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

The terrorized cries pierced the air. The sound speared Garrett’s heart. He didn’t hesitate, throwing open the door to the living room.

At the same time, Laurel exploded from her chair, racing to her niece.

Molly sat straight on the sofa, her cheeks red, sweat dripping down her face, her eyes screwed up tight.

Laurel sat beside Molly and wrapped the little girl in her arms. “Shh, Molly Magoo. I’ve got you.”

Laurel rocked her back and forth, but Molly refused to open her eyes, shaking her head so hard her hair whipped around, sticking to her tearstained face. She clutched at Laurel.

“Is she still asleep?”

“She’s clinging to you. She knows you’re here.”

Laurel hugged Molly closer. “What do I do? This has never happened before.”

Molly’s sobs gutted Garrett’s heart. Ella hadn’t had a lot of nightmares, but she’d watched part of Jurassic Park at a friend’s house and that evening the night terrors had stalked her. Only one thing had calmed her.

Molly struggled against Laurel. “You took me away,” she whimpered.

Laurel’s face went pale. The agony in her expression made Garrett hurt for her. “Give her to me,” he said.

Laurel hesitated.

“I know what to do,” he whispered.

Reluctantly, she handed the twisting little girl to Garrett. He sat down in a large overstuffed chair and held Molly close to his chest. “It’s okay, sugar,” he said, making his voice soft and deep and hypnotic. He snagged a blanket and wrapped her like a burrito inside it, one arm tight around her.

He rocked her slowly and started singing in an almost whisper. “The ants go marching one by one, hurrah, hurrah. The ants go marching one by one, hurrah, hurray. The ants go ma-ar-ching one by one, the last one stops to look at the sun, and they all go marching down, in the ground, to get out of the rain.”

The melodic, low tone of the song echoed in the room. He rubbed her back in circles. Her sobs quieted a bit.

Garrett sang the second verse, all the while rocking her, rubbing her back, holding her close.

Molly’s cries turned to hiccups and finally softened. His chest eased a bit. Just like Ella. He looked up. Laurel’s face had turned soft and gentle, and awed.

She hitched her hip on the arm of the chair and fingered Molly’s locks. The little girl’s eyes blinked. She opened her baby blues, looking up at Garrett, then at Laurel.

“Mommy?” she asked. “Daddy?”

“They aren’t here, sugar,” Garrett said. “But your aunt Laurel is. She won’t let anything happen to you. Neither will I.”

Molly bit down on her lip. “There was a ’splosion. Daddy’s car burned like in the fireplace.”

A tear trickled down Laurel’s face. “Yes, honey, it did.”

“Are Mommy and Daddy coming back?” she asked, her voice small, fearful.

Laurel glanced at Garrett. He warred with what to do, what to say. He simply nodded. It was time.

He tightened his hold on Molly. Laurel cleared her throat. “Honey, they aren’t coming back, but they’re watching over you. They’re in heaven.”

Tears welled in Molly’s eyes. “Even Matthew and Michaela?”

“Even them, sweetie.” Laurel handed her Mr. Houdini. Molly hugged the lion close.

Tears rolled down her face. “I want them back.”

Laurel sank closer to Garrett. He shifted and she nestled next to him. Her arm wrapped around Molly, her cheek resting on the little girl’s head. “So do I, Molly Magoo. So do I.”

Molly clutched her stuffed animal. She didn’t scream, as if the pain was too much for that. She laid her head on Garrett’s chest. Fat tears rolled down her cheeks.

“Sing to me,” she pleaded. “My heart hurts.”

“The ants go marching...” Garrett fought against the emotions closing his throat. Memories too horrible and too deep slammed into him. Nights lying in the hospital bed after he’d awakened, reaching out his hand for Lisa’s or for Ella’s and no one had been there.

Just anonymous nurse after nurse—or no one at all.

Laurel leaned against him, her shoulders silently shaking. He knew she was crying. She buried her face in his neck.

Garrett held on to them, the children’s tune now a mere murmur. Soon Molly went still in his arms.

He fell silent.

Sunlight streamed into the window, but he could tell from the angle it was low in the sky. Late afternoon.

He looked over at Laurel. Her eyes were red. “It breaks my heart,” she whispered.

