Christmas Justice (Carder Texas Connections #7)(33)

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?”