CHRISTMAS FRAME-UP

Nothing will stop Secret Service agent Liberty Westmark from warning her ex-fiancé that he’s wanted on a terrorism charge—not even gunmen determined to kill them both. After breaking his heart, she owes Tate Almers that...especially since only she believes his innocence. Partnering with Liberty again is the last thing Tate, a former Secret Service agent, wants for Christmas. But with a mountain of evidence against him and both the feds and a rogue cartel behind him, Tate needs Liberty beside him. They’ve become the targets of a manhunt with just one ending...and they have only each other to stay alive.

It was coming straight at them.

A truck rumbling down the road at breakneck speed.

“Run!” Tate yelled.

They took a dozen steps before gunshots exploded around them...and someone yelled, “Freeze!”

As Liberty halted, she felt Tate’s arms encircle her. She didn’t ever want to move. Not because she would be shot but because Tate’s arms were around her. Strong arms she had missed so much it made her want to cry.

“Get in the truck,” the gunman ordered. He zip-tied their wrists, so tight the strap cut off her circulation.

Kidnapped.

What was her boss going to think?

First he’d have to realize what happened to her. But then would he think she was part of this with Tate?

“What are you going to do with us?”

He tipped his head back and let out a roar of laughter. His cackle told her what she needed to know. He planned to kill them.

Dear Reader,

Thank you so much for journeying with me through the craziness of Tate’s and Liberty’s lives. So often we feel like we’re not worthy, but thank God that He shows us our worth to Him with His amazing gift of grace and forgiveness—and His son.

My prayer for you is that you understand the richness of His love toward you, and open your life to see that love displayed in the many ways God blesses us.

I hope you’ll join me for future books! In the meantime, you can check out my other books at www.authorlisaphillips.com and contact me there as well. You can also write to me c/o Love Inspired Books, 24th Floor, 195 Broadway, New York, NY 10007.

God bless you richly,

Lisa

LISA PHILLIPS is a British-born tea-drinking, guitar-playing wife and mom of two. She and her husband lead worship together at their local church. Lisa pens high-stakes stories of mayhem and disaster where you can find made-for-each-other love that always ends in a happily-ever-after. She understands that faith is a work in progress more exciting than any story she can dream up. Lisa blogs monthly at teamloveontherun.com, and you can find out more about her books at authorlisaphillips.com.

Yuletide Suspect

Lisa Phillips

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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And when he comes home, he calls together his friends and neighbors, saying to them, “Rejoice with me, for I have found my sheep, which was lost!”

—Luke 15:6

To all my readers.

Have a very merry and blessed Christmas season.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

About the Author

Title Page

Bible Verse

Dedication

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

SEVENTEEN

EIGHTEEN

NINETEEN

TWENTY

Extract

Copyright

ONE

Arrest him. Or apologize.

Liberty Westmark gripped the steering wheel, not sure which she was going to do first. If she ever got there. She peered out the windshield, where fat flakes of snow obscured both lanes of the highway beyond her high beams.

“In six hundred yards, turn right.”

The voice of her GPS was loud and clear, but the way was not. She’d probably wind up turning into a ditch. It would serve her right to end up the sad conclusion of an obscure news article about the snowstorm of the century. Heartwarming. She rolled her eyes and muttered, “Lone Secret Service agent who left ahead of her team gets lost and freezes to death chasing a dream.”

She froze. A suspect.

Not a dream.

Where had that come from, anyway? The fact that Tate Almers had been her fiancé a year ago was absolutely not relevant anymore—unless she got the chance to apologize. Otherwise this was just work, and once she had Tate in custody she could drop him off at the nearest federal agency office and go back to her cozy DC condo and her hairless cat.

Job done.

It was a courtesy, nothing more. Tate might have done something bad—really bad—but the qualifier was what made her unable to believe it was actually his doing. A plane had gone down, and three people were missing—two White House staffers and a senator. The man she had known and worked with—okay, and loved—would never have done something like this. That history was why she’d convinced the director she should come here ahead of the rest of the team.

Liberty was going to give Tate the courtesy of explaining, and then he could tell his former Secret Service team the same thing.

The turn came up faster than she was expecting. Liberty hit the brakes and took the corner too fast. The back end of her car hit ice and fishtailed. Stupid man, living in the middle of stupid nowhere. The car kept spinning. Liberty gripped the wheel harder, like it was going to help.

She squealed.

When the car came to a stop, she was sideways on the single-track road.

Liberty sighed. “No one heard that squeal.”

She was still the fully fledged Secret Service agent her teammates respected. Just a little ice that threw her for a minute. No big deal. She was fine.

Liberty shook off the rush of adrenaline that had set her heart racing and righted the car on the road. A single lane, probably dirt or gravel, but right now it was covered in a layer of snow and ice. Liberty drove slower than she needed to down to the house.

It was more of a cabin, really. The roofline was lit up with Christmas lights, and she could see a Christmas tree in the front window, the only light in the house. Tears filled her eyes. It was beautiful, like a Christmas card. Tate was a no-nonsense kind of guy, and this was anything but. What on earth? Then it hit her. What if he was married now? What if he’d found someone else, and this was all for her?

Liberty nearly turned around and left, but the Secret Service would be here soon and she wanted answers. After it was done, she’d be able to move on for good. Sure, he might be married, but actually that was better. It would help sever those few lingering ties, right?

Liberty cracked the car door and braced against the cold as she got out, then leaned back in and grabbed her gloves. The wool wouldn’t protect her much against this temperature. Cold cut through the layers of her clothing, and the wind chafed her cheeks. Her coat covered her badge, but maybe there would be time to really talk before she told him she was here for work reasons.

A couple of dogs barked, but not in the house. The sound came from the barn. Liberty waded through snow and banged her fist on the barn door. It swung open and two dogs raced toward her, barking louder. Liberty took a step back.

Tate stepped out of the barn, but she couldn’t take her focus off the dogs, even as she backed up more across the stretch of snow over the driveway between the barn and the house. They barked and circled her, their attention imposing enough that Liberty didn’t move.

“Good boys. Sit.”

Both dogs sat, one on either side of her. Liberty wanted to slump onto the packed down snow between them. The sound of Tate’s voice cut through her and left a ragged wound in its wake. She glanced up, and her eyes locked with his. It was too dark to get a good look, but in the glow of the Christmas lights the line of his jaw was set. He wasn’t happy.

One of the dogs broke his sit and barked.

Tate’s eyes widened, fixed on some point beyond her, away from the house. “What...” He lunged and grabbed her arm, dragged her the ten feet or so back toward the barn and yelled, “Bubblegum!”

A gunshot went off. Liberty ducked, having no idea where the shot had come from. She skidded on the barn floor, reached the end of Tate’s grasp and snapped back toward him. She grimaced. Tate didn’t let go. Outside the dogs barked, and someone yelled.

