Her Christmas Hero: Christmas Justice / Snow Blind / Christmas at Thunder Horse Ranch

“Molly, get back!”

The little girl hesitated, sending a shiver of fear through Laurel. Why couldn’t her niece have stayed asleep in the car, buckled into her car seat? Ever since that horrific night four days ago, she couldn’t handle Laurel being out of sight, knew instinctively when she wasn’t near.

Suddenly, Garrett rolled off her body, slipped her gun into his hand and rose to his feet with cougarlike grace. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to hurt either of you.” He tucked her weapon into his pants and stared her down.

She sucked in a wary breath before her five-year-old niece dived into her arms. “Are you okay, Aunt Laurel?”

She wound her arms around her niece and stared up at Garrett, body tense. “You’re my hero, Molly.” She forced her voice to remain calm. At least the little girl hadn’t lost the fire in her belly. It was the first spark Laurel had seen from her since the explosion.

Molly clutched at Laurel but glared at Garrett.

He struggled to keep a straight face and a kindness laced his eyes as he looked at Molly.

For the first time in days, the muscles at the base of Laurel’s neck relaxed. Maybe she’d made the right decision after all.

Not that she’d had a choice. There’d been nothing on the national news about her family. No mention of gunfire or Ivy being killed by a bullet to the head. There had been a small piece about an SUV burning, but they’d blamed a downed power line. That was the second Laurel had known she was truly on her own.

Until now.

She hated counting on anyone but herself. She and her sister had been schooled in that lesson after their mother had died. With their father gone, Ivy and Laurel had been pretty much in charge of each other.

But Laurel was out of her league. She knew it. She didn’t have to like it.

She held Molly closer and studied Garrett Galloway. Something about him invited trust, but could she trust her instincts? Would this man whose expression displayed an intent to kill one moment and compassion the next help her? She prayed her sister had been right, that he was one of the good guys.

Garrett tilted back his Stetson. “I could have...” He glanced at Molly, his meaning clear.

Laurel got it. She and Molly would be dead...if he’d wanted them dead.

“...already finished the job,” he said harshly. “I’m not going to.”

“How did you know my name?”

He raised a brow and slipped his Beretta into the shoulder holster and returned her weapon. “I know your father. Your picture is on his desk at...work.”

His expression spoke volumes. She got it. Garrett had worked with her father in an OGA. While the CIA had a name and a reputation, her father’s Other Government Agency had none. Classified funding, classified missions, classified results. And the same agency where Ivy had worked. Alarm bells rang in Laurel’s head. Her sister had sent Laurel to a man working with the same people who might be behind the bomb blast. And yet, who better to help?

Garrett held out his hand to her. “You look like you’ve been on the road awhile,” he said. “How about something to eat? Then we can talk.”

Laurel hesitated, but what was she supposed to do? She’d come to this small West Texas town for one reason, and one reason only. To find Garrett Galloway.

She didn’t know what she’d expected. He could have stepped off the set of a hit television show in his khaki shirt, badge, dark brown hat and leather jacket. Piercing brown eyes that saw right through her.

If she’d imagined wanting to ride off into the sunset with someone, it would be Garrett Galloway. But now that she’d found him, what was she going to do with him?

He didn’t pull back his hand. He waited. He knew. With a sigh, she placed her hand in his. He pulled her to her feet. Molly scrambled up and hid behind Laurel, peering up at Garrett.

He cocked his head at the little girl. Laurel sucked in a slow breath. Molly’s face held that fearful expression that hadn’t left her since they’d run from Virginia, as if any second she might cry. But then her eyes widened. She stared at Garrett, so tall and strong in his dark pants and cowboy boots, a star on his chest.

He was a protector. Laurel could tell and so, evidently, could Molly.

Garrett met her gaze and she recognized the understanding on his face. “Come with me,” he said quietly.

“I have my car—”

He shook his head. “Grab your things and leave it. If anyone followed, I don’t want them to know who you came to see.”

“I was careful. I spent an entire extra day to get here due to all the detours.”

“If you’d recognized you had a tail, you’d already be dead.” His flat words spoke the truth of the danger they were in. He walked over to the vehicle and pulled out the large tote she used as a suitcase, slinging it on his shoulder opposite his gun hand. All their belongings were in the bag. “Until I’m certain, we act like you have one.”

