Christmas Under Fire Read online

  Mission: Survive the Holidays

  A Mountie Brotherhood story

  Cally Roslin came to northern British Columbia to enjoy a charming Canadian Christmas—until somebody tries to kill her. But when she becomes the target of multiple attacks, Aaron Thrace, the handsome Mountie assigned to protect her, is certain it’s no coincidence. Danger is swiftly closing in on Cally, and with hazardous snowstorms on the horizon, there’ll soon be no place to run...

  “I thought I saw someone slip between the stores back there.”

  Aaron frowned. “I’d like to say we don’t need to worry about it, but after all that’s happened, I’m not taking any chances. Come on, let’s get off the main drag.”

  He led them down the next street, taking a shortcut around the block before meeting back up with the main street again. The moment they walked up to the corner, Cally gasped. The shadowy shape was back, and it appeared to be a person leaning against a wall under a store awning. It looked as though the person was waiting for something. Or someone.

  “Aaron...” Cally couldn’t stop her voice from wavering.

  “I see him,” Aaron said in a low tone. “Come on, we’re almost to the station. If we hurry—”

  But as they took the first steps to resume their journey, Cally couldn’t resist the urge to look over her shoulder.

  She almost screamed.

  The white-clad figure had started moving, and the person was running straight for them.

  Michelle Karl is an unabashed bibliophile and a romantic suspense author. She lives in Canada with her husband and an assortment of critters, including a codependent cat and an opinionated parrot. When she’s not reading and consuming copious amounts of coffee, she writes the stories she’d like to find in her “to be read” pile. She also loves animals, world music and eating the last piece of cheesecake.

  Books by Michelle Karl

  Love Inspired Suspense

  Mountie Brotherhood

  Wilderness Pursuit

  Accidental Eyewitness

  Christmas Under Fire

  Fatal Freeze

  Unknown Enemy

  Outside the Law

  Silent Night Threat

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  Christmas Under Fire

  Michelle Karl

  Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.

  —Matthew 11:28

  To everyone who demonstrated patience and grace while I was writing this book.

  You know who you are. Thank you.

  Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  EPILOGUE

  DEAR READER

  EXCERPT FROM VALIANT DEFENDER BY SHIRLEE McCOY

  ONE

  Cally Roslin stepped out of the small airplane and shivered as a blast of icy northern wind cut through the dampness in the air. It seemed to slice into her heavy winter coat and snow pants and cling to her skin like a layer of frost. She’d experienced a Canadian winter before, but the late December temperatures in Toronto had felt nothing like this introduction to the climate of northern British Columbia. It made her miss the dry warmth of her homeland, the Kingdom of Amar. She clutched the edges of her puffy jacket’s hood around her face to keep her cheeks from taking the full brunt of the cold and gripped the railing with her other hand. The thick glove she wore squished against the metal, and she had to squint to keep her eyes open as she descended the metal staircase to the tarmac.

  She sighed in relief as she reached the bottom step. An attendant wearing an airport ID badge quickly ushered her inside the main building—which was the only building for passengers, as far as she could see. Cally had checked out the website for the Rocky North Regional Airport before boarding the tiny aircraft in Vancouver for the second leg of her journey, and so she’d expected the rural, unsecured facility to be small and sparse. But she hadn’t realized how sparse until seeing it with her own eyes.

  The terminal consisted of one open concourse with a few benches, vending machines, workstations and two side rooms marked as Gate One and Gate Two. The waiting areas for these looked about as large and exciting as her dentist’s office—which was to say, not at all. She saw no other passengers and only one other attendant working behind a service desk. At least the place was clean and warm, with bright lighting to counterbalance the diminishing daylight outside and a selection of garish Christmas decorations to celebrate the season. Despite only being around four o’clock in the afternoon, the sun looked ready to call it quits for the day.

  Cold, dark and a little lonely. It’s what I wanted, isn’t it?

  Cally scanned the room a second time. In an email exchange, her local friend, Ellen, whose wedding Cally had used as an excuse to get away from her life in Amar for a little while, had mentioned that a Royal Canadian Mounted Police officer would be arriving to chauffeur her to a rental cabin in Fort Mason. The cozy place was to be her home for the next two weeks or so until the wedding, and she was looking forward to spending Christmas with her friend and finally having some blessed respite from everyone and everything else back home.

  Cally had also received official communications from the RCMP before leaving for Canada, but was trying not to think much of it. The message had called her a foreign dignitary and said she’d been assigned a personal concierge for the duration of her trip, a federal law enforcement officer who she assumed was the same person Ellen had mentioned would be playing chauffeur.

