HOLIDAY HIDEOUT

When computer expert Arden DeMarco hacks secret files and discovers evidence of treason, a price is put on her head. What started as a mission to help a friend is now a fight for her life with assassins and the FBI tracking her down. There’s no time to get distracted by her brother’s best friend, Kane Walker, but the security expert promised Arden’s family he’d bring her safely home for the holidays. Instead they’re dodging bullets—and fighting their growing feelings—while Arden races to break the encryption and find out what’s hidden in the files she stole. But as they’re hunted by armed henchmen determined to make sure those secrets are never uncovered, keeping Arden safe is the only Christmas gift that matters...

“Are you crying?” Kane asked.

She wasn’t a crier. She’d never been a crier. Even when she’d discovered the truth about Randy, she hadn’t cried. She certainly wasn’t going to cry now. She sniffed again, trying to prove that truth to herself.

“Why would I be?” she asked, not opening her eyes because she was afraid a tear might slip out.

“Because you’ve been running for weeks? Because you’re tired? Because it’s almost Christmas and you’re far from home?”

Yes. To all those things.

“I’m this close to decrypting that file, Kane. I just want to get somewhere where I can concentrate on doing it,” she responded.

He didn’t say anything. Just let the truck fill with their silences.

That was fine.

She was fine.

Or, she would be.

Once she fulfilled her promise to Juniper and made it back home.

Please, God, let that happen. Please, she prayed silently, her eyes still closed as the truck descended the mountain.

Dear Reader,

Off the Grid Christmas was especially fun to write because it gave me the opportunity to take a quirky, socially awkward genius and have her save the world and find true love in the process—and who doesn’t like it when the underdog saves the day and gets the guy?

At its core, Arden and Kane’s story is about embracing the things that make you different and understanding that it’s those differences that make you distinctive in God’s eyes. This doesn’t mean you can’t change or evolve; it simply means you should recognize that you have been made uniquely capable of fulfilling the purpose God has for your life.

It’s also a story about faith and forgiveness. God offers forgiveness to those who seek it, yet—like Kane—some of us struggle with letting go of our mistakes. Forgiving is not about forgetting; it’s simply about putting the past behind us and moving forward in God. We must fix our thoughts on what is good because dwelling on regrets drains us of the strength we need to become the person God wants us to be.

Mary Ellen

MARY ELLEN PORTER’s love of storytelling was solidified in fifth grade when she was selected to read her first children’s story to a group of kindergartners. From then on, she knew she’d be a writer. When not working, Mary Ellen enjoys reading and spending time with her family and search-dog-in-training. She’s a member of Chesapeake Search Dogs, a volunteer search and rescue team that helps bring the lost and missing home.

Off the Grid Christmas

Mary Ellen Porter

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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I am the Lord. I am the God of every person on the earth. You know that nothing is impossible for Me.

—Jeremiah 32:27

To my parents, Ed and Shirley Porter, whose constant love and encouragement have guided all my life choices and underpinned my successes. Thank you for your unfailing support and for giving me a strong foundation of faith and family.

And to my in-laws, Eldridge and Joyce Grady, for embracing me as your own from the first day we met. I couldn’t have asked for a more perfect extended family.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

About the Author

Title Page

Dedication

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

SEVENTEEN

EPILOGUE

Extract

Copyright

ONE

The Christmas tree had been Arden DeMarco’s undoing.

Or, to be more accurate, the decorations on it had.

Not that accuracy mattered. What mattered was that she had to leave. Quickly.

She shoved her sweatshirt into her backpack, the scent of Tide detergent and lavender fabric softener reminding her of her childhood home. She’d hoped to be there for Christmas, reveling in the beautiful predictability of Christmas Eve service, ham dinner, new pajamas worn on Christmas morning.

She was twenty-five years old and she still loved those things.

Unfortunately, in this instance her nostalgia had been her downfall.

She sighed.

What was done was done. For twelve days she’d been safe in this secluded cottage just outside of Lubec, Maine. Now she wasn’t.

She hadn’t planned to leave, but staying was no longer an option. She’d have to find another place to go to ground. With a quick look around the room, Arden was satisfied she was leaving nothing important behind. No clues as to what she’d been working on, where she planned to go or what her next step would be.

Zipping her pack, she gave the surveillance monitors one more glance.

All clear.

For now. But the odds weren’t in her favor.

Grabbing the wearable pet carrier from the hook behind the door that separated the kitchen from the cozy living room, she fastened it around her chest.

“Sebastian? Time to go,” she called.

As was Sebastian’s way, he didn’t answer.

She crossed the room to check his favorite spot, knelt down and peered under the sparsely decorated Christmas tree. Sure enough, he was there, batting at a red bulb.

“Did you learn nothing from the tinsel incident?” she muttered.

He looked at her, blinking large blue eyes and meowing as she scooped him up and placed him in the carrier. Where most cats would have yowled and struggled, he settled in without a fuss, the tips of his dark brown ears barely visible as she pulled the drawstring on the carrier to secure him inside. Like Arden, he was quirky. It was one of the reasons she’d adopted him.

He purred happily against her chest. Poor guy had no idea that he’d brought danger down on their heads.

She’d been so careful when she’d dropped off the grid. Covered all the bases: cash transactions only, no contact with family, prepaid cell phone for emergencies only. There’d been no way anyone could trace her movements.

Or so she’d thought.

Unfortunately, in her panic, she’d forgotten about Sebastian’s microchip. Truth be told, if Sebastian hadn’t eaten his body weight in tinsel, she’d still be none the wiser. Okay. It hadn’t been that much tinsel. After administering an ultrasound, the vet had assured Arden that the cat would be just fine. She’d been happy and relieved until the vet had called an hour ago to check on Sebastian and used Arden’s real name.

A name Arden hadn’t used in almost two weeks. They’d obviously scanned Sebastian for a microchip and now her assumed alias and the cottage address were linked to Arden’s true identity, through the PetID database.

The jig was up. She needed to leave. If she managed to escape with her life, she’d never ever hang tinsel again.

A powerful gust of wind whipped in from the ocean, drawing her attention to the window. The sun had set an hour ago, and the full moon should have been rising above the ocean. Clouds covered it, light gray against the dark horizon. Below, the beach lay empty. No lights or bonfires. No people with flashlights digging for clams. This wasn’t the time of year for vacationers. That had played to Arden’s advantage. Now she felt vulnerable.

She tried to tell herself it was good that she was leaving, but she’d wanted to stay. A quiet cottage far away from anyone who knew her had been the perfect place to hide.

The wind buffeted the cottage’s shake siding and howled beneath the eaves, the eerie sound spurring her to hurry. She pulled on her coat, partially zipping it up over Sebastian. He purred even more loudly.

