Spying Under the Mistletoe (Love Undercover Book 2)

by Stina Lindenblatt

  “We can see that.” This time the words come from Liam. I look past Chloe to find the entire team, along with Ava, standing in my room.

  “You’re definitely looking more with it than you were earlier,” Liam says.

  “That must’ve been some magical kiss. She woke up her grumpy Prince Charming.” Isabelle laughs and glances at the ceiling. “And she didn’t even need mistletoe for the magic to happen.”

  “Earlier?” I ask.

  “I came to check on you this morning,” Liam says. “You were still groggy. I’m not surprised you don’t remember.”

  Shit, I hope I didn’t say anything I’ll later regret.

  “Are you all here to spring me out of this place?”

  The expression on Liam’s face smothers all hope of that. “Hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you’re going to be here for a few days.”

  Yeah, I don’t think so. I grab the cover. “I’m good to go now.”

  Chloe parks her hand on mine, preventing me from ripping the cover off my lower body. “You were shot in the shoulder and had surgery. You’re not going anywhere for now.” Her thumb strokes against my knuckles. “But once we spring you out of here, I’m staying with you for a bit to play nurse. And to help you with Whiskey.”

  Dirty thoughts pop into my head of her in a sexy nurse’s uniform, though I doubt that’s what she meant.

  I flash her a lopsided grin. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

  We’ve got a lot of lost time to make up for.

  And I plan to make the most of it.

  34

  Chloe

  The day I’ve been waiting for is finally here.

  I step off the school bus and watch the kindergarteners file out and line up in front of me. Josephine and Andrew are also with us. Excited chatter vibrates through the group.

  Once the last kid is accounted for, I direct everyone into the building through the door Landon is holding open.

  It’s been a week since he was shot and one day since he was released from the hospital and into my care. I don’t know who was more thrilled: Landon, for finally being freed from his own private hell—his words, not mine—or Whiskey, for finally having his daddy home.

  The puppy ran circles around Landon the moment he walked through the door.

  Amy, the substitute teacher who’s covering Zoe’s maternity leave, walks the kids into the building. Josephine and Andrew follow.

  I smile at Landon. “Thank you.”

  He leans in and gives me a brief kiss. “You’re welcome.”

  “Do you two ever stop kissing?” Adam says, approaching us.

  “Nope,” we say in near unison.

  “We have to make up for while he was in the hospital,” I remind Adam.

  None of the kids, so far, have questioned why the assistant janitor is joining us for the concert. They’re just happy to get to see Landon again. They even made him a Get-Well card while he was recovering.

  It’s a picture of a snowman with a broken arm.

  At least I think his arm is broken.

  “I didn’t think it would be possible, but you two are worse than Jayden and Isabelle. ”

  “Just wait until you fall in love,” I tell him, “you’ll be just as bad as us.”

  “I doubt it.”

  “You want to make a wager on it?” Landon asks.

  Adam holds out his hand. “A hundred dollars that by the end of next year, I’ll still be happily single.”

  “You’re on.”

  They shake on it, with Landon using his nondominant hand.

  Amy and I pass out the elf hats while Josephine guides the kids through a quick warm-up.

  “You ready, everyone?” she asks.

  Forty-eight kindergarteners call out “Yes” in a loud chorus, which causes the adults in the foyer to laugh.

  “I think they’re ready,” I say, grinning.

  Landon rests his hand on my lower back, and we all enter the recreation room. Folding chairs are lined up in tidy rows, and the piano is now located to the side of the makeshift stage.

  Landon goes to join Samuel and his cohorts. Amy and I get the kids in position.

  They won’t be entertaining only the seniors who live in the building. Some of the seniors’ family members are also here. It’s a full house.

  Andrew takes his seat at the piano.

  “Hello, everyone,” I say into the microphone. “Thank you for having us here today. First, I’d like to introduce you to the two people who helped make today possible. Josephine Ashworth helped to get our little singers’ performance ready.”

