Christmas Justice. Robin Perini
the little girl whimpered and gripped him even tighter.
“It’s okay, sugar. Your aunt Laurel will take good care of you.”
With one last pat, he handed Molly to Laurel, his arms feeling strangely empty without the girl’s weight. Laurel settled her niece in her arms, her expression pained. He understood. “She’s just afraid,” he said.
“I know, and I haven’t protected her.” Laurel hunkered down behind the woodpile. She pulled out her pistol. “I won’t fail again.”
Laurel McCallister had grit, that was for sure. He liked that about her. “I’ll be back soon.”
He sped across the backyard, slipped the key into the lock and did a quick sweep of the house, eyeing any telling details. He couldn’t leave a trace behind. Nothing to lead any unwelcome visitors to his small cattle ranch in the Guadalupes or to his stashed money and vehicle.
Garrett pressed a familiar number on his phone.
“Sheriff? What happened? Practically the whole town is calling me.” Deputy Keller’s voice shook a bit.
“Old man McCreary’s not putting a posse together, right?” Garrett had a few old-timers in this town who thought they lived in the 1800s. This part of Texas could still be wild, but not that wild.
“I talked his poker buddies out of encouraging him,” Keller said. “It’s weird ordering my old high school principal around.”
Garrett pocketed a notebook and a receipt or two, then headed straight for his bedroom. “Look, Keller, I’ll be incommunicado tracking this guy. I don’t want to shoot anyone by mistake. Keep them indoors.”
“You need me, Sheriff?”
“Man the phones and keep your eyes out for strangers, Deputy. Don’t go after them, Keller. Just call me.”
“Yes, sir.”
Garrett ended the call. If the men following Laurel and Molly had a mission, his town was safe. Assassins tended to have singular focus. He probably wasn’t the target, except as an opportunity. Still, Ivy had known his name. She’d said he was right. He couldn’t be certain how much of his identity had been compromised.
If anyone had associated Derek Bradley with Garrett Galloway before today, he’d already be dead. He might still have surprise on his side, but he couldn’t count on it. And if he’d been right...well, that was all fine. It didn’t make him feel any better. There was a traitor in the agency, and he didn’t know who. Ivy’s message hadn’t identified the perp.
Garrett grabbed his go-bag from the closet, then opened a drawer in his thrift-store dresser. He eased out an old, faded photo from beneath the drawer liner.
“It’ll be over soon.” He glanced at the images he’d stared at for a good two hours after his shift earlier. Hell, it was almost Christmas.
Tomboy that she’d been, his daughter, Ella, would have been after him about a new football or a basketball hoop, while Lisa would’ve rolled her eyes and wondered when her daughter might want the princess dress—or any dress, for that matter. His throat tightened. He’d never know what kind of woman Ella would have become. Her life had ended before it had begun.
Garrett missed them so much. Every single day. He’d survived the injuries from the explosion for one reason—to make whoever had murdered his family pay. He wouldn’t stop until he’d achieved his goal. He’d promised them. He’d promised himself.
He ground his teeth and stuffed the photo into the pocket of his bag. The perps should already be dead. He and James had failed for eighteen months and now...what the hell had happened? Now James’s daughter Ivy had paid the ultimate price. And Laurel was on the run.
James was... Who knew where his mentor was?
The squeak of the screen door ricocheted through the house. He’d been inside only a few minutes. He slipped his gun from his shoulder holster and rounded into the hall, weapon ready.
Laurel stilled, Molly in her arms. “She has to go to the bathroom,” she said with a grimace.
“Hurry,” Garrett muttered, pointing toward his bedroom. “We can’t stay. I wore my uniform and badge tonight. If they saw it, they’ll find this place all too easily.”
Laurel scurried into his room and Garrett headed to the kitchen. By the time they returned, he’d stuffed a few groceries into a sack. “Let’s go.”
Gripping his weapon, he led them outside. The door’s creak intruded on the night, clashing with the winter quiet. Pale light bathed the yard in shadows. A gust of December wind bit against Garrett’s cheeks. A tree limb shuddered.
He scanned the hiding places, but saw no movement, save the wind.
Still, he couldn’t guarantee their safety.
“Where are we going?” Laurel asked, her voice low.
Garrett glanced at her, then Molly. “I have an untraceable vehicle lined up. We’ll hole up for the night. You need rest. Then after I do a bit of digging, we’ll see.”
Laurel had brought his past to Trouble. No closing it away again. If his innocent visitors weren’t in so much danger, Garrett would have welcomed the excuse to wait it out. His trigger finger itched to face the men responsible for killing his wife and daughter. Except a bullet was too good for them. They needed to die slowly and painfully.
Garrett might have failed to protect his family once, but he wouldn’t allow their killer to escape again. He didn’t particularly care whether he left the confrontation alive, as long as the traitor ended up in a pine box.
He just prayed he could get these two to safety before the final battle went down.
* * *
LAUREL STOOD ALONE just behind a hedge at the end of the alley, out of sight, squeezing the butt of her weapon in one hand, balancing Molly against her with the other. Garrett had risked crossing those streets to retrieve his vehicle, putting himself in the crosshairs in case the shooters came back.
Every choice he’d made focused on protecting them, not himself. She shivered, but it wasn’t the winter chill. She’d made a choice eighteen hundred miles ago to come here. Garrett’s immediate response to their arrival had frozen her soul. Now instinct screamed at her to run, to disappear, to try to forget the past and somehow start over.
Maybe she should. He knew what they were up against. He was worried. Maybe vanishing would be easier. She didn’t see Garrett Galloway as a man who would give up easily. But sometimes accepting the reality and moving on was the only way to survive.
A dark SUV pulled into the alley, lights off. Garrett stepped out. “Laurel?” he whispered, searching the hedges with his gaze.
She almost stayed hidden, frozen for a moment. She had some cash. People lived off the grid all the time. So could she.
She could feel his penetrating gaze, compelling her to trust him. What was it about him...?
With a deep, determined breath, she stepped out from behind the hedge. Beads of sap still stuck to her pants from hiding in the firewood pile. The scent of pine flashed her back to memories of camping and fishing and running wild without a care in the world. Her heart broke for Molly. Could Laurel help her niece find that joy after everything that had happened?
Laurel was so far out of her element. She’d taken a leap of faith coming to Trouble and to Garrett, trusting her sister’s final words. Her sister had known she was dying; she wouldn’t have steered Laurel into danger. Laurel could only pray she had understood Ivy correctly.
She carried Molly to the vehicle. Garrett didn’t say anything, but his dark and knowing eyes made Laurel tremble. Did he know she’d almost taken off?
“You decided not to run,” he said, opening the door. “I pegged it at a fifty-fifty chance.”
He could