His own emotions raw and on the surface, he gave a quiet nod. “I should put her in bed. She’ll wake up at some point, but she needs the rest.”

Laurel shifted away from him and he rose, taking the precious bundle into his bedroom. He pulled off her shoes and tucked her under the covers. He kissed her forehead. “Sweet dreams, sugar.”

His arms felt empty. His throat tightened as the past overtook him. His own little girl, afraid. His Ella hadn’t known a nightmare would come. Neither had Molly.

He turned and Laurel stood in the doorway watching him, her face ravaged with grief. His own festered just beneath the surface. Part of him wanted to escape the claustrophobia of his bedroom, to run to the top of a mountain and shout his fury. Instead, he walked toward her and she backed up. He stepped into the living room and closed the door softly behind him. The latch clicked.

She said nothing, and he didn’t know what to say. Molly’s tears had torn away the defensive emotional wall he’d worked so diligently to build over the past eighteen months.

She simply walked into his arms, and he could do nothing but enfold her, cling to her and struggle to contain the dam of feelings that threatened to break free.

Laurel stood there silently for several minutes. Her warmth seeped through his shirt. How long since he’d just let himself be this close to someone?

Much too long.

“Thank you,” she said. She eased back and touched his cheek with her hand, her whispering caress soft and tender.

“You handled her well. She’ll cry more. It won’t be over today, but she’ll make it. So will you.”

He kissed her forehead and she wrapped her arms around his waist, hugging him tight. He knew she just needed someone to cling to, but he couldn’t ignore the slight pickup of his heartbeat. She was too vulnerable. And so was he. Laurel and Molly’s presence reminded him of a pain he’d barely endured. Now somehow he had to find the strength to help them survive.

A small whimpering filtered from his bedroom.

“Go to her.” Garrett stepped away. “She needs family.”

Laurel gripped his hand and kissed his cheek. “You’re a good man, Garrett Galloway.” She disappeared behind the door and he heard her softly speaking to Molly.

Once he was certain the little girl was calm, he grabbed his Beretta from atop the refrigerator, where he’d stashed it, and strode onto the porch. The sun had turned red as it set on the western side of the ranch. The face of the mountain had turned light red and purple. Garrett sucked in a deep breath of mountain air. He exhaled, shuddering, and gripped the wooden rail until his knuckles whitened.

He blinked quickly, shoving back the overwhelming emotions that threatened to escape.

Molly and Laurel could rip what was left of his heart to shreds. When he’d come to and realized Lisa and Ella had paid the ultimate price for his job, only the need for revenge had kept him alive those first few months during therapy. He’d buried the grief deep in a hole where his heart had once resided.

Garrett scrubbed his face with his hands. Molly had reminded him of what it was like to protect someone who was truly innocent. And Laurel. God, that woman made him want what he couldn’t have. He couldn’t even let himself think about her that way. Not until whoever had killed his family—and hers—was no longer a threat.

A rustle in the trees made Garrett still. He focused on the movement. For several seconds he watched. Another slight shift of the pine needles, a scrape. Not the wind.

Someone, or something, was out there.

He gripped his weapon and moved behind the stone pillar at the corner of the house. If a weapon had a bead on him, he needed cover.

Once he decided to move, he’d have only a split second.

A shadow shifted in the fading sunlight. Two eyes peered at him from between the pines.

Garrett stepped off the porch. “So, you’re back.”

Chapter Seven

Laurel snuggled Molly next to her. The little girl twisted the flannel of her Christmas nightgown. It had been a present from Ivy when she’d realized Molly wouldn’t be able to attend the pageant that fateful night.

When Laurel had followed Molly into the cabin’s bedroom, her niece had pulled her mother’s gift from the duffel and silently handed it to Laurel.

“You can wear my T-shirt, Molly Magoo,” Laurel had said, barely able to speak.

“Mommy said Santa would know where to find me if I wore my special nightgown. He’d know I was being a good girl even if I couldn’t be an angel.” Molly had looked up at her. “Santa can find me here, can’t he?”

“Of course he can. He knows you’ve been a very good girl this year.”

Laurel stroked Molly’s hair. “I’ll have to find Christmas for you, Molly,” she said under her breath. “Somehow.”