“Intruder,” he said. “I thought it was you who set off the alarm, but there was a man out there with a gun.” A gunshot went off outside. “Do you have your weapon?”

Liberty pulled her gun from the holster at her back, under her jacket. He grabbed it from her. “Hey—”

Tate stepped outside and shut the door behind him.

The dogs continued to bark. Outside, Tate yelled, “Hey!”

A gunshot followed.

Liberty pulled the backup weapon from her ankle holster and moved to the door. She was the Secret Service agent. Sure, Tate had been one, too, over a year ago. But he’d quit, and Liberty didn’t have time to think through all of that—or the fact that it was basically her fault.

Liberty wanted to pray, but that part of her life was long gone, just like her love life. Neither had ever done her any favors or bettered her in any way. She’d given up on God and romance both in the last eighteen months. This was one last favor to Tate, and then she was done. Liberty was going to live her life her way, on her terms.

The door swung open before she reached it. Tate strode to her, and the dogs raced in around him. Liberty shook her head. “What on earth was that? And why did you shut me in here?”

“Man outside,” he said, without handing her weapon back to her. “An intruder, which I already mentioned.” He didn’t look happy. “He ran off. The dogs did their job.”

As though they knew he’d complimented them, the two dogs returned to his side and sat to be petted. One was a German shepherd, lean enough that Liberty wanted to feed the animal treats. The other was a stocky Airedale who came to her next. She didn’t pet him.

Tate raised his eyebrow. “You still have that ugly cat?”

She ignored the question. Loki was alive and well, not that it was any of his business. “Bubblegum?” They had to talk about something; otherwise she’d just stare at the blond hair sticking out the bottom of his knit beanie. His hair grew fast and had to be cut frequently, but it seemed Tate no longer cared. He wore the mountain man uniform of jeans and a checkered shirt under a padded denim jacket. No gloves. Wasn’t he cold?

“Bubblegum is a command. If the person attacking you doesn’t know what you just asked your dog to do, they’ll think twice.” Tate’s jaw was hard again. “He shot at them, saw me and then ran off.”

“Are you going to give me my gun back?”

* * *

Tate stood stunned for a second before he forced himself to snap out of it. He motioned for her to back up. “You have one, and mine are all in the house. I’ll be keeping this until I know for sure he’s gone.”

He had to focus on the intruder who’d just tried to kill him. Otherwise he’d stare at her blond hair. Those blue-green eyes. Focus.

“That is against policy and you know it.” She used her most snooty voice, and it almost made him smile. Almost. “I can’t lend out my duty weapon.”

“I’ll be sure to write that on the form I fill out explaining why you’re dead.” Tate swept past her and moved toward the door again. Liberty huffed behind him, but he figured she didn’t argue because she knew he wasn’t wrong.

Tate cracked open the door, peered out into the night and tried to tamp down the boiling rage. Shoot at him? Whatever. Shoot at his dogs? Unacceptable. Tate adjusted his grip on the gun, though using it would deny him the fight he was itching for. He’d always had a temper problem. He’d learned in the army how to channel it into discipline, and during his time with the Secret Service, Tate had rarely lost his cool. It never went well when he did.

He sucked in a breath of icy air and counted to ten in his head. One of the dog’s muzzles touched his leg, and he reached down to pet Joey. His Airedale boy loved life and thought everything was a game. The German shepherd, Gem, was more task oriented. Wake up. Eat. Work. Sleep. Repeat.

“Looks clear.”

He shoved the door wider and walked out. Snow was thick on the ground and falling fast. They’d have another two feet by tomorrow, but that wasn’t what had his attention. He pointed at the far end of his front yard where the dense trees began. They blocked his view of the land, but he much preferred being in a cocoon of privacy.

Tate pointed. “That’s where he ran off to.”

“And you shoved me in the barn so you could take care of it?”

She was still stuck on that? “Guess it was a reflex. All those years of protection duty for the Secret Service ingrained in me. I’m the one who faces the danger.”

“And the dogs.”

She really was intent on arguing, wasn’t she? Tate sighed. “They’re trained.”

“And I’m not? I’m still a Secret Service agent, Tate.”

He turned to her. “That’s not what I meant.” Not that he’d have heard from out here if she’d quit or not.

He didn’t know how to get himself out of this one, and why did he even feel like he needed to? He didn’t owe her anything, and he didn’t want her to owe him anything back. Whatever they’d had was done now. She’d killed it when she gave him his ring back and sent him packing.

Tate had lost it a couple of days later and gotten pushed into early retirement from the Secret Service over it, but this life was better. Simpler. He knew who he was out here, with the dogs.

Tate scanned the area but couldn’t see any sign of the gunman. The man might return. He could scout out the area and see if the guy was still here, but he’d have to do it after Liberty left.

The dogs trotted along. Gem scanned the area, but Joey ran in circles, ready to play. Tate motioned with his hand and gave them the command to head for the porch and wait for him there. He used it mostly when the UPS guy delivered packages, but it came in handy at other times as well.

Tate didn’t even want to contemplate what it meant that Liberty was here. He’d do so later, when he was alone again. The way he preferred it.

Liar.

Okay, so it wasn’t his choice, but life was life. She’d broken up with him. Called off the whole thing, and he didn’t even know why, so he’d simply concluded it was him. He’d always known there was something defective in him, and she’d tried to make it work. Until she realized it never would.

Tate stopped beside her car and opened the driver’s-side door. Waited. She didn’t move, just stood there looking like she had so much to say. He really didn’t want to hear any of it. What was the point? He took her in. All her blond hair, even softer than it looked, was secured back in a business ponytail. Dress slacks. Completely the wrong shoes to be traipsing around in snow. The bottom few inches of her pants were wet, but it wasn’t his problem, now was it? Not anymore.

Liberty’s eyebrows pinched together. She wore makeup, but not much. The top curve of her lip had a bump he’d always thought was adorable, as she’d been born with a cleft palate. The scar where it had been repaired was barely visible now. Still cute, though.

“We should call the police and report that man. He tried to kill you.”

Tate said, “Maybe he was here to kill you.”

Liberty blinked. “I... No, I don’t think so.” Still, there was a question in her eyes as she considered it.

Tate didn’t want to think about her being in danger. It was a reality of being a Secret Service agent, but not one he was going to dwell on. “He can’t have known you’d be here, unless he followed you, and how could he do it through this terrain, on foot?” Only her car was out here. His truck was under the carport.

Liberty pulled out her phone. “I’ll call emergency services. Get a sheriff, or whoever is the law around here, to come over.”

“Give me your phone. I’ll call him.” Even if her cell actually worked up here, she shouldn’t do the talking. That was more involvement than she needed to have in this situation.

Then again, if she left now, he could make the report to the sheriff and perhaps pretend she’d never even been here. It wasn’t exactly honest, but tell that to his heart.

Liberty clutched the phone. “I’ve given you enough already.”

