High-Stakes Holiday Reunion
New alarm spread through her. She straightened, forcing herself not to grab him. “But what if they’re still there?”
His jaw flexed. “I haven’t heard a sound in a half hour.”
“But—”
“I’ll be careful, Ashley. I’ve been in hostile situations before. I can handle myself.”
She stared at him a moment, knowing that his mind was equally as strong and tough as his well-defined muscles and quick reflexes. She had to trust him. What other choice did she have? Finally, she nodded.
She wanted to blurt out everything on her mind before he walked to his possible death.
Just in case you never come back, I thought you should know that I found out a month after we broke up that I was pregnant with your child. My brother adopted the baby, and his name is David. I’ve been wanting to tell you for years...
She sucked on her bottom lip.
It’s your son who was snatched today.
How exactly did someone tell her ex-fiancé that?
How did she tell him that back when they’d been young and foolish, that one night of passion had turned into a baby? The sweetest little baby that Ashley had ever laid eyes on. Giving him up for adoption had been the most gut-wrenching thing she’d ever done. But she couldn’t provide for a baby. Not only had she been in college and without a job or the ability to get a job that paid more than minimum wage, but then there was the car accident that happened when David was only two months old. Ashley had spent six months in the hospital, and she’d had months of physical therapy after that. Her brother and his wife had been so desperate for a child and she’d been unable to take care of little David. They’d adopted him before his first birthday.
That’s why she knew Christopher was the only person who could help her right now. This was his son.
Everything that she’d tried so carefully to control was slipping away. She couldn’t protect David. She couldn’t keep Christopher at a distance. She would have to face her fears and eventually tell Christopher the truth. The walls she’d so carefully constructed were coming down fast.
She sucked in a long, deep breath. Silence surrounded her again. Was Christopher okay? She’d heard nothing since he left.
At least nothing meant no gunfire, either. Right?
How long did she wait before checking on him? She glanced at her watch. Ten more minutes. That was as long as she could possibly stand it. What if he was bleeding and hurt? What if he needed her help? She’d sent him into a battle that wasn’t his to fight.
She let her head fall back against the cold tile wall. All was quiet. Suspiciously quiet. The silence was driving her mad.
She stood and began pacing the small space. Maybe she could go to the window and peer out. She could be quick and quiet.
It beat sitting here and doing nothing.
Before she could second-guess herself, she twisted the doorknob. Slowly, she pushed the door open. Her gaze roamed the space there. Everything looked the same. No figures lurked in the shadows...she didn’t think, at least.
She took her first step out, every cell of her body alert and ready to pounce into action. Slowly, she tiptoed across the floor to the window, not relaxing for even a second. Would someone jump out at her? Were they lying in wait?
She ducked low under the window and carefully raised her head to peer out. She flinched when she saw all of the windows in Christopher’s house had been shattered. Christmas wreathes that had once graced the glass panes now lay like corpses on the deck and in the flower beds.
She watched for a sign of movement, but saw nothing. Where was Christopher? What was taking him so long?
She crawled across the floor to the closet. Was there anything left in here she could use as a weapon? She spotted a vacuum, some old coats and a wooden bar full of clothes hangers that stretched across the top. It would have to do. She stood and wedged the bar from its holders. It wasn’t much, but at least it was something.
Doubt filled her as she crept toward the door. She shouldn’t do this. But she had to. If they were going to shoot her, they would shoot her. But if they were gone and Christopher needed help, then she had to get downstairs.
Stark fear gripped her as she opened the door. She listened. Nothing except the wind blowing some stray leaves across the ground. Her heart leaped into her throat when she saw blood across the wooden landing at her feet.
Blood? Whose blood? What had happened? She followed the trail all the way to the bottom. Someone had been shot up here and then dragged back down. Terror rose in her.
She couldn’t turn back now. If she let fear dictate what she did, she might be in the bathroom for days, afraid to leave. But each step down the stairs felt like a step closer to her death.
