Читать книгу Soldier's Christmas Secrets - Laura Scott - Страница 16

Hawk busied himself with making a bowl of instant oatmeal for Jillian. The truth hung between them like a dark storm cloud, threatening to burst, bringing snow and ice pelting down. Telling her the story wasn’t as difficult as he’d anticipated, but he wasn’t sure the truth had fully sunk in yet.

He’d been honest with her when he’d claimed James was dead. That year he spent hiding in the mountains, recuperating from his injuries, had changed him. James had died in the plane crash, leaving a man called Hawk behind.

That he’d survived when the rest of his team had died haunted him still. The Callahans would claim God had a plan, but he didn’t believe it. Not the way he used to. He’d lost his entire life that day.

Even now, sometimes he awoke from a nightmare, hearing his team’s screams as the plane plummeted down into the mountainside. Only to realize it was his throat that was sore from screaming.

His time on the mountain was a blur. He’d lost track of the days that had passed, the hours that had gone by while he watched a pair of hawks flying high in the sky. He’d dragged himself down the mountain, inch by painful inch, with no particular destination in mind. Thankfully, he’d eventually come across a cabin tucked into the woods. It was actually the garden offering fresh vegetables that had caught his eye. He’d been helping himself to fresh tomatoes and cucumbers when Jolene and Ken Thornhill had found him.

Ken had carried a shotgun, but one look at Hawk’s scars had him putting the weapon away. Hawk had convinced them not to call the authorities, and the couple, being mountain people and distrustful of the cops anyway, had readily agreed. The Thornhills helped get him back on his feet. Their home remedies worked just as well as any hospital-based therapy.

Except for the scar.

And when the men with guns had come looking for him, they’d hidden him in their root cellar until they were gone. Hawk was convinced the men were soldiers sent by Barton to find him and silence him for good. Especially since the plane had gone down after conveniently springing a fuel leak.

He owed the Thornhills his life. But they hadn’t wanted any form of payment. He’d sent them cash when he’d managed to work enough to get some, but the money had come back to him as undeliverable.

Shaking himself from thoughts of the past, he carried the bowl of oatmeal to the table and set it in front of Jillian. She hadn’t said anything for the past several minutes and, even now, avoided looking directly at him.

“Eat,” he encouraged softly. “You’ll need to keep up your strength.”

She obediently picked up the spoon and took a small bite. Lizzy chose that moment to come out of the bedroom rubbing her sleepy eyes, looking adorable in her pink footie pajamas.

“I hav’ta go potty.”

“Sure. This way, sweetie.” Jillian jumped up from the table and crossed over to their daughter, steering her into the bathroom.

Hawk put the kettle back on to boil, hoping Lizzy liked oatmeal. He had no idea what his daughter liked to eat or her favorite things to do. He’d noticed a dollhouse in the corner of her bedroom and now wished he’d thought to bring some of the dolls along for her to play with.

At least she had her teddy bear. The one she’d clutched protectively as he’d pulled her from beneath the bed.

He glanced at his watch, estimating how much time they had before they needed to hit the road. Less than an hour. Doable, but only if Jillian and Lizzy finished their breakfast ASAP.

The teakettle whistled as Jillian and Lizzy emerged from the bathroom. Lizzy clapped her hands over her ears.

“Too loud!”

Hawk winced, nodded and moved the kettle, adding hot water to two more bowls of oatmeal. Then he carried them to the kitchen table, setting one down near Jillian’s bowl and taking his to the other side.

Jillian lifted Lizzy onto her lap. It pained him to know Lizzy wouldn’t want to sit with him. As he watched, Jillian bowed her head and softly thanked God for the food she was about to eat. He was reminded of how the Callahans always prayed out loud before meals, but he’d never joined in.

No one spoke for several long moments as they ate. And it was Lizzy who eventually broke the silence.

“Can we go home, Mommy?”

The question hit him in the face like a blow. He looked at Jillian, unsure if he should speak up or not.

“Not today, sweetie.” Jillian hitched the little girl higher on her lap. “Finish up your oatmeal like a good girl.”

“We can try to find a place that’s kid-friendly,” he offered. “I know a place that rents individual cabins. It’s not too far away and has a playground I’m sure Lizzy would love.”