She had no idea. “I don’t have a signal, and I don’t have a landline either.”

“So how do you communicate with people?”

Tate said, “Shortwave radio.”

Liberty glanced up from her phone. Evidently she had the one carrier that actually got a signal up here. “There’s no reason to be rude.”

She thought he was lying? Tate just enjoyed his privacy.

She said, “I know you want me to leave, but there’s a reason I’m here, so I’m not going to go. I came to tell you the Secret Service is on their way here to talk with you.”

“About what?” He had even less to say to his former employer than he did to his former fiancée.

“A plane went missing a hundred miles from here. Two White House staffers and a senator were on board.”

“I haven’t heard anything about it.” Not that he watched the news much. His aerial only got half a dozen channels, and he didn’t listen to the police band all the time on his scanner.

She kept talking. “It happened in the early hours of this morning. They lost contact right after the pilot sent out a distress call. We don’t know if the plane went down or if they were hijacked. Everyone is out looking for it.”

“I’m sure I can lend some assistance with the search,” he said. “For old times’ sake.”

“That isn’t why the Secret Service wants to talk with you.”

Tate didn’t know what else there would be to say. It didn’t seem like this had anything to do with him. “They’ll have to get in line. I need to make a report with the sheriff about a gunman on my property.”

Liberty let him change the subject. “Did you see who it was?”

Tate shook his head, still leaning his forearms on her open car door. Was she ever going to get in and drive away? This was painful enough without her drawing it out.

Tate sighed. “I didn’t get a good look at his face, but he didn’t seem familiar to me.” And it had definitely been a man. “Joey nearly chased him to the trees.”

Liberty didn’t smile. He knew she liked dogs, so he figured the problem was him. Tate glanced at the dogs. Joey wasn’t sitting the way Gem was. Instead, the Airedale paced the porch by the front door with his nose to the mat. He pawed at the door and then barked once.

Tate saw the flash of movement through the living room window.

He started running toward his cabin. “Someone’s in the house.”

TWO

Tate ran to the front door, so Liberty circled the house in case the intruder ran out the back. It was slow going, wading through thick snow, but she was already soaked and there would be time later to thaw out her toes. Liberty pulled out her cell phone and dialed emergency services. She requested the police, and was told the sheriff was on his way. The dispatcher seemed to know exactly where Tate’s house was, but this was a small town. Maybe they knew each other. Maybe she—it had been a woman—was his girlfriend.

Liberty stuffed her phone back in her jacket pocket and huffed out a breath at the workout she was getting. Okay, not only at the workout. Who cared if there was someone in Tate’s life now? It wasn’t like she had any claim on him. Not since she’d broken it off and severed the tie between them. As much as it had pained her to do it—and the reason for it hurt almost more than the act of doing it—Liberty hadn’t had another choice.

There was no future for them.

Still, if she got the chance, then she might tell him she regretted hurting him. But Liberty was never, ever going to tell him why. She could barely even think about it herself.

She reached the rear corner of the cabin, and the back door slammed. Liberty brought her gun up as the man flew out the door, stumbled and then started to run.

“Secret Service! Freeze!” Her voice barely carried.

He didn’t even slow down.

She ran after him. Tate rushed out the back door and got to the man first, launched himself at the guy and tackled his legs. The two went down in the snow like an ugly version of a snow angel. Tate grunted, and the two men struggled.

Liberty stopped six feet away and planted her now-numb feet. “Freeze, or I’ll shoot!” Tate would have to get out of the way first, but the man didn’t know.

Tate shifted and she saw the man’s face. He was probably in his midthirties.

He gritted his teeth and struggled. Tate jammed his arm up under the man’s chin. “Who are you?”

The man jerked his head around, trying to get away. “Get off me.” His gaze found hers, and she saw the moment he realized he’d lost this fight to the two of them. His eyes flashed. “Let me go.”

If he was going to try to get her to shoot him, Liberty wasn’t going to oblige. Suicide by cop might be something the police had to face, but it wasn’t part of her résumé. “Tate.”

He lifted the man off the snow to his feet. “Who are you?”

The guy looked like he was about to bolt. He wore jeans, boots and a heavy jacket. The men had both dressed for the weather, while Liberty was dressed for a mild winter in DC. Which was exactly what they’d been having. How was she to know this part of Montana was freezing and buried under four feet of snow?

When the man didn’t answer, Tate said, “Find me something to secure him with.”

Liberty went inside and found a dog leash hanging by the front door, beside where a big duffel sat on the floor. He’d always carried a bag to his workouts. The two animals were on dog beds in the living room, making the Christmas picture complete. They watched her move through the cabin, but thankfully didn’t come over expecting her to pet them. Liberty couldn’t handle that, when they would only remind her of her favorite dog. She’d had only cats since Beauregard died.

Hurrying back to Tate, Liberty held out the leash. He motioned to the guy with a tilt of his head. “You do it.”

“Put your hands behind your back.” She stowed her weapon and stepped behind him, where she secured his hands with the leash. “The sheriff is on his way.”

“Good.” Tate tugged on the man’s elbow, took him into the kitchen and deposited the man on a chair. “Don’t move.”

Liberty shut the back door and took off her gloves, so thin they were pointless. She blew on one hand, then the other, switching off the hand holding her gun as she attempted to impart some warmth back in her stiff fingers. Tate frowned and then hit the power icon on the display of his coffee maker. Fancy. She used a four-cup coffeepot, the cheapest she could find, but he’d always been particular about what brand he drank. Liberty didn’t care, so long as it was thick, hot and strong.

The man in the chair glanced between them but didn’t say anything. Under the LED kitchen lights his clothes looked worn, his hair matted to the top of his head.

Liberty disliked silence. She motioned to the man but asked Tate, “Is this the guy from outside the barn?” He could have come back and gotten inside somehow. Though he’d had a gun before.

Tate shook his head. “This is a different guy.” He pushed off the counter and took a step toward the man. “Come here with your partner. Come here to kill me. Why? Who am I to you?”

The guy looked away. Liberty had to wonder where the other man had disappeared to. Two assailants at Tate’s house tonight, within minutes of each other? It seemed impossible they weren’t connected.

Tate slammed both palms on his table. Liberty started and the seated man’s eyes widened. Tate said, “Why did you come here to kill me?”

“I want my lawyer.”

Liberty said, “We’re not cops.”

The minute the words were out of her mouth, Tate glanced at her. What? What had she said? He was being hard on the man. Yes, he had a right to be angry. But it was as though he’d forgotten everything they’d learned about questioning and just gone with what was in his gut: anger.

The last time she’d seen him, Tate had been so angry it had taken two of their fellow agents to pull him back from punching the director. He hadn’t been fired; it’d been more like a mutual decision between both parties that he should move on from the Secret Service. Liberty’s heart had broken even more than it already was that day, as she’d realized it was all her fault. Those tendencies he’d had as a kid to get mad instead of working through his problems had resurfaced through no fault of his own. Only hers.

