Perilous Christmas Reunion. Laurie Alice Eakes

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       TWO

      Lauren crossed her arms over her chest and grasped her elbows to stop herself from shaking—from cold or in response to the fury on Chris’s face, she wasn’t quite sure. “I know your gun was there. I felt it when I was helping you get up, but I didn’t take it.”

      Chris pressed one hand to his head, where blood still trickled along his hairline, then bent to roll aside a log at the same moment a crack of gunfire reverberated from the trees.

      “Get inside,” Chris shouted.

      Lauren was already running for the open door. Chris caught up and grabbed her hand. Her moccasins slipped on the doorsill, and she landed on her knees. Chris edged past her, then bent to catch hold of her arms and haul her to her feet. A sharp hiss of breath through his teeth reminded Lauren he was injured, and she freed herself from his grip so she could slip her arm around his waist and propel him through the door.

      It was two-inch-thick, oak with a steel core, meant to withstand a Michigan winter or the worst summer storm. Lauren slammed it and threw the two dead bolts into place. The storm shutters were already closed, save for the one over the front window. Chris lunged for that one and banged it shut. A moment later, another shot cracked, muffled by the cabin’s thick walls, but the walls weren’t so thick Lauren missed the thud of a bullet striking the window frame.

      “What are they doing?” She flung herself to the floor below the level of the window. “Who is shooting at us?”

      “Maybe you can tell me.” Pallor emphasizing the deep blue of his eyes, Chris sank onto the edge of the leather sofa. “Your brother?”

      “But—” Lauren stood and leaned against the wall, her heart racing as though she had just finished swimming across the lake “—that wasn’t you shooting at Ryan?”

      “I never saw Ryan. Where did he go?”

      “He took off when the shooting started.”

      Chris gazed at her with narrowed eyes, then glanced toward the steps to the bedrooms above and back to her. “You know, if you harbor a fugitive, you’re an accessory—”

      “He isn’t here.” Lauren flung her arms wide, nearly knocking a poinsettia off a low table. “Go look for yourself, if you don’t believe me. I know that’s why you’re here. I should have known you’d come here first.”

      “I was on my way to see my family when the news hit.”

      “And your first thought was that Lauren would protect her brother.” She blinked hard against hot moisture in her eyes.

      “You’ve always put your brother first.”

      She spun on her heel, numb with cold from her wet moccasins, and stalked into the kitchen. “I never put Ryan first, but you will never understand that I can’t stop loving him just because he might associate with criminals.”

      “‘Might associate with’?” Chris’s voice was far too quiet.

      Lauren understood what that meant. He grew quiet when he was angry. She supposed she couldn’t blame him. Her family had come between Chris and her having a happy future together. Now Ryan was interfering with Chris’s Christmas with his mother and sister.

      And she had just said that Ryan might associate with criminals, as though he wasn’t one himself. She never could accept that her big brother was something other than the kind and loving young man who had built her a tree house and cleaned her bloody hands and knees when she was learning to ride a bike.

      “Ryan ran into the woods when the shooting started.” As an olive branch, her information was poor, but it was all she had to offer.

      “Do you have any form of communication here?” Chris’s question was his only response. “I get no signal on my mobile.”

      Despite the heavy storm shutters, she was all too aware of a gunman likely lurking outside the house. Without a word, she fetched the satellite phone and handed it to Chris, then she located the first-aid kit she had dropped on the faded Oriental rug in the center of the living room. She could doctor Chris’s head wound until he got assistance from EMTs. Needing warm water to cleanse the wound, she returned to the kitchen. With the open floor plan, she wouldn’t be able to avoid hearing Chris’s call, but if he wanted privacy, he could go into the bathroom, one of the bedrooms or even retreat upstairs.

      Yet he made no phone calls. One hand holding a square of clean linen cloth beneath the kitchen tap, Lauren glanced over her shoulder. Chris perched on the edge of the sofa with the phone in his hand, his mouth set in a grim line.

      “What’s wrong?” She flicked off the water.

      “No signal. I guess I have to risk going outside.”

      “You shouldn’t have to. I have an antenna.” Their eyes met across the breakfast bar, and she corrected herself. “I had an antenna.”

      “Cloud interference?”

      “The weather isn’t bad enough for that yet.” Despite the heat of the woodstove, a chill raced down Lauren’s arms. When she read the accusation in Chris’s gaze, steady upon her face, the shivers penetrated through her body to her core. She would rather face an arctic storm outside than remain beneath the scrutiny of those beautiful blue eyes. Yet she could not look away or he would think she was trying to hide something.

      “Did you disable the antenna because you were expecting your brother?” He asked the question she had anticipated.

      She flattened the palms of her hands on the white quartz countertop so they wouldn’t shake. “Do you really think I climbed on the roof to disable the antenna?”

      “I think you didn’t answer my question.” His tone was as cold as Lauren felt—a rival to the oncoming storm—cold enough to make something inside her snap.

      “I did not disable the antenna.” She threw the cloth she’d been wetting into the sink. “I did not plan to give my brother shelter.” She grabbed the frying pan with her ruined dinner congealing inside and threw that into the sink with a satisfying clatter of cast iron on stainless steel. “I did not shoot at you, steal your gun or make the woodpile collapse on top of you. I arrived here two hours ago to avoid the press that seems to be forgetting it is nearly Christmas and some of us would like a peaceful time to remember the season and the birth of Jesus in peace. I came here to avoid the press so I didn’t forget about goodwill toward men.” She rounded the breakfast bar and yanked open the door to the stove to add more wood. “I was not in Chicago for my brother’s trial, so I did not aid and abet his escape.” A log slipped from her hands and hit the floor a hairbreadth from her toes. “I cannot prove the negative, СКАЧАТЬ