Happy cat.

Unhappy human companion.

Arden shoved gloves into her pockets and yanked a knit cap over her ears. This was it. Time to go. She grabbed her pack, flipped off the lights and dropped the house keys on the desk next to a note about the security system she’d regrettably be leaving behind. State-of-the-art. Expensive. She’d probably need it again before this was over, but it was too heavy and cumbersome for someone who needed to move quickly.

The perimeter alarm chirped, the warning sending her pulse racing. She turned back to the monitors. Three were clear. The fourth showed a lone figure making his way slowly up the steep snow-covered path on foot. She smiled at that. She’d chosen this location well—even a Jeep couldn’t navigate the narrow, rock-covered road.

One guy she could handle.

She had the advantage. She knew he was coming.

The cottage was in a large clearing, no place to conceal movement—perfect for seeing what was coming; not so great for a covert escape.

She’d wait until he was on the front walkway, then sneak out the back.

She shrugged the pack onto her shoulders, her attention on the monitor as the man strode up the walkway.

Keeping an eye on the monitor, she crossed the well-worn wood floor to the back door. Heart pounding, hand on the doorknob, she waited for him to reach the front steps. A cold breeze swept in under the door and she shivered. The 1930s cottage, mostly used as a summer rental, was not well insulated. Though it was comfortable enough with both wood-burning stoves fired up, she had extinguished the fires thirty minutes ago in preparation for her departure. Now, with the embers quickly cooling, the cold Maine chill was settling over the house.

The man reached the front steps, eyed the footprints she’d left in the snow when she’d returned from the vet. The image on the monitor wasn’t clear enough to see his face, but she didn’t plan to stick around long enough to get a better look.

“Get ready for a bumpy ride, Sebastian,” Arden muttered, quietly opening the back door. The new storm door stuck, the old frame a poor fit. She should have removed it when she’d first noticed the problem, but she hadn’t thought she’d be found. Assumptions could get a person killed. Her oldest brother and decorated FBI agent, Grayson, was always saying that. Hopefully, she wasn’t going to prove him right.

She walked outside, letting the door rest against the jamb. No time to wrestle it tightly into place. The yard was a slick sheet of icy snow, but she rushed toward the back corner of the property as quickly as she could. She had to reach the shed, and the motorcycle, if she had any hope of escape. She had minutes. Maybe less.

Bang!

The sound sent adrenaline coursing through her blood.

She glanced back, saw the storm door lifted by the wind.

Bang!

The door slammed again, and a dark figure appeared around the corner of the house. Tall. Obviously masculine. Coming toward her with quick, decisive steps.

She sprinted to the shed.

“Arden DeMarco!” the man yelled, his voice carrying over the sound of the crashing surf and wind.

She reached for the shed door with shaking hands, yanked it open just as he grabbed her shoulder.

Arden was ready for him.

The youngest of five children, and the only girl, she’d learned to hold her own early on—her brothers had made sure of that. And what they hadn’t taught her, ten years of mixed martial arts training had. Without hesitation, she pivoted, grabbing his hand and twisting it at an unnatural angle.

He released his hold, giving her just enough space to throw a punch. He dodged at the last minute, her knuckles just brushing his jaw. She pulled back, aiming for his throat this time. She’d practiced this move dozens of times. She knew it cold, but Sebastian hindered her movement and the man was quicker than she expected, grabbing her wrist and yanking her arm down before she could land the blow.

“Enough!” he growled. “I’m just here to—”

She threw a left hook. Her fist connected.

She knew what he was there for. Or she could guess. He was too well trained to be anything but a government operative or a hired assassin.

If he felt the blow at all, he didn’t let on. Instead, he raised his arm to block her next punch.

“I said, enough,” he muttered, his foot sweeping out, catching her ankle as she dodged. She stumbled backward, managed to somehow regain her balance. He reached for her again, grabbing the sleeve of her jacket and pulling her toward him.

* * *

Arden was small, agile and packed a surprising punch for her size. But Kane Walker had spent more than ten years in the Special Forces as part of the army’s elite Night Stalkers airborne brigade, and she was no match for him.

Not that he planned to keep fighting her.

He’d come to bring her home.

She was going. Whether she liked it or not.

“Arden, your—” he began, but she was obviously in no mood to listen.

She yanked away, took a stance he’d seen dozens of times when he’d sparred with her brother Jace. She attacked with Jace’s signature move. It was almost indefensible.

Almost.

He took a calculated step forward, got his knee behind her leg and swept her toward the ground. If she’d been an enemy, he would have added a punch to the chest or nose to speed her descent; instead, he grabbed her arm as she flew backward, slowing her fall. She hit the ground with a thud anyway.

“How about we call a truce?” he said, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “Jace didn’t have me track you down so we could spar.”

“Jace?” She got to her feet, eyeing him through the darkness. He doubted she could see his features in the unlit yard. Even if she could, she might not be able to place his face. They’d met a few times in the past. Mostly when he’d joined Jace on home leave.

“Your brother’s worried about you.”

“And you know this because?” she asked, her shoulders tense, her hands fisted.

“I’m Kane Walker. Your brother’s—”

“Business partner,” she finished.

“Right.”

“So, Kane,” she said, sidling along the shed she was backed against. Unless he missed his guess, there was another door in and she was going for it. “Why’d Jace send you when he could have sent any one of my brothers?”

“You’ve hit the FBI’s most wanted list.”

“I’m aware of that.”

“The Feds are watching your entire family. Since you and I are barely acquaintances, I’m not on their radar.”

“Yet.”

“Yet,” he agreed as she shimmied to the corner of the shed, pivoted and took off.

He snagged her pack, yanking her backward with enough force to throw her off balance. “I thought we were done sparring, Arden.”

“You need to leave.” She spun around.

“Not without you.”

“Let me make this perfectly clear: I’m not going anywhere with you. Make this easy on yourself. Go back to Maryland. And tell my brothers that I’m fine.”

“Jace told me to bring you to Grayson—you can deal with the FBI together.”

“Jace is going to be very disappointed.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

Actually, she crossed them over her bulging stomach. He frowned, eyeing the mound under her coat. It wiggled.

“Carrying a passenger?”

“My cat.”

“Might have been a good idea to leave him home. Microchips can make it difficult to drop completely off the grid.”

“I’m aware of that,” she said.

“Yet you brought him to the vet anyway,” he pointed out.

“I was worried,” she said defensively, her left hand reaching up to cradle the mound under her jacket. “Though it really was an unfortunate turn of events that the Lubec Veterinary Clinic uses microchip scanners.”

“I guess that depends on your point of view.” For Kane, it was just the break he’d been waiting for.

