coming from. Frank Decorah is the founder of our agency and still runs the shop. He looks for men and women who have extra abilities that can help in our detective work,” he began.

  “Extra training?”

  “No, extra intuition.” He heard himself say, “Like one of us can communicate mind to mind with strangers, at least under certain circumstances.”

  She seemed to mull over the claim. “I guess I’ll have to take that on faith.”

  “When you meet Jonah Raider, you can get a better explanation straight from him. The woman who later became his wife was being held captive by a serial killer. He was able to reach out to her in her prison cell. Or better yet, you can ask Alice about it.”

  Before Sam could comment, he went on. “Another of our agents can pick up objects and get information about the owner. Two of our guys are twins and can talk to each other without speaking—over distances.”

  His gaze flicked to her face. She looked like she was taking his word at face value—for the moment.

  “And you?” she asked.

  Well, they’d finally arrived at the moment of truth. “I told you Frank Decorah assigned me to this case. I started staking out the road where the UNSUB . . .”

  “What’s an UNSUB?” she interrupted

  “An unknown suspect. Frank was hoping I’d get enough insight into his next victim to keep it from happening again.”

  “And you had to be out here so you’d be nearby when it happened.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I still don’t get how you knew it was going to be me specifically.”

  He swallowed hard. “Okay, after I got the assignment, I started trying to focus on the next victim. At first nothing happened, and I was going to tell Frank it wasn’t working. Then I started dreaming about you. I didn’t know your name, but I knew you were going to end up on this road—in danger. After a week of the dreams, I started being able to tune in on you during the day.”

  She reared back. “Let me get this straight. You were spying on me?”

  “No!”

  “What would you call it?”

  “I saw flashes of your life. I know you’re a teacher—of little kids. I know you love your job.”

  “How?” she demanded.

  “Because you’re always using your own money to buy supplies—and you’re always planning projects for the kids.” Before she could jump on that, he went on, “I know you cook instead of bringing in fast food. I know you have shelves full of books. I know you have a flare for decorating your house. And I knew you were going to end up on the road here, but I didn’t know exactly when. I needed more information.”

  While she digested that, he got up and moved the pot off the burner before emptying packets of sweetened chocolate powder into two mugs. He added hot water to each and stirred.

  When he returned to the table with the hot drinks, her gaze was rigid. “I’m not comfortable with that. I mean, if you were . . . watching me . . . did you see me getting dressed? In the bathroom? What?”

  “I . . . didn’t see you in any way that you would object to.”

  “Except violating my privacy,” she said, punching out the words.

  As if to add power to her observation, the wind outside picked up, howling around the corner of the little building, and he could imagine the snow swirling, obliterating their presence to the outside world. That was good. With the blackout shutters, the cabin would be invisible.

  She was still staring at him, and he went on.

  “I knew you had left home and were on the road this morning. Of course, I didn’t know you were going to have an accident, but I was worried about you out in this weather. I drove up and down this stretch of road half a dozen times. If I hadn’t been out looking for you this afternoon, you would be wherever that guy was planning to take you.”

  She sucked in a sharp breath, then gave a little nod of acknowledgment. But it seemed she wasn’t going to let him switch the subject to his rescuing her. Her lips firmed as she asked, “What else, exactly, do you know about me?”

  He felt his insides clench. “I know you’re in some kind of trouble. Or you’re seriously worried about something.”

  He recognized at once that his words had been a trigger. He saw her struggling to hold her composure. And then her breath hitched, and she started to sob.

  It was the last thing Jax had expected. He saw her trying to get control of herself and failing. Maybe if they’d been in a bigger house, he would have given her some privacy. No, that wasn’t true. He couldn’t stand that he’d cut to her tender core.

  Without time to consider, he scraped back his chair, stood up, and rounded the table. Lifting her out of her chair, he sat down, then settled her in his lap. He expected her to resist. Instead she leaned into him and pressed her face to his chest, hiding as she sobbed. When he felt her shoulders shaking, he stroked her and kept telling her everything was going to be okay, although he had no idea why she was in so much distress.

  He had been watching her for over a month, and he had thought he had gotten to know her. But actually having her in his arms was different. She felt fragile and at the same time strong. And as he tried to comfort her, he wanted to wipe her tears away and then bring his lips to hers.

  For long moments she continued to cry, until he knew she was making a mighty effort to get control of herself.

  Finally, the storm raging inside her subsided. He’d left some paper napkins on the table, which she used to blow her nose.

  She kept her face down for another few seconds, then raised her wet eyes to his.

  “Sorry.” She pushed off his lap, and he felt the loss of her.

  “Nothing to be sorry about,” he said as she settled into the chair across the table.

  She swiped her hand across her face. “Okay, I had to get
home because we just found out my mom has breast cancer. She’s scheduled for surgery right after Christmas.”

  The way she said it stabbed at him. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Yeah, me too. I know it was stupid to try to drive through the storm, but I kept thinking this might be my last Christmas with her, and I told myself that if I missed it, I’d hate myself for the rest of my life.”

  “And now you’re probably going to spend Christmas with me.”

  “Better than with him,” she clipped out.

  And the family is going to wonder where you are, he thought, debating whether to voice it aloud. Maybe it was better to just leave that alone.

  She dragged in a breath and let it out. “Telling you about it helped.”

  “Did it?”

  “Holding it inside was a horrible strain. And now I’m wondering if I was building it out of proportion. I mean, Mom could end up okay. I know they’ve come a long way with . . . effective treatments.”

  “Yes.”

  As she let out a long sigh, it looked like weeks of worry were being lifted from her shoulders. She let her gaze flick to the bags he’d brought in. “We can have Christmas Eve dinner.”

  “Sounds good,” he answered, relieved that the atmosphere in the cabin had lightened a little.

  She took a sip of the hot chocolate. “You might as well eat another cookie.”

  “Dessert first?”

  “Well, nothing about today is normal.”

  “Right.” Too bad that included their relationship. What was he going to tell her? That he’d fallen in love with her while he was spying on her?

  Fallen in love?

  The realization hit him like a punch in the gut. He hadn’t admitted that to himself. But the reality had been staring him in the face for a long time.

  He must have caught his breath, because she looked up at him. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.”

  “You look—weird.”

  “I’m just worried,” he managed to say, then kicked himself for grabbing at that excuse.

  “About what?”

  “That we’ll get snowed in,” he answered lamely.

  She kept her gaze on him like she doubted his explanation, but she didn’t press him, thank the Lord.