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
