Holiday Heroes (Wingmen Warriors 13)

Her heart picking up speed, she shot out of her chair as Hank threw money on the table. He slung his arm around her.

She arched up on her toes to look back. “Duck your head. You’re too tall. He’ll see you in the crowd.”

Hank hunched, pushing his way through the throng, the bar full to the gills with holiday revelers. Ginger crossed her fingers the back door didn’t have some kind of alarm because Hank had pointed them in that direction and there would be no time for changing course.

They pushed past a couple on the fringes of the dance floor and made it to the bathrooms by the exit. She exhaled her relief. The door seemed to be nothing more than a simple wooden variety.

Hank twisted the knob and—crap—an alarm blared.

He didn’t even have to say run this time. She began to sprint only to have him scoop her up again. She really needed to invest in some more practical shoes before this night was over.

Snow hammered down from the sky—a blessing and a curse. A few steps into the storm and already she couldn’t see the tavern behind them, which meant their pal couldn’t see them either. Only the faint light of the tavern sign managed to flicker through the hammering downpour of snow. Hopefully, their tracks would fill quickly as well.

Hank tossed her in the car before scrambling half over the hood to take the driver’s seat. The Mercedes fired right up and dodged around two incoming cars that might have slowed down their pursuer. They were safe for a little longer. But in the bad-news department…

“Hank, I don’t think the weather is going to cooperate with your timetable to reach the safe house.”

The weather was definitely not cooperating.

Hank had been scavenging through his memory for a place to take shelter from the snowstorm pounding the Mercedes. The blasting heater couldn’t completely combat the frigid nighttime temperatures. Ginger shivered beside him, silent since they’d left the tavern. Luckily, no one seemed to be following them along the winding mountain roads.

However, the storm and remote locale also ended any hope of cell phone communication.

He didn’t expect to have reliable connections back any time soon either. Plus, the crummy weather conditions only allowed for a crawling pace. With ice sheeting from the sky, it wouldn’t be long before this road closed down, too. While he trusted his driving skills, he’d already watched countless cars spin out and off into ditches, more than once taking other vehicles with them. Very likely someone could hit the Mercedes.

Yet, on the bright side, if the storm kept them from moving, it would also keep whoever had been shooting at them from gaining speed as well. “Are you okay over there?”

Ginger nodded without taking her eyes from the road, a solid wingman from the get-go, calling out reports on conditions and sliding vehicles after translating updates from the radio. But she’d been quiet the last few minutes while the station switched to holiday music. “Just thinking. Wondering how they’re going to explain away the cancellation of the big Christmas ceremony at the old chapel while still maintaining I’m not missing.”

He swiped at the front windshield, the defroster unable to keep the windows completely clear.

“Have you lost faith in me already? I’ll get you there.” Of course, first he had to find somewhere for them to stay before the sedan ran out of gas.

He recalled from a trip to the area a chalet where he’d done some sightseeing on his own for a couple of days before returning home. He could have sworn the small hotel was up here, but it had been five or so years ago. The place could have gone out of business or his memory could be faulty.

Not that he’d ever been wrong when it came to navigation. His wife had always sworn she was the one woman married to a man who actually didn’t need to stop and ask for directions.

Ginger held that bag of hers in a death grip even though the tires kept firm traction as they wound around a bend through a sleepy mountain village. “I had mixed feelings about this trip from the start, too.”

“What do you mean?” He’d learned long ago to trust instincts in the air and on the battlefield. And if nothing else, keeping her talking might relax her.

“I know when I signed on for this job, I gave up a significant amount of my personal time, but I really don’t like being away from my family at Christmas.”

“Your nerves are just fried. Plus you must be exhausted from all these whistle-stops on the goodwill trek across Europe. You definitely need to talk to your social planner when you get home and have her schedule more downtime. A human being needs to do things like take a drink of water, make an occasional trip to the bathroom.”

She grinned, pressed a gloved hand to her lips, a laugh tripping free. “Lord love ya, Hank, I do so enjoy how you can always make me laugh. You’re the only person I can relax around other than my kids and yours.” She sagged back with a sigh. “I knew I would be apart from my boys for Christmas and thought I’d prepared myself. It’s not like I’m always with all of them, but I’m always with at least one of them.”

He chuckled low, a little sad. “And it seems like I’m never with any of my children for the holidays, never really have been. We learned to celebrate on whatever days we were together.”

“I guess I do remember a few of those sorts of delayed birthdays when Benjamin was on active duty, but he didn’t stay in the Air Force long enough for the kids to remember him missing anything significant.”

“You’re lucky.” The memories of those years parted like the windshield wipers slapping away the sheets of snow. “My young’uns remember well. They would say it didn’t matter…but I knew better. A live-in nanny wasn’t enough, yet it was the best I could do.” He studied the road ahead, a narrow path cut by the slim double beams of light. Much like he’d lived his life. “I still wrestle with the guilt over not having gotten out of the military and taken some nine-to-five job.”

“Your children grew up into amazing adults, and they all joined the Air Force.” Her hand in a black leather glove rested halfway between them on the seat, reaching in comfort, almost there, patting. “I think it must mean they understand that for some people like you, the calling to serve in the armed forces is not something you can deny. It’s in your blood.”

“They sure each found their own paths. Alicia is one helluva a fighter pilot. That girl never took gruff off of anyone.” His daughter with the call sign “Vogue” had an eclectic style to go along with a strut that cut a swath through a very male-dominated world. Damn, but he was proud of her. He was proud of all three of his kids—even if his relationship was easier with some than with others. “Hank Junior and I don’t get to talk as much as I would like.”

“It’s tough flying in your father’s plane in the shadow of your father’s stars.” She leaned her chin on her elbow, staring out the window as they drove past a small pond where a few kids braved the weather to skate by the light of a bonfire.