She stepped past him, acting like she was going to go ahead and do what she’d been trying to since he’d arrived—leave.

“I hope you’re not thinking that you’re going anywhere without me.”

“I’m not thinking it. I’m doing it.”

After nearly six days without a lead, he’d arrived in this snowy ocean-side town under no delusion that getting her home would be simple. She knew how to hide, and she knew how to fight. According to Jace, she also had a tendency to be dogmatic in her approach to things and often unwilling to compromise.

“I’m afraid you’ve misunderstood. I’m bringing you home, so we’re going to have to stick together from here on out.”

“Sorry, that doesn’t work for me. I prefer solitude to company,” she said, tugging open the door to the shed.

He pushed it shut again. “I prefer cooperation to animosity, but we don’t always get what we want.”

“You’re in my personal space,” she responded, ignoring his comment. “How about you get out of it?”

He stepped closer, tired of the wordplay and anxious to get her away from the property. “Now you’re in mine.”

“Personal space is the variable and subjective distance at which one person feels comfortable talking to another. If you want to speak with me, you need to back away.”

He almost cracked a smile. Almost.

She wasn’t looking for a chat. She was looking for an escape route. He could see it in her eyes. Her body language.

She was Jace’s sister through and through. If the black hair and blue eyes weren’t a dead giveaway, the stubborn set of her jaw certainly was.

“Let’s take the FBI out of the picture for a minute. What are you running from?” he asked, his right hand still holding the shed door closed. His arm just above her shoulder blocked escape from her left.

“Trouble,” she replied, glancing to her right as if calculating the likelihood of dodging out of his reach.

“Better to face it with a support system than alone.”

“I can’t involve anyone else. It’s too dangerous.”

“You can explain that to your brother when you see him.”

“Returning to Maryland isn’t an option.”

Kane shook his head. “From where I stand, it’s the only option.”

“Well, if you’d just back up about a foot and take a few steps to your left, my preferred option will become a little clearer to you.”

He could have laughed if he’d let himself. Jace had said his sister was brilliant. He hadn’t mentioned her sense of humor.

“Sorry. That’s not going to happen. I promised Jace that I’d find you and bring you home.”

“You should never make a promise you can’t keep.” Her back against the door, she slowly edged her way toward the right corner of the shed.

He grabbed her left arm just below the elbow, and stopped her in her tracks. “We’re wasting time,” he said. “I found you—it’s safe to assume someone else will, too. If you don’t want to tell me why you’re running, maybe you can tell me who you’re running from.”

“I’m running from so many people, it would almost be easier to tell you who isn’t after me.” She tucked a few strands of hair under her hat, her gaze shifting from him to a point beyond his shoulder.

“Go ahead.”

“And leave? I was thinking about it, but it’s hard to do with you holding onto my arm.”

“Go ahead and list the people who aren’t after you.”

She sighed, tried to yank her wrist away. “Look, I know you’re trying to do what Jace wants, but I can handle this alone. I won’t drag him, Grayson or even you into this.”

“We’re already in it,” he pointed out, and she frowned.

“You don’t have to be. You can walk away and let me go back to what I was doing.”

He was tempted to do just that.

He didn’t have time for games. After twelve years of active duty, he’d left the army in August and spent the last three months getting his and Jace’s fledgling business off the ground.

Shadow Wolves Security, named after their Army unit, was finally up and running. It had taken a lot of work. With Jace’s tour not up for another four months, the bulk of it had fallen on Kane. He’d spent countless unpaid hours making certain things were ready. He’d even managed to land their first contracts, set to start in less than a month.

With that under his belt, he’d planned to leave the business in the hands of his other business partner and Chief Operations Officer, Silas Blackwater, and take a long, relaxing weekend. Jace’s phone call had changed his plans. When he’d asked Kane to help Grayson locate their sister, Kane couldn’t refuse.

Yeah. He might be tempted to walk away and let Arden deal with her problem alone, but he wouldn’t do it. He owed Jace a lot. More than he could ever repay.

“Let’s go.” He still had his hand around her wrist, and he started walking, dragging her along beside him, not caring that she was yanking against his hold.

“You don’t understand the ramifications of me going back,” she muttered, digging in her heels and putting all her weight into trying to stop their forward momentum. There wasn’t a whole lot of weight to her, so it barely slowed Kane down.

“Explain it to me then.”

“The people who are after me are dangerous and they’ve got deep pockets. They’ll stop at nothing to get what they want. They don’t care who they hurt in the process.”

“Grayson can work with the FBI to clear your name and protect you.”

“I trust Grayson, but I can’t ask him to put his career on the line and take my side against the FBI. Besides, there’s no way to be sure they don’t have someone in the FBI on their payroll.”

“Who, exactly, are these people, and what do they want from you?”

“That information is need-to-know.” She tucked another loose strand of hair beneath her hat. A nervous tic? he wondered.

“I need to know.”

“You are an intermediary. You only need to know that I’m not returning home. Not yet. Tell my brothers—”

A loud chirp interrupted her words. Two more followed in rapid succession.

He didn’t ask what it was.

He knew.

She’d set up a perimeter alarm and it was going off.

“What quadrant?” he asked as she pulled a cell phone from her coat pocket.

“West. Looks like the same way you arrived. You’d better go—”

The phone chirped again.

“Sounds like they have an army coming for you.” He sprinted back to the shed, pulling her along with him. She’d been trying to get inside since he’d arrived.

Now, she seemed determined not to enter.

She tried to twist away, but his fingers easily locked around her slender wrist. He dragged her into the shed, easing the door closed and sealing them inside. It smelled like sawdust and gas fumes.

“You have a vehicle in here?” he asked, keeping his grip on her wrist tight. He didn’t want to hurt her, but he wasn’t going to let her leave. Not on her own.

“That would be a likely scenario, since I’ve been trying to get in here since you arrived,” she grumbled, jerking away and moving toward the center of the shed.

“How about you show it to me so we can get moving?” he demanded, his gaze shifting to a lone window that looked out over the beach. It was too dark to see much, but a light bounced along the shore. He doubted it was a beachcomber looking for treasures.

“It’s under the tarp,” she responded, motioning to the center of the room.

“Then let’s go.” He crowded in beside her, blocking her path to the door. She had her reasons for continuing to run. He had his reasons for bringing her home. They could hash all that out, come up with a plan that would work for both of them. Later.

After they escaped whomever it was she was running from.

TWO

Someone had breached her security perimeter.

Someone else was on the beach.

Through the shed window, Arden could see the light moving along the shore—a small dot of white in the blackness. She doubted it was just one person. And she doubted it was the FBI.

Grayson probably told Kane to monitor the PetID database for a potential hit on Sebastian’s microchip, but there’s no way her brother would have shared that information with the FBI.