The little girl hugged her lion close, her face buried in its mane. Her breathing slowed, growing even. She sighed and tucked her tiny hand under her cheek. Laurel held her breath, but Molly simply snuggled down under the covers.

Hopefully sleep would bring peace. For a while.

Minutes ticked by. Laurel’s heart ached with an emptiness she’d never imagined. She wanted Ivy to walk through the door, tell her it was all a mistake. Tell her this had all been a bad dream, a setup. One of their father’s elaborate plans.

A small part of her still hoped that were true, but she knew it wasn’t. She’d heard her father’s voice on the phone. This had nothing to do with the intelligence game he played. Every moment was real.

Her father was probably dead as well.

She and Molly were alone.

Laurel dug her fingernails into her palm, savoring the bite of pain. She wasn’t dreaming—even though she was in the midst of her own nightmare.

Her niece’s blond hair fell over her forehead. At least Laurel had Molly. The little girl gave Laurel a reason to not curl up in a ball and disappear. She’d never imagined her heart could feel so empty. That loneliness could suffocate her as if she were drowning.

Garrett had lost his wife and daughter. Laurel couldn’t imagine the agony he’d gone through. How had he survived? Alone, with his entire past erased, how had this not destroyed him?

Laurel glanced at the door. She could stay in this room for the evening. Every muscle in her body ached with exhaustion and fatigue. Each time she blinked, grit scraped her eyes, but for the first time in days, she felt safe. At least for the next twenty-four hours.

She should sleep, but Garrett was out there. Alone.

Her father had told her Derek Bradley was a traitor, but the more she recalled the conversations, the more she recognized the inconsistencies. Her father was an excellent liar, no doubt, but he’d been cagey about Bradley. He’d set up the doubts, so she would be able to trust him.

“Derek took too many risks,” James McCallister had said last Thanksgiving. “He paid the price. So did his family. Traitors always get what’s coming to them. Eventually.”

Her father had never called Derek Bradley a traitor.

Something from around Laurel’s heart eased, and she realized that somewhere deep inside she’d still had doubts. They were gone now. Besides, her image of a man who would sell out his country for money didn’t mesh with the man who could sing Molly into calmness from hysteria.

As she’d said to Garrett, at some point you had to let faith lead you. Careful not to jostle Molly, Laurel rose from the bed and padded across the room. The little girl didn’t stir. Laurel pressed her hand against the door and slowly turned the knob. She opened it and eased out of the bedroom.

The living room was empty.

She peeked into his workroom, but he wasn’t there. The encryption program still ran.

Finally she looked out the front window. He stood on the porch, his back to her, staring out at the sunset. His entire body screamed tension. As if he wanted to be left alone.

Laurel hesitated. She could return to the bedroom for the night, plant herself in front of the computer and wait, hoping the program would find the password, or she could go to Garrett. Except she knew what would happen the moment she touched him. They were both vulnerable. They both needed something only the other could provide.

She opened the front door. The cold gust of wind made her shiver. The last rays of light disappeared behind a mountain and deep purplish-blue painted the sky, rimmed at the horizon with a splash of pink and red. “Garrett?”

He didn’t turn around. She glanced down. He held his gun at the ready. She froze.

“In the trees,” he said softly.

She followed his gaze. Two piercing blue eyes peered at them, intent and calm.

The cougar.

“He’s back,” Laurel whispered.

“Cats are curious, but cautious. He won’t come closer.”

Garrett walked down the steps and picked up a large stone, tossing it toward the animal. The cat scampered off into the trees. “We need to keep Molly inside,” he said. “That cat’s learned people are a source of food. Probably eating after some of the border crossers left provisions behind.”

He shoved his gun into the back of his jeans and escorted her inside the house. “How’s Molly?”

“I’d guess out for the night, though she’ll probably be up before dawn.”

“Which reminds me.” Garrett flicked the dead bolt in place, then shoved a chair underneath the doorknob before activating the sensors.

“You think that will stop her?”

“She’ll make a lot of noise trying to get that chair out. I’ll hear the little Houdini.”

Laurel couldn’t help but smile. “She’s just like Ivy. When we were kids—”

“I would imagine she got you into a lot of trouble.”

“Dad would get so furious at us. I tried to take the fall a time or two, but Ivy wouldn’t let me. She was so much fun. I would have never had all those adventures if not for her.” Laurel sighed. “I’ll always miss her, won’t I?”