Be strong, Ashley. You can do this. She’d never been a quitter. Not even when she gave David up for adoption. No, she’d simply been giving him the opportunity for a better life—a life that she could still be a part of.
But if she hadn’t given him up for adoption, would he be in this situation now? Regret squeezed her heart again. She couldn’t think like that. Not now.
She continued her descent. Everything remained silent. She gripped the wooden rod like a baseball bat, wishing it would protect her from bullets.
At the bottom of the stairs, she saw that the blood trail ended at the edge of the deck. Whoever had been shot had been dragged onto the grass. Into the woods? She couldn’t be sure.
She swung her head back up, soaking in her surroundings. She had to pay attention. Her life depended on it.
The back door of Christopher’s house was wide open. She paused at the corner of the garage and slowly peered around. Nothing. No one. As quickly as possible, she darted across the deck. She stopped at the doorway.
With baited breath, she raked her gaze across the inside. Lots of broken glass. A splintered coffee table. The Christmas tree lay wounded on its side.
But no one was in sight. Not even Christopher.
Certainly he hadn’t abandoned her. Not again.
She shook her head. No, he wouldn’t do that. Not in this situation.
Still, doubt trickled down her spine. Trust was such a fragile, fickle thing at times.
She stepped inside. Glass crunched at her feet. She froze, waiting for the telltale sound that someone had heard her.
Nothing.
Slowly, carefully, she crept forward. She kept her back to the wall. Her breathing sounded so heavy in her own ears that she wondered if she’d even hear someone sneak up on her.
When she heard a noise upstairs, she knew she would.
Someone was in the house. Had that person killed Christopher, dragged his body into the woods and gone back upstairs to check for her?
Just then, the stairs creaked. Someone was coming down. Coming toward her.
She glanced around, desperate for a place to hide. Instead, she pressed herself into the wall.
When the intruder got to the bottom of the steps, she would swing the stick and hit him.
And she’d pray that her hit would knock him out.
But before she had a chance to swing, a gun cocked behind her, and the fear that was becoming all too familiar froze her blood—again.
FOUR
Christopher approached the intruder from behind, veering off the main staircase at the last minute and taking a second set of stairs on the other end of the house. There was still one person in the house. Just one, best he could tell.
It was dark, void of any light. The air was hazy, evidence of a smoke bomb. And the smell of ammunition hung heavy in the atmosphere.
The sounds, the smells...they all reminded him of another time, another place.
A time and place he was trying to forget.
He rounded the corner and spotted someone crouching beneath the first staircase. Crouching, ready to attack?
He cocked his gun, drawing on all of his training. It was time to get some answers.
“Don’t move,” he commanded. “Or I’ll shoot.”
The figure twirled around, a stick in hand. Wide, familiar eyes met his. Fear stretched across their depths.
His muscles relaxed a moment, but the relief was quickly replaced with agitation. “Ashley? Are you crazy? I told you stay in the garage!”
“Christopher?” Ashley blinked, her stick still hoisted over her shoulder as if she might swing.
He lowered his gun and glared at the woman in front of him. Even in the dark, Christopher could tell that her face was void of any color or life. “Yes, it’s me. It’s a good thing I didn’t shoot you. I heard the glass crunching downstairs and thought the men were back to finish the job.”
“I saw the blood on the stairs. I thought you were...dead. I...”
He raised an eyebrow. “You were coming to defeat the bad guys with a dowel rod?”
She shrugged. “I had to do something. I couldn’t stay up there forever.”
He stepped closer so she would be sure to see the irritation in his gaze. “I told you I’d be back.”
She didn’t look away. She was still as stubborn as ever. “You’ve been gone for hours.”
“Twenty minutes.” He sliced his hand through the air. “Twenty minutes is all.”
She frowned and lowered her stick before jutting out her chin again. “It felt like hours.”
He scowled again and ran a hand over his face as he dragged in a ragged breath. Images of war continued to beat at him. They tried to transport him back in time. He wouldn’t let them. Still, Ashley coming up on him like that could have been ugly. Really ugly. That was the second time he’d pulled a gun on her in less than four hours. “Are you okay?”
