Jax shifted in his chair. Don’t get too excited, he warned himself. You may be all wound up with her, but she still thinks you’re a voyeuristic creep.

When the potatoes were heated, she brought them to the table. His first bite was beyond his expectations.

“This is amazing.”

“I make them for family get-togethers.”

“The guy who marries you is going to be very lucky.”

The observation had simply popped out, and it hung in the air between them. He quickly took a bite of the ham salad. It was also outstanding. He kept from gushing over it, but he couldn’t help thinking again that she was quite a cook.

“You know a lot about me,” she said as they ate, and he was afraid the conversation was going south again. Instead she said, “What about you?”

Relief flooded through him that she’d made an effort at a normal “get to know you” approach. Still he said, “Not much to tell.”

“Of course there is.  Do you have a good relationship with your parents?”

“I did.  They were killed in a car crash a couple of years ago.”

She reached across the table and pressed her hand to his. For a moment he felt the warmth of her touch before she pulled away. “Oh, I’m so sorry. And here I was . . .”

“It’s okay. It was a bad shock, but I learned to cope with it.”

“Do you have brothers and sisters?”

“I’ve got a sister, but she and I have a rocky relationship.  She doesn’t like my profession.”

“Why not?”

“She says I’m putting myself at risk, and she doesn’t want to lose me, too. I guess she copes with that by distancing herself.”

“That’s awful.”

He shrugged. “I’m not going to quit. I fit in better at Decorah than I ever have anywhere else.” Like too many other things he’d said, the admission just slipped out.

“Why?”

He laughed. “Because in some ways, we’re a group of oddballs—and we take care of each other.”

“Did you always know stuff about other people?”

“Not until I was a teenager. Well, I did have a few previous flashes of insight. Like I kept worrying that my uncle was going to have a heart attack. Then I was shocked when it happened.”

“Uh huh.” After another bite of the salad, she asked, “How did you end up at Decorah?”

“I was in army intelligence. The service was a little too disciplined for me. I was looking around for a better fit and went to a recruiting fair. Frank Decorah was there. He seemed to know before I did that I’d be an asset to his organization. He gave me training that helped me develop my talent.”

She nodded. “And all of you would go the extra mile for Frank Decorah—which is how you ended up here on Christmas Eve.”

“And I was worried about you.”

“Why?”

“I told you—I was pretty sure you were going to end up on the road today.”

“Right,” she said, and they each returned to their meals.

He didn’t say he’d been worried about her ever since he’d started getting to know her.

When they finished, they started cleaning up. He put the paper plates into a covered trash can and the plastic forks into the sink. She packed the rest of the food.

When she finished, he said, “I’m going outside to check the area.” He crossed to a closed cabinet, opened it, and brought out another Sig.  “Keep this with you while I’m gone.”

“It’s loaded?”

“Yes. But don’t shoot me when I come back.” He laughed. “I guess we should have a signal. I’ll give you three knocks before I open the door. Okay?”

“Yes.”

He also got out a pair of night vision goggles so he wouldn’t need a flashlight on his inspection tour.

He watched Sam pick up the weapon, check the magazine, then turn to the side and hold it in a two-handed grip. She hadn’t been kidding about knowing how to handle a gun.

There was no need to put on his coat before going out because neither one of them had removed their outerwear.  He pulled up his hood and stepped into the dark and cold.

The snow had piled up several more inches since they’d come inside, and he could barely see their footsteps leading up to the door—or to the outhouse. He stood listening to the wind howling and watching the snow swirling, wishing the night were quiet so that he could hear better. Holding his weapon at the ready for trouble, he walked around the cabin through the blizzard, working his way in a wider circle, looking for signs of an intruder. Although he saw none, he couldn’t stop the hairs on the back of his neck from prickling. He was thinking that trouble was coming, although he had no concrete evidence of anything malevolent.

He cursed under his breath, hating that he’d had to bring Sam here, but it had been his only option. And too bad he could only see danger ahead for other people—not himself. But someone was with him—Sam.  He’d been dropping in on her for weeks, and if he admitted his feelings, she had become the center of his attention. If he focused on her now the way he’d been doing, could he still find out if she was in jeopardy.  Well, why not?  At the very least, it was worth a try.

He was so deep in thought that when he approached the door, he almost forgot he was supposed to knock.  He started to turn the handle, then quickly raised his hand to wrap his knuckles against the barrier.

“It’s me,” he called out as he took off the goggles.  “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” she answered, her voice steady.

As he came in, she was lowering the weapon she was holding. “You scared me,” she said, although she looked like she’d been capable of blowing away anyone who came through the door.

“Sorry.  I was thinking,” he said as he closed and locked the barrier.

“Did you see anything you didn’t expect out there?”

“No.” He stamped snow off his boots. “And I was hoping that maybe you can stand guard for a few hours while I lie down.”

“Or course.”

“Do you want to make a trip to . . . the . . . bathroom first?” he asked.

“Probably a good idea.”

He was still uneasy when they went out, but he kept guard while she was doing her business and she did the same for him. When they returned to the cabin, he brought the night vision goggles and his weapon with him and set them on the floor beside the bed.

“You’re sure you’ll be okay?” he asked.

“Yes.”

He lay down, vividly aware of her gaze on him. “I’m going to look like I’m sleeping,” he said. “But I won’t be.”

“Okay.”

He fixed the pillow behind his head, trying to get comfortable. He wanted to tell her not to stare at him, but then he might have to explain why it might make a difference.

It was a strange experience, lying in the same room with Sam and at the same time trying to ignore her physical presence while he focused on her the way he had been over the past month.

At first, he was totally unable to do it, and he thought he might have to give up. But because a terrible urgency was beating at him, he kept trying to do what felt like the impossible.

From where he lay, he imagined he could hear Sam breathing on the other side of the small room, and he tried to shut that distraction out of his mind while he focused on the sound of the wind. Gradually, the gale became his focus, and that turned his inner senses to the exterior of the cabin.

And all at once he was into the brain wave state that let him zero in on a person who might be in trouble. It was a weird sensation because in his mind he saw her sitting with the gun in her hand and at the same time he was aware of evil close in on her from outside the cabin. At first it was simply a vague sense of dread, and then the scene in his mind sharpened, and he saw a man moving stealthily through the falling snow.