Liberty strode to the intruder, because if she didn’t she’d start crying, thinking about how everything between her and Tate had gone wrong. She didn’t want to contemplate again how it was all her fault.

She said, “Stand up,” and glanced at Tate. He nodded to indicate he had her back. Liberty stowed her gun, but the man hadn’t moved. She hauled him up by his elbow and patted his pockets.

She found a cell phone, then a knife, and laid both on the table. She kept searching but found nothing else. Liberty grabbed the phone and stepped back. It wasn’t locked, and it had no apps downloaded. There were no contacts listed, and if there were any messages, those had been deleted as well.

“It’s clean.” She tossed the phone on the table.

“Our friend here can talk to the sheriff.”

“And it doesn’t bother you that his friend tried to kill you?” She couldn’t believe he was acting so blasé about this.

Tate shrugged. Was this his default now, when he’d decided he wasn’t mad? The indifference almost hurt more than the anger.

One of the dogs started barking. Tate said, “Sheriff’s here.”

Liberty left him with the intruder and went to the front door.

* * *

Tate waited where he was until Liberty walked back in with the sheriff. He lifted his chin at Dane Winters, a good friend since peewee football. “This guy is all yours.” Tate explained what had happened. The more he talked, the wider Dane’s eyes grew.

“And you have a guest.” Dane smiled. Because, yes, Tate had shared about Liberty. But Dane could fish all he wanted, Tate wasn’t going to spill.

“She was just leaving.” His only guest except Dane in months.

He pushed off the counter and didn’t offer anyone a cup of coffee, even though it was done brewing. He could drink it later and stay up all night brooding about the mess his life was now.

“Don’t you want to know why I’m here?” Liberty asked.

She might think he should be curious about this missing plane. She likely would be if things were reversed and he’d shown up at her house after so long. They’d been engaged. Tate had honestly figured it meant something, but apparently not. It was a good thing she wasn’t here for a reunion, or she would have been sorely disappointed.

Liberty looked almost sad. “Like I said, I’m here because a small aircraft, a business jet, went down not far from here. On board was a senator from Oklahoma and two White House staffers. Twelve hours ago we lost contact with them. We think the plane might’ve crashed somewhere close to here, and it’s believed there was foul play involved, possibly with the pilot. At least, as much was indicated from the last radio call before communication was cut off.” She paused. “We need to find those people.”

“That should be an FBI investigation, shouldn’t it?”

“They’re on it. But at the top of the list of suspects who might be involved is a certain former Secret Service agent I happen to know personally. So I figured, why not? For old times’ sake I’ll visit this former agent and let him know the Secret Service and the FBI are all on their way here to ask you a whole lot of uncomfortable questions you aren’t going to want to answer.”

She couldn’t seriously think he might be part of it. “You think I have something to hide? Something to do with this?”

“Do you?” She lifted her chin, like there was no history between them and she had every right to suspect him of something heinous. “It’s a valid question.”

“You really think I’ve changed that much?”

She didn’t answer. Instead, she said, “The FBI and the Secret Service want to know if you’re involved. But they’re betting on the fact that a disgruntled former Secret Service agent—”

“Disgruntled?” Why would they think he harbored resentment? Tate had moved on. Wasn’t it obvious?

Liberty shrugged. “Despite the cute cabin all decorated for a family Christmas, there is evidence against you. Seems to me from the blog, at least, that in the last few months your attitude has deteriorated. And it’s the basis of their evidence.”

“What blog?”

The sheriff shifted, but Dane couldn’t hide the fact that he was listening to their conversation. They were friends, and Dane was curious. Tate didn’t fault him for it. Even beyond this missing plane, there was a lot to talk about. Too bad there wasn’t time.

And good thing he didn’t want to talk about it anyway. His life now was none of her business.

Except the blog thing. What was that about?

When the sheriff peered at a tattoo on the man’s neck—one Tate hadn’t noticed until now—Tate went over to look as well. They glanced at each other, and Tate said, “Russians.”

“Like the mob?” Liberty asked. “In backwoods Montana?”

The sheriff stepped back and shrugged. “It happens. Not often, but all kinds of people travel through this town on the way to somewhere. Some of them even like it and stay, and not all are law-abiding citizens.” He glanced at Tate. “I got an update about this missing plane an hour ago. We should talk about it.”

Tate didn’t like the look on Dane’s face at all. He’d known, and he stood there and let Liberty give her whole speech about him being a criminal.

“You want to take my badge for being involved, and keep it until I’m out from under suspicion?” The idea of losing the job as well, when he’d already lost so much, sat like a bad burrito in his stomach.

Liberty gasped. “His badge?”

He nearly kicked himself for saying it while she was here.

Dane said, “Tate is a deputy with the county sheriff’s department. He only works shifts occasionally, and I pay him so much less than he’s worth it’s not even funny. But technically he’s an employee. And as a sounding board, he’s been invaluable.”

Tate shook his head and pulled the badge from his drawer. “More like it’s your attempt to make sure I’m not cooped up here all the time. Like it’s a bad thing.”

The sheriff shrugged again, pocketed the badge and then took the now-cuffed intruder out to his car where he’d be secure.

Liberty nodded. “The FBI doesn’t know you’re a deputy sheriff. It will strengthen our argument.”

Tate said, “We don’t have an argument, Liberty. We don’t have anything. You took care of that.” He saw the blow the words inflicted, but couldn’t let himself care about it. She’d ripped him to shreds when she’d given his ring back and started the cascading fall of his life into this pit. A pit he tried to pretty up, just so he didn’t dwell on the fact that it was kind of pathetic.

Now the Secret Service was here investigating a missing plane and three people, and they thought he was involved? He needed to get out in front of this, or he could wind up spending the rest of his life in prison for a crime he didn’t commit.

If he cared enough, he’d ask her about the blog she’d mentioned. But Tate figured he’d find out soon enough. After she left his house.

He opened the hall closet and started to put his coat on.

Liberty had followed. “You’re going out now?”

He looked at her, trying hard to hide everything he was feeling. “Lock the door before you leave.”

“Where are you even going? You should stay here, help me convince the FBI you had nothing to do with this.”

“Or I could go and find the plane and those missing people instead.”

The sheriff walked back in. “If they think you’re involved with this, it’s going to be messy to unravel. But I’ll do what I can. I’ve got your back, Tate. You know that.”

He held out his hand, and Tate shook it.

Liberty didn’t wait long before she asked, “Where are you going to look? Do you have an idea of where it might be?”

“Maybe.” Tate pulled on a pair of gloves. “I know where I’m going to look first, at least.” He turned away from their huddle toward the door. Yeah, this likely wasn’t turning out the way she’d thought it would, but at least if he was gone looking for the plane, then the Secret Service might be convinced he wasn’t involved.