She nodded, strain pulling at each of her features. “I’m fine. Are the men gone?”
“Best I can tell. They messed this place up, didn’t they?” His gaze roamed around them. It looked like a massacre, only thankfully, the only casualties were his furniture, belongings and the house itself.
“I’m sorry,” she blurted. “I should have never come.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. This is just stuff. It can be fixed. Besides, you weren’t the one with the gun.”
Big, luminous eyes looked up to meet his. “Who was? Who were those men?”
He looked away before he got lost in the depths of those baby blues and shook his head. “I have no idea. But they mean serious business.”
“Why’d they leave?”
“That’s what I want to know, also. They didn’t do all of this damage just to send a message. They used a smoke bomb and everything. They came here to kill us. I want to know why they left before finishing the job.”
“And where did the blood come from by the garage?”
“Another great question.” He put his hand on her back. “I know one thing. We’re getting out of here before they decide to come back. I called Eyes and they’re sending some men out. They should be here any minute, but we’re not waiting around.”
“Where are we going?”
“I have an idea.” He led her toward the front door.
She reached back. “My phone. It was in the living room.”
“Forget about it. That’s probably how they traced you here. All those new-fangled phones have built-in GPSs. You’re better off without it.” He grabbed his jacket—surprisingly still intact—from the back of a chair.
“But what if Josh or David try to call?”
“If you’re dead, it will do no good.”
They stepped out of the front door—which had been ripped from its hinges—and onto the front porch. His truck had bullet holes in the window also, but the tires looked fine. “I’m glad you’re wearing a coat. It might be a cold ride.”
He opened the door and, using the thick sleeve of his jacket, he brushed broken glass shards from the seat. Then he ushered Ashley inside, instructing her to be careful. They didn’t have much time. Every minute counted.
He cranked the engine—and the heat—and turned around in the driveway. The cold wind hit his face as he took off down the road. Ashley sat beside him, seat belt strapped across her chest, and her arms wrapped over her. He wished he had a blanket to offer her. Instead, he pulled off his coat and draped it over her.
“You’re going to freeze,” she muttered.
“You’re always cold, even without thirty-degree wind hitting you in the face. I’ll be fine.”
He remembered that about her. He remembered a lot about her. Now wasn’t the time to think about those things. Now he had to think about staying alive.
This was not what he needed right now. No, right now he needed time to enjoy a quieter pace. He needed time to let his soul heal.
But instead, God had brought Ashley Wilson back into his life.
As if that wasn’t more of an emotional storm than he could handle, throw in the fact that someone was trying to kill her and, in effect, him also.
This was not the relaxing, healing time he’d anticipated when he’d come home and taken this new job.
When he’d last spoken to Ashley, she’d been finishing up her degree at a local college. She’d been working two jobs, trying to make ends meet. He’d always said that she was one of the hardest workers he’d ever met. She’d been focused, at the top of her class in academics and determined to do things on her own. Her dad had retired on disability after an injury at work, and money had been tight with her family. She’d even had the opportunity to play volleyball on a partial scholarship for a college down in North Carolina, but she’d turned it down to be close to her mom, dad and brother.
Guilt plagued him about that decision. He knew part of the reason she’d said no to that scholarship was because of him. They’d been planning their future together. She’d wanted to stick close by both for her family and because she felt it was important to give their relationship the time and effort it required.
Was she angry still? He couldn’t blame her if she was. He’d broken her heart.
“I can’t believe this is happening,” Ashley muttered.
“It feels surreal to me, too, if it makes you feel better.”
She shook her head. “I just want to wake up and discover this is all a bad dream.”
He wondered if by all she included him? Probably.
His eyes watered from the wind. Thankfully, he didn’t see anyone behind him. A glance at his watch told him it was past midnight now. There wasn’t usually much traffic out on these back roads, especially not at this time of night.
From the corner of his eye, he saw Ashley shivering in the seat beside him. If he’d had another vehicle, he would have driven it. But desperate times called for desperate measures. Wasn’t that how the saying went?
