Classified Christmas Mission. Lynette Eason
“Get me a frying pan. We’ll see if they’re still good.”
“You cook?”
“Out of survival, but yes.”
She dug in the cabinet next to the sink and came up with a frying pan. She handed it to him. “Have at it. I’m going to check on Sam then check all the windows again. I would walk outside, but don’t want to leave any more footprints than we already have.”
He frowned, but nodded. It was still hard to wrap his brain around the fact that Amber was here. She left and he turned the stove on. Within minutes Lance had the burgers cooking.
When he turned, he nearly ran Sam over. The boy stood behind him, watching him. “Hi.”
“Hi.”
“You like hamburgers, I hear.”
“Hamburgers. Yes.”
“Well, they’ll be ready shortly. You know how to set the table?”
“Three plates, three forks, three glasses, three napkins.”
“That should work.”
“Three hamburgers, three pieces of cheese, three tomato slices, three squirts of ketchup, three squirts of mayonnaise, three buns.”
“I hate it, but I don’t think we have all that.” Lance turned back to the stove and pressed the spatula against the meat. The smell made his stomach rumble, so he was going to go with the conclusion that the meat was fine to eat. He opened the pantry and found a bag of chips, a half-opened pack of cookies and a bag of dried fruit. He checked the dates. All good.
Now that he had time to think about it, he remembered overhearing someone at the diner in town talking about the fact that Jason Landers was going to sell the place. He glanced at the window. New curtains. He looked at the cabinets. They’d been repainted. Yep, Jason had been here working, fixing up the place. He hoped the man didn’t show up anytime soon or they were going to have some explaining to do.
He opened the cabinet and pulled down three plates and three glasses. He handed them to Sam who put them on the table. Lance noticed the boy’s precise movements. The plates went exactly in front of the chairs, the glasses just to the right of the plates.
Lance handed him the silverware from the drawer. Again, Sam placed them perfectly. “Nice job.”
“Yes. Nice job. Hungry.”
“We’ll eat in just a couple of minutes. As soon as Amber gets back in here, all right?”
As though she’d heard him, she came from the back of the cabin and crossed the small den into the kitchen. “Wow, this looks great.”
“Just burger patties tonight, I’m afraid. No buns or salad, but we’ve got chips and dried fruit.”
She waved a hand. “Protein is good. All of that is perfect. I’ve got peanut butter and crackers if we need them.”
“French fries,” Sam said.
Amber bit her lip. “We don’t have any fries tonight, Sam, I’m sorry. Eat the chips, though, they’re made from potatoes just like French fries.” She watched him carefully and Lance wondered if she was trying to guess how the boy would react.
She let out a breath when he simply sat and stared at his plate. Lance doled out the three burgers and the rest of the food and they ate them in silence.
Sam finished his last bite. “Television, please.”
Amber looked up. “There’s one in the bedroom. Come with me and we’ll get you set up.” She shot a look back over her shoulder at Lance and he interpreted it to mean they’d talk when she had Sam distracted.
He cleaned up the kitchen, leaving it cleaner than he’d found it, then walked into the den to check the windows once again. As he stared out into the night his gut twisted. What was Amber involved in? Who was after her and Sam? And why did he have a feeling his life was going to get flipped upside down?
Amber walked back into the living area and moved from window to window, doing exactly what he’d done just moments before. “CIA?” he asked.
She turned to face him, her face blank. “What?”
“You’re with the CIA, aren’t you?”
“Why do you ask?”
“Just answer the question.”
She hesitated and he could almost see her thinking about lying. Finally, she frowned. “Yes. What gave it away?”
Lance shrugged. “The fact that I know you. The fact that your family believes you’re a travel writer and the articles that come out don’t sound like anything you might write.”
She raised her eyes at that statement and he shrugged.
“Yes, I read them. Then there’s the fact that you’ve missed a lot of important family milestones and I don’t think anything less than life or death would have kept you away from being here for those. A travel article wouldn’t have kept you away. And also the fact that you handle yourself like a trained professional. It just fits. Now that I think about it anyway.”
She pursed her lips and nodded. “I came home for Thanksgiving.”
“Last year. And then you missed Christmas. And Aaron and Zoe’s wedding this past June.”
Her jaw tightened. “It couldn’t be helped.”
“I’m beginning to understand that. But what really kind of gave it away was that you found Zoe’s brother, Toby, and brought him with you for Christmas, for Zoe.” Aaron Starke had fallen in love with Zoe Collier, a woman who’d been trying to keep her nine-year-old daughter, Sophia, safe from people who’d been trying to kidnap her. Aaron and Zoe had fallen in love and been married almost six months ago. “Then the day after Christmas, you two disappeared together because you had work that wouldn’t wait.” She pressed her lips together. “So that brings me to my next question,” he said.
“Which is?”
“Why haven’t you contacted your handler?”
“How do you know I haven’t?”
“Call it instinct.”
“I was on assignment in Ibirizstan and only one person in the world knew where I was.”
“Your handler.”
“Yep.”
“Is your cover blown?”
“Wide open.”
“And you think he had something to do with that?”
She sighed and checked the windows again. “She. And I don’t know. Before that happened, I would have trusted her without thought. But now... I was in California three days ago. My informant was killed. Her name was Nadia Pirhadi. She was my best friend and Sam is her son. I’ve been living with her and her family for the past four years working as Sam’s nanny.” Her jaw worked as though holding back emotion and Lance found himself wanting to go to her, to hold her. He curled his fingers into fists and forced himself to remain still. “When everything went south, I grabbed my car keys, Sam and bolted.”
“And everyone thinks you’re a travel writer.”
“That’s what they’re supposed to think.”
He rubbed his eyes then looked at her. “So what makes you think your handler is involved?”
“Because as I was leaving, I heard Sam’s father, who’d just killed Sam’s mother, yell my name.”
Realization hit him. “Your real name, not your covert name.”
“Yes. He called me Amber.”
“And now you have no one to trust and nowhere to turn.”
“Exactly.”