  But standing in the nearly empty terminal, Cally felt a twinge of relief at the absence of anyone waiting for her. She was no dignitary, and certainly not deserving of any special attention. Yes, she technically belonged to Amar’s royal bloodline, but her claim to the throne was so distant that it barely counted. Back home, it afforded her the lowest possible level of privilege, in the sense of a title and special designation on official forms and documents like her passport—and it got her into certain special events on the guest list—but she lived an average, everyday life. Especially after the sudden death of her husband eighteen months ago in a tragic car accident.

  These days, she spent most of her time taking on freelance graphic design projects and binge-watching home renovation shows, in an attempt to hide inside her small apartment and avoid unwanted advice and “help” from her overbearing family. Not that the strategy worked most of the time. They’d never approved of her marrying Esai, a non-Amaran she’d met as a university student, in the first place. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d gone a full night without her mother or another relative phoning to tell her what she should do now that she was “free” and “back on the market.” She’d tried to explain how much their words hurt, but they either ignored her pleas or refused to understand. Some days she almost missed the rigid schedule and isolation of Amar’s compulsory year of military service.

  “Excuse me, miss?”

  Cally turned arou
nd to see the smiling female airport attendant taking tentative steps her way. “Yes?”

  The woman clasped her hands together. “I’m so sorry, but the airport closes at four o’clock today, in five minutes. I see that your luggage has been brought inside, but do you have someone coming to pick you up? Or do you need help to arrange transportation?”

  It closed at four? That wasn’t something she’d accounted for—evidently she’d missed that on the airport website. But shouldn’t her supposed escort have already arrived, in that case? “I...someone is apparently on their way. I’m sure he’ll be here soon.”

  As the woman walked away, it dawned on Cally that she should probably freshen up before the drive to Fort Mason. The journey from Amar to northern BC had taken all day, and her teeth felt fuzzy. Five minutes was plenty of time to get the job done.

  Cally rolled her suitcase from the back doors to a small alcove by the front entrance, then slipped into the ladies’ washroom and headed for the wheelchair stall to hang up her winter gear before landing at the sink. She brushed her teeth, ran a brush through her knotted hair and swiped a coat of gloss on her dry lips. Feeling cleaner and more put-together than she had in hours, she ducked back into the washroom stall to bundle up again. A few minutes later, she was re-dressed and ready to go.

  She stepped out of the washroom into a darkened airport.

  “Hello? Anyone here?” Her stomach squeezed with confusion. Had everyone left and closed up for the day? How had they forgotten about her when her luggage was still out in the open—

  She groaned. Because it wasn’t in the open. She’d moved it off into the alcove where it wouldn’t be in anyone’s way. She’d done too good a job at being unobtrusive. The attendant she’d spoken to probably saw the empty space where her suitcase had been and assumed she’d left. Cally hadn’t heard anyone come into the washroom, either, but then again, she’d left the stall door open while taking off her winter gear and putting it back on—so if anyone had glanced quickly inside, they’d have seen a full row of open stalls and surmised the room was empty.

  The world outside the bay windows was dark, the sun’s rays having almost fully disappeared below the horizon. She checked the front doors and discovered she wasn’t locked in. The doors swung open when she pressed on the crash bar, but the world outside was nothing but parking lot and empty green space surrounded by heavy forest. If she left the building, the doors might very well lock behind her, and then she’d be out in the cold with no shelter. But what if her ride was still on his way? If he drove into the parking lot and saw a darkened building, he might simply turn around and leave.

  Cally looked around for something to brace the door open a crack, to indicate somebody was still inside. Using her cell phone flashlight, she illuminated the space near the doors and saw a triangular doorstop. She shoved it under one of the doors, cracking it open by about ten centimeters.

  Her stomach growled as she turned off her cell phone’s flashlight to conserve battery. She took note of the reception icon, which indicated that she didn’t have any service. She supposed that shouldn’t come as a surprise, considering her remote location. There had to be a courtesy phone around that she could use to call a taxi or emergency services to let somebody know she’d been left behind.

  She glanced across the terminal concourse, searching for a phone in the dim light. A vending machine gave off a faint glow from the inside, illuminating the potato chips and chocolate bars within—but more important, the soft light reached far enough to reveal a wall-mounted phone next to it.

  Perfect. I can call for a ride and grab a snack for the drive, something to tide me over until dinner. She took a step toward the phone.

  The shadows to her right shifted.

  She gasped and flinched, but sensed no further movement. Had she imagined it? She swung her gaze from one side to the other, but the room’s interior remained still and motionless.

  And then the back of her neck felt prickly, as if she was being watched. She whirled around, but saw only darkness and the faint red glow of the emergency exit.

  Maybe my original ride is finally here, she thought. Maybe he’s looking through the window wondering where I am. He could be in the parking lot right now, so I should probably check to make sure he doesn’t miss seeing the propped-open door and leave.

  She took a step toward the front entrance, but glanced back at the phone and vending machine as a strange sense of wrongness washed over her.

  Another shadow moved. Her insides twisted.

