Silent Night Pursuit

RACE AGAINST TIME

Lacey Phillips believes Captain Wade Spencer knows something about her brother’s mysterious death. So she throws caution to the wind and tracks him down on Christmas Eve looking for answers. Wade tries to turn her away—until bullets start to fly. He doesn’t want to take the stubborn beauty on his life-or-death mission to find out the truth about how Wade’s past may have cost her brother his life. But with killers lurking everywhere, he has to protect her—especially when she breaches the walls around his heart. Can Wade and his faithful service dog keep Lacey alive long enough to figure out who’s targeting them?

ROADS TO DANGER: Family secrets resurface

“Someone is trying to kill you…

“If you knew that then,” Wade continued, “would you have stayed home?”

Lacey looked at him. “No. My brother’s dead. I won’t stop until I know why.”

“I already told you. Because of me.”

“Those guys out there weren’t sent by you. There’s more to the story. More than you even know.”

“The story of my life. Ever since I found out my mother’s aliases, I’ve been living that reality.”

“This is more than just finding out if your mother was a spy, isn’t it?” When Wade hesitated she said, “Please. We could be killed any second. Honesty is all we have left.”

He nodded. “But that’s all you’re going to get out of me. Talking only gets people killed. I get people killed.”

“But you rescued your sister—”

“Don’t.” He captured her gaze. His eyes glittered. “Don’t make me into some hero. I opened my mouth, and she was almost killed. And the next time, your brother paid the price.” His gaze darkened. “And if I can’t fix this, you’re next.”

KATY LEE writes suspenseful romances that thrill and inspire. She believes every story should stir and satisfy the reader—from the edge of their seat. A native New Englander, Katy loves to knit warm wooly things. She enjoys traveling the side roads and exploring the locals’ hideaways. A homeschooling mom of three competitive swimmers, Katy often writes from the stands while cheering them on. Visit Katy at katyleebooks.com.

Silent Night

Pursuit

Katy Lee

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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My little children, let us not love in word, neither in tongue; but in deed and in truth.

—1 John 3:18

To Ben and all the other service dogs like him who assist their military handlers on a daily basis. You truly inspire.

Acknowledgments

My stories would fall flat without real-life people sharing their experiences with me. They are the true heroes behind the stories. I want to especially thank Dennis Theodore Swols, SSG United States Army. His honesty in answering my many questions about post-traumatic stress disorder as well as the amazing service dogs that have helped him in his daily life are what brought the emotions to the page. Thank you, Dennis, and thank you to your dog, Ben, too. What a blessing you have both been to my story and my life.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

About the Author

Title Page

Bible Verse

Dedication

Acknowledgments

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

SEVENTEEN

EIGHTEEN

Dear Reader

Extract

Copyright

ONE

“In point two miles, your destination will be on your left,” the GPS’s mechanical voice spoke into the tension-filled interior of the old Honda Beat roadster. Lacey Phillips stole a quick glance at her rearview mirror. Blinding headlights from the car on her tail suggested she might not make it those point two miles. If this guy came any closer, she could be spending her Christmas Eve in a snowy New Hampshire ditch instead.

Not what a born-and-bred Southern girl was used to.

Lacey had nothing for warmth but a blue-jean coat and her brother’s army beanie hat.

Check that: her deceased brother’s.

“Stay on the road, Lacey,” she said aloud, and tightened her hold on the wheel.

She could almost hear her brother whisper the same words to her. They’d been each other’s spotter on the racetrack for so long, guiding each and every lane change from mouthpiece to earpiece, guarding against unforeseen hazards on the road ahead. Now it felt as though he guided her again. And it all started when Jeff had left her an envelope with nothing in it but a name and a key. Oh, how she wished there had been a warning of danger inside it, as well.

The car behind pulled up. For the past half hour it had kept the same taunting pace with her as when she’d spotted it outside the small town of Norcastle, New Hampshire. She’d thought it curious when they’d both took the cutoff to ascend these secluded mountain roads. Twenty more minutes of being tailgated through twists and turns and more cutoffs had caused her curiosity to change to full-on alarm.

Lacey wondered how long the car had been there before she noticed it. With her one-track mind on the sole purpose of this trip, it could have pulled up the moment she’d left work at her dad’s South Carolina reconstruction race-car shop seventeen hours ago.

Get the answers was as far as her thoughts had gone when she’d found the envelope in her brother’s office at the shop. Now, with her unwanted company coming up the rear, she probably should have put a little more planning into her mission. After all, her brother was dead, and she didn’t believe it was an accident, as the stamp on his military file implied. How far would someone go to keep that little detail under the rug?

