Off the Grid Christmas Read online

  HOLIDAY HIDEOUT

  When computer expert Arden DeMarco hacks secret files and discovers evidence of treason, a price is put on her head. What started as a mission to help a friend is now a fight for her life with assassins and the FBI tracking her down. There’s no time to get distracted by her brother’s best friend, Kane Walker, but the security expert promised Arden’s family he’d bring her safely home for the holidays. Instead they’re dodging bullets—and fighting their growing feelings—while Arden races to break the encryption and find out what’s hidden in the files she stole. But as they’re hunted by armed henchmen determined to make sure those secrets are never uncovered, keeping Arden safe is the only Christmas gift that matters...

  “Are you crying?” Kane asked.

  She wasn’t a crier. She’d never been a crier. Even when she’d discovered the truth about Randy, she hadn’t cried. She certainly wasn’t going to cry now. She sniffed again, trying to prove that truth to herself.

  “Why would I be?” she asked, not opening her eyes because she was afraid a tear might slip out.

  “Because you’ve been running for weeks? Because you’re tired? Because it’s almost Christmas and you’re far from home?”

  Yes. To all those things.

  “I’m this close to decrypting that file, Kane. I just want to get somewhere where I can concentrate on doing it,” she responded.

  He didn’t say anything. Just let the truck fill with their silences.

  That was fine.

  She was fine.

  Or, she would be.

  Once she fulfilled her promise to Juniper and made it back home.

  Please, God, let that happen. Please, she prayed silently, her eyes still closed as the truck descended the mountain.

  Mary Ellen Porter’s love of storytelling was solidified in fifth grade when she was selected to read her first children’s story to a group of kindergartners. From then on, she knew she’d be a writer. When not working, Mary Ellen enjoys reading and spending time with her family and search-dog-in-training. She’s a member of Chesapeake Search Dogs, a volunteer search and rescue team that helps bring the lost and missing home.

  Books by Mary Ellen Porter

  Love Inspired Suspense

  Into Thin Air

  Off the Grid Christmas

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  OFF THE GRID CHRISTMAS

  Mary Ellen Porter

  I am the Lord. I am the God of every person on the earth. You know that nothing is impossible for Me.

  —Jeremiah 32:27

  To my parents, Ed and Shirley Porter, whose constant love and encouragement have guided all my life choices and underpinned my successes. Thank you for your unfailing support and for giving me a strong foundation of faith and family.

  And to my in-laws, Eldridge and Joyce Grady, for embracing me as your own from the first day we met. I couldn’t have asked for a more perfect extended family.

  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

  EPILOGUE

  DEAR READER

  EXCERPT FROM CHRISTMAS AMNESIA BY LAURA SCOTT

  ONE

  The Christmas tree had been Arden DeMarco’s undoing.

  Or, to be more accurate, the decorations on it had.

  Not that accuracy mattered. What mattered was that she had to leave. Quickly.

  She shoved her sweatshirt into her backpack, the scent of Tide detergent and lavender fabric softener reminding her of her childhood home. She’d hoped to be there for Christmas, reveling in the beautiful predictability of Christmas Eve service, ham dinner, new pajamas worn on Christmas morning.

  She was twenty-five years old and she still loved those things.

  Unfortunately, in this instance her nostalgia had been her downfall.

  She sighed.

  What was done was done. For twelve days she’d been safe in this secluded cottage just outside of Lubec, Maine. Now she wasn’t.

  She hadn’t planned to leave, but staying was no longer an option. She’d have to find another place to go to ground. With a quick look around the room, Arden was satisfied she was leaving nothing important behind. No clues as to what she’d been working on, where she planned to go or what her next step would be.

  Zipping her pack, she gave the surveillance monitors one more glance.

  All clear.

  For now. But the odds weren’t in her favor.

  Grabbing the wearable pet carrier from the hook behind the door that separated the kitchen from the cozy living room, she fastened it around her chest.

  “Sebastian? Time to go,” she called.

  As was Sebastian’s way, he didn’t answer.

  She crossed the room to check his favorite spot, knelt down and peered under the sparsely decorated Christmas tree. Sure enough, he was there, batting at a red bulb.

  “Did you learn nothing from the tinsel incident?” she muttered.

  He looked at her, blinking large blue eyes and meowing as she scooped him up and placed him in the carrier. Where most cats would have yowled and struggled, he settled in without a fuss, the tips of his dark brown ears barely visible as she pulled the drawstring on the carrier to secure him inside. Like Arden, he was quirky. It was one of the reasons she’d adopted him.

  He purred happily against her chest. Poor guy had no idea that he’d brought danger down on their heads.

  She’d been so careful when she’d dropped off the grid. Covered all the bases: cash transactions only, no contact with family, prepaid cell phone for emergencies only. There’d been no way anyone could trace her movements.