Laurel stiffened. In normal circumstances she could take care of herself and Molly. As if sensing her vulnerability, Garrett stepped closer.

“You came to me,” Garrett said. “You may have blown my cover. You need to listen.”

He was on assignment. She should have known.

She prided herself on her self-reliance, her ability to handle most any situation, but his expression had gone intense and wary, and that worried her. Ivy had been a skilled operative. She had always been careful, and she was dead. Laurel had to face reality. She’d jumped into the deep end of the pool her first day on the run and Garrett Galloway was the lifeguard.

She swallowed away the distaste of having to rely on him, nodded and lifted Molly into her arms. “How far?”

“Across town,” he said, his gaze scanning the perimeter yet again.

“A few blocks, then?” Laurel said with an arch of her brow.

Garrett cocked his head and one side of his mouth tilted in a small smile. His eyes lightened when he didn’t frown.

“Let’s go.”

One block under their feet had Laurel’s entire body pulsing with nerves. She’d never seen anyone with the deadly focus that Garrett possessed. He walked silently, even in boots, and seemed aware of each shadow and movement.

Suddenly he stopped. He shoved her and Molly back against the fence, pulling his gun out. Then she heard it. The purr of an engine. It grew louder, then softer. He relaxed and tilted his head, looking from Laurel to Molly. “Let’s move.”

Molly gazed up at him, her eyes wide. She looked ready to cry. He tilted the Stetson on his head. “You ready for something to eat, sugar?” He gifted her with a confident smile.

Just his strong presence soothed Molly. For Laurel, his nearness had the opposite effect. She wanted to pull away, because the draw she felt—the odd urge to let herself move into his arms—well, that was something she hadn’t felt before. She’d never allowed herself to be this vulnerable. Not ever.

He could snap her neck or take her life, but he might also do worse. This man could take over and she might lose herself.

A dog’s howl broke through the night, followed by more barking. As Garrett led them through the town in silence, Molly clung to Laurel. Her eyes grew heavy and her body lax. The poor thing was exhausted, just like her aunt.

Garrett matched his steps with hers. “Whatever brought you here, it was bad, wasn’t it?” He bent toward Laurel, his breath near her ear, the words soft.

She couldn’t stop the burning well of tears behind her eyes. She had no reserves left. She wanted nothing more than to lean closer and have him put his arm around her. She couldn’t. She recognized her weakness. Her emotions hovered just beneath the surface, and she’d be damned if she’d let them show.

In self-preservation, she tilted her head forward, expecting her long hair to curtain her face, to hide her feelings, but nothing happened. She ran a hand through the chopped locks. Gone was her unique titian hair, and in its place, she’d dyed it a nondescript brown that stopped at her chin. She had to blend in.

“I understand,” he said, his voice gruff. “Better than you know.”

Before Laurel could ponder his statement, he picked up the pace. “My house is ten minutes away. Across Main and around a corner two blocks.”

With each step they took, the blinking lights and garlands, then the tinsel, came into full effect. He paused and shifted them behind a tree, studying the street.

Molly peered around him, her small mouth forming a stunned O. “Aunt Laurel, lookie. It’s Christmas here.” The little girl swallowed and bowed her head until it rested on Laurel’s shoulder. “Our Christmas is far away.”

Laurel patted her niece’s back. “Christmas will follow us, Molly Magoo. It might be different this year, but it will still happen.”

Molly looked at her, then at the decorations lining the town, her gaze hopeful. “Will Mommy and Daddy come back by then?”

“We’ll talk about it later,” Laurel whispered. She didn’t know what to say. Even though Molly had seen the explosion, she still hadn’t processed the reality that her mother, father, brother and sister were never coming back.

She gritted her teeth. As a grown woman, she didn’t know how long it would take her to accept her family’s death. That she was alone in the world. Except for Molly.

“We need to move fast.” Garrett held out his arm. Main Street through Trouble wasn’t much. Two lanes, a single stoplight. “Go.” They were halfway to the other side when an engine roared to life. Tires squealed; the vehicle thundered directly at them.

Garrett pushed them behind a cinder-block wall, dumped the tote, then rolled to the ground, leaving himself vulnerable.