  She curtsies. Loud applause fills the room. Everyone knows who she is. She doesn’t need much of an introduction.

  “Tony-Award-winning Andrew Stanton will be accompanying our delightful choir on the piano. We’re so honored to have these two wonderful and talented people with us today.”

  Again, the audience breaks out in loud applause.

  As do the kids—mostly because they love jumping up and down while clapping and shaking their bells.

  “And on stage, we have the kindergarteners from Dalhousie Elementary.” Loud cheers, whistles, and applause spread through the room like a rising tide. I step aside to let Josephine take her position in front of the kids.

  That’s when I spot Eric, wearing a suit, sitting next to an elderly woman who’s been a resident here for the past several months. So, she’s definitely not his grandmother.

  He notices me looking at him, gives a small wave, and returns his attention to the stage.

  The first notes of “Jingle Bells” play, and the kids begin singing and ringing their bells. By the time the final song draws to a close, every face in the audience glows with a smile.

  Applause fills the room again, louder than before. Those who can get to their feet give a standing ovation.

  The kids eat it up, smiling and waving and jingling on the spot.

  Mathilda, the director of the residence, walks to the front, and the loud applause slowly peters out. “Thank you so much for the delightful performance,” she tells the kids. “We’re truly blessed that you agreed to join us for our Christmas party. We now have snacks and crafts set up in the cafeteria, if you’d all like to join me there.”

  As far as the kids are concerned, she said the magic word. They bounce around, cheering.

  “How are we doing here?” I ask Samuel’s table. Amy, Landon, and Adam, as well as the resident staff, are helping the kids and seniors at the other tables scattered throughout the room.

  He flashes his shiny white dentures at me and nods at Anton. The little boy’s craft project appears to have met a blizzard of glue. It oozes over the toilet paper rolls, red construction paper, and pipe cleaners. “I think we might be out of glue.”

  “You might be right.” I smile at Anton. “I’ll get you some more.”

  I pick up the paper plate that had the glue and walk to the table at the front of the room. I awkwardly unscrew the large white container with my good hand and attempt to pour glue onto the plate. Nothing comes out.

  Not a problem. The rest of the supplies are in the other room.

  I walk through the open doorway to where I’d stashed everything when I last volunteered here. I crouch next to an open cardboard box and locate the glue.

  “Great concert,” a deep male voice says, practically startling me out of my underwear. Eric. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “That’s okay. I didn’t hear you enter.” I lift the container and stand. “And thank you.”

  His gaze flicks to something over my shoulder. Out of instinct, I start to turn to check what he’s looking at.

  Before I can turn fully around, something pokes me in the back. The container of glue is yanked from my hand from behind.

  “Don’t even think about screaming,” a harsh voice says as a strong whiff of bad breath, laced with garlic, assaults my nose. “Or else I’ll shoot a few rug rats to teach you a lesson. Do we have an understandi
ng?”

  A shiver runs through me, turning my body ice cold. Frosty the Snowman has nothing on me.

  I nod my head, the movement barely perceptible.

  “You can’t trust anyone, Chloe.” I guess Nikolai was right about that.

  Oh, God, what do I do now?

  My grandfather never taught me self-defense, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t sign up for a class with Kiera a few years ago—just in case.

  But there’s a huge difference between a classroom setting and real life. For one, the worst that can happen in the gym is that you end up on the mat, your pride slightly bruised.

  If I screw up here, a bruised ego will be the least of my problems.

  Plus, the instructor never went over a scenario like this, or any scenario involving more than one person.

  Eric—if that’s even his name—stands casually in front of me as if none of this is going down. “How ’bout we go for a little ride?”

  How about I knee you in the nuts and make your voice climb a few octaves?

  Sounds like a plan to me—if he were close enough for my knee to be acquainted with his man parts. And if his evil sidekick wasn’t poking me in the back with the deadly weapon.

