Page 7 of Lone Star Christmas Mission

He’d managed to yank Kayla away from Virgil and sling her behind him. But before Cash could do the same to Kira, Virgil had jabbed the knife into her not once but three times. By then, the neighbors had run to help and had restrained Virgil, but it had been too late.

Kira was dead.

That was an image that was the clearest of them all. Kira, lifeless and bleeding on the cold ground, and Kayla sobbing over her body.

Thankfully, that image didn’t freeze in his mind as it sometimes did because Gunner’s voice cut through the mental noise.

“Should I open the garage door for you and your visitor?” the app said.

“Yes,” Cash verified.

“How did Gunner know you had someone with you?” Kayla asked.

“I have security cameras and infrared sensors all over the property. I’ll get plenty of advance notice if someone approaches.”

Of course, that wouldn’t stop a sniper from shooting through the windows, but Cash would take precautions for that, too.

He pulled into the garage and turned off the engine, but he didn’t get out until the garage door had fully closed. Kayla was still struggling with her seatbelt by the time he made it to the passenger’s side, and he helped her with that, being careful not to touch her too much, then he led her inside.

As programmed, the lights came on, and the door automatically locked behind them.Kryptoniteby 3 Doors Down started to blare out from the hidden speakers. Again, that was usual. But Cash shut it down with a simple voice command. Kayla’s raw nerves probably didn’t need his blaring music. Or so he thought.

“Keep it on,” she insisted.

Cash did, but he instructed Gunner to lower the volume. Along with lowering the shutters on the entire house. A security measure to prevent someone from spotting them through the windows. Around them, merging with the now softer playing music, there was the whirring sounds of the shutters.

“If you’re hungry,” he said, motioning for her to follow him out of the mudroom and into the kitchen. “I can fix you—”

“No. I can’t eat anything,” she muttered while she glanced around the great room, that was the living, dining, and kitchen area.

When Ruby had had the place built, she’d gone for a neutral palate, and Cash hadn’t made a whole lot of changes. The basic décor was white with varying shades of a pale, watery blue and green for the walls, rugs, and furniture. His one contribution was the dining table and chairs that he had purchased shortly after he’d moved in.

And Kayla spotted that purchase.

Her attention landed on the rich oak table with the live edges that incorporated the shape and natural elements of the wood. Both it and the chairs had obviously been made by a highly skilled craftsman and were works of art.

And Kayla herself was the artist.

“You bought some of my pieces,” she said, sounding more than a little surprised. She ran her hand along the table. “I mean, I knew someone had bought it, but it was a cash purchase, so I didn’t know who.”

He hadn’t wanted her to know. Hadn’t wanted her to think of him and spiral into panic again. But he could see now that he’d been wrong to assume that. Kayla seemed pleased.

“You do good work,” he let her know.

“Thanks. I had a good teacher.”

Her dad. He had indeed introduced Kayla to his hobby, and she’d turned into something much more. Cash didn’t know what her net worth was, but he knew she had a very successful business. One that gave her all the solitude and privacy she needed.

Until a few hours ago, anyway.

Alvin might have permanently snatched that solitude away, though by attacking her in her workshop. Cash hoped that when this was over, when Harvin was caught and neutralized, that Kayla would be able to go back to the work she clearly loved without the memories of Alvin’s attack.

Kayla walked into the living room, glancing at the framed photos on his mantel. Some of his late folks. Some of him with friends and colleagues.

And the one of her.

Cash cursed for not getting the chance to remove it. It was a photo of them at age fifteen at one of her dad’s barbecues. The summer before Kira’s death. Before life as they’d known it had gone to hell in a really shitty handbasket.

In the shot, Cash had his arm slung around her neck. A neck that sported a hickey from one of their making out sessions. They were both grinning like loons and probably having trashy thoughts about each other.

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