A spray of gunfire ratcheted above Laurel’s head as she hit the ground. Molly cried out. Laurel covered the little girl’s trembling body and pulled her weapon. She lifted her head, scooting forward. To get a clean shot, she’d have to leave Molly. Bullets thwacked; concrete chips rained down. Laurel tucked Molly closer, gripping the butt of her gun.

A series of shots roared from behind the wall.

Skidding tires took off.

At the sound, Laurel eased forward, weapon raised. She half expected the worst, but Garrett lay on the ground, still alive, his gun aimed at the retreating SUV. He squeezed off two more rounds, then let out a low curse.

She couldn’t catch her breath. They’d found her.

“What’s going on out there?” An old man’s voice called out, and the unmistakable sound of a pump-action shotgun seared through the dark.

“I’m handling it, Mr. McCreary,” Garrett called out. “It’s Sheriff Galloway. Get back inside.”

A door slammed.

Garrett held his weapon at the ready for several more seconds, then picked up his phone. “Shots fired just off Oak and First, Keller,” he said to his deputy. “Activate the emergency system and order everyone to stay inside. I’ll get back to you when it’s clear.”

He shoved the phone in his pocket and ran to Laurel. “Everybody safe?”

Molly sobbed in Laurel’s arms. She clutched the girl tighter. Laurel didn’t know how much more her niece could take.

“Come on.” Tension lining his face, he scooped up Molly. His boots thudded on the ground; Laurel carried their belongings and her footsteps pounded closely behind. He led them down an alley to the rear of a row of houses. Then, when he reached the back of one house, he pulled a set of keys from his pocket. “We’ve got to get out of sight. Plus, I have supplies to gather. Then we need a safe place to hole up.”

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I brought this to you.”

He gave a curt nod. “Who knew you were coming to Texas?”

“No—no one.”

“Who told you about me? Your father?” Garrett said.

“My...my sister.”

“Ivy?” Garrett’s brow furrowed. “She worked for the agency, but we never tackled an op together.”

Laurel bit her lip. “My sister said your name with her dying breath. She said to tell you that you were right.”

* * *

THE SUV THUNDERED down the highway and out of Trouble. Mike Strickland slammed his foot on the accelerator and veered onto an old dirt road leading into the hellish West Texas desert. When he finally brought the vehicle to a halt, he slammed it into Park and pounded the steering wheel with his fist. “Son of a bitch. Who was that guy?”

“The law,” his partner, Don Krauss, said, his tone dry. “You see the badge?”

Krauss could pass for everyman. He was great to have on the job because he excelled at blending into the background. His medium brown hair, medium eyes, medium height and nothing-special face got lost in a crowd.

Strickland had a tougher time. A scar from his marine stint and his short hair pegged him as ex-military. He could live with that. He tended to work the less subtle jobs anyway. But Krauss came in handy for gathering intel.

“No sheriff has reflexes like that,” Strickland said. “She should be dead. They both should be.”

“The girl avoided us for four days, and she’s just an analyst, even if she does work for the CIA. She’s smart. Switched vehicles twice and never turned on her cell phone.” Krauss tapped the high-tech portable triangulation unit.

All this equipment and a girl in a beat-up Chevy had driven over halfway across the country and avoided them. “She got lucky.” Strickland frowned.

Krauss let out a snort. “No, we got lucky when she used her ATM for cash. The only stupid move she made, but she cleaned out her account. We won’t be lucky again. And now she’s got help.” He hitched his foot on the dash. “If Ivy talked—”

“I know, I know.” Strickland scratched his palm in a nervous movement. In four days the skin had peeled, leaving it red, angry and telling. Not much made him nervous, but his boss... He forced his hand still and gripped the steering wheel, clenching and unclenching his fists against the vinyl. “We can fix this. Forensics will be sifting through what’s left of that car for weeks. I made sure it burned hot, and I’ve got friends in the local coroner’s office. If they stall long enough for us to provide two more burned bodies, no one will ever know. Everyone will believe the woman and girl died that night along with the rest of her family.”

“You blew her head off,” Krauss said. “Cops had to notice.”

“It hasn’t been on the news, has it?” Strickland said with a small smile.

Krauss shook his head. “I figured they were holding back details as part of the investigation.”

“Hell, no. First guy there threw her into the fire. Everyone else is keeping mum. They think it’s national security.”

