Page 62 of Dangerous Christmas Memories

She paused. “Which brings us to the explosion at the motel where Rachel was killed.”

He stopped rolling the phone, but he didn’t say a word. The air seemed chillier in his stillness of the movement.

“Then there was the attack with the three other pickup trucks.” Priscilla modulated her voice, not wanting to rattle a saber at a sleeping tiger. “Now here we are and I’m a hostage.”

“That’s quite a list.” His voice had dropped to a lower register. “Do you honestly believe if I wanted you dead you would still be alive?”

She could detect no underlying malice in his question, but something in his tone caused her skin to prickle.

“However, you did see me shoot three people in Vegas, and that is a loose end that warrants tying up.”

Even as she had listed all the incidents, part of her had known Culvert couldn’t have been the one behind all of them. Luc had tried to tell her, tried to express his doubts that someone other than Culvert wanted her silenced, but she hadn’t wanted to believe it. Because to believe it wasn’t Culvert meant that she had spent the last seven years not really living her life for no good reason at all.

Still, he could be trying to confuse her with the facts he wanted her to focus on. She pointed out the obvious. “Who else could it be? Grammar is dead. The FBI and the marshals say you killed him to keep him from testifying. And you did escape custody while in the hospital mere weeks before your trial start date. I saw you kill in cold blood. My testimony will—”

Culvert cut her off with an impatient wave of his hand. “Your testimony is not as crucial as the marshals would have you believe.”

“What are you talking about?” Priscilla gaped at him, her mind scrambling to process this unexpected statement.

He suddenly rose, and moved to a window on the left side of the door, easing back a board very slowly. He put his finger to his lips. “Shh.”

She obeyed. Culvert wasn’t a man to trifle with, and she’d already pushed him beyond what was safe.

With the stealth of a panther, he moved to the opposite side of the door, positioning himself to be behind it. As the handle turned with a squeak, she held her breath.

The door pushed open. A blond man appeared, sunlight flooding behind the stranger’s frame. Culvert pounced, bringing the man into the room and slamming him face-first against the wall with one arm drawn up behind his back.

Culvert kicked the door shut with a bang. “We meet at last.”

Priscilla stifled a scream as Culvert placed his handgun against the back of Luc’s head.

TWENTY-ONE

Priscilla leaped to her feet. “Don’t hurt him!”

Culvert didn’t take his eyes off Luc, whose face remained smashed against the rough wood of the cabin’s wall. “Sit down.”

She sat, quelled by the command but still itching to help Luc. How had he found her? Even with a gun to the back of his head, his very presence eased some of the strain.

Culvert wedged his foot between Luc’s feet to separate his legs, keeping Luc’s right arm twisted behind him.

“Are you okay?” Luc struggled despite Culvert’s tight hold.

“Yes.” Stay strong.

“Hands against the wall.” The hit man released Luc’s arm so he could comply with his instructions.

Luc did exactly as he was told. Culvert slipped the gun into his waistband and frisked his hostage, extracting a cell phone and patting down his back and chest with extra care.

“No wire.” Culvert put a hand on his shoulder and jerked him away from the wall.

The rug-rash burn on the side of Luc’s cheek where he’d been pressed along the wall brought tears to Priscilla’s eyes. She also spotted a cleaned cut near his hairline that likely happened in the car crash.

Culvert brought the gun to the back of Luc’s head as he directed him to the couch where Priscilla sat.

“Sit next to your wife, but I’m keeping an eye on you two. I won’t hesitate to shoot her right between those pretty blue eyes.” Culvert pointed the gun at Priscilla’s face.

Luc collapsed onto the couch and Priscilla threw herself into his arms, embracing the warmth of his body as her heart fluttered at being held by him.

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