Garrett double-checked the chair then faced her, his expression solemn. “I won’t tell you it gets better. The scab may get a little tougher.”

She chanced a glance at him under her lashes. His stance was a bit awkward, as if he didn’t know what to say either. Maybe she’d been wrong. She should have just turned in with Molly.

“We’d better check on the computer—” he started.

“I guess I’ll turn in—” she said at the same time.

She shifted from one foot to the other. “I just looked at the program’s status,” Laurel said. “Still running. No answers.”

“I see. Then I guess it’s good-night.”

Something solemn and painful had settled behind his eyes. And vulnerable. She didn’t want to leave him. She didn’t want to be alone tonight. She crossed to him, her heart rate escalating with each step. She knew exactly what she was inviting. So did he.

She stopped inches away from him, still staring into his eyes. They darkened into a deep mahogany flaring with want, maybe with need.

“What are you doing, Laurel?” His voice had grown deep, husky.

Her touch tentative, she placed her hand on his chest. She needed him. “We’re safe for a while,” she said. “Aren’t we?”

“That’s debatable,” he said softly.

He covered the hand resting on his chest with his and lifted her palm to his lips. He nipped at the pad then threaded his fingers through hers. “You know this is a mistake,” he said, his voice barely audible. “You don’t know me. Not really.”

A shiver skated down her spine at his words, but the naked longing in his eyes shoved aside her doubts.

She knew him.

“I’ve watched you. You gave up your safe existence to help me and Molly. You calmed her fears tonight. I know everything I need to know.”

“Even though the world thinks I’m a traitor.”

“I know the truth.” She shook her head, leaning closer, wanting more than anything for him to stop talking and kiss her.

“What if you’re wrong, Laurel?” He cupped her cheek and held her gaze captive. Her heart fluttered in response. His thumb grazed her cheek. “What if I’m a man who would do anything to get what he wants? I’m good at keeping secrets. And I’m very good at telling lies.”

She couldn’t stop staring at his lips. “I can tell when you’re lying, Garrett. Your eyes grow dark, and the right corner of your mouth tightens just a bit.”

Would his mouth be hard or soft, passionate or gentle against hers when they kissed?

“I don’t want you,” he said softly, his breath whispering against her cheek as he moved closer to her lips.

“You’re bluffing.”

“You’re too trusting.” He lowered his mouth to her ear. “But I don’t have the strength to pull away.”

She smiled. “Now you’re telling the truth.”

With a groan he fastened his lips to hers and wrapped his arms around her. She didn’t hesitate. She clung to him and let his mouth drive away the memories of the past week. For this wonderful moment all she could think about was his touch, his mouth exploring hers, the taste of him.

He lifted his head. “Be very sure, because I won’t let you go all night long.”

She didn’t answer, just pulled his mouth to hers once more. He groaned and swept her into his arms. With a long stride he carried her into the smaller bedroom, closing the door behind them. She didn’t notice the Spartan furniture; her only focus was on Garrett. She used the name of the sheriff she’d come to know, not the name of the man he used to be.

“I don’t know what the future holds, but I know what I want right now,” Laurel said. “I need you, Garrett.”

“Not more than I need you.” Gently he laid her on the bed, following her down, covering her with his weight.

She didn’t resist, but relished the feel of him on top of her. With a groan, he buried his lips against her neck, exploring the pulse points at the base of her throat. Laurel threaded her hands through his hair. Every kiss made her belly tingle with need. She wanted more.

“Please,” she whispered. “Kiss me.”

“I am,” he said softly, nipping at the delicate skin just below her ear.

“Garrett.” She couldn’t stop the frustration from lacing her voice.

“How about here?” He nibbled the lobe of her ear. “Or here?” He worked his way down, shifting her shirt aside, and tasted the skin just above her collarbone.

Laurel stirred beneath him until finally he raised his head. He tugged at her lower lip. “Or how about here?”

His mouth swooped down and captured hers. He pressed her lips open and she moaned in relief that she could finally taste him. She returned his kiss for kiss. Her hands seemed to have a mind of their own, exploring the strength of his back through his shirt. She hated the barrier between them. She wanted to touch him, skin to skin. She wedged her hands between them, unbuttoning his shirt and shoving the material off his shoulders.