Jillian shrugged. “Whatever you think is best. We’ll make the most of wherever we end up, won’t we Lizzy-girl?”

Lizzy nodded her head, her drooping pigtails bobbing up and down. His daughter’s hair was dark, like his, without any sign of Jillian’s reddish glints. But the rest of her features were mirror images of her mother’s. She’d be just as beautiful as Jillian someday.

He finished his meal before they did and carried his dishes to the sink. “We’ll need to leave soon.”

“Okay.” Jillian’s voice sounded resigned.

There was no point in saying anything further; moving again was necessary in order to keep them alive. And while he still felt terrible knowing that he’d brought danger to their doorstep, the only thing he could do now was to stay ahead of the danger curve.

He took his turn in the bathroom, spending less than ten minutes. He heard Jillian and Lizzy’s voices in their bedroom and hoped they were getting their things together.

Thankfully, Jillian had done the dishes, so there was nothing more that needed his attention. He pulled on his leather coat, grabbed his keys and waited, gazing out through the large picture window of the living room.

A movement outside caught his attention. He froze, his gaze tracking the shifting of leaves and the sudden uprising of a bird from the bushes.

Too late! They’d found the cabin.

He hurried into the bedroom as Jillian was trying to coax the teddy bear from Lizzy’s grip. “We need to go. Get your coats, leave the duffel behind. We’re heading out the back.”

“The back?” The confusion in Jillian’s green gaze morphed into fear. She instantly yanked the bear away, shoved Lizzy’s coat on, then hers, before lifting Lizzy into her arms. She returned the teddy bear hoping the stuffed animal would help keep Lizzy calm. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “They’re here?”

He nodded, gently pulling her toward him. Ushering her into his bedroom and to the back doorway he had built in there just for this type of thing, he considered their options. First, they needed to get out of the cabin and deeper into the woods without leaving a blatant footprint trail behind. Using the SUV was out of the question; the hostiles were too close. He’d have to make do with the snowmobile he had hidden in the woods toward the back of his property.

Outside, the December air was crisp and cool despite the sunshine. Keeping Jillian in front of him, he covered their backs as he guided them into the woods. He could tell Jillian was trying to move silently, but to his ears it sounded as if they were a stampede of elephants announcing their location to anyone within a fifty-mile radius. He worried, too, about leaving footprints in the snow. The snow wasn’t deep and there were spots where there were leafy areas to step on as a way to mitigate the risk.

Thankfully, Lizzy didn’t say anything but kept her head tucked against her mother’s shoulder, still gripping the tattered teddy bear. He wished the little girl trusted him enough to allow him to carry her, knowing they’d be able to move more quickly. But he didn’t want to risk her tears.

Knowing the woods helped. Prior to renting the house next to Jillian’s he’d spent a lot of time up here. The place had reminded him of the Thornhill cabin in the mountains.

The cluster of bushes he’d been aiming for was straight ahead. He picked up his pace, moving ahead. Jillian did her best to keep up, but her foot got caught on a branch. He managed to catch her before she hit the ground.

He gently set her on her feet and gestured toward the cluster of bushes. She nodded her understanding and headed in that direction. Hawk continued sweeping his gaze over the area, looking for signs the hostiles were near, surprised that they hadn’t covered the back side of the cabin but had chosen to come in from the front and the west.

Although he knew there very well could be more.

When they reached the cluster of bushes, he carved out a small space with his hands and drew Jillian down. “Stay here, I’ll be back soon.”

She clutched at his arm. “Don’t leave us,” she begged.

It wasn’t by choice but out of necessity. He leaned down so his mouth was near her ear. “I have a snowmobile nearby. I promise I’ll be quick.”

Tears welled in her eyes, but she gave a jerky nod, showing she understood. He drew out his gun and handed it to her. This time she didn’t protest but clutched it with both hands while keeping one arm around Lizzy, holding her close.

He hesitated. There was so much he wanted to say, but there wasn’t time. He needed to move, to draw the hostiles away from Jillian and Lizzy.

He’d willingly sacrifice himself to keep them alive and safe.

