Christmas Witness Protection. Maggie K. Black

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      “Like I said, I don’t know.”

      She suspected Mr. Polite Detective wasn’t used to having rapid-fire questions thrown at him, but now was no time for waffling. They were hidden and whispering in their impromptu foxhole, but they couldn’t stay there forever. Before she made a tactical move, she was going to learn all she could about the situation they were facing.

      And the man who’d leaped to her rescue.

      “Did they tell you anything?” he asked. “Do you know what they’d wanted you to read?”

      “No.” She frowned. They hadn’t said much at all. “But I was left with the distinct impression they hadn’t been planning on leaving me alive when they were done with me.”

      His eyes widened. They were gray like the sky before a winter’s storm. She watched as a question floated there.

      “What?” she asked.

      “You turned down witness protection repeatedly,” he said. “Why?”

      “Because I love my life in the military, I love serving my country and didn’t want to give it up. Even temporarily.”

      Her frown deepened. But to her surprise he grinned. His smile was warm, cheerful and oddly comforting.

      “Now, just in case you were worried, I want to reassure you that I really am a cop,” he said. “Not that I have any way of proving it to you right now, besides flashing my badge.”

      To her surprise, she felt a smile curve at the corner of her lips. “It’s okay. I trust you on that.”

      “Good.” He lifted the edge of the tarp slowly. “Fortunately, I got a pretty good look at the layout of this place when I was up on the catwalk. So here’s the plan. We get somewhere safe, talk to people I trust, figure out what’s going on and make a plan from there.”

      She appreciated that he’d said “we” and not “I.”

      “Well then,” she said, “let’s go.”

      Noah whispered a prayer under his breath. But before she could figure out what she thought about that, he’d pulled the tarp aside and slid out. “Come on!”

      She crawled out from under it, leaped to her feet and ran after him. Immediately, the headache hit her again, as unexpected as a left hook. Her knees buckled and for a moment she thought she was going to fall.

      Noah stopped, turned back and stretched out his hand. “You okay?”

      She looked at the palm extended toward her and hesitated.

       Come on, Corporal. Just push through the pain.

      “I’m fine.” She forced herself forward. “Let’s go.”

      Voices sounded in the distance. Her kidnappers were searching the warehouse, no doubt looking for them. She ran on autopilot, pushing her legs to move, one after the other. Noah started jogging, matching his pace with hers. He rounded a tight corner, then stopped at the end of an aisle. A cargo loading bay lay ahead, up a steep ramp that led to a garage-style door. Light seeped through a two-foot gap at the bottom.

      “Okay, so we’ve got a clear line to run from here to there,” Noah said. “We’ll have to be fast, then when we’re outside, we can lose them. Got it?”

      His eyes searched her face. They were worried. She didn’t like that.

      “Yeah, I got it. Let’s go.”

      He ran, and she followed, keeping her head low as they pelted across the empty space and up the steep incline. So far, so good. He reached the garage door first, dropped to the ground and slid through. Then he looked back at her through the gap and waved at her to hurry. She was trying to. But it was like her legs weren’t cooperating and the ramp was growing steeper with every step. She stumbled forward, lost her footing and grabbed a metal loading cart for support. It slipped from her fingers and rolled down the ramp, crashing into the pallets below.

      “Hey, over there!” the Ghoul shouted.

      A bullet flew past her head, followed quickly by a second. She dropped to the ground and began to crawl.

      “Holly!” Noah’s voice drew her gaze toward the gap beneath the garage door.

      “I’m coming!” She gritted her teeth and dragged her body across the floor.

      Noah leaned his torso through. “Here! Take my hands!”

      She did, grabbing on to both his wrists as he grasped hers. He yanked her through the gap and out into the snow. She lay there on the ground for a moment, feeling cold wind and thick flakes lash against her skin as prayers of thanks rose within her. Unexpected tears rushed to the corners of her eyes. She blinked fiercely, feeling them freeze before they could fall.

      “Are you sure you’re not hurt?” Noah knelt beside her.

      “I’m fine.” She gritted her teeth yet again. “I just have a really, really bad headache and it’s making me dizzy. It got better briefly when I was lying under the tarp. I just need to rest quietly for a few minutes somewhere until it goes away.”

      She pulled herself up to her feet. Sirens sounded around her, echoing off the buildings and surrounding her with noise. Her knees buckled.

      “Let me carry you,” Noah said.

      “I told you, I’m fine—”

      “Corporal!” His voice rose. “If you were on the battlefield and a fellow soldier was too dizzy to keep up, would you carry them?”

      “If the situation warranted it.” Her chin rose. “And for the record, if need be, I’d carry you.”

      “I don’t doubt it,” he said. “Now, please let me help you.”

      “Fine.”

      She felt one hand slide beneath her knees then and the other along her back, as Noah swept her up into his arms, cradled her to his chest and ran. He dashed through the snow, weaving quickly down back alleys, away from the warehouse, emergency vehicle sirens and flashing lights. Then stopped suddenly in front of a plain, unmarked metal door, where he pressed a button on the speaker box.

      “It’s me,” he said. “I’ve got Holly. Let me in!”

      The device beside the door looked broken and stayed silent. Then it hissed quietly.

      “Look,” Noah added, “I know you can see me, and I know you can hear me. I promise there are no Imposters on my tail. Let me in. Now!”

      The door finally opened. A man stood there, slender and good-looking, in an intense and scraggly way. His blond hair was down to his shoulders and his jaw needed a shave. He narrowed his eyes. “You decided to bring her here?”

      “Holly Asher,” Noah said, “meet Seth Miles, Canada’s most notorious hacker.”

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