Arden’s ex-boyfriend Randy Sumner was another story.

He knew about Sebastian, and he’d have no qualms about tipping off GeoArray Corporation. He was in this deep and had just as much to lose if the company went down. And he, more than anyone, knew Arden could bring them all down.

She hadn’t been exaggerating about GeoArray’s power, resources and reach. The corporation was an army of sorts, and it would send its best soldiers to bring her in.

Soldiers? Thugs was probably a more accurate descriptor, and unless Arden missed her guess, they were trying to hem her in.

But she’d be gone before whoever was on the beach managed to make it up the bluff. Kane would be with her. She wasn’t happy about it. It would be easier to leave him behind, but he had no idea what Arden was up against; what he was now up against.

Arden knew. They’d killed before. They wouldn’t hesitate to kill again. No, she couldn’t, in good conscience, leave Kane to face off against them.

Sure, he was former Special Forces and looked like he could take care of himself. She’d seen him sparring with her brothers at the gym while he and Jace were on home leave one summer. She knew he was quick, sharp-minded and lethal, but GeoArray had money and power behind it. So did its CEO, Marcus Emory. They wouldn’t fight fair and could afford to hire the best fighters and trackers to hunt down what they wanted.

At this moment, what they wanted was Arden.

They were desperate to get their hands on her and the files she’d taken from their networks.

She’d given them a golden opportunity, thanks to her love for Christmas and Sebastian. Now, she had to get out of their reach, and she needed to get Kane out, too.

She dragged the canvas tarp off the motorbike her landlord had left in the shed. A 1952 Vincent Black Shadow. Admittedly, the bike had seen better days. But Arden appreciated the handcraftsmanship of the vehicle and the fact that, in its heyday, the model broke speed records. Very few had been made.

Arden suspected the property owner had no idea of the value the bike would bring if restored. If he did, he might not be so quick to leave it in an unlocked shed for his renters to use.

“A motorcycle?” Kane pressed close to her back, in her space again. Usually, she despised having people that close. Currently, she didn’t have time to worry about it or to tell him to back off.

“Does it look like something else?”

“It looks old.”

“It is.”

“Does it work?”

“Yep. It came with the rental—it’s a way residents can get up and down the access path to the parking area more quickly.”

“I’m afraid to ask how loud it’s going to be when you start it up.” He glanced toward the window. “There’s someone out on the beach. I can’t tell if he’s alone.”

“It’s too far down with no easy way up. Anyone on the beach shouldn’t pose much of a threat. The bigger threat is whoever’s coming up the access path. The shed’s in clear view of it. Once we’re in the open, we’d be easily picked off by anyone with a high-powered rifle.”

“What are you suggesting?”

She turned her attention back to her phone, scrolled through the live video feed from her security system. “They’ve got no clue I know they’re coming. Logic says they’ll head for the house. As soon as it’s breached, we can start her up and head for the trail at the back of the property. We’ll be out of the line of fire before they can make it to the back door.”

He glanced at the phone in her hand. “You’ve set up an elaborate monitoring system.”

“Wouldn’t you?”

“Yes, but I’m in the security business.”

“I am, too. It’s just a different kind of security.”

Kane cracked open the shed door, his broad back blocking her view.

“See anything?” she asked. She’d have edged in closer, stuck her head under his arm to get a look, but Sebastian was getting restless. His fuzzy ears poked through the top flap of the carrier and bumped against her collarbone as he tried to figure out what was going on.

“Just a lot of darkness, but I don’t like the way it feels.”

“Darkness has a feeling?”

“Danger does.” He grabbed the bike’s handlebars, tugged the motorcycle forward and out of her grasp. “We need to move.”

She could have argued, but she’d heard her brothers talk about going with their guts so many times, she didn’t think it would be prudent to ignore Kane’s instincts.

“The trail’s kind of hidden. It’s just behind the shed and winds toward the bigger path you walked in on.” She leaned past, poked her head out the door and pointed at what looked like driftwood and scrappy bushes covered with a fresh layer of ice-crested snow. She wasn’t sure if the owner of the property had meant to provide a quick escape, but she’d known as soon as she’d seen the narrow trail that she’d have one if she needed it.

She hadn’t expected to need it.

Maybe that was part of her problem. She trusted in her intelligence a little too much. She relied on herself more than she relied on anyone else. She’d been one of the guys for as long as she could remember—the ultra-capable younger sister of four ultra-capable men. She’d never been in a situation she couldn’t handle on her own, and she hadn’t expected to find herself in one. She’d expected to go off the grid, get the proof she needed to take GeoArray down and go right back to her life. That wasn’t how things were turning out.

She found that more irritating than alarming.

“You’ve ridden a motorcycle before, right?” she whispered, pocketing her phone as Kane pushed the vehicle outside, putting the shed between them and the access path to the cottage. The wind stole her words, but he must have heard.

“Not one this old,” he responded.

“The age of the vehicle is irrelevant,” she said, ignoring his sarcasm. She loved old vehicles and had restored several of them with her dad while helping out in his shop during the summers. She’d ridden this one enough to know it was in good working order. It was also fast. That was going to be an asset.

“Its working condition is not irrelevant.”

“It works.” They’d reached the brush, and she skirted past him. Not an easy feat considering his size, but there was no way she was letting him drive them out. She knew the trail. She knew the bike. She’d be the driver.

She brushed his hands from the handlebars and climbed on, balancing the bike as she scanned the dark path and the beach below. The light was still there. Farther away and moving at a steady pace, parallel to the shore. Whoever it was wouldn’t find a way up from there, but night vision goggles and a long-range rifle could make a long-distance kill easy.

GeoArray wanted her alive. For now. That was one thing she had in her favor.

Kane, on the other hand, was simply in the way.

Her phone chirped, the sound chilling her blood.

“They’re in,” she muttered.

Kane climbed on the bike, wrapping his left arm low around her waist. “Just be careful,” he warned. “The temperature’s dropped and the snow’s crusted over with ice. If we wreck, it’s over.”

“Warning duly noted.” Arden zipped her jacket up to her chin, completely covering Sebastian. She didn’t need Kane to tell her to be cautious. Wrecking the bike and getting herself caught was not on her agenda. Seeing her brother’s business partner—one of his closest friends—killed wasn’t, either.

She was sorry Kane had been dragged into this, but she wasn’t surprised her brothers called for reinforcements. Grayson and Jace were cut from the same cloth, both willing to do anything to help those they cared about. It would be hypocritical to fault them for that. After all, that’s how she ended up in this mess in the first place. Of course, Juniper Westin wasn’t just anyone. She was Arden’s best friend, the sister Arden had never had.