This was so much worse than waiting in the car. Since they were surrounded by snow-covered trees and bushes, any sense of being safe was eroded by the cold breeze that made her shiver. Her fingers were beginning to go numb, but she didn’t dare let go of the gun.

She silently prayed that God would watch over them. Keeping an internal monologue in her head helped keep her fear in check. Hawk would return for them. He had a snowmobile nearby and would be here soon. He wouldn’t let the men combing the woods reach her and Lizzy.

Hawk was James, except he wasn’t. Her husband had never moved so stealthily. Her husband had smiled and laughed often, and while he may not have been verbose, he certainly had spoken more than Hawk did.

Nevertheless, he was her husband. She was still married to the man. Wasn’t she? Maybe not, since James had been declared dead. But he wasn’t dead, not really. He was just—different. Thinking about it made her head hurt. It was all so confusing.

Come on, Hawk, where are you?

“Mommy?” Lizzy lifted her head.

“Shh,” she whispered.

Lizzy wiggled a little and Jillian feared her daughter wasn’t going to stay silent much longer. Hoping and praying Hawk would return soon, she kept her mouth right near her daughter’s ear.

“Be quiet for just a little while longer.”

Lizzy nodded her head and leaned against her, rubbing her cheek against the teddy bear’s head.

Jillian let out a sigh of relief. So far, so good.

A twig snapped. The sound sent a stab of terror deep into her stomach. She went still, her breath locked in her throat and her heart thundering in her chest. She pressed Lizzy’s face against her chest, hoping the little girl wouldn’t do or say something to give them away.

Since rediscovering the church after moving to Wisconsin, she’d leaned on God often and didn’t hesitate to do that again, now.

Please keep us safe, Lord! Please!

The sound of rustling leaves seemed close. She imagined one of the black ski-masked men making his way toward their hiding spot. How much longer? She dreaded every passing second, fearing the worst.

Then abruptly there was an oomph sound and a muffled thud. Still, she didn’t move, didn’t so much as blink. She wanted desperately to believe Hawk had taken care of the guy, but for all she knew, he’d fallen flat on his face the way she nearly had a few minutes ago.

Another ten seconds passed. She strained to listen but heard nothing.

Suddenly Hawk loomed in front of them, a streak of dirt covering his scar. He gave a nod and held out his hand. She shakily put her hand in his, allowing him to pull her and Lizzy to her feet.

She wanted to ask what was going on, but as if he sensed her intent, he lifted a finger to his lips. She nodded in understanding.

They weren’t safe yet. And it struck her then that they may never be safe again.

From this moment on, safety could very well be nothing more than an illusion.

Hawk gently but firmly pulled her in a different direction. She couldn’t tell if they were going closer toward the cabin or farther away. It wasn’t easy to navigate while carrying Lizzy, because she couldn’t see her feet. Twice she felt a branch of some sort pressing against her shin, making her lift her foot higher to get over it.

They moved through the dense woods in what felt like slow motion. But soon enough, Hawk tugged on her arm, indicating they could stop here.

She glanced around, thinking she’d find the snowmobile he’d mentioned. When she didn’t see it, her hopes plummeted. Had someone stolen it? Or had the ski-mask guys found it before Hawk had?

Hawk stepped over to a bush and began moving snow-laden branches. Her eyes widened in surprise when she saw the camouflage-green snowmobile hidden behind the shrubbery.

It took Hawk a while to get the thing uncovered. It soon became clear that the bush hadn’t been a bush at all but dozens of loose branches placed strategically around the machine.

He swung his leg over the seat and gestured for her to get on in front of him. She hesitated, worried about Lizzy.

“Keep her in front of you,” he whispered.

She nodded and did as he asked. The seat seemed far too small for the three of them but her protest was swallowed by the roar of the engine.

She felt Lizzy shuddering against her, guessing that the little girl hated the loud sound. Hawk hit the gas and the machine moved forward, the twin skis gliding over the snow, fallen branches and leaves. She let out a screech as he went even faster, tearing a path through the woods.

Stealth was not an option now. The way they roared through the woods broadcasted their location to anyone still searching for them. Clutching Hawk’s knee with one arm, while clinging to Lizzy with the other, she grew convinced that he was the only one capable of getting them out of there.

