“I don’t like this idea.” She pushes against me. “What if you drop me?”
Another round of bullets starts firing into the house. The next wave of operatives are closing in on us. We’re running out of time.
“Do you trust me?” I feel like Aladdin asking that question.
“No.”
My brows drop.
That wasn’t the answer I was hoping for.
I take a stun pen out of my pocket—luckily, there was one in Sienna’s hidden supplies. “You may not trust me, but I hope you’ll forgive me.”
I poke the pen into her neck, shooting a wave of sleeping drugs into her neck. Lacee’s eyes go wide, and her body goes limp against mine.
“You…son…of…” Her words slur together as her eyes roll back.
Yep, she’ll be furious at me when she wakes up. But she’ll be alive, so how can she really be that mad?
I grab one of the kitchen chairs and loop the zipline cord through the back of the chair several times. Then I sit on the chair with Lacee in my lap—spider style. That’s another thing she’d probably be upset about, but she’s never going to know. I wrap my arm around her back and curl my feet around the legs of the chair. Several men crash through the ceiling with guns pointed at us. I throw a grenade toward the oven. I have four seconds before everything explodes. I hold onto Lacee with one arm, push the button on the escape gun, and the zipline handle shifts forward. It locks into place and shoots us out of the house. Two more seconds before the grenade detonates. We zip through the air, hanging above the shallow water just as the house explodes behind us. The cord we’re attached to loosens—probably because the hooks the zipline was attached to are now melted. We drop eight feet below into the ocean. It only takes a second before I find my feet and pull Lacee out of the water. I look back at Sienna’s destroyed house. She’s not going to be happy about that.
Behind me, a horn honks.
I turn and see Norman waving at me from his boat.
Talk about impeccable timing.
THIRTY-FOUR
LACEE
December 24
A familiar headachethrobs against my temples.
The bright light knocking on my eyelids isn’t helping things. Neither is the Mannheim Steamroller version ofDeck the Hallsthat’s blasting in the background. I’d recognize those trumpets anywhere. My mom’s been playing that Christmas album at full volume since I was little.
But why is it playing now?
I open my eyes and look around. I’m in my bedroom at my parents’ house in Leavenworth, but how did I get here? The last thing I remember was being with Park in Exuma. Maybe it was all just a dream. I push my bangs back and laugh.
Of course, it was a dream.
I sit up, and that’s when I see what I’m wearing—Frosty the Snowman flannel pajamas. I reach for my phone. It’s on my dresser, plugged into the charger just like always. I flip the screen up, checking the date–December 24.
Christmas Eve.
Freaking Park!
How the heck did I get here? The flight alone from Exuma to Seattle is six hours long. Not to mention I was in a house, on an island, surrounded by people shooting at me. Then there’s the question of how Park got my limp body halfway across the globe. And that’s not even the end of it. How did he break into my parents' house, change me into pajamas, and exit the place without anyone hearing him? That’s quite the escape story, and it’s driving me crazy that I don’t even know the details of it.
All I know is Park drugged me and undressed me again. I’m furious. Okay, Ishouldbe furious, but I’m really not. How can I be mad at a man who risked everything to get me home safely in time for Christmas? It’s like the biggest romantic gesture of all time.
At least I assume I’m safe unless the bad guys are actually the ones playingDeck the Hallsand not Mannheim Steamroller. I swing my legs out of bed and slowly stand, feeling the effects of the sleeping drug. I glance around the room and notice two presents sitting on my dresser that weren’t there before. And resting on top of them is a piece of paper. I walk to the dresser in a slow, clunky way and pick up the note, trying to focus my eyes.
Dear Lacee,
I’m sorry for drugging you again. I just wanted to get you out of there alive. It was never my intention to put you in danger, and now, my only goal is to keep you safe, even if that means never seeing you again. I just don’t think I could live with myself if anything were to happen to you. So I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything between us…well, not everything. There are quite a few moments that will live on repeat in my head. But I’m not going to lie; it will always bug me that we didn’t get to a level ten kiss. It’s only the second mission in my life that I didn’t complete, and I’ll always wish I had.