They’d met halfway through first grade. Juniper had walked into the classroom, and Arden had known they were kindred spirits—two oddball mavericks sitting in a room filled with average Joes.

The whispering had started right away, and Arden had felt the overwhelming need to stand up for the new girl the way she’d always had to stand up for herself. It wasn’t Juniper’s glasses or curly black hair that had all the kids talking; it wasn’t her light brown skin—even though there hadn’t been many kids of color in their elementary school.

No, it was the dark purple bruise on her cheek that accompanied the healing split on her lip. And the too-big sweater she’d had on with well-worn jeans that were almost too short. Jeans that had bright red patches with pink hearts carefully sewn on the knees. During recess, Robby Dixon had laughed at her for those hearts, and Arden had done the only thing she thought she could. She’d punched him right in the middle of his smug face. She’d earned herself a three-day suspension, the respect of every kid in the school and a life-long friend.

Since then, she and Juniper had been through good times and bad times together. There was nothing Arden wouldn’t do for her friend—including hacking into GeoArray’s secured network—which, unfortunately, had led to this.

Kane leaned in, his breath tickling her ear. “I just saw a light go on in the house. If we’re getting out of here, now’s the time to do it.”

“Right.” She cranked the engine, the sudden roar drowning out the sound of the surf. No doubt everyone within a mile radius had heard. She gunned the motor, and the bike charged forward, speeding through the narrow space between old shrubs, bits of leaves and branches breaking off as she raced along the trail.

To Kane’s credit, he had no problem holding on and keeping his balance. He didn’t shout instructions or tell her to watch out for the rocks and debris that littered the narrow trail.

And he’d been right about the ice. It coated everything. The bike’s nearly threadbare tires barely held on as she sped around a curve.

She thought she heard shouting, but she couldn’t be certain. The engine was too loud, the wind too wild. They’d be at the parking area soon. It was a small lot used by a few seasonal residents whose cliff-side cottages weren’t easily accessible by car. It was mostly unused this time of year. Her Jeep was there. Kane’s vehicle must be, too. She wasn’t sure they’d be able to get to either of them. GeoArray’s thugs probably had the area staked out.

“Pull off here,” Kane shouted.

She almost ignored him.

She wanted off the trail and on the open road. The more distance they put between themselves and their pursuers, the better. Then again, if guys with guns were waiting in the parking lot below, she’d have to drive straight into their trap before she could get out on the road.

She coasted to a stop and cut the engine, her pulse racing.

“Is there another way out?” Kane asked, his voice tight.

“We can head up the bluff.” She nodded toward the south and the scraggly pines that dotted a steep hill. She’d walked there a couple of days ago, trying to clear her mind after hours in front of the computer. “But I don’t know how far we can take the bike. The terrain’s steep and icy and the bike’s tires have definitely seen better days. We need a vehicle, and mine’s in the lot.”

“I parked off the street. About a half-mile from the lot.”

A light flashed at the head of the trail, there and gone so quickly Arden would have missed it if she hadn’t been looking in that direction.

“A signal,” Kane muttered. “They’re going to try to trap us. Can we make it to the road, or should we ditch the bike and try to make it out quietly? You know the area best. It’s your call, Arden, but make the right choice. We’re probably outmanned and outgunned.”

“We can make it out on the bike.” It would take a little finesse and a whole lot of guts, but their odds were better on the bike than walking out.

She started the engine and took off again, leaving the trail and bouncing onto ice-coated grass, speeding between spindly pine trees as she raced up the bluff and toward freedom.

* * *

Kane had been in a lot of dangerous situations, but riding on an ancient motorbike behind a woman who seemed more daredevil than computer whiz was right up at the top of his list of experiences he never wanted to repeat.

He was concerned about the icy conditions, Arden’s driving skills and the fact that whoever was after her might have already spotted his rented Chevy Tahoe. It was unlikely, though. He’d parked behind a small copse of trees, and the vehicle would be difficult to spot from the road.

Still, if the people who were after Arden were as desperate as she seemed to believe, they might have been scoping out the area, looking for signs that someone besides Arden was around.

The bike bounced over an exposed root, and he tightened his grip on Arden’s waist. He’d have preferred to drive, but this arrangement left his gun hand free. Arden navigated the rocky, snow-covered bluff with surprising ease.

Kane leaned forward, his chest pressing against Arden’s backpack. The wind whipped at strands of hair peeking out from her hat, the soft tendrils brushing against his cheek.

She slowed as they reached the crest of the hill. Even at this speed the cold air was merciless on their exposed skin and eyes. They needed to get to the Chevy. He had a duffel of supplies there, hats and gloves, an extra jacket.

His work required preparedness, and he’d tried to think of all the possibilities when he’d set off to find Arden. He’d been hoping to be a few steps ahead of whoever was after her, but the army that was following her seemed to have a lot of tech power behind it—they’d been able to access the PetID database and register the hit on the microchip just as he had. They also had at least some knowledge of Arden’s private life. Kane had only known about her cat and its microchip because Grayson had told him. Was it possible someone Arden knew well had set her up?

He glanced over his shoulder, his arm still tight around Arden’s waist.

Bright lights illuminated the path they’d left, what looked like an ATV zipping along the narrow passage.

“They’re coming. Looks like they have a vehicle that can make it,” he warned.

“Hold on,” she shouted, hitting the throttle and propelling them over the top of the bluff. The way down was as steep as the trip up, but the bike managed to cling to the rocky, ice-coated ground as Arden wove her way through sparse pine growth.

There weren’t enough trees to provide adequate cover, and the hair on his neck stood on end. He may as well have had a bull’s-eye on his back. One well-trained sniper, and he’d be down.

He glanced back. The ATV had crested the hill and seemed to be idling there. It was a good vantage point, and the shot would be easy enough to take.

Arden must have sensed the danger.

“Hang on!” she shouted. Hitting the throttle once more, she increased their speed and veered sharply to the right, steering the motorcycle toward what looked like a shallow ditch. Beyond that, the road curved across the landscape.

The first shot rang out as the motorcycle jumped the ditch. Bits of bark flew into Kane’s face as the tires hit the snowy pavement. The motorcycle wobbled dangerously, yet somehow remained upright.

“Left!” he shouted, calculating their distance from his Tahoe, the likelihood of the next bullet hitting its target, the chance that Arden would make it out of this situation alive if something happened to him.

He’d promised Jace he’d get her home in one piece.

He’d do it.

A second shot rang out, and the pavement behind them exploded. A high-caliber rifle, but the gunman couldn’t seem to hit his mark.

There are always blessings in the trials.

His grandmother had reminded him of that dozens of times when he was a kid. Maybe she’d been right.