  “Hello?” She whirled around, backing up to the entrance. “Who’s there? I have a law enforcement escort and a killer left hook, so you’d better not—”

  A rough swath of fabric plunged over her head, covering her face and blocking the dim light. She screamed as she felt a tug at her arms.

  Someone is trying to kidnap me!

  “Leave me alone!” she screamed and lashed out with her fists. The attacker grabbed hold of her wrists, apparently trying to control her flailing limbs, so she drove her knee upward instead—but her opposite foot slipped on the slick tile floor and her kneecap smacked into a bench. Her leg buckled beneath her, and her wrists were wrenched from her captor’s grasp as she fell through the air.

  Then she heard a bang. Something hard slammed into the back of her head, and the world went silent.

  * * *

  RCMP officer Aaron Thrace lunged through the airport’s main entrance and caught the woman as she fell, centimeters before she landed on the hard tile. Had something or someone hit her as he’d rushed inside? A shadowy figure took off across the moonlit terminal and, before Aaron could even draw his weapon, slammed into the crash bar of a door underneath an exit sign on the other side of the concourse and plunged into the frigid night air. Aaron wanted to follow after the perp and serve immediate justice for whatever had transpired in the seconds before his arrival, but the safety of the person in front of him came first.

  The woman groaned as she came to, her eyes hazy and unfocused. He sat her down on one of the plastic chairs by the door, keeping watch on both her and their dark surroundings. Why on earth had she been inside the shuttered airport all alone? He’d called ahead and told the attendant at the front desk that he would be several minutes behind schedule due to traffic on the highway from Fort Mason, and the attendant had agreed to stick around until he arrived. Had someone duped the attendant into leaving? He had to assume that the woman in front of him was Ms. Roslin, the dignitary from Amar whom he’d been assigned to escort and assist for the duration of her visit. What had happened here?

  “Ms. Roslin?” He pulled the swath of fabric, which had been knocked askew, from her face, and her eyes suddenly opened wide. She inhaled sharply and leaped up from the chair, backing away with a fierce growl. He held his hands up in a show of nonaggression. “Aaron Thrace, RCMP. I’m not going to harm you, but someone just tried to. Are you injured?”

  The snarl slipped away as her features relaxed. “Oh. Oh! I don’t...no, I don’t think so. I was accidentally left behind in the airport and then someone came out of nowhere—”

  Her gentle, lilting accent endeared her to him immediately, but intellectually he knew that was simply a cognitive reaction to hearing certain types of accents. Still, it was heartbreaking to hear a lovely voice like hers recounting such an agonizing ordeal. “If you’re uninjured, will you be all right waiting here while I search the perimeter?” She nodded but didn’t look confident about it. “Are you sure? I won’t be a minute. I’m going to check outside of these doors and then confirm it’s safe to bring you to the car. Did you notice if your attacker had a weapon?”

  She shook her head this time, with greater resolution. “I didn’t see one, but it was dark. The person grabbed me with both hands. It felt like they were trying to get me under control—like they were going to pick me up and take me somewhere? I’m not sure, sorry. They did shove something o
ver my head first...oh, maybe it was that scarf on the floor?”

  Welcome to Canada, he thought bitterly. “All right. Sit tight and don’t move. Shout if you need me and I’ll be back in a snap.” He waited until she’d sat down again, then crossed the darkened concourse’s perimeter. Whoever had attacked her might have simply taken off when their abduction attempt had been thwarted, but the Rocky North Regional Airport wasn’t exactly located in a densely populated area. If anyone had driven off in a vehicle or run across the property to escape, Aaron was likely to spot the retreat. He hadn’t noticed any other cars in the parking lot, though, which meant that her attacker was probably still lurking around a corner, waiting for him and Ms. Roslin to leave first.

  Aaron rested his hand on his Taser but didn’t draw it. Canadian regulations required him to keep his weapons holstered the majority of the time, until he had a perfectly good reason to draw one. And without a blatant threat in front of him, he simply had to pay close attention to his surroundings and be quick on the draw if necessary.

  He leaned against the edge of the window and squinted into the darkness. If he’d known the scene would be so dark, he’d have brought night vision goggles. He thought he might have a pair in the back of his patrol car, but that was on the other side of the terminal concourse. He was unwilling to take his charge outside until he was certain she’d be safe—because even if the culprit had used both hands to grab at Ms. Roslin, it didn’t guarantee that the person wasn’t armed.

  When he didn’t spot any movement outside the windows, he glanced back at the woman. Her slight form was curled into the chair, knees pulled up to her chest and arms wrapped around her shins. She’d bowed her head, and he wondered if she might be praying. His heart tightened at her vulnerability, and he felt a sudden, unwanted tug at his core. To have come so far from home during what should be a joyful time of year, only to be attacked the moment she landed at her destination...well, that was a terrible way to start off a Christmas holiday.