He took back roads, all the way from Isle of Wight where he lived, through the neighboring Suffolk into Chesapeake and finally to Virginia Beach. Nearly an hour after he left, he pulled up to a guardhouse, showed his ID, had his truck searched as standard procedure and pulled through the gates.
“Where are we?” Ashley asked.
“We’re at Iron, Incorporated’s headquarters. You’ll be safe here for the night. I promise.”
* * *
Ashley stared at the huge, lodgelike building in front of her. So this was the prestigious paramilitary contracting firm she’d heard hints about. They were secretive in what they did, but people around town always whispered about them with pride. Rumors had it that they’d guarded ambassadors in the Middle East and developed cutting-edge technology that was soon to be released to help keep soldiers safer. They were said to be the best of the best.
She didn’t feel like soaking in the awe of the Eyes’ campus, though. She couldn’t even feel her skin anymore, not after the brutal wind had frozen it on the way here. All she wanted was to get off this roller-coaster ride for a moment and clear her head.
When they pulled to a stop, she didn’t wait for Christopher to get her door. Instead, she opened it, watching as some leftover glass rained to the ground below. She slid out, landing with a bounce on the asphalt.
They started walking toward the door when Christopher called her name and stopped her. He reached for her hair. Just the feeling of his fingers tangled in her tresses caused a shiver to race down her spine. It was like her body was betraying her. It should know better than to get warm fuzzies about Christopher, especially after all that had happened.
He held up a shiny speck. “Just some glass.”
She nodded, stuffed her hands in her pockets and kept walking. Christopher hurried ahead to the door and pulled it open for her. She gladly stepped inside the quiet and warm space. Her gaze swept the area—the ceiling stretched more than two stories high. Fireplaces flanked either side of the large lobby, which was also filled with leather couches and plush rugs. A majestic Christmas tree stretched high in the corner, filled with ornaments that looked like they’d been made by schoolchildren. She didn’t have time to dwell on that now. She walked over to the fireplace and knelt in front of it, letting the heat melt her frozen limbs.
“I’m going to get coffee,” Christopher called. “You still like yours black?”
She nodded, holding her hands up to the flames. He remembered. What did she expect? That he’d totally forgotten about their time together? That he’d erased it from his memory?
He returned a moment later with a steaming mug. She remained in front of the fire and took a sip. The liquid burned her mouth, but she didn’t care. Warmth was more important now. Maybe it would cause her shivers to finally stop.
“I’ve got to make a phone call, Ashley. Are you going to be okay here for a moment?”
She nodded again, wishing he wasn’t acting so concerned. It was easier not to like him if he acted mean and nasty. But when had he ever been mean and nasty?—unless you counted when he broke up with her. But even then, he’d been compassionate. His eyes had even welled with tears at one point.
The day flashed back into her memory. She could tell that something was wrong when he’d called her by phone. His voice had sounded too serious, too strained.
He’s going to tell me he’s going to the Middle East again, she’d thought.
She’d braced herself for the conversation, fluctuating between wanting to be supportive and wanting to beg him to stay.
Be a good fiancée. Accept that this is his job. Let him go, even if it means postponing the wedding.
He’d asked if they could meet down at the Virginia Beach boardwalk—one of their favorite places. She’d bundled up—it was cold outside—and waited for him on their favorite bench. Die-hard joggers had paced past, seagulls had complained overhead, salty air had filled her nostrils.
As soon as she’d seen Christopher walking toward her, she could tell something was wrong.
Her spine had stiffened. This is about more than Afghanistan, isn’t it? But what? In their two years together, they’d never even had a major fight. That’s how easy and natural their relationship had been.
Those expressive green eyes had held torn emotions as he sat beside her. His shoulders even looked burdened. “I can’t be with you, Ashley,” he’d told her.
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve realized that I can’t be a good SEAL and a good husband.”
“What are you talking about?” She’d blinked back her confusion, certain that she hadn’t heard him correctly. What he said didn’t make sense.