He could see the patch of trees where he’d parked the Tahoe, and the dull gleam of the street sign he’d used as a marker just ahead.

A bullet hit it, bouncing off the metal with a loud crack.

“Just past the sign. Behind those trees,” he barked, and Arden veered in the direction he’d indicated, the motorcycle slowing as she bounced off the road and into knee-high grass.

She cut the motor as they reached the Tahoe.

The night had gone silent except for the wind that howled through the trees. No engines roaring, people shouting, bullets flying.

“I don’t like this,” Arden whispered as she clambered off the bike.

“Get in!” he urged, opening the driver’s side door. “They’re probably coming from the parking area.” Before the words were out of his mouth, she was scrambling across the bench seat; he rushed in after her, pulling the door shut behind him.

Shoving the keys in the ignition, Kane cranked the engine and hit the gas. The SUV lurched out from behind the trees and screeched onto the road.

“Keep down!” Kane ordered as he floored it.

He didn’t know how many vehicles were coming from the parking area, but he could already see a set of lights in his rearview mirror. He might be able to outrun them.

Might.

He’d flown into a small airfield three miles away, just outside of Lubec. Bringing the Cessna had been faster and easier than driving or booking a commercial flight.

With the weather getting bad and the enemy on his tail, he wasn’t sure it had been the right decision. The airfield shared space with Tommy’s Truck and SUV Rentals, the town’s only car rental business; the pickings had been slim—mostly older model pickup trucks—and he’d thought he’d been fortunate enough to rent the Tahoe. Now he wished there’d been a faster vehicle to choose.

Arden shifted, and before he realized what she was doing, she was on her knees, peering out the back window.

“They’re gaining on us,” she commented.

There didn’t seem to be any panic in her voice. So far, she’d been unflappable. That was good. Panic only ever caused people to make mistakes that could get them killed.

“Get out of your pack and get your seat belt on.” He issued the order and ignored her comment.

“Are you expecting to crash?” But Arden shrugged out of her backpack and fastened the seat belt around her waist, carefully positioning the shoulder strap behind her so it wouldn’t bother her cat.

“I’m expecting that they won’t give up easily,” he responded.

“Logic agrees.”

“Does it?” he said drily as he sped around a curve in the road. The light disappeared from the rearview mirror. Gone for now, but not for long. If they hadn’t been on a two-lane highway that overlooked a twenty-foot drop to the ocean, he’d have looked for a place to pull off and hide until their pursuers passed.

“Of course,” Arden replied. “Now that they’ve used their weapons and shown their hand, they can’t let us escape. They’ll need to kill you to keep you from contacting the police once they’ve gotten their hands on me, so any way you cut it, they’re not going to give up easily.”

“Kill me, huh?”

“Does that surprise you?”

“No, but I’m curious.”

“About?”

“Their reasons for wanting to take you alive.”

“It’s complicated.”

“Yeah?” He glanced at the speedometer, its needle hovering around eighty-five. Any faster and the vehicle would start shaking like it was in need of a front-end alignment.

“Very.” She answered absently, giving no further explanation.

“Care to tell me exactly who wants to keep you alive?”

“In actuality, there are several entities who might be responsible for this. I am on the FBI’s most wanted list.”

“You’re avoiding my question.”

“No. I’m just avoiding giving you an answer.”

“Why?”

“My reasons are not your concern.”

She obviously didn’t trust him. He’d drop it. For now.

Arden twisted once more in her seat, looking out the back window. “Can this thing go any faster? I’m pretty sure I see headlights behind us again.”

He could see them, too, but he’d already accelerated as much as the Tahoe could. “We’ve still got some distance between us.”

“Not enough. Lubec’s less than a mile away. If you avoid Main Street, we might be able to give them the slip.”

“It’s a small town, and there aren’t many places to hide. I won’t feel safe until we get you out of Lubec, and Maine altogether for that matter.”

“That’s unrealistic. If we can’t beat them on this curved and twisting road, we can’t beat them in a race on the open highway.”

“You’re assuming I’m planning to drive us out of here.”

“Is there another option?” Her voice was sharp.

“I left my Cessna at the Coastal Airstrip just outside of town.”

“Cessna?” she said a little too loudly, her voice tight. “That’s your plan?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t fly,” Arden stated firmly.

“You’re about to.” He took a sharp curve in the road. The turn into the airport access road was up ahead, and the headlights behind them had disappeared again. If he was fast enough, he could turn onto the road, cut the lights and wait for their pursuers to pass.

As the SUV approached the turn, he cut the headlights and swung into the access road, tires squealing as they tried to gain traction.

“This is the airport,” Arden said.

“I told you. We’re flying out.”

“I told you, I’m not.”

She was.

Even if he had to throw her kicking and screaming onto the Cessna. He’d committed to getting Arden back to her family. He was going to do it. No matter who was after her. No matter what kind of trouble she’d gotten herself into.

No matter how determined she was to keep him from doing it.

He didn’t back down from challenges. That was one of the reasons Jace had asked him to do the job. It went deeper than that, of course. They’d served together, fought together. They’d saved each other’s hides more than once. Their bond was a brotherhood, and it couldn’t be broken. They’d do anything for each other.

Even fly a Cessna through a storm with a passenger who obviously didn’t want to be there.

THREE

Intellectually, Arden knew that the one-in-ten-million chance of being killed in a plane crash was much lower than the one-in-one chance of being killed if GeoArray got its hands on her. Once GeoArray got what it wanted, her pursuers would have no use for Arden and no reason to let her live. She’d been on the run for almost two weeks and was certain that with a few more days, she could crack the encryption that protected the files. If she was caught and the files confiscated before she had the chance to extract the information she needed, she’d have no way of proving Marcus Emory was a murderer—and maybe worse. She’d also have no way to prove her innocence.

Yep. Her chances were better on the Cessna, but she wasn’t boarding it. She didn’t fly. Not ever. She’d find another way out of the mess she’d gotten herself into. Of course, to do that, she had to lose Kane.

She shot a quick look in his direction. He was focused on the icy access road, concentrating on getting them to the death trap of an airplane before their pursuers. If he’d been driving a little more slowly, she would have chanced opening the door and jumping. She probably had a good shot of landing without injury—but not when they were traveling nearly blind in excess of fifty miles an hour, and not with Sebastian strapped to her chest.

She’d have to make a break for it after they reached the plane. Even if she weren’t terrified of flying, there was no way she could let Kane bring her home.

As much as Grayson wanted to help her, until she could prove her innocence, she couldn’t ask him to take her side against the FBI. Law enforcement was his calling and she would not be the one who caused him to lose his job with the FBI. She wasn’t sure what story Marcus Emory had fed the FBI, but his clever move had made her an enemy of the state. She was wanted by the United States government and, by now, possibly a half-dozen other entities.