“Lots of loose ends, Strickland.”

“I got enough on my contacts’ extracurricular activities. They won’t be talking anytime soon. They know the rules.” Strickland slid a glance at his partner. “You read the paper? Remember last year, that dead medical investigator? I had no choice. He was a loose end. Like the boss says, loose ends make for bad business.”

Krauss tugged a toothpick from his pocket. “Guess the boss was right in choosing you for this one, because we have two very big loose ends.” He turned in the seat, his normally sardonic expression solemn. “You ever wonder how we ended up working for that psycho? ’Cause I’m starting to regret every job we do.”

“For the greater good—” Strickland started, his entire back tensing. He cricked his neck to the side.

“Yeah, I might have believed that once,” Krauss said.

“Don’t.” Strickland cut him off. “Don’t say something I’ll have to report.”

“Says the man who’s hiding his screwup.”

“I don’t plan to be on the receiving end of a lesson,” Strickland said. “You talk and we’re dead. Hell, we’re dead if we don’t fix this.”

“I know,” Krauss said, his voice flat. “I got a family to protect. Let’s get it done fast, clean up and get the hell out of this town. I already hate Trouble, Texas.”

“No witnesses. Agreed?” Strickland turned the motor on.

“The sheriff, too? Could cause some publicity.”

“This close to the border, this isolated, there’s lots of ways to die.”

Chapter Two

“I was right. Great, just great,” Garrett said under his breath, cradling a sobbing Molly in his arms.

He rocked her slightly. She tucked her head against his shoulder and gripped his neck, her little fingers digging into his hair. He held her tighter while his narrowed gaze scrutinized the alley behind his house. A chill bit through the night, and Molly shivered in his arms. He needed to get them both inside and warm, but not in the place he’d never called home.

Another thirty seconds passed. No movement. The shooter probably didn’t have an accomplice, but he couldn’t assume anything. Assumptions got people dead.

A quick in and out. That was all he needed.

He led Laurel into the backyard of the house James McCallister had purchased on Garrett’s behalf and closed the gate. He wouldn’t be returning anytime soon. His time in Trouble had ended the moment he’d tackled Laurel to the ground.

But he needed his go-bag and a few supplies. On his own, it wouldn’t have mattered. He shifted Molly’s weight in his arms. These two needed more shelter than to camp out in the West Texas desert in December.

Molly clung to him tightly. He rubbed her back and his heart shifted in his chest. God, so familiar. The memories of his daughter, Ella, flooded back. Along with the pain. He couldn’t let the past overcome him. Not with these two needing him. He led them to the wood stack.

“Give me a minute,” he whispered. “Stay out of sight, and I’ll be right back.”

He tried to pass Molly to Laurel, but the little girl whimpered and gripped him even tighter.

“It’s okay, sugar. Your aunt Laurel will take good care of you.”

With one last pat, he handed Molly to Laurel, his arms feeling strangely empty without the girl’s weight. Laurel settled her niece in her arms, her expression pained. He understood. “She’s just afraid,” he said.

“I know, and I haven’t protected her.” Laurel hunkered down behind the woodpile. She pulled out her pistol. “I won’t fail again.”

Laurel McCallister had grit, that was for sure. He liked that about her. “I’ll be back soon.”

He sped across the backyard, slipped the key into the lock and did a quick sweep of the house, eyeing any telling details. He couldn’t leave a trace behind. Nothing to lead any unwelcome visitors to his small cattle ranch in the Guadalupes or to his stashed money and vehicle.

Garrett pressed a familiar number on his phone.

“Sheriff? What happened? Practically the whole town is calling me.” Deputy Keller’s voice shook a bit.

“Old man McCreary’s not putting a posse together, right?” Garrett had a few old-timers in this town who thought they lived in the 1800s. This part of Texas could still be wild, but not that wild.

“I talked his poker buddies out of encouraging him,” Keller said. “It’s weird ordering my old high school principal around.”

Garrett pocketed a notebook and a receipt or two, then headed straight for his bedroom. “Look, Keller, I’ll be incommunicado tracking this guy. I don’t want to shoot anyone by mistake. Keep them indoors.”

“You need me, Sheriff?”