Dane followed Tate to the door. Liberty walked over, her hand out for the sheriff to shake, but Dane didn’t see it. His attention was on a black duffel leaned against the wall. The sheriff stepped toward the bag. “What is this?”

They worked out together, and Dane had never seen that bag before...because Tate had never seen that bag before. “It’s not mine.”

The bag was partially unzipped. The sheriff pulled the zipper back all the way as Liberty moved closer to them. Inside the duffel were bundles of cash secured by rubber bands, and an orange box the size of a lockbox like the one he kept his gun in. The sheriff lifted it out of the bag.

On the side of the box it said, FLIGHT RECORDER. DO NOT OPEN.

THREE

“That’s not mine.” Tate said the words before he’d even thought them through.

The sheriff glanced over his shoulder at Tate, looking like he wanted to kick him. “Of course I know this isn’t yours, dude. Except now what we have are two Russian intruders—one in my car, one who’s fled—and a bag of money, along with what I’m guessing is the voice recorder for the plane that’s currently missing. Which means any search the FBI has going for this thing—if it’s active—is going to lead them right here. To the home of their lead suspect.”

Liberty paled. “He’s being framed.”

Tate almost thought she might have cared for him just then as he studied her face and heard the soft tone of her words. Too bad he knew that wasn’t the case. He didn’t believe she’d come here because of any lingering feelings for him. She probably just wanted to save her reputation at work by convincing everyone she was prepared to do her job and arrest Tate—who was about to be labeled a traitor to his country.

Liberty looked at him, saw he was staring at her and glanced away.

“You should get your coat on,” he said. Like he was going to hang around here so she could arrest him? She’d said the Secret Service were on their way. “And you should also switch out your shoes for boots.”

Tate didn’t wait around for her to comply. He strode to the closet and pulled out another set of gloves that would actually keep her hands warm, along with a hat, and turned back to her in time to see her plant one hand on her hip.

“What do you mean put my coat on? Why do I need my coat?”

“Because you’re coming with me.” He put all the outerwear in her hands and then turned to the sheriff. “You’re good, right? I can leave?”

“Sure,” Dane said with a distinct smirk on his face. “Just keep your phone on you.”

“Good idea.” Who knew how far away the plane was.

Tate strode to the kitchen and opened the junk drawer, not worried anyone would be able to use the thing to track him. It was almost useless, capable of making calls and sending texts—not that he ever did—and that was all.

He pulled out his cell phone and pressed the power button. Hopefully he’d charged it before he turned it off last time. He only kept it with him when he was on shift as a deputy sheriff. There was no signal on this mountain, so there was no point in having it on up here. One of these days he would switch to the carrier that actually got a tiny signal in this area, but he hadn’t done it yet.

Tate slid the phone into his front pocket and found the keys to the snowmobile. He wasn’t about to hang around and have this whole thing pinned on him. Not when he might be able to find the plane and prove his innocence. He’d have to deal with Liberty being with him—as opposed to somewhere else, probably causing trouble for him.

She wouldn’t be causing him trouble on purpose, but she would have to do her job, and that wouldn’t be good for him. If she was with Tate, he could keep an eye on her. And keep her safe in case that man had been here to hurt her.

The thoughts spun in his head like a tornado.

“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?” Liberty asked.

“To find the plane,” Tate said. Like that wasn’t perfectly obvious. “If the Russian mob, or whoever is sitting in the back of the sheriff’s car, is trying to frame me for this, then I’m not about to stay here and try to convince the feds and the Secret Service that I’m not involved.” He’d burned those bridges to the ground when he’d tried to punch Locke his last day on the job. “There’s no way I’m going to trust them to believe me when I can prove I’m innocent myself.”

Locke had known exactly why Tate lost his cool and hadn’t blamed him one bit. Which only made the whole situation all the more infuriating. His anger needed an outlet. It wasn’t good if he bottled it up, so he had to channel it somewhere. There wasn’t much to get mad about on this mountain, so he’d been fine.

Until Liberty showed up.

Now he wanted to kick a wall, because prison would not be good for him.

He trailed to his bedroom and got his Beretta from the safe. Two extra clips. He dropped them in a backpack as he walked to the entryway, where he handed it to Liberty. She’d need to carry it.

She raised her brows at his offering. “Is there a reason I have to come?”

Tate figured it was probably a valid question. Apparently Liberty was all about questions these days. The truth was he’d kind of missed her, which was totally messed up. But he had loved her, and she’d thrown it away. Maybe he didn’t want to pass up this opportunity to hang out with her, even under the circumstances.

Instead of actually telling her, Tate waved toward the window. “Have you seen the weather out here? You don’t go out in that alone. You take a buddy.”

Tate thought he might have heard the sheriff snort, but he ignored it. Dane had figured out what it was about even if Liberty hadn’t. She would eventually, and then he would be done for. She’d never liked being tricked.

Tate opened the door, stepped outside and headed for the shed. Joey barked and raced out into the snow behind him, ready for whatever adventure they were going on.

Tate turned to the house and called for Joey to follow him back inside. The dog bounded up the porch steps where Liberty stood, while Tate stayed at the bottom. Liberty jumped aside at the last minute, a nervous look on her face. Was she scared of dogs? He hadn’t thought so. Hadn’t she had a dog once? It was possible something had happened recently that he didn’t know about. Tate figured it was just another indication of their incompatibility.

“You still have that ugly cat?”

Liberty’s mouth dropped open. “Yes. You’ve already asked me that, Tate.”

The sheriff stepped out with them and shut the door, almost choking in an attempt to hide his laughter. “I’ll wait for the Secret Service and then take that guy in.” He motioned to his car, where the intruder sat.

Liberty walked down the porch steps after Tate. “Just answer one question before we go find the plane.”

Tate waited.

“What is up with the Christmas decorations? Your house looks like a postcard.”

“It was a wreck, so I fixed it up. The Realtor’s coming by first thing tomorrow morning for a showing.”

She looked like he’d kicked her ugly bald cat.

Tate flicked two fingers toward the sheriff, who drove away with the intruder, and then stepped into the dark of the shed. He fired up the snowmobile and drove it out. Liberty walked over on black boots. She gaped. Tate just ignored it and said, “Get on. We’ve got a plane to find.”

That got her moving. She jumped on behind him and set her hands on his shoulders. Tate reached back and pulled her arms around him. Before the feeling of her being so close could take root, he set off. Liberty squealed and held on tighter. She would get the hang of it pretty soon, and until then he would ignore the fact that she was holding on to him for dear life.

Tate found the path through the trees and headed up the mountain, toward the valley to the west of town. The snow was a thick covering, but the temperature wasn’t too bad. He’d been out in colder weather than this, when the wind beat against him and he’d felt like he was frozen down to his bones.

As he drove, he prayed they would find the plane and the missing people—and that when this was done and Liberty went home, his heart would still be intact.

