LITMIR.BIZ

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wonderful,” Krista said.

      “Says the woman who just spent ten days on a mission trip. You’re welcome. There’s chicken casserole, fresh fruit and takeout from Pekadill’s.”

      “My mouth is watering. But if my power’s out I can’t heat it in the micro.”

      “Did you check the fuse box in the garage?” Nat offered.

      “That’s next. If I don’t fall asleep on my way out there.”

      “Anastasia would have a field day with that.”

      “Did you see her at all?” Krista fumbled in the kitchen junk drawer.

      “Once, the first time I stopped by. She thought I was you.”

      “How’d that go?” Krista pulled out a red mini flashlight.

      “She ran, hid and never came out again.”

      “Except to trash my living room,” Krista said.

      “You want me to send Timothy over?”

      “No, thanks. I’ll be fine.”

      “He wouldn’t mind.”

      “I’m good, really.” Krista liked being able to take care of herself. Natalie had done plenty, and Krista didn’t like taking advantage of Natalie’s boyfriend’s good nature. “I’ll give you a call tomorrow.”

      “I’ll stop by the tea shop.”

      “Sounds good.”

      She hung up and pointed the flashlight into the living room. “Kitty, kitty.” She aimed in all the corners, above the bookshelf, then got down on her knees and held her breath as she flashed the light beneath the sofas.

      “This is ridiculous.” She stood. “I’m not going to let you punk me, kitty.”

      Pointing the flashlight ahead of her, she marched into the kitchen and flung open the back door. The smell of winter floated through the yard, wrapping around her shoulders like a soft blanket.

      Home. There was nothing like it.

      She marched outside to the detached garage. Shoving the flashlight into her sweater pocket, she heaved open the garage door and reached for her flashlight. A crashing sound made her jump back.

      “Anastasia, how did you get in here?” Krista aimed the flashlight into the garage—

      And screamed at the sight of a large man rummaging through her toolbox.

      Instinct demanded she run, but for a second she couldn’t move. Then the intruder turned to reveal a skeleton-masked face. He was holding a weapon in his hand.

      Panic shot her out of the garage, her heart pounding against her chest. She raced for the house, focusing on the open door…

      The man shoved her from behind and she went down against the cobblestone walk, the breath knocked from her lungs. It couldn’t end like this. Who would run the tea shop?

      Oh, of all the things to be worried about.

      Eyes pinched shut, she braced herself.

      But nothing happened.

      She heard crunching of footsteps through the dormant garden as the man raced off. Could he be some homeless guy trying to stay warm?

      “Hey!” a male voice called out behind her.

      Followed by a pop. Then another.

      She swallowed back the panic that threatened to make her sick.

      Special Agent Luke McIntyre hit the ground when he saw the weapon aimed in his direction. Taking cover behind the house, he slipped his Glock from his belt and waited. He didn’t want a shoot-out in this small town, but he had to defend himself.

      And the woman.

      Luke counted to three and poked his head out. The guy was out of sight.

      A car’s engine sputtered and cracked. Luke raced around the house in time to spot a dark green minivan peeling away from the curb. On the ground lay a nail gun.

      Neighbors’ lights popped on with interest and he quickly holstered his gun.

      There was no doubt Krista Yates was in trouble.

      Luke busted tail to get to Wentworth after the tip came in about Victor Garcia. The drug lord was sending men to the quiet Michigan town to finish some business with the Peace Church mission group. Garcia was a bold one to be using a church group to move drugs, but it didn’t surprise Luke.

      Garcia had been on the DEA’s watch list for months and just when they thought they had enough to bring him in, the drug lord fled, probably to Mexico. Luke’s office thought they’d lost him for good.

      But Luke hadn’t given up. Not on this one. There was too much history, too much at stake.

      Luke slipped into town and touched base with the police chief, asking that Luke’s position as DEA agent be confidential so as not to alert Garcia’s men and chase them off. Luke knew that gossip in a small town traveled like wildfire.

      Luke wanted to catch Garcia’s men in the act of retrieving the drugs so he could hurt Victor Garcia where he’d feel it most: in his business.

      No, Luke didn’t just want to hurt Garcia. He wanted to destroy him.

      The chief explained that Krista Yates coordinated the mission trip, and had somehow missed her connection, so she was arriving later than the rest of the group.

      The question was, what was Garcia’s connection to Krista Yates?

      Luke started around back, the sound of sirens blaring in the distance. He pulled out his shield and clipped it to his jacket pocket. Didn’t want Barney Fife thinking he was the perp.

      He turned the corner.

      The woman was gone.

      “Miss Yates?” he called out.

      “Who are you and what did you do with my cat?”

      He turned toward the house. She was aiming a fire extinguisher at him.

      He raised his hands and bit back a smile at her aggressive stance. “I’m a federal agent, ma’am.” He nodded toward his shield.

      “Oh.” She put down the extinguisher. “Wait, how did you get here so fast? Did you say federal agent?”

      He took a step toward her and stopped. She looked shaken, petrified. He couldn’t blame her.

      “Yes, ma’am. I’m with the DEA.”

      Her green eyes were innocent, yet weary, and a bruise was starting to form on her cheek.

      “You’d better ice your cheek or you’re gonna look like Rocky Balboa after ten rounds in the ring.” Lowering his hands, he started for the house.

      She reached for the fire extinguisher.

      “I’m on your side, remember?” he said.

      “Then fix my lights.”

      “Excuse me?”

      “There’s no light in my house. I went to the garage to check the fuse box and that guy jumped me, I mean jumped over me.” She shook her head in confusion.

      “Go on inside and I’ll check the fuse box.”

      “It’s dark inside.”

      “Okay, then wait on the porch. The cops should be pulling up any second now.”

      She hugged her midsection with one hand and clutched a charm at the base of her neck with the other. Although she acted strong, she looked broken and terrified.

      And way too fragile.

      Luke went into the garage, pulled out his pen flashlight and inspected the fuse

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