Silent Night Threat. Michelle Karl
memory loss.
“I’m going to use my radio to contact local police and let them know what happened here—all right? When I went to get water for you earlier, I let the FBI know I’d found you, and they contacted emergency services.” She responded with a barely audible affirmative as he fired up his Bluetooth system to make the call. “But now that we’re in the car, I’d rather not wait. We should get you to a hospital to get looked over.”
As he called in the incident to police dispatch, Natasha worked her way back up to a seated position and buckled in. From the corner of his eye, he could see she appeared to be struggling to remain conscious. He needed to get her to a doctor as quickly as possible.
“Try to stay awake,” he said. “I know it’s hard and you must be in a lot of pain, but it’s going to be a whole lot worse if you fall asleep. I’ll get you into good hands as fast as I can, so just—”
Bam! His vehicle swerved to the right before he reacted to the hit. The Suburban’s tires crunched against dirt as he gripped the wheel and corrected the vehicle’s course.
What in the world...? He checked the rearview mirror and saw nothing, then turned his head just as a second hit slammed against them, once again slightly bumping the SUV off course. With his head turned, Chris saw a navy blue Range Rover with deeply tinted windows hiding in his blind spot. He couldn’t see the driver through the front windshield, but he had a bad feeling about the situation.
After all, someone had to have been in charge of the drone. And it appeared that they weren’t pleased that Chris had found Natasha. There was no doubt in his mind—someone wanted to kill Tasha Stark, and he’d just become her human shield.
Natasha braced against the door and seat. Another slam against the side of the vehicle attempted to push them off the road, but the man who’d rescued her—Chris? Yes, Chris—had a firm grip on the wheel and kept them on course. His biceps and forearms flexed from the strain of each hit, and his jaw was set in a determined grimace. She blinked against the exhaustion that had started to call to her, telling her to close her eyes and surrender to the darkness. But Chris’s earlier words and a memory deep within her consciousness told her that she had to remain awake at all costs.
She strained to look over the back of the seat and out the rear window, despite the agony of turning her head. The blue Range Rover had dropped back, moving away from the side of their vehicle.
“Are they done?” she mumbled. “Will they leave us alone, since they clearly aren’t going to get us off the road that way?”
Chris shook his head and spoke through clenched teeth. “There’s more than one way to run a car off the road.”
“It looks like they’re done, though. They’re slowing down.”
She wasn’t sure if she heard correctly or if Chris actually growled under his breath. “Sit back in your seat, Tasha. Brace yourself. Please.”
“But why?” She looked at him in confusion. “They’re not—” She swung her gaze back at the Range Rover. Despite having dropped back moments earlier, it was now gaining on their SUV at an alarming rate. With a gasp, she sat back and tensed her shoulders just as a heavy slam against the back door sent their vehicle lurching forward. Metal scraped against metal, sending a high-pitched screech through the cabin.
“That’s why,” he said. He grabbed the gearshift, and their vehicle’s engine revved higher, sending them lurching and then zooming forward. “Why aren’t there any police around when you need them?”
“You already called them—aren’t they on their way?”
“I sure hope so. I’d call again if I didn’t need all my focus to make sure we stay on the road.” As if on cue, the truck heaved again, but this time a sickening crunch accompanied the hit. Another hit followed only a few seconds afterward, and the SUV swayed from side to side. In the mirror, she saw a piece of metal go flying from their vehicle into the ditch. The license plate!
Please, Lord. Help us. Natasha swallowed down her fear as a sense of peace and assurance settled across her shoulders. I haven’t forgotten You. I know You’re here.
Despite the direness of the situation, she had a strong faith—that much she remembered. God was with her, even in times like this. She didn’t need to panic.
“Tell me how to use your radio system,” she said, taking deep breaths to manage the rolling waves of ache in her head that seemed to increase with every jolt of the vehicle. “I’ll tell the police which direction we’re headed in case they’re coming from the other way.”
“Are you sure?” Chris poked at a button. The next slam against the SUV caused them to swerve since he had only one hand on the wheel.
“You need to keep us on the road,” she said. “We need help, and I don’t know how else to get it.”
“All right.” His gaze flicked over to take her in, probably to make sure she was conscious enough to handle it. “There’s a button on the right that says—”
He’d looked at her for a fraction of a second, maybe less, but it was enough.
The next hit clipped the SUV in just the right way. The wheels slipped against the asphalt, and they skidded across the roadside stretch of dirt, tipping them toward the ditch. Their vehicle bucked, leaned and tilted sideways. Natasha screamed as they went airborne, the remnants of a prayer on her lips as Chris’s strong arms reached out to grab her and pull her toward him, away from the window.
The SUV landed on its side in the ditch, and she and Chris jerked sideways in their restraints. As the airbags exploded, slamming their heads back against the headrests, Natasha tasted blood in her mouth, and her vision was once again nothing but sparks. She tried to speak, but no words came as she struggled for breath. Something hissed, and the creak of metal under tension echoed in her ears before the world grew deathly silent.
She didn’t hear anything. Nothing at all, and that seemed even more frightening than before.
Her blood ran cold as a car door slammed.
* * *
As the world came back into sound and focus, Chris heard the wail of sirens growing rapidly louder. Somewhere nearby, a car door slammed. The crunch of tires against pavement told him that a vehicle had just driven away. He dared to hope that it meant the Range Rover was not only done with them but in the police’s sights.
He flailed his free arm, searching for Natasha, and a momentary surge of panic took hold as he realized that he couldn’t hear her breathing. Then she released a long sigh, and relief flooded through his every pore. She was still alive. But if she did indeed have a concussion, all of those hits would have made it exponentially worse. She needed to get to a hospital without further delay—they’d be able to call the right people to come and take care of her and close off his involvement in her life. If the FBI didn’t ask him to continue the investigation into why she’d disappeared, that was.
He didn’t want to be around when she remembered him. She’d probably be angry enough as soon as she realized that her ex-fiancé had put his arms around her, even to save her life. As soon as Natasha was secure at the hospital and the officer in charge at his FBI branch gave him the go-ahead, he’d be on his way and out of her life again, just like she’d wanted twelve years ago.
Despite having tried so hard to forget, the memory came too easily. He had been eighteen years old; she’d been seventeen. She’d worn a yellow sundress with tiny white flowers, the hem of the dress swishing above her knees, despite the cooler temperatures of late November. Her auburn hair had been knotted above her head in a messy bun, with loose strands falling about her face and framing her sharp features. Around her neck had been a topaz gemstone set among three diamonds, a beautiful piece of jewelry given to her on her sixteenth birthday by her father. It had looked completely out of place