by Rebecca York
A stout wooden door barred the entrance to the tunnel. He pulled it open and slipped into a dark passage, where a flashlight was hanging from the wall. With the beam switched on, he followed more steps up into the heart of the cliff.
Once inside the house, he could get the evidence he needed—because he wouldn’t act without proof.
His hand clenched around the barrel of the flashlight as he fought his suspicions—and his own guilt. He hadn’t paid attention to warning signs, and now his trusted estate manager, Brian Lowell, was dead. Still, he kept hoping against hope that his suspicions were all wrong.
He stopped at another wooden door and listened. When he heard nothing from the other side, he opened the barrier and stepped into the basement of the mansion. Another set of stairs led upward, to the rooms at the back of the house overlooking the ocean. Before leaving on his boating expedition, he’d laid a trap for anyone who planned to take advantage of his absence.
Now he would see if someone had taken the bait.
After switching off the flashlight, he opened a hidden doorway and stepped into the back of the storage closet in his office. On hinges he’d recently oiled, he opened the door just enough to see into the room. Relief washed over him when he saw no one.
He waited several moments to make sure he was alone, then entered the office and headed for his computer, reassured that the screen was as blank as when he left it. Before he reached it, something slammed down on the back of his head, and the world went dark.
Chapter Two
Hannah Andrews fiddled nervously with the tall latte on the table in front of her. Although she’d agreed to meet a man named Frank Decorah in this downtown San Francisco coffee shop, she was having second thoughts.
She glanced around at the cheery Christmas gifts displayed on the shelves near the counter and at the ten other patrons enjoying coffee drinks, some working at computers, others getting e-mail on tablets. Safety in numbers, she thought. But not even Bing Crosby, singing White Christmas over the sound system, could make her relax.
When the door opened, she glanced up and saw a tall man in the doorway. He appeared to be in his fifties with salt and pepper hair.
Frank Decorah. She recognized him because she’d looked up his security agency on the Web and seen his picture, and she knew from his bio that he was an ex-Navy SEAL. He’d looked tough and capable on the screen. In person he seemed even more formidable, and she wondered again why she’d agreed to meet him when he’d been so secretive about the job he was offering.
Yet two factors had swayed her. He was based in Maryland, and he’d offered to fly all the way across the country to meet her. .And he’d made the meeting sound urgent—a matter of life and death.
He took a step inside the shop, scanning the patrons. When his gaze zeroed in on her, she saw him relax a little. Had he been afraid she wouldn’t show up?
As he walked toward the quiet corner where she was sitting, she caught something slightly awkward in his gait. Not many people would notice; but as a trained nurse, she picked up on the subtle signs that he had an artificial limb. Had that ended his Navy-SEAL career?
Previously he’d simply been a voice over the phone. Now she wondered about his story.
He smiled as he came toward her, transforming his serious features.
“Ms. Andrews, thanks so much for agreeing to meet me.”
“Well, I don’t usually take mystery jobs, but you were willing to come a long way; and I thought I should at least hear you out.”
He pulled up a chair across from her and sat down.
“And now you’re finally going to tell me what this is about?”
“I want to hire you as a private-duty nurse for a man who desperately needs your help.”
“Who?”
“Jordan Campbell.”
The name rang a bell. “I’ve heard of him. Isn’t he a stock market tycoon who had an accident at his isolated estate? That was a few weeks ago, right?”
Decorah lowered his voice. “It wasn’t an accident. Someone tried to kill him.”
“You’re sure about that?”
“Ninety-nine percent sure.”
She winced. “And now he’s in the hospital?”
“That would be the best place for him. But his relatives are keeping him at his home, Campbell’s Reach, above Mendocino. He was found at the bottom of the steps where his boat was moored, with a gash on the back of his head. They claimed that he must have fallen on the slippery stones on his way back to the house.”
“Maybe that did happen.”
“His grandmother doesn’t think so. She’s the one who contacted me. She says that she’d been e-mailing him for months about one of his relatives trying to get him out of the way so they could take over his estate and his financial interests. He didn’t want to believe it—or accuse anyone—even after his estate manager was killed by a faulty generator. But finally, he seemed to come around. Before he could prove anything, he was left for dead.”
“How did he survive?”
“His sister, Stephanie, got worried when he didn’t come back from taking his boat out. She went looking for him and found him on the stairs. She called 911 and saved his life. But he’s been in a coma ever since. He hasn’t opened his eyes or said a word since the accident.”
Hannah nodded, finally getting it. “And that’s why you want me for this job.”
“Exactly. If anyone can communicate with him in his current state, you can.”
“You know . . .”
Frank waved her to silence. “I know you gave up your position at San Francisco General and went into private-duty nursing because you couldn’t deal with the mental images you were getting from so many patients at once. And I know you’re between assignments.”
She answered with a tight nod, wishing he hadn’t researched her so thoroughly.
“But you’ve handled it in a one-on-one situation. And now, it’s vital that you get into Jordan Campbell’s mind and talk to him about what happened.”