  Or so she’d thought.

  Unfortunately, in her panic, she’d forgotten about Sebastian’s microchip. Truth be told, if Sebastian hadn’t eaten his body weight in tinsel, she’d still be none the wiser. Okay. It hadn’t been that much tinsel. After administering an ultrasound, the vet had assured Arden that the cat would be just fine. She’d been happy and relieved until the vet had called an hour ago to check on Sebastian and used Arden’s real name.

  A name Arden hadn’t used in almost two weeks. They’d obviously scanned Sebastian for a microchip and now her assumed alias and the cottage address were linked to Arden’s true identity, through the PetID database.

  The jig was up. She needed to leave. If she managed to escape with her life, she’d never ever hang tinsel again.

  A powerful gust of wind whipped in from the ocean, drawing her attention to the window. The sun had set an hour ago, and the full moon should have been rising above the ocean. Clouds covered it, light gray against the dark horizon. Below, the beach lay empty. No lights or bonfires. No people with flashlights digging for clams. This wasn’t the time of year for vacationers. That had played to Arden’s advantage. Now she felt vulnerable.

  She tried to te
ll herself it was good that she was leaving, but she’d wanted to stay. A quiet cottage far away from anyone who knew her had been the perfect place to hide.

  The wind buffeted the cottage’s shake siding and howled beneath the eaves, the eerie sound spurring her to hurry. She pulled on her coat, partially zipping it up over Sebastian. He purred even more loudly.

  Happy cat.

  Unhappy human companion.

  Arden shoved gloves into her pockets and yanked a knit cap over her ears. This was it. Time to go. She grabbed her pack, flipped off the lights and dropped the house keys on the desk next to a note about the security system she’d regrettably be leaving behind. State-of-the-art. Expensive. She’d probably need it again before this was over, but it was too heavy and cumbersome for someone who needed to move quickly.

  The perimeter alarm chirped, the warning sending her pulse racing. She turned back to the monitors. Three were clear. The fourth showed a lone figure making his way slowly up the steep snow-covered path on foot. She smiled at that. She’d chosen this location well—even a Jeep couldn’t navigate the narrow, rock-covered road.

  One guy she could handle.

  She had the advantage. She knew he was coming.

  The cottage was in a large clearing, no place to conceal movement—perfect for seeing what was coming; not so great for a covert escape.

  She’d wait until he was on the front walkway, then sneak out the back.

  She shrugged the pack onto her shoulders, her attention on the monitor as the man strode up the walkway.

  Keeping an eye on the monitor, she crossed the well-worn wood floor to the back door. Heart pounding, hand on the doorknob, she waited for him to reach the front steps. A cold breeze swept in under the door and she shivered. The 1930s cottage, mostly used as a summer rental, was not well insulated. Though it was comfortable enough with both wood-burning stoves fired up, she had extinguished the fires thirty minutes ago in preparation for her departure. Now, with the embers quickly cooling, the cold Maine chill was settling over the house.

  The man reached the front steps, eyed the footprints she’d left in the snow when she’d returned from the vet. The image on the monitor wasn’t clear enough to see his face, but she didn’t plan to stick around long enough to get a better look.

  “Get ready for a bumpy ride, Sebastian,” Arden muttered, quietly opening the back door. The new storm door stuck, the old frame a poor fit. She should have removed it when she’d first noticed the problem, but she hadn’t thought she’d be found. Assumptions could get a person killed. Her oldest brother and decorated FBI agent, Grayson, was always saying that. Hopefully, she wasn’t going to prove him right.

  She walked outside, letting the door rest against the jamb. No time to wrestle it tightly into place. The yard was a slick sheet of icy snow, but she rushed toward the back corner of the property as quickly as she could. She had to reach the shed, and the motorcycle, if she had any hope of escape. She had minutes. Maybe less.

  Bang!

  The sound sent adrenaline coursing through her blood.

  She glanced back, saw the storm door lifted by the wind.

  Bang!

  The door slammed again, and a dark figure appeared around the corner of the house. Tall. Obviously masculine. Coming toward her with quick, decisive steps.

  She sprinted to the shed.

  “Arden DeMarco!” the man yelled, his voice carrying over the sound of the crashing surf and wind.

  She reached for the shed door with shaking hands, yanked it open just as he grabbed her shoulder.

  Arden was ready for him.

  The youngest of five children, and the only girl, she’d learned to hold her own early on—her brothers had made sure of that. And what they hadn’t taught her, ten years of mixed martial arts training had. Without hesitation, she pivoted, grabbing his hand and twisting it at an unnatural angle.

  He released his hold, giving her just enough space to throw a punch. He dodged at the last minute, her knuckles just brushing his jaw. She pulled back, aiming for his throat this time. She’d practiced this move dozens of times. She knew it cold, but Sebastian hindered her movement and the man was quicker than she expected, grabbing her wrist and yanking her arm down before she could land the blow.