  “I’d rather not, if that’s all right with you.” I barely manage to squeeze the words out of my suddenly dry throat.

  “I wasn’t actually giving you a choice.”

  I swallow and channel the inner ass-kicking girl that I’m positive is buried beneath the surface—a thousand leagues beneath the surface, but it’s still there. Be brave. Stall him. Give Landon a chance to realize I’m missing before I really am missing.

  “I know, but a girl can always hope she’s wrong. You do realize my boyfriend’s here, and he’s the jealous type?” A boyfriend who has hopefully noticed I’m no longer in the cafeteria and is looking for me.

  Okay, not exactly the ideal plan, given Landon’s shooting arm is currently in a sling. There’s not much he can do about my predicament.

  But Eric and his baboon don’t know that.

  My gaze darts to my purse, sitting in the corner—too far away to be of any good, my penknife tucked safely inside.

  “You mean Landon Reed, the man your cousin put a hole in? Although if he’d done what he was supposed to, the hole would’ve been in Landon’s heart. Same deal with Adam Hathaway.”

  I feel a frown form between my eyes. “What do you mean if my cousin had done what he was supposed to?”

  In books and movies, the good guy always gets the bad guy to get caught up in a running monologue, spilling his motives for breaking the law because he likes to hear himself speak.

  Unfortunately, this is one of those areas where fiction doesn’t meet fact.

  I know that—but there’s nothing wrong with hoping he doesn’t realize it.

  Eric pulls a gun out of a holster hidden under his jacket.

  So much for Plan A.

  Too bad I didn’t have time to concoct a Plan B.

  He waves the gun, gesturing for his evil sidekick and me to take the door opposite the one I entered through. The one that doesn’t lead directly into the cafeteria.

  I have no choice but to do as he demands. The sooner we leave, the less likely someone else will get hurt. My false bravery can only get me so far.

  As it is, Tabitha will never let me live this down…if I survive. She was against me doing the Christmas show, and now I’ve inadvertently given her a reason to say “I told you so,” even if she couldn’t have predicted this.

  Reluctantly, I head out the door. They hasten me toward the main entrance. Behind us, the happy sounds of kids and laughter wave good-bye.

  Once we’re outside, Eric and his sidekick direct me to a black sedan waiting in the handicap parking spot.

  “Seriously? You parked in handicap parking? You don’t even have a permit for it.” I mentally smack my hand over my mouth. I know I shouldn’t speak to him that way, but I can’t help it. Blame it on my nerves. I have a tendency of talking like this whenever I get super nervous.

  As in, I-could-possibly-die, super nervous.

  He huffs a laugh. “So, sue me.”

  I inwardly will that if there’s a God, he’ll ensure the duo get slapped with a hefty fine. That’s the least he can do.

  Eric opens the rear passenger door, and Evil Sidekick gives me a shove to get in.

  For a second, I deliberate telling them where to shove their preconceived notion that I’ll go willingly.

  What are they going to do if I don’t do as I’m told—kill me?

  I have no doubt that’s already on their agenda.

  Go figure. I finally decide to risk love, and now I’m the one who’s going to die.

  But as long as there’s even the teensy tiniest possibility I can escape, I need to embrace it. “If I get into the car, will you tell me what you meant by ‘If Nikolai had done what he was supposed to, the hole would’ve been in Landon’s and Adam’s hearts’?”

  “Sure. Whatever. It’s not like it’ll make a difference if you know or not.”

  Evil Sidekick gives me another unfriendly nudge in the direction of the open door.

  “Didn’t your mother ever teach you manners?” I grumble as I climb in. He snickers behind me and slams the door shut.

  Eric walks to the other side of the vehicle and climbs into the back seat to sit next to me. Evil Sidekick turns over the engine and screeches out of the parking lot like a bat about to be boiled in a cauldron of scalding water.

  With each passing second, reality sinks in. No one knows I’ve left the building. No one knows where I’m going.