Lacey accelerated, hoping to find the driveway her GPS alerted her to. Somewhere in these twisty back roads and walls of thick trees was the entrance to the home of her brother’s friend, Captain Wade Spencer—the name her brother had left in that envelope.

Lacey’s tires slipped beneath her as the car hit ice, something she was not used to. A yank of the wheel and a downshift freed her from the skid, but she realized this two-seater Beater was not the car to take north in the beginning of winter. Reason number 345 she would never make a good wedding planner like her wise and detailed-oriented, Southern-genteel mother. It was just one more disappointment for Adelaide Phillips to lecture her daughter about when Lacey returned home.

If she returned home.

Lacey looked in the rearview mirror again and breathed a little easier with the little extra space between her car and the one behind her, but with the thoughts of her mother permeating her brain now, it wasn’t too much easier.

What would Adelaide do when she heard her rebel daughter had raced off to places unknown to investigate her brother’s death?

Lacey revved her engine, just as she typically did to tune her mother’s sweet-as-sugar voice out of her mind. Then she floored the pedal, and her tires squealed beneath her just as they would on pit road on race day.

She had a mission, and Adelaide would just have to accept it. Lacey took some solace, though, knowing she didn’t completely go alone. She believed she could step out, or drive out, as the case may be, in faith because God always went with her.

Lord, right about now, I could use a little of Your guidance and maybe some more space between me and the car behind me. They’re getting awfully close again. Please, don’t let them interfere with my goal. I have to make things right. Stay with me, and please cover for me with Mama, and please help me find this Wade guy’s place.

Lacey scrutinized the dense forest ahead of her but still saw no inclination of any living being this far out from town. Talk about cutting yourself off from the world, she thought. What kind of person was this Wade any—

Lacey jolted. The car behind her had tapped her bumper! Was he playing some kind of game?

Back home on the track there might have been some words hollered out, or at the very least, an issue of a challenge for such behavior, but she didn’t think for a second this guy cared about his bad sportsmanship. So what did he want? To stop her from getting her answers was all she could fathom.

But she needed these answers for Jeffrey, Lacey reminded herself. She wouldn’t give up until her brother’s life was honored, not locked up in a confidential file somewhere in DC.

The car bumped her again.

Lacey’s stomach squeezed with trepidation. Never did she think she would need an exit strategy. It had always been get the answers and go home. In and out and home by Christmas dinner. End of mission.

She squeezed her steering wheel tighter and jerked when the car bumped her a third time. How she wished she’d been able to equip the Honda Beat for racing already. If she wasn’t stuck in the shop working other drivers’ cars, the Beat would have included at least a roll cage of tubular steel by now. Her ability to fight back would have put an end to the cat-and-mouse game this guy was playing. What was the point in tapping her bumper? Did he want her to move over?

Or to go home?

Not a chance, Lacey thought. She knew a few racers who used bullying tactics like this guy was doing. One tap meant “I’m behind you and want to come up.” Two taps meant “move it, or I’ll move you myself.” And three taps meant “you’ve been warned.”

So was that her third warning?

“You don’t know who you’re tapping, pal,” she spoke into her quiet cabin. “I don’t play the game for them, and I’m not playing it for you.”

“Your destination is on your left.” The GPS announced her arrival and Lacey flinched. Then she cringed. Apparently, she only talked big.

The GPS repeated the instructions, and Lacey flicked her blinker on. The next second, the car behind her jammed the Beat’s rear bumper at full force.

The impact wrenched Lacey’s neck as her head whipped back into her headrest, but she felt nothing because the looming dark abyss coming at her took precedence.

Crunches and squeals resounded as she slammed on the brakes to fight back with the car plowing her to the edge of the road. Her car turned to the right under the pressure from behind. Then before the edge neared, the strain lessened up. The guy backed off, but probably only to save himself from going over with her.

The Beat was already in a full spin. Coupled with the messy roads, the world for Lacey kept swinging round and round as she careened toward the unknown.

She gripped the wheel with one hand as she downshifted. Her headlights came back around to show a drop-off into a black void that would most likely send her down some ravine to be lost until spring.

Maybe never found at all.

Go left. The familiar voice of her brother came from the recesses of her mind. After years of his training with go-carts when she was ten years old, and cars at sixteen, she knew exactly what he would say.

One hard crank of her wheel pulled the car out of the spin and sent her back around, but unfortunately, it sent her in a skid in the opposite direction, straight at the thick, impenetrable tree line she’d been searching through before. The one with no opening, as far as she had been able to tell—and the thick tree trunks with their tentacles of bared branches coming at her said things hadn’t changed. But her headlights showed something was different than before.

Where there was no sign of life before, now a dog ran straight for her, emerging from the forest.

A quick glance behind it and she caught sight of the driveway she’d been looking for. The sharp angle of Captain Wade Spencer’s property was invisible to passersby, but his golden-red Labrador retriever had revealed its opening to her now as her car took aim to gun it down.