But where would they go? It wasn’t as if you could drive a snowmobile down the center of a plowed road. Or could you? Maybe. Yet as fast as they were moving, she knew the machine carrying them didn’t have the necessary speed to outrun a car.

Bare branches slapped her in the face, making her eyes sting with tears. She curled her body around Lizzy’s, protecting the little girl the only way she could.

The trees thinned and she wondered if they were getting close to the road or to the end of Hawk’s property. She felt certain they’d escaped, until she heard the loud echo of gunfire above the drone of the engine.

No! Jillian gasped, horrified that the ski-masked men were still out there, shooting at them.

“Keep your head down,” he ordered.

Doing anything else was impossible anyway, but what about Hawk? He was the most exposed, and if something happened to him...there was no hope for her and Lizzy to survive.

She prayed again as Hawk continued driving. The woods seemed to go on forever, thinning out a bit, then growing thicker again. She had no idea how much land Hawk owned, or if they were out on someone else’s property by now.

Did it matter if they were? It gave her a measure of hope that the owners might call the police.

The gunfire had stopped, but she couldn’t relax. Not with Hawk still driving like a maniac.

Then he abruptly pulled over and stopped the machine. Silence reigned except for the ringing in her ears.

“Take Lizzy and stand over there for a minute,” Hawk said, urging her off the snowmobile and pointing at a pine tree.

She wanted to protest but knew it was useless. She awkwardly climbed off the machine, feeling Lizzy’s weight slipping down.

Hawk jumped back on the snowmobile and rode it about eighty yards away before abandoning it. Then he pulled several items out of a storage area behind the seat, before hurrying toward her. He was careful to step only on the tracks made by the sled.

She was impressed by his actions, knowing the machine would draw the men in the woods away from them. She hitched Lizzy in her arms.

“I’ll take her.” Hawk didn’t wait for permission but took Lizzy from her, after storing what looked like duct tape and twine in his jacket pocket. “This way.”

Lizzy didn’t cry, too frightened to do anything but hang on. They once again moved through the woods, faster now that Jillian wasn’t impeded by her daughter’s weight.

Hawk stopped in front of a large tree. “We’re going up.”

Her jaw dropped. “Up? The tree?”

He nodded, pulling another length of twine out of his jacket pocket. “I’ll carry you while you hold Lizzy.”

She shook her head, thinking he was crazy. No way could Hawk carry both of them all the way up a tree. And what would they do when they got up there? Swing from the branches like Tarzan and Jane? She’d fall on her face for sure.

“Like this.” He placed Lizzy back in her arms. “You’re going to put your arms around my neck and lock your legs around my waist, keeping Lizzy tucked between us.”

“She’ll fall,” she protested.

“She won’t. She’ll hang on to you. Trust me.”

She did trust Hawk. Had trusted him to get them out of danger twice now. Knew that God was somehow guiding him.

“Hold tight, Lizzy.” The little girl nodded and wrapped her tiny arms snugly around her neck. Then Jillian faced Hawk’s back and locked her arms around his chest. When she lifted her legs around his waist, pressing Lizzy securely between them, he began to climb, using the rope around the tree for leverage.

How he made it up the tree was a mystery. The muscles of his chest and shoulders bunched beneath her arms with the strain, but he didn’t make a sound as he went vertical.

She wasn’t sure what she expected, but the flat platform about two-thirds of the way up the tree was a surprise. Especially when she saw that there were three full sides to the thing that protected them from view. Hawk managed to get up and over the edge of the platform, landing on his hands and knees.

“You can get off now,” he whispered.

It was scary being up so high, but she unlocked her legs first, then slid to the side so she was sitting on the platform next to him. Holding Lizzy close, she edged closer to the trunk of the tree, seeking some sense of stability.

“We made it,” she whispered in awe.

Hawk nodded. “We still need to be quiet, okay?” He didn’t wait for a response but pulled out his gun and flattened himself against the platform. He inched to the edge, peering down to see what was going on down below.

She lifted her hand to push her hair out of her face, frowning when she saw blood. For a moment she didn’t understand, but then she noticed several more drops of blood staining the platform.

He’d been shot!