Dangerous Christmas Memories. Sarah Hamaker
be coming for another thirty minutes—she definitely couldn’t wait around for that one.
Priscilla increased her pace, pushing through the stitch in her side. If only she liked running, she’d be in better shape. Her lungs burned as she sucked in more air before checking the time on the app again. Four minutes to the bus’s arrival. Right up ahead, Priscilla saw the trail spur to the street on the left and took it, pulling on her reserves to make it up the steeper incline without slowing her speed.
Mr. Long grunted as he tried to keep up. Her conscience chided her for caring only for her own skin and not about whether he would pass out on the trail. But he didn’t have to follow her.
“You should have waited for medical help,” she said over her shoulder.
The man merely shook his head, and she turned her attention back to the path. Somehow, as she cut his hair, she hadn’t been afraid of him. After living for years fearful of her fellow human beings, she had learned to trust her instincts when it came to who she could trust and who she couldn’t. The way he’d thanked God for her safety and stepped between her and the dog walkers had reaffirmed what her gut had told her—that she could trust him. Too bad, she would have to find a way to lose him before his association with her got him killed.
Priscilla reached the edge of the woods and halted to check the bus arrival time once more. Craning her neck to view the street, she saw that everything appeared normal. A woman with a baby in a stroller and a preschooler holding on to the handle waited at the bus stop. That meant Priscilla could hang back at the tree line until the bus approached the stop.
“Why were you running? Shouldn’t we have waited to talk with the police?” Mr. Long braced himself against a tree, his complexion gray.
“You need to see a doctor.” Priscilla feared Mr. Long would collapse right there. If he did, she would miss her bus, because she couldn’t just leave a hurt man to fend for himself, not when he was injured on her account.
“I need to speak with you.”
The simplicity of his request startled her, and an alarm bell rang inside her head. She narrowed her eyes. “You are following me.”
Mr. Long stayed bent over, his forehead resting against his right arm propped on the tree. “You noticed?”
Priscilla ticked off the incidents on her fingers. “The grocery store, jogging by my apartment building, today outside Snippy’s. Here beside me now. You weren’t exactly subtle.”
The man shifted upright with a wince. Then his eyes closed and his body slumped toward the tree.
“Oh, no, you don’t.” Priscilla hastened to his side and grabbed his right arm. “Don’t you faint on me.” She slung the arm over her shoulders, nestling underneath to support him. “You need to stay upright.”
“I’ll be okay,” he mumbled against her hair. “Just give me…a minute.”
Priscilla didn’t have a minute. The bus rumbled up to the curb. Taking him with her presented its own set of problems, but she had no time to dither over a decision. Better take him with her—at the very least, she could find out why he had been following her.
“I don’t have a minute. The bus is here, and I need to get on it.” Without another word, she started off toward the bus. To her relief, he stayed upright and leaned on her only a little bit.
“Bus? But my car’s in the parking lot.” His words came out a bit slurred as if pain was dulling his senses.
“No time. Now keep quiet.” Priscilla dug a ten-dollar bill out of her work apron and fed it into the meter. “For both of us,” she told the driver, an older woman wearing a Santa hat with cropped hair and a name tag that read Charlene Grant.
Charlene eyed Mr. Long with an apprehensive expression. “What happened to him?” the driver asked as Priscilla gathered her change from the machine.
“You know how men are.” She gave Charlene a rueful smile. “A teensy cut and he goes all woozy on me.” She jerked her head toward the bandanna. “He’ll be all right.”
Charlene chuckled. “If you say so.”
Priscilla hustled Mr. Long to the back of the bus, plopping him down in the corner, then sitting down beside him as the bus pulled away from the curb.
With deft movements, she untied her work apron with the word Snippy’s and a logo of an animated pair of smiling scissors. At least she had some cash, thanks to the generous tips of her customers. Stuffing the bills into her wallet, she checked to make sure the driver’s attention wasn’t on her and Mr. Long, then shoved the apron underneath her seat. No sense advertising where she worked, especially once the news broke about the shooting.
“You want to tell me what’s going on?”
Priscilla whipped her head to stare into Mr. Long’s deep blue eyes tinged with pain. “Why are you following me?”
A ghost of a smile crossed his lips. “You always answer a question with a question?”
“When I haven’t gotten an answer the first time I asked it, yes.” Something about him triggered a feeling that she should know him. Their encounter hadn’t been recent—of that she was sure. Which meant it predated the shooting that thrust her into witness protection and running for her life. But she’d had so few friends back then and none of them had been a hunky, tall blond man.
“Why am I following you?” The man drew in a steadying breath and let it out slowly. A little color returned to his cheeks. “Because I couldn’t believe I’d finally found you after years of searching.”
A frisson of fear sliced into her. “You’ve been looking for me for years?” She stiffened her spine. It was too late to double guess her decision now. She was stuck with the man.
“Yes, for a very long time.” He held her gaze, his eyes both demanding and pleading with her for what, she didn’t know. All she knew was that she couldn’t look away.
Her phone pinged, indicating an incoming text. She tore her gaze away to check, glad for an excuse to break eye contact. Mac’s text was brief: Traffic better than expected. Get off at the stop by Chick-fil-A. Waiting there.
The bus eased into Fairfax Circle from Old Lee Highway, then swung onto Fairfax Boulevard. The stop Mac indicated would be the next one. She pulled the signal string. “This is our stop.” She would let Mac finish questioning why Mr. Long had been searching for her.
Luc gritted his teeth against the discomfort in his arm. The bullet had gone straight through the upper flesh of his arm, which still seeped some blood through the bandanna. So much for behaving like a man in front of Priscilla. She’d had to practically carry him onto the bus. At least she hadn’t left him in the woods, where he had almost passed out. Why she took him with her he didn’t know, especially as it had become obvious to him that she had no clue who he was. No one could fake that look of unrecognition. The pain of her not recognizing him cut deeper than the bullet.
The bus ground to a halt, and Priscilla rose. “Do you need any help?”
He shook his head as he struggled to stand while a wave of dizziness crashed over him. By sheer willpower, he managed to exit the bus without falling flat on his face. Thank You, Lord.
Once off the bus, Priscilla paused as the driver reentered traffic after picking up passengers. She pointed to a black SUV idling by the curb. “That’s our ride.”
Luc nodded and followed behind her at a slower pace. He placed his hand on the side of the car to steady himself, pleased he hadn’t stumbled and fallen to the ground during the short walk. Priscilla reached the vehicle first and spoke to the driver through the open window.
Priscilla opened the back door. “Get in.”
Probably