“If he even knows.”
“That’s the first question. If you accept the job, you’ll be taking one of the nursing shifts.”
If she accepted the assignment.
Did she have a choice? The more Frank Decorah talked about the case, the more she thought she’d be making a mistake by walking away. Not just for Jordan Campbell. For herself.
She wasn’t sure what that last part meant, but she was certain she’d find out.
CHRISTMAS DELIVERY
Christmas Delivery
Return to Jenkins Cove Book 3
Patricia Rosemoor
New York Times & USA TODAY bestselling author
Copyright
Copyright © 2007, 2017 Patricia Pinianski
Cover Design © 2019 Patricia Pinianski
Dangerous Love Publishing
Book Description
Haunted by ghosts, Jenkins Cove will now have to deal with Simon Shea who has “returned from the dead” seeking revenge...only to reconnect with Lexie Thornton, the girl he loved, and the daughter they conceived thirteen years ago.
Praise and Awards
New York Times bestselling author
USA Today bestselling author
What Amazon & Goodreads readers are saying about Christmas Delivery:
“A chilling mystery and a wonderful second chance romance during the holiday season.”
“I loved the characters. It’s fast moving. It’s a can’t put down book.”
“Watching two people who have held onto their love in spite of tremendous circumstances was an emotional journey. I enjoyed this one very much.”
“Full of twists and turn with plenty of mystery this is a fantastic read and I would recommend it.”
“This book is a favorite of mine for sure and so is Patricia.”
“I really enjoyed this one. There was suspense, great characters, good dialog, a good story line, tense moments and some happy ones, and a good ending.”
Dedication
Since the theme of Christmas Delivery
has to do with getting justice for the evil that is done to others,
I would like to dedicate the book to
the relentless Task Force that identified and arrested
my father’s murderer using DNA evidence.
Prologue
Christmas Eve, thirteen years ago
Wind howled along the Chesapeake and drove a stinging wall of snow at Simon Shea, virtually blinding him. Somehow he made it off the road and into the woods, where the unusually fierce winter storm abated some. Dropping his duffel bag, he stopped for a moment and leaned against the trunk of a pine to catch his breath. He could hardly move, could hardly think, what with weather conditions that threatened to ruin his carefully made plans.
Even in the woods, the wind haunted him, moaning and rattling ice-covered tree branches overhead. Geared up to get free of Jenkins Cove — to get away from his drunk of a father, from his cold, bitter life — he had to do it tonight.
Thank God, Lexie was coming with him.
That’s all Simon had been thinking about since convincing her to run the night before, as they lay together, snug in their wooded shelter, his angular body protectively wrapped around her soft one. Being with her… starting a new life together… waking up happy with her in his arms every morning for the rest of their lives — they were the best Christmas presents in the world!
She’d hesitated at first and he’d understood her arguments. They were awfully young to go off on their own. She hadn’t finished high school yet. And what about college? But Simon had sworn that he would protect her and provide for her and find a way for her to do everything she ever wanted. She’d smiled at him then — that crooked, heart-wrenching, only-for-him smile that had made him fall for her in the first place — and he’d known everything was going to be all right.
He’d better get going. Didn’t want to be late. Didn’t want to scare Lexie into thinking he’d gotten cold feet. They were to meet behind the church at half-past midnight to start their new life together on Christmas morning.
Picking up the duffel bag, he decided to stay off the main road and take the shortcut through the woods into town. Luckily, he knew those woods like the back of his hand. Every path, every detour around danger. There were a couple of swampy areas the locals stayed away from. They could trap a man, suck him down and bury him alive. Not much different than living with Rufus Shea, Simon thought, fighting guilt that he was leaving his old man alone. He just couldn’t take it anymore — couldn’t take being caregiver to a drunk who’d given up — not when he could start a decent life with Lexie.
Simon was so engrossed in thoughts of their future, that at first he didn’t hear the approaching sounds until they exploded through the trees.
A series of shouts raised the short hairs on the back of his neck and made his pulse jag. He stopped dead in his tracks. What the hell was going on?
He looked around in confusion, caught blurred movement through the trees and zeroed in on a kid flying through the woods as if his life depended on it.
Another teenager, younger than him, Simon thought, heart thumping against his ribs now. Snow dusted the mop of curly pale hair. The kid wasn’t dressed for the cold; he had on only a thin leather jacket and ripped jeans. He was no one Simon recognized.
Still, something made him call out to the terrified guy. “Hey! You need help?”
But the kid threw a fast, panicked look behind him and kept running until a whine shattered the quiet. Then he led with his chest, head and arms flung back as his body snapped into an impossible arch before he fell first to his knees, then face forward onto the snow-covered ground.
Not knowing whether he should see if he could help the kid or run for town, Simon hesitated a moment.
His mistake.