She had to finish what she’d come to Maine to do.

She had to decrypt the files she’d intercepted from GeoArray. The fact that GeoArray was willing to engage the FBI in its search for her meant that Emory was desperate. Any doubt she’d harbored about the importance of those files was gone. Her gut told her the content of the files would expose the criminal activities behind GeoArray.

She glanced out the back window and saw a vehicle pass the airport access road.

“You can slow down,” she said. “They’ve passed us.”

“Not if we want to get to the plane before they realize we’ve turned off.”

“What’s the plan once we reach it? We can’t just climb aboard and leave.”

“Sure we can. It’s unlikely other planes are flying out of here tonight. I can be cleared for takeoff in minutes.”

“If there’s anyone at the tower.” And she hoped there wasn’t.

“There is. I put in a flight plan for this evening and was given a three-hour window to fly out. We’re within that time frame.”

“I don’t like it,” she muttered. “How about you come up with a different plan? Because I already told you, I’m not flying out of here.”

He didn’t respond.

“Did you hear me?”

“I heard.”

“And?”

“I don’t change plans. Not when they’re good ones.”

“Often, it’s opinion that determines whether or not something is good,” she pointed out. “Your opinion and mine are very different on this issue.”

“Are you aiming for an argument, Arden? Because now isn’t the time for it.”

“There’s no time like the present for me to state irrevocably that I think your plan stinks.” She didn’t care about the argument. She didn’t care about his plan. She needed him to think she did. That would put him off guard when they reached whatever death trap, winged vehicle he thought they were flying out in.

He didn’t take the bait.

“Who’s after us?” he asked instead.

“You asked me that before. I chose not to answer.”

“I asked who you were running from. Now I want to know who’s behind us.”

“Sorry, I—”

“If I’m going to go head-to-head with an enemy, I want to know who the enemy is.”

“Ever heard of GeoArray?” she asked. She’d let him think she was cooperating. If he believed she was going along with his plan, he’d be a lot less likely to anticipate her escape.

“GeoArray is after you?” he answered. Obviously he’d heard of the defense contractor.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I was...helping a friend and I stumbled on some information that GeoArray would rather I not have.”

“What kind of information are we talking about?”

“The kind that could get you killed if you knew about it.”

“There isn’t a whole lot going on tonight that couldn’t get me killed,” he responded, glancing in the rearview mirror and frowning.

She looked over her shoulder. “Do you see them?”

“No, but once they realize they’ve lost us it won’t take long for them to figure out that we turned into the airport access road.” He parked the SUV near a hangar, grabbing her arm before she could jump out.

She could have pulled away. He wasn’t holding on that tightly, and she knew how to break someone’s grip, but the look in his eyes held her in place.

“Don’t try it,” he said quietly.

“What?”

“Whatever you’ve been planning. We don’t have time to fight each other.”

“We aren’t fighting. I’m—”

“You’re going to get us both killed, Arden. Is that what you want? Because, if you run, I’m going after you. That will slow us down and give whoever’s following us plenty of time to catch up.” He released her arm, reached over the back seat and grabbed an army duffel bag, then opened his door.

She opened hers as well, stepping out of the vehicle and shivering as a few flakes of snow landed on her cheeks. She didn’t fly, and she especially didn’t fly when the weather was bad.

Her plan had been to run as soon as her feet hit the ground, but she couldn’t ignore Kane’s warning and feel good about it. She glanced at the road running parallel to the airfield, spotting a vehicle creeping along it. It had to be them. It wouldn’t take them long to figure out she and Kane were at the airport.

But...

She didn’t fly.

She’d have to run, and she’d have to hope that Kane was intelligent enough to stick with his escape plan.

“Don’t worry,” Kane said quietly. “I’ve got your pack.”

She swung toward him.

She’d forgotten that she’d slipped out of the pack. That wasn’t like her. Hesitating wasn’t her style, either. She always had a plan. She always followed through on it, and she almost never forgot anything.

Especially not something as important as that pack.

“I’ll take it,” she said, rushing around the front of the Tahoe to where he was waiting and grabbing one of the straps.

“We’re wasting time. I’ve got it. You want what’s in it, you’ll have to come with me.” He walked away, his strides long and purposeful.

Arden needed that backpack. More precisely, she needed what was inside it. Her laptop. She had, of course, hidden away a second copy of the files for safekeeping, but that laptop contained days of work. In fact, she knew she was close to breaking the encryption wrapped around the files. She couldn’t afford to lose all that work. Starting over was not a scenario she wanted to entertain.

“Let’s be reasonable about this, Kane,” she said.

“If by reasonable you mean we work together to solve your problem, I’m all for it,” he responded, stepping into the hangar, his duffel slung over his shoulder, her pack still in his hand.

She had no choice but to follow him right into the belly of the beast.

At least, that’s what it felt like when she saw the little tin coffins disguised as airplanes lined up and ready for takeoff.

She felt sick, the thought of getting on a plane and flying into the snowy night making her light-headed.

“You’re better than this,” she muttered, annoyed with her own weakness.

“What’s that?” Kane glanced over his shoulder as he reached the front of the line of planes.

“Nothing.”

“You’re sure?”

“As sure as I am that I am about to die,” she responded.

He either didn’t hear or he ignored her.

“We’re in front of the queue. That’s the good news.”

“What’s the bad news?” she asked, eyeing her pack and wondering how tightly he was gripping it.

“We’re running out of time. Come on. Let’s get on board.”

* * *

The large aluminum hangar door was already open, the Cessna Skyhawk ready to go, having been kept inside the bay to keep ice and snow from accumulating before takeoff. No sign of the dispatcher, but Kane wasn’t going to let that slow him down.

He stepped back and took Arden’s arm, ignoring the tension in her muscles and the paleness of her face.

“You ready to take off?” someone called.

He turned, watching as the dispatcher walked toward him, a sub sandwich in one hand, clipboard in the other.

“No,” Arden responded.

“Yes,” Kane corrected.

“Good. Good. You leave now and you’ll beat the storm. Otherwise, you’ll probably be stuck here for the night.”

“That won’t work for us,” Kane said, with a sense of urgency. “My friend’s ex is hot on our heels. I need to get her out of here quickly.”

The man nodded his head. “Understood, no problem. Go ahead and load up. I’ll contact the tower and tell them you’re waiting to be cleared for takeoff.” He rushed to his desk, taking a bite of sandwich along the way. Once he’d settled into his chair, he turned to his computer and began typing.

