LITMIR.BIZ

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      “Even them, sweetie.” Laurel handed her Mr. Houdini. Molly hugged the lion close.

      Tears rolled down her face. “I want them back.”

      Laurel sank closer to Garrett. He shifted and she nestled next to him. Her arm wrapped around Molly, her cheek resting on the little girl’s head. “So do I, Molly Magoo. So do I.”

      Molly clutched her stuffed animal. She didn’t scream, as if the pain was too much for that. She laid her head on Garrett’s chest. Fat tears rolled down her cheeks.

      “Sing to me,” she pleaded. “My heart hurts.”

      “The ants go marching...” Garrett fought against the emotions closing his throat. Memories too horrible and too deep slammed into him. Nights lying in the hospital bed after he’d awakened, reaching out his hand for Lisa’s or for Ella’s and no one had been there.

      Just anonymous nurse after nurse—or no one at all.

      Laurel leaned against him, her shoulders silently shaking. He knew she was crying. She buried her face in his neck.

      Garrett held on to them, the children’s tune now a mere murmur. Soon Molly went still in his arms.

      He fell silent.

      Sunlight streamed into the window, but he could tell from the angle it was low in the sky. Late afternoon.

      He looked over at Laurel. Her eyes were red. “It breaks my heart,” she whispered.

      His own emotions raw and on the surface, he gave a quiet nod. “I should put her in bed. She’ll wake up at some point, but she needs the rest.”

      Laurel shifted away from him and he rose, taking the precious bundle into his bedroom. He pulled off her shoes and tucked her under the covers. He kissed her forehead. “Sweet dreams, sugar.”

      His arms felt empty. His throat tightened as the past overtook him. His own little girl, afraid. His Ella hadn’t known a nightmare would come. Neither had Molly.

      He turned and Laurel stood in the doorway watching him, her face ravaged with grief. His own festered just beneath the surface. Part of him wanted to escape the claustrophobia of his bedroom, to run to the top of a mountain and shout his fury. Instead, he walked toward her and she backed up. He stepped into the living room and closed the door softly behind him. The latch clicked.

      She said nothing, and he didn’t know what to say. Molly’s tears had torn away the defensive emotional wall he’d worked so diligently to build over the past eighteen months.

      She simply walked into his arms, and he could do nothing but enfold her, cling to her and struggle to contain the dam of feelings that threatened to break free.

      Laurel stood there silently for several minutes. Her warmth seeped through his shirt. How long since he’d just let himself be this close to someone?

      Much too long.

      “Thank you,” she said. She eased back and touched his cheek with her hand, her whispering caress soft and tender.

      “You handled her well. She’ll cry more. It won’t be over today, but she’ll make it. So will you.”

      He kissed her forehead and she wrapped her arms around his waist, hugging him tight. He knew she just needed someone to cling to, but he couldn’t ignore the slight pickup of his heartbeat. She was too vulnerable. And so was he. Laurel and Molly’s presence reminded him of a pain he’d barely endured. Now somehow he had to find the strength to help them survive.

      A small whimpering filtered from his bedroom.

      “Go to her.” Garrett stepped away. “She needs family.”

      Laurel gripped his hand and kissed his cheek. “You’re a good man, Garrett Galloway.” She disappeared behind the door and he heard her softly speaking to Molly.

      Once he was certain the little girl was calm, he grabbed his Beretta from atop the refrigerator, where he’d stashed it, and strode onto the porch. The sun had turned red as it set on the western side of the ranch. The face of the mountain had turned light red and purple. Garrett sucked in a deep breath of mountain air. He exhaled, shuddering, and gripped the wooden rail until his knuckles whitened.

      He blinked quickly, shoving back the overwhelming emotions that threatened to escape.

      Molly and Laurel could rip what was left of his heart to shreds. When he’d come to and realized Lisa and Ella had paid the ultimate price for his job, only the need for revenge had kept him alive those first few months during therapy. He’d buried the grief deep in a hole where his heart had once resided.

      Garrett scrubbed his face with his hands. Molly had reminded him of what it was like to protect someone who was truly innocent. And Laurel. God, that woman made him want what he couldn’t have. He couldn’t even let himself think about her that way. Not until whoever had killed his family—and hers—was no longer a threat.

      A rustle in the trees made Garrett still. He focused on the movement. For several seconds he watched. Another slight shift of the pine needles, a scrape. Not the wind.

      Someone, or something, was out there.

      He gripped his weapon and moved behind the stone pillar at the corner of the house. If a weapon had a bead on him, he needed cover.

      Once he decided to move, he’d have only a split second.

      A shadow shifted in the fading sunlight. Two eyes peered at him from between the pines.

      Garrett stepped off the porch. “So, you’re back.”

       Chapter Seven

      Laurel snuggled Molly next to her. The little girl twisted the flannel of her Christmas nightgown. It had been a present from Ivy when she’d realized Molly wouldn’t be able to attend the pageant that fateful night.

      When Laurel had followed Molly into the cabin’s bedroom, her niece had pulled her mother’s gift from the duffel and silently handed it to Laurel.

      “You can wear my T-shirt, Molly Magoo,” Laurel had said, barely able to speak.

      “Mommy said Santa would know where to find me if I wore my special nightgown. He’d know I was being a good girl even if I couldn’t be an angel.” Molly had looked up at her. “Santa can find me here, can’t he?”

      “Of course he can. He knows you’ve been a very good girl this year.”

      Laurel stroked Molly’s hair. “I’ll have to find Christmas for you, Molly,” she said under her breath. “Somehow.”

      The little girl hugged her lion close, her face buried in its mane. Her breathing slowed, growing even. She sighed and tucked her tiny hand under her cheek. Laurel held her breath, but Molly simply snuggled down under the covers.

      Hopefully sleep would bring peace. For a while.

      Minutes ticked by. Laurel’s heart ached with an emptiness she’d never imagined. She wanted Ivy to walk through the door, tell her it was all a mistake. Tell her this had all been a bad dream, a setup. One of their father’s elaborate plans.

      A small part of her still hoped that were true, but she knew it wasn’t. She’d heard her father’s voice on the phone. This had nothing to do with the intelligence game he played. Every moment was real.

      Her father was probably dead as well.

      She and Molly were alone.

      Laurel dug her fingernails into her palm, savoring the bite of pain. She wasn’t dreaming—even though she was in the midst of her own nightmare.

      Her niece’s blond hair fell over her forehead. At least Laurel had Molly. The little girl gave Laurel a reason to not curl up in a ball and disappear. She’d never imagined her

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