Four miles later her grip on his waist began to loosen. Half a mile after that she started to slide to the side. Tate shook his head. She’d fallen asleep, probably exhausted from a day of travel and then showing up at his house only to face intruders. Tate slowed the snowmobile to a stop and left it to idle while he reached back and shifted Liberty so she was sitting upright.

She looked even paler in the moonlight. He held her with one arm and then put his free hand on her face. When her eyebrows twitched, he took off his glove and touched the cool of her skin with his warm fingers. This would turn out to be a mistake, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself from hugging her. It had been too long since he’d received any kind of affection from anyone. Dog slobber didn’t count.

Liberty roused. Tate shifted her so he could see her face and said, “Are you okay?”

She nodded, but couldn’t quite hide the wince. “Headache, but that’s all.”

“Aside from the fact that you’re exhausted.” She always downplayed it when she was hurting. “Can you hang on some more? It’s not much farther.”

She looked up at him as though he’d paid her the nicest of compliments. Tate had seriously missed that look in the last year but didn’t want to dwell too much on the fact that he was soaking it up now. It wasn’t going to help him when she left if all he could do was remember what she looked like. What she felt like. How she smelled. He had to get this woman out of his head if he was going to survive alone for the rest of his life.

Liberty straightened. “I’m good.”

“Okay then.” Tate turned back around to face forward and set off again.

* * *

For the first time since she’d shown up at his house, Liberty had seen the man she’d fallen in love with. She hugged his middle again, and felt the prick of tears in her eyes. Everything good they’d ever had between them...she’d ruined it all when she gave him back his ring and said she’d realized it wasn’t going to work.

Which was true. Considering what she’d learned, there was no way a relationship between them would’ve worked. There was just so much unsaid now. She’d seen the question in his eyes, the pain of their relationship being torn apart when there was nothing either of them could do about it.

And nothing had changed since.

They’d both found some semblance of peace. Liberty could hardly believe that their lives now were what God had wanted for them, but what else were they supposed to have done? This was what God had given them, and it simply didn’t work for them to share their lives.

Liberty wanted to ask Tate if he’d moved on, if he’d found someone to care about, but she couldn’t voice the words out in the cold, dark night, silent except for the rumble of the snowmobile’s engine. She hoped he’d found someone else.

Because she never could.

Tate revved the engine. Liberty saw something out of the corner of her eye and glanced over. Her whole body solidified as she spotted a man dressed in dark clothes, a weapon pointed at them.

“Gun!”

Tate shot forward even faster as the man opened fire. They both ducked and the shots rang out, each one as loud as a firework.

Blast after blast flashed in the dark, illuminating his position. His aim chased the snowmobile’s path as Tate flew across the terrain. Liberty pulled her own gun out and fired back two shots, but the ride was too bumpy. She would never be able to hit him. Still, she gripped Tate tighter with her other arm and both knees and tried not to fall off.

Unless...

The shots continued. Liberty shifted back and launched herself off the snowmobile. She landed on her back in a berm of snow and heard Tate yell. He gunned the snowmobile, then turned it in a wide arc, coming back for her.

Liberty ran for the nearest tree so that at least there’d be some cover from the shots. While Tate raced back to her, she returned fire at the man who now sent bullets at both her and Tate in turn. Then he swung his arm back and fired at her.

Liberty ducked and the bullet took out a chunk of bark. She raced for the next tree, moving closer to the man.

The roar of the snowmobile engine raced up behind her. She glanced over, but Tate wasn’t coming for her. He drove the snowmobile past her, toward the man trying to kill them. What was he doing? His weapon was in the backpack on her back.

Liberty shifted for a better position and fired to give him the cover he needed. Over and over. One shot managed to clip the gunman in the shoulder, and then Tate was in her line of fire and right on top of the man. He launched himself from the snowmobile and tackled the guy to the snow.

The vehicle they’d been riding continued on, but the engine lost power fast and careened into a tree.

Liberty raced over while they fought. The gun went off. She ducked and went to one knee. Tate had the man on the ground. He shifted, put his knee on the guy’s elbow and grabbed the weapon.

Liberty relaxed one tiny notch.

Gun at the ready, she made her way to them. “You good?”

Tate didn’t look at her. The man on the ground was bleeding, but Tate hauled him to his feet. Liberty pulled out her phone.

“Won’t get any signal out here.”

“So what do we do with him then?”

Tate shifted the man’s collar. “Same tattoo. Russian as well, I’m guessing. Maybe the first guy from my house. He’s wearing the right clothes.”

The words weren’t directed at her, but the man didn’t answer. Didn’t say anything. His face was deadpan, with no expression. No movement whatsoever.

“Guess we’re walking back to town,” Tate said. “We can turn him over to the sheriff, and Dane can get some answers.”

That got a reaction.

Liberty saw the slightest movement. “Tate—”

But the man was already in motion. He launched himself at Tate.

Liberty hardly had time to react, but she was a Secret Service agent.

A shot went off.

Liberty fired as well, her aim true, and the bullet hit the gunman square in the chest. Tate fell back and the man landed on top of him. He rolled the man so their attacker lay in the snow. Two choppy breaths later, he was dead.

“Lib.”

She stepped back, even though he hadn’t moved.

Tate got to his feet. He stepped toward her, and she held out a hand, palm up. “We’re okay, Lib.”

She shook her head. “The snowmobile is trashed and we’re in the middle of nowhere.”

“We don’t have to walk back to town now. The mine isn’t far from here. Come on,” he coaxed. “It isn’t far, Lib.”

“Don’t call me that.” She lifted her gaze and looked him square in the face. “Don’t ever call me that.”

They weren’t a team. They would never be a team again, as good as it felt working together. Protecting each other. Taking down their assailant. Liberty had to let go of all her memories with him. Again. As much as it hurt, she had to walk away from Tate and let him live his life. Because one of them should have a future.

And it wasn’t going to be her.

FOUR

Tate wanted to hold her hand. He also wanted to yell at her and get her to tell him why she’d jumped off the snowmobile. He’d nearly had a heart attack when he realized what she’d done. Yes, she was a Secret Service agent. He’d been one as well, and that stuff didn’t just disappear. He was wired to protect, and that meant Liberty along with everyone else. Feelings didn’t matter. Even after she’d torn his life apart. Maybe especially. They didn’t get to pick and choose who they protected.

Thank You for keeping us safe. God had protected them. That man had tried to kill them, and in the end had chosen to end his life by forcing her hand. He’d known what it meant to attack Tate one last time. It couldn’t have ended another way.

Now there was a dead man in the woods. Liberty had taken a million pictures of the body while he checked for ID and found nothing, then noted as many details as he could in a text to the sheriff that would send just as soon as he got a signal. Liberty had said she would email the photos to Dane later after she downloaded them to her laptop.

