Page 3 of Lone Star Christmas Mission

Yes, it was going to take much more than a minute or two to process all of that.

She could still hear the sound of the knife stabbing into flesh. Could feel the hot spray of the man’s blood. She could still smell that blood even though she was no longer wearing the clothes she’d had on during the attack. The medical staff had taken those, bagging them for the cops to examine, and they’d helped her dress into a pair of green scrubs.

“All done,” the nurse finally said, and the woman immediately turned toward Cash and the two cops. “You can talk to her now, but go easy on her, okay?”

“How bad is her injury?” Cash immediately asked.

“Not too bad,” the nurse replied. “But someone obviously hit her pretty hard on the head. No concussion, but she’ll either need to be admitted for observation or someone will have to stay with her the rest of the night. Whoever stays with her will have to wake her up every two to three hours to make sure she’s all right.”

Kayla’s gaze flew to his, ready to plead for no hospital admission, but no pleading was required.

“I’ll stay with her,” Cash insisted before Kayla could speak. “She has this thing about hospitals.”

“I hate them,” Kayla spoke up. That put some alarm in the nurse’s eyes. and to avoid any kind of further examination, she added. “I had a bad experience as a teenager.”

Which was the understatement in the history of understatements. But the explanation seemed to satisfy the nurse, and she walked away, leaving Kayla to Cash and the cops.

“I’m County Deputy Aaron Anderson,” the older one said. He was tall, lanky and was sporting a little rhinestone Santa pin over his badge. “We’re gonna need a full statement as to whathappened, but that can wait until you come into the station in the morning. For now, just give us the big picture for our preliminary report.”

Kayla nodded, gathering her thoughts. And her breath. It seemed to be lodged in her throat and wasn’t budging. Cash noticed that, too. Maybe because she had some panic on her face. He moved closer, sitting on the exam table next to her, and he took hold of her hand.

Which still had blood stains on it.

A sickening mix of hers and the man she’d killed.

She turned her gaze from the blood and focused on just Cash. Not the past. Not the shitty shared memories. Just Cash.

And she started that preliminary report.

“I was in my workshop behind my house. I make custom furniture,” Kayla explained. “And while I was doing a final polish on a table, I heard someone running outside. Labored breath, footsteps. My nearest neighbors are about a quarter of a mile away, but I thought maybe something had happened to one of them, so I threw open the door.” She paused. Had to. “There was a guy in Santa suit, and he immediately hit me with a stun gun.”

She used her free hand to point to her chest, and Kayla lowered the scrub top a couple of inches to show them the burn marks. Deputy Anderson used his phone to photograph it.

“I fell,” she went on once she had enough breath to speak. “And I hit my head on the doorframe.” Kayla pointed to the fresh stitches on her head, and the deputy photographed that, too.

“Did you recognize the man?” the second deputy asked. According to his name tag, he was Mickey Reeves. He was a good four inches shorter than his partner and looked considerably younger.

Kayla shook her head and winced again at the movement. “No. I didn’t know who he was. The beard and the white wig covered most of his face, and he was wearing tinted glasses overhis eyes. While I was unable to move or speak, he put the plastic things on my wrists and covered my mouth with duct tape,” she spelled out, trying to tamp down her heart that was starting to race again. “Then, he hoisted me over his shoulder and carried me across the backyard and into my house.”

“Did he say anything to you when he was doing all of this?” Deputy Anderson asked.

“No. He never spoke a word, but once he had me gagged and cuffed, I saw a text that he was sending to Cash.”

“I received it,” Cash added, and he took out his phone and showed her the text. The deputies had apparently already seen it because they didn’t look at it or snap a photo of it.

Come alone. No cops. No Maverick Ops buddies. Bring 50K to 614 Shelter Lane by midnight or Kayla Morgan dies.

Seeing the words again felt like multiple punches to her stomach. It would have been so easy for her to slide right back into the fear and panic. So damn easy. But Kayla fought it. She needed to finish her statement so she could get the heck out of there and fall apart in private.

“After the man sent the text,” she managed to continue, “he started smashing things in my living room. Everything,” Kayla emphasized. “I still couldn’t move, so I couldn’t stop him, and I was bleeding a lot from where I hit my head. But slowly the effects of the stun gun started wearing off, and I saw one of the presents he’d smashed. A Bowie knife in a leather sheath. I grabbed it from the floor and managed to get it out of the sheath before he turned around and saw me.”

Once again, she had to stop. Had to fight the fresh nightmarish images that were playing havoc with the old ones.

“I tried to stab him, but he dodged me,” she said, just letting the explanation tumble out of her mouth.Say it fast. Get this done. “So, I ran toward my bedroom. I thought if I could get in and lock the door, then I could maybe get to a gun I keep it in mynightstand. I didn’t make it that far, though. He cornered me, shoving me in the closet, and that’s when I stabbed him.”

“Where did you stab him?” Deputy Reeves asked.

She motioned toward her own neck. “I must have hit his carotid artery because blood spurted everywhere. He fell almost immediately, and that’s when I got around him. I was still planning to get to my gun. But I collapsed. Couldn’t move.” Kayla glanced at Cash. “And that’s when he came in.”

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