  “Enough!” he growled. “I’m just here to—”

  She threw a left hook. Her fist connected.

  She knew what he was there for. Or she could guess. He was too well trained to be anything but a government operative or a hired assassin.

  If he felt the blow at all, he didn’t let on. Instead, he raised his arm to block her next punch.

  “I said, enough,” he muttered, his foot sweeping out, catching her ankle as she dodged. She stumbled backward, managed to somehow regain her balance. He reached for her again, grabbing the sleeve of her jacket and pulling her toward him.

  * * *

  Arden was small, agile and packed a surprising punch for her size. But Kane Walker had spent more than ten years in the Special Forces as part of the army’s elite Night Stalkers airborne brigade, and she was no match for him.

  Not that he planned to keep fighting her.

  He’d come to bring her home.

  She was going. Whether she liked it or not.

  “Arden, your—” he began, but she was obviously in no mood to listen.

  She yanked away, took a stance he’d seen dozens of times when he’d sparred with her brother Jace. She attacked with Jace’s signature move. It was almost indefensible.

  Almost.

  He took a calculated step forward, got his knee behind her leg and swept her toward the ground. If she’d been an enemy, he would have added a punch to the chest or nose to speed her descent; instead, he grabbed her arm as she flew backward, slowing her fall. She hit the ground with a thud anyway.

  “How about we call a truce?” he said, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “Jace didn’t have me track you down so we could spar.”

  “Jace?” She got to her feet, eyeing him through the darkness. He doubted she could see his features in the unlit yard. Even if she could, she might not be able to place his face. They’d met a few times in the past. Mostly when he’d joined Jace on home leave.

  “Your brother’s worried about you.”

  “And you know this because?” she asked, her shoulders tense, her hands fisted.

  “I’m Kane Walker. Your brother’s—”

  “Business partner,” she finished.

  “Right.”

  “So, Kane,” she said, sidling along the shed she was backed against. Unless he missed his guess, there was another door in and she was going for it. “Why’d Jace send you when he could have sent any one of my brothers?”

  “You’ve hit the FBI’s most wanted list.”

  “I’m aware of that.”

  “The Feds are watching your entire family. Since you and I are barely acquaintances, I’m not on their radar.”

  “Yet.”

  “Yet,” he agreed as she shimmied to the corner of the shed, pivoted and took off.

  He snagged her pack, yanking her backward with enough force to throw her off balance. “I thought we were done sparring, Arden.”

  “You need to leave.” She spun around.

  “Not without you.”

  “Let me make this perfectly clear: I’m not going anywhere with you. Make this easy on yourself. Go back to Maryland. And tell my brothers that I’m fine.”

  “Jace told me to bring you to Grayson—you can deal with the FBI together.”

  “Jace is going to be very disappointed.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

  Actually, she crossed them over her bulging stomach. He frowned, eyeing the mound under her coat. It wiggled.

  “Carrying a passenger?”
<
br />   “My cat.”

  “Might have been a good idea to leave him home. Microchips can make it difficult to drop completely off the grid.”

  “I’m aware of that,” she said.

  “Yet you brought him to the vet anyway,” he pointed out.

  “I was worried,” she said defensively, her left hand reaching up to cradle the mound under her jacket. “Though it really was an unfortunate turn of events that the Lubec Veterinary Clinic uses microchip scanners.”

  “I guess that depends on your point of view.” For Kane, it was just the break he’d been waiting for.

  She stepped past him, acting like she was going to go ahead and do what she’d been trying to since he’d arrived—leave.

  “I hope you’re not thinking that you’re going anywhere without me.”

  “I’m not thinking it. I’m doing it.”

  After nearly six days without a lead, he’d arrived in this snowy ocean-side town under no delusion that getting her home would be simple. She knew how to hide, and she knew how to fight. According to Jace, she also had a tendency to be dogmatic in her approach to things and often unwilling to compromise.

  “I’m afraid you’ve misunderstood. I’m bringing you home, so we’re going to have to stick together from here on out.”

  “Sorry, that doesn’t work for me. I prefer solitude to company,” she said, tugging open the door to the shed.

  He pushed it shut again. “I prefer cooperation to animosity, but we don’t always get what we want.”

  “You’re in my personal space,” she responded, ignoring his comment. “How about you get out of it?”

  He stepped closer, tired of the wordplay and anxious to get her away from the property. “Now you’re in mine.”

  “Personal space is the variable and subjective distance at which one person feels comfortable talking to another. If you want to speak with me, you need to back away.”

  He almost cracked a smile. Almost.

  She wasn’t looking for a chat. She was looking for an escape route. He could see it in her eyes. Her body language.