Page 18 of Noel Secrets

“I’ll help her.”

Simon.

Jayda stiffened as his hands came down lightly on her shoulders, warm and casual, like he belonged there. He leaned down just close enough that his breath brushed her ear. “Wouldn’t want you falling behind, Jayda.”

Her heart thudded. She glanced sideways just in time to catch Michael’s glare, hot and unmistakable. He wasn’t even trying to hide it. Then his gaze dropped—to the note still clenched in her hand beneath the table.

Jayda’s throat tightened. She crumpled the paper in her fist, shoving it into her pocket for later.

“I don’t need anyone’s help,” she said sharply, pushing back from the table. Chairs scraped as she stood. “Excuse me. I’m…I’m tired after last night.”

Ginny frowned, but Jayda didn’t wait for permission. She turned and hurried out of the dining car, feeling Simon and Michael’s eyes burning between her shoulder blades.

When she finally reached the quiet of her cabin, she shut the door, leaned back against it, and let out a shaky breath.

Only then did she pull the paper from her pocket and smooth it open.

A list.

Names scrawled in hurried ink. Most crossed out. The two at the bottom were not.

Veronica Carlisle.

Jayda Simone.

Her fingers trembled as she reached for her bag. She dug through books and papers until she pulled out the old photograph and case file she’d hidden since that night in the law library. The file that man had tried to steal.

She flipped it open. The first name on the report glared at her, stark and undeniable.

Veronica Carlisle.

The same name written above her own on the list.

In the library, Jayda hadn’t just interrupted a man stealing a file. She’d interrupted a hit job.

And now, she was on the list.

Jayda stood and grabbed her bag, heading for the door.

Michael stalked down the narrow corridor of the sleeper car, his breath uneven. He’d checked Jayda’s cabin twice. Empty. Knocked on his parents’ and Caroline and Henry’s. No sign.

Where was she?

He moved quickly, each step vibrating faintly with the rhythm of the train as it cut through the wintry Midwest. His gut twisted. Something was wrong. He knew it with the same certainty that he knew how many words he could squeeze into an article lede before an editor red-lined it. Jayda was not the type to disappear quietly.

Michael pushed through the swaying door into the next car. He leaned against the frame for balance and scanned the seating section. Businessmen with laptops. A pair of teenage girls sharing earbuds. A woman rocking a toddler with flushed cheeks. No Jayda.

He checked the bathrooms one by one, ignoring the odd looks when he rattled a locked door and muttered, “Sorry.”

She was not on the train. But how was that possible?

His pulse hammered harder. Every second he didn’t find her was another second she could be checked off that list.

The dining car was next. He shoved open the door and stepped inside, his eyes sweeping across the room. A fewpassengers lingered over late coffee, the tang of syrup and toast still hanging in the air.

Michael walked the length of the car, scanning each booth. His voice came out rough, more desperate than he had intended. “Have any of you seen a woman? Black curls. Dark eyes. She’s…” His throat caught, but he forced the words out. “She’s really pretty.”

He froze at his own admission.