Aside from that, there wasn’t much they could do about a dead body in the woods. Tate needed to find the plane so he could prove to the Secret Service—and anyone else—that he hadn’t been involved in its disappearance.

Then there were the two men at his house. One had tried to kill him, and the other had planted evidence by leaving the plane’s black box by his front door. The first had come back and tried again. It couldn’t be a coincidence; there was no such thing in their line of work, he had learned. So it wasn’t just the Secret Service pointing a finger at him. Someone else wanted to make sure he was implicated in this. But who? And what did they have to gain, getting him arrested and thrown in prison?

Liberty was silent beside him, and Tate didn’t try to draw her out of it. He had no idea what was going on in her head, but when she was ready to talk to him she would. That had always been their way. What would be the point of making her talk?

Even though it had been more than a year since he’d seen her, a lot of who they had been together still seemed to fit. Despite that, he couldn’t imagine them working as a couple after everything. But then, Tate couldn’t imagine it working with anyone now. Clearly he wasn’t the kind of guy any woman kept around.

Soon enough they were at the old mine, the place Tate had thought of immediately when she’d mentioned a missing plane in this area.

Assuming it hadn’t crashed and there wasn’t debris splayed across the terrain somewhere around here just waiting to be found.

If this was indeed a case of foul play, the plane had to have landed somewhere close to here. After all, the black box had been removed and was intact. It hadn’t been destroyed or crashed with the plane and buried in the debris.

If the people who were doing this truly wanted the plane to remain undiscovered, it meant they had to be hiding it somewhere. The front part of this system of caves and tunnels making up the entirety of the mine was an opening big enough to taxi a plane into. It would not be completely closed in, but it would at least hide the aircraft for a while.

Tate couldn’t think of a better place to put it.

Liberty stopped and looked across the clearing, at least eight acres of snowfall. “This is it?”

“It’s where I would hide a plane.” When she shot him a look, Tate added, “If I was the one who was behind this. Which I am not, and you know that. Or at least you should.”

Maybe she’d never had total faith in him, and their relationship had been shakier than he’d known. But he’d thought they were good. Preparing for the future, making plans together for when they were no longer Secret Service agents. They’d been busy all the time, out on the road campaigning every few years. On overseas details, protecting the secretary of state and other dignitaries.

They had lived in some amazing places and seen some amazing things, but the strain of that life weighed a person down until they felt old beyond their years. He knew he felt it, but Liberty didn’t look it. Her mom didn’t look her age either, so he figured it was probably inherited.

“How are your parents?” Tate set off toward the mine.

Liberty strode through the snow beside him. “They’re good. My dad won a golf tournament last weekend, beat all of his friends and everything. He was seriously proud. They even got him a little trophy.” She grinned, and her teeth flashed white in the moonlight. “Have you seen your brother at all?”

He’d told her the story about his parents’ car crash when he was in college. It was the first time he remembered being really, truly angry. Tate’s younger brother had been sixteen at the time and had spiraled on a downward descent since then. Braden had hit rock bottom so many times Tate had lost count.

“He doesn’t return my calls. I invited him to Christmas, but I figure he’ll probably just ignore the holidays.” Tate paused, unsure whether or not to add this next part. In the end, he decided to brave the potential heartbreak. “The house I’m living in right now is actually our family’s vacation cabin. I fixed it up so I could live there.”

“But you told me it’s for sale.”

“I tried. I really did. I just can’t face it by myself, Lib. I can’t live with all those happy family memories and be by myself.”

Liberty stared at him with some kind of wonder he didn’t understand. “Tate, why haven’t you found someone?” Her voice was full of so much pain it almost hurt to hear it. Like she couldn’t believe he didn’t meet eligible women every day.

It wasn’t like they just showed up on his mountain.

She cleared her throat, and he let her change the subject. “Your Christmas tree is very nice. And the place looks great.” She spoke tentatively, like she wasn’t sure how the words would be received. “I haven’t even had time to get mine up yet. And I was planning on going down to Florida anyway, but that isn’t going to happen now.”

“I’m sorry this has ruined your Christmas plans.”

“I might still be able to get them back on track. I have a few days of travel left before Christmas Eve. If this gets wrapped up before then, I’ll probably still try to head down to see my parents if I can.” Liberty tucked some hair behind her ear, the way she did when she was avoiding something.

Tate figured she didn’t want him to know her Christmas wouldn’t be anything special, just a visit with her parents. It would be more than what he was looking forward to—assuming his house didn’t sell in the next week.

A fire in his fireplace, hot coffee and a book. Sounded about perfect, but it wasn’t anywhere near as enjoyable as the years they’d meet up on Christmas Eve at one of their homes and watch an old movie together. It had been a tradition, a part of their life together. One he’d dearly missed last Christmas Eve.

Right now wasn’t the time to dwell on memories. Not when they had a plane to find.

“I’m sure that’ll be great,” he said.

She shot him a funny look, but he didn’t have time to figure out what it was about. Tate led Liberty over to the mine’s entrance. Once one of the most prominent sources of coal in this entire area, the cave had an opening big enough to accommodate heavy equipment. It stretched above their heads and to their left and right. The inside was a dark cavern he could barely see into. Good thing he’d brought a flashlight.

When they were close enough for her to see just how big it was, Liberty gasped. “You could totally hide a small aircraft in there.”

“Me, specifically?”

“You know what I mean, Tate. This place is big enough to hide a business jet like the one that disappeared. I really hope we find it and the people who are missing. I can’t imagine what they’re going through.” She started to walk fast.

Fifteen feet from the mine’s opening, a rumble shook the ground. Before Tate could register the fact that it was an earthquake, an orange fireball split the space between the roof of the mine and the walls.

The force of the explosion pushed them back onto the snow with a rush of hot air and flames.

* * *

Dirt and rocks rained down over the entrance like a tsunami of earth as the mine exploded in on itself. Tate grabbed her arm, but Liberty was already climbing to her feet and running. The roar was almost as loud as the deafening explosion. Her ears rang, and she thought he might be yelling instructions to her, but she couldn’t hear. Thankfully, the terrain wasn’t sloped, or there quite likely would have been an avalanche.

The ground started to shift under her as she ran. Liberty stumbled, and Tate scooped her up like the hero he’d been to her for years. Underneath he was still the same protective guy she’d loved. Being in his arms had been the safest place, second only to right at his back during a fire fight. And she knew which she preferred.

Tate picked up the pace, forcing her to keep up. Liberty ran until sweat chilled on her temple and ran down her back. She estimated it was almost half a mile before they were clear of the explosion and the debris it had caused, and Tate slowed.

Liberty set her hands on her knees and bent forward, sucking in breaths.

Tate set his hand on her back. When she looked up he was scanning the area. Then he looked at her. “I think we’re clear.”