Kane pulled Arden the remaining short distance across the hangar’s concrete floor to his plane. There was no sign of the sedan through the open bay doors, but he was certain it would be only a matter of minutes before it would reach the airfield. They needed to be on the plane and on their way before then. “Let’s go,” he said, sidestepping one of the main wheels and tossing her pack and his duffel onto the rear bench seat of the plane.

Arden stopped short, planting her feet. “Go on without me. I’ll find a place to hide.”

“That’s not going to happen.”

“Yeah. It is.” She darted away, but he’d anticipated the move and snagged her arm, then, in deference to the cat still hiding under her coat, in one quick motion he hefted her into his arms like a groom carrying a bride over the threshold. He could feel her trembling. This was no joke. She was terrified, and for about two seconds, he thought about finding another way.

Unfortunately, doing that would probably get them both killed. It would more than likely get the guy with the sandwich killed, too.

Kane wasn’t in a dying kind of mood, and he sure didn’t need any more innocent blood on his hands. He’d had enough of that to last a lifetime. It’d been thirteen years since Evan Kramer had died in his arms and he could still remember the sticky slickness of his second cousin’s blood on his hands, the harsh rasp of lungs as he gasped his last breath. A moment in time, a lifetime of regret.

He hoisted Arden up through the open doorway. She was lighter than he expected and, despite her struggling, he still managed to set her down gently on the floor of the plane’s cargo area before jumping in after her. Forcing her to do something that obviously terrified her made him feel like the worst kind of jerk, even if his options were less than limited.

“Get out of your coat, and get that carrier off your chest.”

Stooping in the threshold of the plane’s open door, Kane yelled out, catching the dispatcher’s attention once more. “We don’t want to bring any trouble down on you, but her ex is dangerous. Be on the alert.”

“Got it. I’ll lock it down after you leave. And your return flight plan’s been approved by air traffic control, so you’re good to go. Let’s get you out of here before he shows up.”

Kane yanked the plane’s door shut; the hatch clicked in place as he locked it. When he turned back, Arden was still rooted to the same spot. He quickly unzipped her coat, dropping it on the bench seat with their bags, then helped her remove the carrier from her chest. Cradling the cat in his left arm, he guided her to the front passenger seat, gently pushed her into it and strapped her in with the safety harness. Arden remained quiet as he set the cat’s carrier in her lap and wove the lap belt through the blue carrier straps to secure the animal.

Her silence was disconcerting.

She hadn’t been at a loss for words since he’d found her at the cottage. The fact that she wasn’t talking now was something he’d worry about after he got them in the air.

He stowed Arden’s pack and his duffel behind the bench seat, retrieved her jacket and draped it over her lap and chest. She’d closed her eyes and was breathing deeply, mumbling something he couldn’t hear.

That was better than silence, but it still wasn’t good.

Being ten thousand feet in the air with a woman in full-out panic wasn’t much better than being on the ground with a couple of thugs who wanted them dead.

“It’s going to be okay,” he said, dropping into the pilot seat and starting the engine.

“I told you, I don’t fly,” she responded, her eyes still tightly shut.

At least she was talking and coherent.

“You do now.” He checked the flaps and instrument control panels then pulled the safety harness over his shoulders.

“Oh Christmas tree, oh Christ-mas-tree,” she sang, her voice high-pitched and a little off-key.

Maybe she wasn’t coherent after all.

“Arden?” He touched her shoulder. Her muscles were taut, her entire body tense.

“Thy leaves are so un-change-ing,” she continued. Her voice warbled on the last note, but she kept right on singing. “Oh Christmas—”

“Arden? Are you going to be able to keep it together?”

“I am trying to get to my happy place.” Her eyes flew open, and he was looking straight into her sky-blue irises. “You are making it very difficult.”

“Your happy place is Christmas?”

“It sure isn’t this dinky tin can that you plan to fly us out in.” She closed her eyes again, continuing her song. “Not only green when sum-mer’s here...”

She hit the last note and the cat yowled, joining the song with earsplitting intensity.

At least neither was trying to claw a way out.

He guided the plane out of the hangar, radioing the dispatcher for permission to take off. They began taxiing down the runway. With this load, the plane required about eight hundred feet of runway for takeoff. Maybe a little less if the conditions were perfect.

Tonight, the wind was blowing, a light mix of sleet and snow splattering the windshield.

In the distance, the sedan sped through the airfield gates, then veered toward them, high beams on, picking up speed as it approached. He could only hope they’d beat it down the runway. The plane picked up speed. Six hundred feet. Seven hundred. Kane pulled back on the controls just as the sedan reached the runway. It stopped and the doors flew open.

But Kane was past them, the wheels lifting from asphalt, the plane soaring into the sky. Below, the men were firing. The distinctive metallic pings as several bullets pierced the plane’s fuselage left no doubt that some of the rounds had hit their mark.

“Oh Christmas tree, Oh Christmas tree, such pleasure do you bring me!” Arden was nearly screaming the song now, the cat still yowling, the engine roaring.

But they were up, so far away from the gunmen the bullets were ineffective. Whatever damage had been done was done. He assessed the instrument panel, looking for potential trouble.

Arden had stopped her quirky rendition of “O Christmas Tree.” The cat had stopped yowling. The only sound was the whir of the engine. It sounded smooth. No coughs or hiccups, but the fuel pressure gauge dipped and a red light flashed ominously on the panel.

“That,” Arden said, jabbing her finger toward the light, “does not look good.”

“We’ll be fine.” He hoped. There was a problem with the left flap on the wing of the plane. For now he could still fly, but depending on the issue, his ability to control altitude and speed of the aircraft could definitely be affected—the higher they flew, the worse it would be. More of a concern was the fuel pressure gauge that was definitely reading lower than it should. If they lost fuel pressure, they’d have no choice but to make an emergency landing.

“Define fine,” she demanded, her face so pale even her lips were white. She had the bluest eyes he’d ever seen, and a face that was more intriguing than beautiful. She also had a brain that rivaled anyone Kane had ever met—she’d definitely give his academically focused parents and those in their social circle a run for their money.

Lying to her wasn’t going to work.

Even if it would have, he wasn’t going to do it. Truth was always the best way. Even if the truth was sometimes difficult to swallow.

“A bullet may have hit the wing flap,” he said, bracing himself for Arden’s full-out panic.

To his surprise, she simply nodded.

“That’s what I thought. I suppose you have a plan?”

“Yeah. Get the plane back down and fix the problem.”

“Is there another airport close by?”

“It doesn’t matter. I won’t run the risk of landing anywhere in Maine if I can help it.” GeoArray seemed to have connections and resources. He was pretty sure the company could quickly mobilize the troops wherever he put down.

“What if you can’t make it out of Maine?”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.” And if Kane was reading the gauges correctly, they’d be fortunate to make it across the border into New Hampshire.

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