Page 23 of Noel Secrets
The words chilled Jayda to the core. He was right. By the time those men learned the truth, she’d already be dead.
“Is there anything else you need?” Gerald asked.
“No, that’s all.” Jayda stood. She doubted he would share anyway.
They thanked him, though unease gnawed at Jayda’s insides. She gathered her bag and headed for the door, heart racing. Halfway down the hall, she froze.
Her phone. She’d left it on his desk.
“I’ll be right back,” she told Michael. She stepped up to the closed office door. Just as she was about to knock, Meeks’s voice filtered out.
His voice was low and curt, talking to someone, “Follow them.”
Jayda’s blood ran cold. She backed away, leaving her phone behind, then darted down the hall.
She grabbed Michael’s arm and whispered, “Run.”
Thankfully, he didn’t ask questions and led the way back through the building. They bolted out onto the street, the cold air hitting their lungs like knives. Jayda tugged Michael toward an alley. “We need to separate. It’ll buy us time. Meet back at dinner.”
Michael shook his head, breath puffing white in the air. “No, we stick together?—”
But Jayda slipped free, heart hammering, sprinting down the narrow alley. Simon had been right. She led Michael right into danger.God, let nothing happen to him. I never wanted him to be harmed.
The prayer felt all wrong. Not because of her plea. She meant every word. Michael had been a nuisance to her for as long as she’d known him, but she didn’t want him killed or even hurt. The prayer felt all wrong because she had never bothered God before for anything. She’d learned long ago that she was on her own. She didn’t need anybody.
But this prayer was for Michael.Lord, keep him safe.She would take care of herself.
Jayda reached inside her coat pocket and felt the pink jewels around her stun gun. The moment she knew she wasn’t alone in this alley, she held it at the ready.
She whirled around, and there—emerging from a doorway—was the man from the train. The same one who had tried to break into her cabin.
The one with the hit-list.
His eyes locked on hers with a smile that said, “Game over.”
She set off on a run straight at him, catching him by surprise. But she wasn’t fast enough for a hitman, and in the blink of an eye, her weapon was turned on her.
Michael’s heart slammed into his ribs with worry. He ran block to block, alley to alley. One moment Jayda was running beside him, and the next she was gone. The woman didn’t understand the definition of family. She rejected every act of help his family offered and now this. Why did she think she had to face every obstacle alone? All questions he would demand answers for…after he found her.
But then had he ever offered her his help in any way? Did he ever treat her like family?
The answer to that question nearly caused him to stumble. She had no reason to trust him at all, and he had no right to ask her to. He wrote articles on peace deals but hadn’t made peace in his own home.
Why? What had been the point? Had he really been jealous of her? Or was there something else he never wanted to face?
Michael turned the corner of the next block and stopped cold. The two men he’d seen chasing Jayda at the Penn Station platform stood dead ahead also looking down alleys. Jayda had thought she was drawing the men away from them, but she had no idea they’d closed off her escape before she even started running.
“Over here!” he shouted, his voice cutting across the street. He raised his hand as if in surrender. “You’re looking for me, right?”
The men pivoted, eyes narrowing, and one of them barked something into a radio clipped beneath his coat. A sick weight dropped into Michael’s gut. Not just two of them. There were more.
And Jayda was alone to face them.
When the men sped his way, Michael forced his body to move, charging left down a side street lined with Christmas lights strung overhead, casting red hues in his path. The men followed, boots slapping the pavement behind him. A street performer dressed as an elf paused mid-bell jingle to gape as Michael tore past.
He led the men into the maze of holiday stalls. The Christkindlmarket. Glühwein steamed from mugs, wafting scents of cinnamon and cloves his way. Vendors hawked hand-carved ornaments, nutcrackers, and candied nuts. Michael took a right then a left then another left, pausing behind a sign for gingerbread. Two children gleefully bought giant cookies with bright red smiles, oblivious to the two killers weaving through the crowd behind them.
But a diversion wasn’t a diversion when the enemy had already planned the board. Michael had drawn some heat away from Jayda—but not all of it. She was somewhere in these streets fighting for her life.