Chapter One
Turning the Drake House ballroom into a winter wonderland for the annual Christmas charity ball should make her happier, Lexie Thornton thought. The main room in the west wing was two stories high, with a balcony off the second-floor parlors, and nearly one hundred feet long, fifty wide. Doors with glass insets lined one wall, leading to an outside balcony with a view of the gardens and the Chesapeake Bay beyond. Decorating the mansion for the ball was quite a feat and would take several days to complete.
Lexie pushed up the sleeves of her sweater, looked around the ballroom, then glanced down to her laptop to review the design she’d planned out.
“Hey, Lexie, where do we put these?”
She looked up to see two of her garden shop workers hauling in large poinsettia plants, each planter encased in red or green foil and wrapped with a huge gold bow. “Just set them in an area free of drafts for now.”
Today would be devoted to the basics, dividing the ballroom with its gleaming wood floors and trim into several distinct areas for dancing and socializing over drinks and displaying the silent auction items. Virtually the whole town of Jenkins Cove would show up for the ball, and Lexie would make the most of every inch of available space.
That she would be responsible for giving so many people pleasure didn’t bring a smile to her face. Ironic that Christmas was so important to Thornton Garden Center, the family business that she now ran. Her parents both still worked there, but in more relaxed capacities. They were both retirement age, but refused to retire, saying it would make them feel old. Decorating public areas as well as private estates and businesses for Christmas brought in a solid portion of the year’s income, so Lexie couldn’t hide from the holiday.
Call her the Christmas Grinch, especially since the ball and the silent auction would raise money for the Drake Foundation, which supported several local charities. This included one that helped impoverished single mothers and their children — a cause dear to Lexie’s heart, since she was a single mother herself.
Frowning at the further reminder of why Christmas always made her so sad, she looked for her best friend.
Marie Leonard stood in front of the fireplace, the focal point of the room, and stared into the large, antique mirror hanging over the mantel. When she turned away from the mirror, her expression went beyond happy. She was glowing, actually, so that the color in her cheeks intensified the chestnut color of her hair. For the first time since she’d returned to Jenkins Cove after her father’s death, Marie seemed at peace.
Lexie was happy for her dear friend, who was about to start a new life. Marie was madly in love with Brandon Drake, owner of this estate, and their engagement was to be officially announced at the ball. Which Lexie would be forced to attend, making her relive her loss all over again.
Christmas Eve…
Thirteen years and she wasn’t over the heartbreak.
Thirteen years ago, instead of meeting her behind the church as planned, Simon had gotten himself killed in an accident taking the shortcut through the woods. Even after all this time, thinking about it brought a lump to her throat and a tightness in her chest.
“Hey, those are gorgeous plants,” Marie said, crossing to her.
“Thanks. Gorgeous plants for a gorgeous room.”
Though Lexie tried to inject enthusiasm into her voice, she knew she failed when Marie gave her that look that told her if she wanted to talk, Marie was there for her. Not that Lexie was planning to take her friend up on that. She didn’t want to talk about Simon anymore, didn’t want to think about him, didn’t want to remember… only, considering the circumstances, how could she ever forget?
Before Marie could try to force the conversation, noise from the foyer had the other woman turning toward the entry. “Ah, the caterer has arrived. I need to talk to her, see what final selections she made for the buffet.” She moved in that direction, glancing back at Lexie to say, “But don’t imagine you’re home free.”
Lexie groaned at her friend’s implied threat. Then she got back to work, referring to the checklist and the decorating design on her laptop to see where she was.
Dozen
s of poinsettias had been brought in. Hopefully, she’d planned enough plants and greenery for the ballroom to help improve the air quality. The fire that had damaged the east wing of Drake House had left a thick stench that was difficult to mask, despite the clean-up efforts of a professional crew. Later, she would add dozens of pots of mums and gerbera daisies to the décor to help purify the air.
The first order of business was to distribute the poinsettias the way she’d mapped them out in the room. So she spent the next hour with her landscape workers, making sure every plant was in its proper place. Then she had her workers fetch the mantel swag and the garlands that would be hung around every door. It was a time-consuming job, but one that would help transform the old mansion for the season.
A familiar laugh echoed from the entranceway. Lexie went to investigate the foyer, where the master staircase split upward to each wing. Well, one wing now. The private wing was unlivable because part of the roof had collapsed during a fire, so it was cordoned off and would be for some time to come. Marie and Brandon were occupying rooms in the public wing and the servants were all housed off grounds.
In the foyer, Lexie found Marie with Chelsea Caldwell, looking soft and lovely in a white cashmere sweater and matching beret, and her fiancé, Michael Bryant.
“For the silent auction,” the blonde said, handing Marie a painting.
“Oh, nice.” Marie waved Lexie over.
A quick look and Lexie’s brows shot up. Chelsea had painted a view of Jenkins Creek. While water was a good part of the canvas, the focus was the dueling estates perched on points that faced each other — Drake House on one side and the Manor at Drake Acres on the other. Brandon had inherited the older estate from his father, Jonathan. Always competitive, his uncle Cliff, the younger of the brothers, had built what he’d considered a bigger and better estate.