  “All right, you got what you wanted,” I say to Eric, doing my darnedest to sound polite. “Now, you can explain what you meant.”

  I’d ask him why I have a contract on my head, but to be honest, it doesn’t really matter. That knowledge won’t change anything.

  And you don’t have to be Einstein’s offspring to understand why someone wants me dead. It can be summed up in two words: my grandfather.

  Revenge runs rampant in his industry.

  I guess no one told whoever wants me dead that they’re wasting their time. I’m not exactly up there on his list of favorite relatives.

  “Your cousin made a deal with my boss. If Nikolai killed Landon and Adam, the contract on you would be called off. He was quite adamant you’d be left alone after that.”

  Unexpected warmth fills my chest at his words. Okay, not entirely appropriate since Nikolai had intended to kill the two men just to spare my life.

  “I really am sorry, Chloe. About everything.”

  I turn away from Eric, so he can’t see the tears in my eyes.

  Nikolai knew that once he fired at Landon and Adam, his life would be forfeit. He had purposely died to protect me.

  “Where are we going?” I ask a few minutes later, after somewhat recovering from the realization of what had actually gone down the day my cousin died.

  Eric doesn’t bother to answer. He must have missed the part in the movies where the bad guy does the longwinded monologue.

  Instead, he removes his phone from his suit pocket and talks to someone in Russian.

  Damn, why did I have be so inept at learning languages? If I had been fluent like my cousins, I’d be able listen to Eric’s side of the conversation.

  Although from the terse way he’s speaking, maybe it’s just as well I can’t understand him. I doubt he’s talking to his lover about their great sex life.

  For a while, I deliberate my escape plans. But it’s hard to plot your escape if you don’t know where you’re going.

  I can’t even text Landon on the sly about my predicament. My phone’s in my purse at the seniors’ residence.

  My only hope is that he and Adam have noticed I’m missing. But again, that won’t be of much help if they have no idea where I’m headed.

  Yep. I’m screwed.

  That thought echoes loudly in my head once we leave the city limits.

  I go
back to contemplating all the possible methods of escape I’ve seen in movies and TV shows over the years.

  Which doesn’t amount to much. It’s not often the heroine of a romantic comedy finds herself in a similar situation.

  I mentally curse myself for not recently marathoning on 007, Mission Impossible, and the Bourne movies. And any other movie that would’ve trained me to make my daring escape.

  After two hours of driving, I’m beginning to wonder if we’re going to Canada. I’ve always wanted to go there—Vancouver sounds nice—but I’ve never had the opportunity.

  But visiting the country as a hostage isn’t exactly how I envisioned finally getting there.

  My hopes of Eric and Evil Sidekick being caught at the Canadian border come to a screeching halt, as the signposts along the highway indicate we’re heading toward Lake Tahoe.

  Snowflakes swirl in the air and splat against the windshield. Pine trees add to the wintery wonderland. And all hope of escape gets buried under an avalanche of snow.

  Even Frosty the Snowman and Olaf can’t help rescue it.

  The car eventually pulls to a stop in front of a secluded house built of logs and stones. As far as I can tell, there’s nothing else within several miles.

  Any other time, I’d consider it romantic, a great setting for a couple to escape to for a few days. The house is large, with picturesque windows and a wraparound porch.

  “Wow,” I say, forgetting myself for a moment. “The place is gorgeous.”

  Gorgeous and very familiar.

  I’ve been here before.

  Several times when I was a kid. This is where Nikolai and I had talked about making wishes and shooting stars.

  The image of the shooting-star ornament he gave me flickers in my memory. “Remember the star. It has the answer to everything.”

  What were you trying to tell me? I silently ask him.

  “It belonged to your cousin.” Eric doesn’t sound as impressed with the location as I am. “It’s where he’s been hiding since your grandfather’s arrest, causing all kinds of havoc on my boss’s business.”

  Which means the FBI is clueless about this property—not exactly good news for me.