Liberty straightened. “What do you want to do now?” She could barely think. They’d nearly died. Her head spun, and it was entirely possible she was going to fall over. Just swoon and pass out, like she wasn’t a Secret Service agent.

She sucked in a breath and squared her shoulders. Then gasped. The mine was gone. The mountain had caved in on itself like an empty burlap sack. Tate stepped toward it, but she waylaid him with a hand on his arm. “We’ll be careful,” he said.

“You want to go over there?” Was it even safe to walk over the debris?

“We need to see if the plane was in the mine. We might be able to get a look.”

“We should tell the Secret Service.” Not to mention the FBI and the sheriff. “There’s no way that explosion was missed, even if it is the middle of the night.”

“It’s only one in the morning.”

She glanced at him. He’d always been Mr. Night Owl, while she was an early riser. Something about the dark had always creeped her out. She didn’t like being outside in the middle of nowhere at night. But even though she wasn’t alone, she still couldn’t relax too much. He would protect her, and she would hold up her end, but it wouldn’t last.

Liberty looked at her phone, just so she could do something unrelated to Tate. His presence had always filled a room. When he was calm, that calmness seemed to permeate the air. When he was agitated, like he was now, she had to let him work through it. He’d told her he had tools he used to process his emotions. Methods for reining it in while he thought through what needed to be worked out.

She couldn’t imagine it had been easy to lose his parents so young and suddenly have to take care of his brother full-time. He’d said it was going into the military that saved him and gave him the structure and discipline he’d so badly needed back then. He’d thrived, making it all the way to a senior NCO. The Secret Service had been a good move, though he’d brushed up against the bureaucracy more than once.

Tate was all about improving methodology instead of doing things the same way over and over. If it could be improved, it should be. Liberty agreed, though she was more of a follower than a leader. Some people were naturally take-charge people. She could do it if she had to, and she had in her personal life. But only when it was a necessity.

“No signal?”

She sighed. “Nothing.”

“I figured as much. The whole mountain where my cabin is, I get nothing.” He held up his own device—one of those ancient flip phones.

“I didn’t even know they sold those anymore. Does it even connect to the internet?”

Tate shrugged. She knew he’d never enjoyed email and probably hadn’t done a Google search in his life. The man still used a phone book to look up numbers. She’d called him a “dinosaur” about technology more than once.

Tate stepped over snow mingled with dirt and rocks, testing each step to make sure it would hold his weight. Liberty did the same, carving out her own path to his right. “The ground seems pretty stable.”

“But the mine is toast.”

She nodded. “We aren’t going to be able to see inside.”

“Still, the explosion might have made the plane visible. We at least have to look at it from all angles, in case we can see something.”

“The FBI and the Secret Service are going to have to bring earth movers up here to clear it out if they really want to find out if the plane was here. Is here.”

He pointed left, past the mouth of the mine that was no more. “There’s a road on the other side. We can follow it out and get to town, get the word out that we think we know where the plane might be.”

Liberty nodded. “That’s a good idea. We can start convincing them you don’t have anything to do with this.”

“Is that why you came by yourself?”

She glanced at him.

“There has to be a reason you didn’t come with your team. You drove out by yourself to my cabin.” He paused. “I didn’t think about it until now, since we’ve been busy fighting off guys. But now that I think about it, shouldn’t you be working with the Secret Service instead of flying solo?”

“Locke knows where I am.” Liberty figured it was time to admit the truth. “He wanted to wait out the snow, but I said I was leaving right away. So yeah, it was bad and I almost didn’t make it. But I got to your cabin, and they should have been maybe an hour behind me. They were going to check into the hotel first.” She shrugged. “I figured I could get a jump on proving you weren’t part of it.”

“So you didn’t think I was guilty.”

“Your mental state isn’t the best, but it doesn’t exactly scream ‘domestic terrorist.’”

He gave her a dark look. “What exactly do you know about my mental state?”

“The blog—”

“Right, the blog.” He lifted both hands, palms up. “I have no idea what blog you’re talking about. I’m not even sure what one is.”

She had thought it was weird that a technologically inept man such as Tate would suddenly start a blog. “About eight months ago you started posting monthly rants. At first they were just generally disgruntled, stuff about the government and how it’s run. Federal agencies. Budgets.”

“And you thought that was me?”

“It was all stuff we’ve talked about.” What else was she supposed to have thought?

“I don’t own a computer, Liberty. I have no internet access.”

“I didn’t know. It seemed like you, kind of.”

“Kind of?”

Liberty shrugged. She’d hurt him, and when he had started the blog—or when the blog had started—it’d made sense to her he’d feel that way. She just hadn’t figured he’d spew his feelings online. “What do you want me to say? I thought you were lashing out because I hurt you.”

“And you came here to what...apologize?”

“Would that be so awful?” she asked. “I felt like I owed you something at least.”

Tate didn’t react. Not in his face, and not in his stiff body language. “The last thing I want to hear from you is that you’re sorry. At least have the guts to stand by what you did. You tore us apart for whatever reason was in your head.” He paused. “Does the reason still apply?”

Liberty nodded, unable to speak past the lump in her throat.

“Then there’s nothing more to say about us.”

Liberty nodded again. “It’s good you think so. You’ll be able to move on with no ties to us or anything else in your past.” It hurt to say those words, but she wanted him to know he was free. He needed to believe she would be happy for him. “Is there anyone in town you’re...interested in? Have you met someone?” Maybe he would answer now.

Tate’s eyebrows drew together. “You want me to be with someone else?”

“I want you to be happy, Tate.” It was why she’d let him go.

“Guess I’m just not wired for happily-ever-after.”

Liberty blinked. “Of course you are. Why would you say that?”

“You made it pretty clear we weren’t going to work, so why would it work with someone else?”

“Why would it not?” She hated that he thought this. She had to change his mind. “Of course you can be happy.”

“And waste months—maybe even years—trying to find out? I’m done with relationships. Otherwise I’d have figured it out by now.”

“Plenty of people find happiness in their thirties.”

“Yeah? Like you?”

Liberty wanted to say something. Instead she just closed her mouth. What was there to say? Relationships were great, but she wanted more for Tate than she could give anyone, and a man who didn’t realize the demands on Secret Service agents would never understand her life. It wouldn’t work, and since Tate was gone from her life, she hadn’t even been looking. She had thought he was her future, but that wasn’t the path God had set before her.

A car engine revved.

Liberty spun around to see a truck round the corner over where Tate had pointed out the road. The vehicle rumbled fast over the ruts of debris, right toward them.

Tate set one hand on her stomach and moved her back so he was in front of her. Liberty glanced around the breadth of his shoulders. “It’s coming right for us.”

“Give me the backpack.”

She did so, and they started to run. But before Tate could get it open gunshots exploded the dirt around them.

“Freeze!”

Liberty halted. Tate slammed into her, backpack first. He dropped it and slid his arms around her. She lifted her hands.

“Both of you, in the truck.”

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