“Man the phones and keep your eyes out for strangers, Deputy. Don’t go after them, Keller. Just call me.”

“Yes, sir.”

Garrett ended the call. If the men following Laurel and Molly had a mission, his town was safe. Assassins tended to have singular focus. He probably wasn’t the target, except as an opportunity. Still, Ivy had known his name. She’d said he was right. He couldn’t be certain how much of his identity had been compromised.

If anyone had associated Derek Bradley with Garrett Galloway before today, he’d already be dead. He might still have surprise on his side, but he couldn’t count on it. And if he’d been right...well, that was all fine. It didn’t make him feel any better. There was a traitor in the agency, and he didn’t know who. Ivy’s message hadn’t identified the perp.

Garrett grabbed his go-bag from the closet, then opened a drawer in his thrift-store dresser. He eased out an old, faded photo from beneath the drawer liner.

“It’ll be over soon.” He glanced at the images he’d stared at for a good two hours after his shift earlier. Hell, it was almost Christmas.

Tomboy that she’d been, his daughter, Ella, would have been after him about a new football or a basketball hoop, while Lisa would’ve rolled her eyes and wondered when her daughter might want the princess dress—or any dress, for that matter. His throat tightened. He’d never know what kind of woman Ella would have become. Her life had ended before it had begun.

Garrett missed them so much. Every single day. He’d survived the injuries from the explosion for one reason—to make whoever had murdered his family pay. He wouldn’t stop until he’d achieved his goal. He’d promised them. He’d promised himself.

He ground his teeth and stuffed the photo into the pocket of his bag. The perps should already be dead. He and James had failed for eighteen months and now...what the hell had happened? Now James’s daughter Ivy had paid the ultimate price. And Laurel was on the run.

James was... Who knew where his mentor was?

The squeak of the screen door ricocheted through the house. He’d been inside only a few minutes. He slipped his gun from his shoulder holster and rounded into the hall, weapon ready.

Laurel stilled, Molly in her arms. “She has to go to the bathroom,” she said with a grimace.

“Hurry,” Garrett muttered, pointing toward his bedroom. “We can’t stay. I wore my uniform and badge tonight. If they saw it, they’ll find this place all too easily.”

Laurel scurried into his room and Garrett headed to the kitchen. By the time they returned, he’d stuffed a few groceries into a sack. “Let’s go.”

Gripping his weapon, he led them outside. The door’s creak intruded on the night, clashing with the winter quiet. Pale light bathed the yard in shadows. A gust of December wind bit against Garrett’s cheeks. A tree limb shuddered.

He scanned the hiding places, but saw no movement, save the wind.

Still, he couldn’t guarantee their safety.

“Where are we going?” Laurel asked, her voice low.

Garrett glanced at her, then Molly. “I have an untraceable vehicle lined up. We’ll hole up for the night. You need rest. Then after I do a bit of digging, we’ll see.”

Laurel had brought his past to Trouble. No closing it away again. If his innocent visitors weren’t in so much danger, Garrett would have welcomed the excuse to wait it out. His trigger finger itched to face the men responsible for killing his wife and daughter. Except a bullet was too good for them. They needed to die slowly and painfully.

Garrett might have failed to protect his family once, but he wouldn’t allow their killer to escape again. He didn’t particularly care whether he left the confrontation alive, as long as the traitor ended up in a pine box.

He just prayed he could get these two to safety before the final battle went down.

* * *

LAUREL STOOD ALONE just behind a hedge at the end of the alley, out of sight, squeezing the butt of her weapon in one hand, balancing Molly against her with the other. Garrett had risked crossing those streets to retrieve his vehicle, putting himself in the crosshairs in case the shooters came back.

Every choice he’d made focused on protecting them, not himself. She shivered, but it wasn’t the winter chill. She’d made a choice eighteen hundred miles ago to come here. Garrett’s immediate response to their arrival had frozen her soul. Now instinct screamed at her to run, to disappear, to try to forget the past and somehow start over.

Maybe she should. He knew what they were up against. He was worried. Maybe vanishing would be easier. She didn’t see Garrett Galloway as a man who would give up easily. But sometimes accepting the reality and moving on was the only way to survive.

A dark SUV pulled into the alley, lights off. Garrett stepped out. “Laurel?” he whispered, searching the hedges with his gaze.