Her brake pedal plastered to the floor. The tires’ skid locked their direction on their target. Lacey could do nothing but cry out to God to intervene and save the dog barreling forward.

As if by command, the animal abruptly came to a stop and sat—directly in the car’s path.

“No!” Lacey shouted. That was not what she meant by intervening! At least if the dog was still running, there was a chance of it moving out of the way before impact. Now things could not get worse.

Tears blurred Lacey’s vision, and wails of protest erupted from her lips. She did not want to kill this dog.

Then things got worse.

In addition to the sitting dog, a man now raced out from behind the trees, straight for the canine.

Lacey screamed louder than ever. The skid moved as if in slow motion. The whole incident couldn’t have taken more than a minute from the first bump to this final skid, but in that minute she saw the devastation her impulsiveness was about to cause. If only she had thought this trip through. If only she had been more like the wise Adelaide Phillips.

If only.

Lacey closed her eyes, unable to watch the outcome to her choices, a prayer of forgiveness on her lips and regret in her heart.

* * *

Head. Check.

Feet. Check.

Arms. Check.

Wade Spencer lay in a cold, snow-filled ditch between the trees where he’d landed when he saved his dog from the out-of-control driver. All was negative with his self-exam, a routine that four tours overseas had formed into a habit. His next exam consisted of judging the well-being of Promise, his faithful dog.

Wade lifted his hand to look her over. He burrowed his fingers through her snow-covered fur for injuries. She jumped to all four paws without any problem and shook off the white flakes with little effort. His battle buddy would live to serve another day.

Now, as for the driver, he should be serving, too.

Time.

Wade gained his feet and trudged through the knee-deep snow of the ditch. He stomped up onto the road where the car spun out and came to a halt—right where Promise had been sitting under his command.

If Wade had known a car had been aiming for her, he would have commanded Promise to run, not sit. Out of the hundred and fifty commands the dog knew, any of them would have been better.

At the top of the driveway, he’d heard the car spinning out. His mind had gone to one of the many dark places of his tours where mishaps had been deadly. His feet had responsively set out to be of help in this mishap. Promise had kept up at her place beside him, but she must have thought they were playing, because she’d quickly raced ahead of him. All Wade could do was yell for her to sit. Being the good service dog she was, she did—right in front of the car.

Wade faced the hood of the heap of rust now and heard the words, “You have arrived at your destination” coming from the mechanical voice of the driver’s GPS. The message nearly knocked him over again.

The driver meant to stay?

“I don’t think so.” Wade approached the driver’s side. “This is not your destination. You can keep right on driving.”

A woman in her late twenties sat stock-still behind the wheel, her window blown out from the tree branch she’d collided with. She wore a jean coat and a knitted cap, and her long hair, smooth as liquid chocolate, spilled out from beneath it. The GPS repeated its words again, but all Wade focused on was the terror in the woman’s saucer-size eyes.

Wade pulled the car handle and swung the door wide; the tinkling of falling glass fizzled his tension a bit. The cabin light illuminated the fear in the woman’s face, a pair of brown eyes shimmered and a tear spilled down her blanched cheek. He let the rest of his anger go on a grunt. “Are you hurt?”

She shook her head, but her lips trembled in silence. She squeaked out, “Are you? Or the dog? Did I k-kill the dog?”

Wade gave two sharp whistles, and Promise sidled up beside him with her tail wagging, her bushy eyebrows bouncing up and down as was her typical inquisitive way. “See for yourself.”

A wail escaped the woman’s lips, followed by a bucket of tears.

Wade sighed and reached for her hand to pull her out.

“I’m so sorry,” she cried. “I didn’t see... The car was in a skid.”

“Your South Carolina plates give away your knowledge of the winters up here in New Hampshire, so I’ll cut you some slack, but—”

“And someone was following me. They nearly killed me when they banged into me.”

“Banged into you?” Wade searched up and down the empty street. He dropped her hand to step to the back end of the car. The dent proved her statement. “Which way did they go?”

“I don’t know,” she cried. “I was too busy staying on the road and not going over the ledge.”

“Ledge?” Wade snapped his attention from the dark road to the very ledge that had brought the endless tunnel of darkness to his whole life. An image of another woman, his mother, dead, her neck twisted, flashed in his mind. Just one of the many images of dead people his mind remembered on a daily basis. His breathing picked up.

“Yes, the ledge. I thought I was going over it for sure.” She pointed to it then grabbed her head, pulling the cap off in her anxiety. “I can still see it coming closer and closer.”

Wade nearly grabbed his own head, knowing firsthand the terror she spoke of.