He’d grabbed her hand. “You’re the only person I want to be with, Ashley. But that’s not fair to my country. I promised them I would protect our freedoms. I’m not doing that when I’m thinking about you. Being a SEAL...it’s almost like being married. And I’ve already made that commitment.”
“You’re breaking up with me?” Her voice had cracked in disbelief. How had things gone from perfect to this?
Water had filled his eyes. “I’m sorry, Ashley. I’ve been pretending I could do both, but it’s become clear that I can’t.”
She snapped back to the present and the blazing fire in front of her. Funny, she hadn’t thought about Christopher’s tear-filled eyes in a long time. Oh, she’d thought about the breakup, but somehow she’d blocked out memories of how anguished he’d looked during their conversation. Christopher was the last person she wanted to be thinking about right now.
She dragged her mind from one bad thought to another—David. Where was he right now? Was he warm? Comfortable? Had they fed him?
She took another sip of coffee, her hands still trembling as her heart ached.
Please, Lord, don’t let him be scared.
As anxiety squeezed her, she nearly dropped her coffee when a hand reached out and grabbed it. She looked up and saw Christopher there. Just in the nick of time. Again. Like always.
Except when he’d left her.
She had to stop thinking about that and start concentrating solely on the matters at hand. Her heart was just in such a fragile state right now that it kept going other places. Christopher helped her into a plush chair. She set her coffee on the table, unsure if her hands could hold it any longer.
“Two of the guys from Eyes are coming down. Jack and Denton. They’re still here, working on a big project for the Department of Defense. They’re the best. They’ll be able to help.”
“Thank you,” she mumbled. After a few minutes of silence stretched between them, she asked, “How’d you end up here, Christopher? I never thought you’d leave the military. I thought you’d be a career guy.”
A new somberness seemed to come over him. “So did I. But life changes sometimes. It was time.”
“How long have you been back?”
“Three months.” He changed the subject. “How about you? You still a web designer?”
She nodded. “Started my own business about five years ago.”
“You’re a business owner now?”
“I was working for a corporation, but I was miserable. Great benefits, great pay, but no fulfillment, you know what I mean? So I took a leap of faith and started my own company. I design websites for some major companies, all while working in the luxury of my own home. I’ve been really blessed.”
A smile spread over his face. “I know that’s what you always wanted to do. I’m glad you were able to.”
“Yeah, at least some things worked out according to plan.” She clamped her mouth shut. Now why had she gone and said that? It wasn’t very mature of her. She glanced at her hands. “I’m sorry.”
“I deserved it.”
“No, you didn’t. I don’t know what’s gotten into me.”
“All of this is a lot to handle. I think you’re doing just fine.”
Her gaze connected with his. “It’s only by God’s grace we’re alive, isn’t it?”
“I couldn’t agree more.”
She stared at him. He meant those words, didn’t he? When they’d known each other before, neither had been Christians. She must have stared at him long enough that he felt obligated to give an explanation.
“When you’ve seen some of the things that I saw over in the Middle East, you start believing there’s a God pretty quickly.”
“I’d imagine.” When you have to give your child up for adoption, you start believing pretty quickly, too. She kept that part to herself.
Just then, two men tromped down the stairs. She drew in a deep breath, ready to formulate a plan to get her brother and son back.
* * *
Jack Sergeant, the CEO of Eyes, and Mark Denton, his second in command, came to a stop in front of them. Both looked like they’d been working long hours. They’d abandoned their ties and coats. The top button of Denton’s white shirt was open and the shadow of a beard had already formed on his cheeks.
Mark—who went by Denton—had helped to train Christopher as a SEAL before going to work for the CIA. He’d been Christopher’s contact in getting a job here and, for that, Christopher was grateful.
Christopher trusted Jack and Denton more than if they’d been brothers. Both had been SEALs and had earned reputations as being trustworthy and loyal, as well as innovative and at the top of their game in the paramilitary contracting world. He’d jumped at the chance to come work for them.
They introduced themselves to Ashley. Jack put his hands on his hips, his brow furrowed with concern. “What’s going on?”