He stilled above her, looking at her, his gaze intense, hesitant, full of warning. Her fingertips paused when she encountered roughened skin.

Burns. The car bomb.

He let out a slow sigh then moved off of her, lying on his back. “I should have warned you.” His shirt fell open and she pulled away. His chest was mostly unmarred, except for a long surgical scar down his midline.

“You think what happened changes anything? It makes me want you even more.” She didn’t hesitate, but straddled his hips and traced the scar.

He looked up at her and caught her fingertip. “My entire back was turned when the car exploded. There was a lot of damage. I had several rounds of skin grafts. During surgery my heart stopped. I died on the operating table and they cracked me open.” His voice was detached, his jaw tight, holding back emotion. “It’s not pretty,” he said. “It will never be pretty.”

“And if I could have Ivy back, you think the scars would make me love her less? You earned these badges of courage.” Laurel moved her hands up to his shoulders, venturing a tentative touch on the puckered skin. “Does it hurt?”

“I can’t always feel when you touch me. And in some places the nerve endings go a little haywire, but mostly no. It’s healed as much as it’s going to.”

He didn’t move, didn’t try to pull her to him, didn’t try to kiss her. He simply lay there gazing up at her. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Neither do you, but you’re the bravest man I know and I don’t think you’ll chicken out now,” she said and leaned forward, gently, tenderly pressing her lips to his. “I want this. Now. With you. Tell me if I hurt you.”

She lifted her shirt over her head and removed her bra. His eyes hooded as he cupped her breast in his hand and drew his thumb across her nipple. It beaded in response and a sharp tingle lit in her belly. A small whimper escaped her and she gripped his shirt.

He smiled, the defensive expression in his eyes darkening to desire once again. “I can’t believe you want me.” Garrett tugged her down to him, his palm against the small of her back, rocking her hips against his, his desire evident.

“Can you feel me now?” she whispered, shifting her body, evoking a groan from him.

“Definitely.” He flipped her over and threw his shirt off the side of the bed. “You’re an amazing woman, Laurel McCallister.”

She wrapped her arms around him, blinking back the hurt for him when she encountered the mottling of scars down his back and a few strips of unblemished skin. She yanked him down closer and wrapped her legs around his hips. “Show me how amazing you think I am. I don’t want to wait another second.”

* * *

THEY WERE IN the middle of nowhere. Still.

Strickland peered out the front window. The SUV’s headlights broke through the early evening, but a cluster of trees and an avalanche of rocks blocked the path. They’d reached the end of the road.

“Damn it.” He hit the steering wheel. “How far is Bradley from here?”

Krauss studied the screen. The red dot was immobile. “Couple of miles, according to this. He’s not moving.”

Strickland rubbed the stubble on his chin. “Give me the city any day of the week. I hate the West. Too much godforsaken territory to cover.”

“We going back to Trouble?”

“Not a chance. Get your canteen,” Strickland ordered. “We’re going after him. He won’t expect us to track him out here.”

“We’re really heading out at night?”

“You want to tell the boss we’re taking the evening off?” Strickland asked.

Krauss muttered to himself as he grabbed the water and his weapon. “This is a mistake. Weren’t you a Cub Scout or something? We don’t know the country. Anything could be out there. It’s easy to get turned around in the darkness.”

Strickland tapped the glowing red light on Krauss’s monitor. “We’ve got a beacon to light the way. Besides, we don’t have a choice. Now come on.”

They exited the SUV and Strickland grabbed an M16, slinging it over his shoulder. “I’ll tell you one thing, though. I’m not hauling those bodies down this mountain. Once we kill them, we leave them to rot.”

* * *

GARRETT COULDN’T BELIEVE Laurel was here, in his bed, beneath him, with her long, lean legs wrapped around him. His body surged in response to her arch.

She grasped his shoulders and her hands moved to his back.

He couldn’t believe she hadn’t politely said good-night and walked away. Garrett didn’t think about the scars on his back that often. Just when he’d rub against something the wrong way and the nerves fired, as if a thousand pins were stabbing him.

Laurel nipped at his ear. “I want you,” she whispered. “Now.”

No more than he wanted her.