Except, he’d actually gone over—and lived to remember every horrifying detail.

“I need to go,” he said quickly, needing to get away. “You need to go. I can’t help you. Side, Promise.”

He didn’t need to command. Promise already stood by. Wade grabbed the bandanna tied to her collar. She should have her leash on, he admonished himself for his gaffe. The leash was his lifeline to her. Through the leash, Promise could get a read on his physiological well-being. She could sense his heart rate just by his tugs and pulls. But he’d left her leash at the house in their rush to get some fresh air away from his sister. Now he willingly rushed back to Roni’s never-ending pleas for him to retire from the military and move back to New Hampshire. He’d endure her plights.

Anything but reliving that crash.

Wade’s hands trembled, and vibrations shook his whole body. His hypervigilant state of mind brought on fierce shakes that had nothing to do with the frigid temperature and everything to do with the injury deep inside him. It was an injury no one could see, except for the few effects that showed on the outside.

“Wait!” the woman called on his heels. Wade picked up his steps.

“I’ll call the police for you when I get to the house,” he said, hoping that would suffice.

“Please, stop. I can’t go anywhere until I speak with Captain Wade Spencer.”

Wade tripped in the snow at her words, but the squeezing of his chest still propelled him forward. He wondered what this woman could want with him. Did one of his men need him? As captain, he needed to be there for them, even when he couldn’t function himself.

“Please,” she pleaded. “I can barely breathe, never mind have my faculties about me to operate a car. I really need to speak with Captain Spencer. Are you him?”

He walked on, calling out, “What do you want with Wade Spencer?”

“My brother sent me to see him.”

“Who’s your brother?”

“Jeff Phillips.”

“Liar.” Wade whipped around to face her, now ready to fight instead of take flight. In a hypervigilant state, either worked.

Promise didn’t miss a beat. She sat at attention by his side, eyes sharp, body poised for her next instructions.

“I’m not lying. He told me to come.” The woman’s lips trembled.

“He’s dead, so he couldn’t have told you anything.”

Her face crumpled right before him. Her soft features grew taut. She grabbed at her chest, and he wondered if she felt what he experienced. He hoped not. He didn’t wish the debilitation of PTSD on anyone.

She dropped her hand to her stomach and wrapped it around her midriff. “I don’t think I’ll ever fully accept those words. Jeff’s been dead for three weeks, and it still doesn’t compute.” She swiped a palm across her eyes. “Can you just tell me where I can find Wade Spencer?”

Wade felt his hands shaking. Promise noticed, too. As was her special way, she pushed her soft and firm head into his palm. He latched on like a drowning victim, digging his fingers deep. A few strokes across her fur and air slowly filtered into his lungs again. The vise in his chest released a bit of its pressure, but his clenched jaw stayed in its grip.

“I’m Wade,” he admitted between his teeth, still petting Promise.

“Oh, I’m so glad I made it.” She sniffed. “I was beginning to think you didn’t exist. That my brother made you up.”

“I exist.” Barely. His chest constricted again.

“My brother’s death wasn’t an accident. I just know it. The army passed me off from one official to another, and they all have the same lame story. A mechanical issue on an engine he was working on.” She sputtered as if the words made her laugh. “My brother, mechanic extraordinaire, had a mechanical malfunction that blew up in his face. What a joke.”

Wade’s whole body rocked from a tremble, starting from his feet straight up to his shoulders. “It’s no joke. It’s the truth.” Promise whined, and Wade knew it was because he was breathing heavy. “It’s best if you keep your nose out of where it doesn’t belong and go home.”

Wade left her there with her mouth agape. He needed to get away before he lost all control over his body and writhed on the ground before her. Besides, he didn’t believe the lame story the military offered about her brother, either, and that meant what she didn’t know could save her life.

“Please...” She was back to playing his shadow. “Jeff was killed on purpose, wasn’t he? Just tell me, Mr. Spencer. Who killed him?”

Wade halted and spun around. “I did!” His chest heaved up and down. “And unless you want to die, too, you’ll do as I say and go home.” If that didn’t make her disappear, nothing would.

The swishing of her shoes in the snow didn’t follow him this time. He walked alone with his service dog. At the bend he gave one last look and found the driveway empty except for the footprints she’d left behind.

Mission accomplished.

He continued on his way, but before he could take two more steps, a blast shot into the night. Wade flew to the ground, hunting for cover like so many times before. He sought the dark forest in all directions for a sniper as the gunshot echoed back at him through the trees.

The terrors of combat banged into Wade’s head just as the reverberating sound of the explosion had thrown him further than to the ground. It had sent him back to battles he wished to forget but knew he never would. No longer did he feel the frozen snow beneath his face and hands, but instead it was the hot dusty sand of his tours overseas that took control of his mind.