Deadly Holidays

by Lisa Phillips

  If he knew much about her, as he seemed to think he did, he should know she was connected to Steve. A few reporters looking into this whole situation had uncovered the link to her and Bradley. Their story—parents killed, sister victimized and then kidnapped, brother part of the rescue—as well as Bradley’s tale of long lost love with Alexis had all replayed over and over again in the media the past few weeks.

  She was waiting for them to offer to turn her story into a made-for-TV movie.

  “A woman was killed.” The agent lifted his chin. “Sure you want to get involved in that?”

  She blinked. “Killed by who?”

  “The perpetrator hasn’t been formally identified as yet.”

  He was going to brush her off with the “official” blurb? There probably wasn’t even an investigation. Yet. And he was blowing her off?

  Rachel said, “Was it Steve Perkins?”

  “Why would you mention him, specifically?”

  Rachel wasn’t going to hide it. Not when it would come out. “I saw him running across the street. I actually hit him with my car, and then one of your agents ran after him.”

  The agent nodded.

  “Who was killed? Did Steve do it?” She tried to sound concerned for the victim, but probably wasn’t far from it being really obvious she would defend her friend. Why try to gloss over the truth? Most law enforcement personnel and feds, plus most of Washington, thought she was losing it, mentally. After all, they figured, how could she possibly heal from what had been done to her? They thought she had to be a pitiable victim for the rest of her life. Rather than actually have the chance to move on, find peace.

  “Ma’am—”

  She waved a hand. “Fine. You aren’t going to help me.” So much for finding out what had happened. Steve sure wasn’t going to tell her. She didn’t even know where he’d gone. Where he’d been staying.

  Her eyes filled with tears just thinking about whether or not Steve had access to a safe place. “At least tell me whether or not it was the vice president’s wife who was killed. Is Mrs. Anderson all right?” She moved closer and her voice hitched when she said, “I’d hate for anything to have happened to my friend.”

  Faced with a distraught woman, the Secret Service agent went into protective male mode. Worked every time. Especially lately, when people now knew what she’d been through. Yes, she was playing people who assumed she still should act like a victim. But it was effective.

  “It wasn’t Mrs. Anderson.” He touched her elbow for a second, then let his hand drop back to his side. “Just between you and me…it was the housekeeper. She got up to get a snack, and someone stabbed her.”

  Rachel gasped. “Goodness me.”

  He nodded slowly. “It’s a tragedy. Especially considering it was her daughter who found her. Both of them live on the east wing of the house. They were going to have a late-night snack after their movie ended. She’s falling apart now.”

  Rachel couldn’t imagine finding her mother like that. How old was the girl?

  It had been bad enough hearing about her parent’s deaths after the fact. They had gone on a trip, and their small plane was caught in bad weather. She’d been in college. Alexis had been her roommate at the time. Bradley was off on some SEALs training mission. The three of them had never been closer than when they were grieving.

  Bradley and Alexis had even managed to set aside the weirdness between them. For a while, anyway.

  Her phone buzzed against her hip. She pulled it from her pocket and looked at the screen. A text from a private number.

  Tell me you aren’t still there.

  It immediately buzzed again.

  Meet me at our diner. NOW.

  He really didn’t need to yell at her. What was wrong with asking nicely?

  “That’s why you can’t stay here. This has to be an investigation, and we can’t have any outside interferences.” The agent had the decency to wince. “You’ll have to leave, Senator.”

  “Of course. I understand.” She got back in her car while he stared at her with raised eyebrows. Yeah, so maybe she was playing into the whole “unhinged” thing by acting erratically. But she really didn’t want to be here, or part of a murder investigation.

  Why would the housekeeper need to be killed?

  She wanted to trust that Steve hadn’t done it. So either it was completely unrelated to what was happening here—unlikely—or it had been done during a time he was in the house for a reason. In order to add more fuel to the fire? Make him look guiltier than he actually was, considering he hadn’t killed anyone.

  Yet.

  At least she hoped he hadn’t, and wouldn’t have to either. Steve deserved better than that.

  She maneuvered her car around the circular driveway. Two police cars and a coroner’s van passed her on the street, headed for her house. When all of this had become her normal life, she didn’t know. She’d wanted to do what she was good at and be able to make a difference in the world. Was that too much to ask? What better way to help people than to be instrumental in turning the tide of the great government machine.

  Somewhere along the way, she’d been dragged down into the petty taking of sides. Her attempt to be honorable was essentially ignored. Now her name meant nothing, and not because she’d done anything to drag it through the mud. She had been a victim. A fact the blackmailer was going to have to answer to.

  When they finally managed to bring him down.

  Chapter 6

  Steve stood up out of the booth the minute she stepped inside. He waited by the table while she hurried over, her cheeks flushed. Not sure what to say, he opened his mouth anyway. She shook her head and didn’t stop walking. Rachel collided with him. She wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her head on his collarbone.

  Steve wanted to shut his eyes and savor the moment. He lowered his head so he could speak quietly, close to her ear. “You okay?”

  She nodded, her arms tightened a fraction, and she let him go. “I should be asking you that. I hit you with—”

  The waitress wandered over.

  Steve shook his head. “I’m okay.”

  She poured them both decaf coffee, and he topped up Rachel’s with cream. When the waitress was no longer within earshot, he said, “What happened at the house?”

  “Nothing.” She held the mug with both hands, probably to warm her fingers. Outside it looked like it was threatening to snow. “They said the housekeeper was killed.”

  “That’s more than I know.”

  She blinked.

  “Which you’d be able to guess, considering you’ll know I didn’t kill her.” He measured his words. Then said, “Right?”

  She lifted her hands, then placed her head in her palms. Steve let her have her moment. She looked exhausted. He didn’t have any ill feeling toward her, not even frustration. They’d both been through some insane things.

  Finally she lifted her head. “I know you didn’t kill her. You would never hurt an innocent person.”

  He was glad she’d added that qualifier, though the label “innocent” was entirely subjective. In the right circumstances, he absolutely would kill. He would, and he had. Not the kind of thing a person kept tally of, but it wasn’t a small number. Knowing that gave him a sense of control over his feelings. A detachment he needed to stay removed from the guilt.

  Most of the time it worked.

  “Bradley said there were bruises.”

  She shifted in her seat and winced. “I landed on my hip when I tugged Alexis to the floor.”

  Steve nodded. “I’m glad you’re all right.”

  “The cops came, and we explained it had nothing to do with you.” She sighed. “You’d think nothing even happened, for all the action they took. Except my house has bullet holes in the siding. No shooter. No one hurt. They didn’t even write anything down. Bradley was mad.”

  Steve would have been as well.

  “They basically insinuated I might’ve made the whole thing up, unti
l Bradley yelled at them that he’d been there. Alexis managed to talk him off the cliff so he didn’t get arrested for being belligerent with the cops, but they weren’t happy.” She blew out another breath. “None of us were. I told them to leave if they weren’t going to do anything about it.”

  “How’d you end up at the VP’s house?”

  Her cheeks pinked. “How did you?”

  He smiled. “I’m a fugitive. What’s your excuse for heading there to snoop around?”

  Her face washed with something that looked a whole lot like guilt. The good kind, from trying to do the right thing. Not the kind that either of them lived with every day, that soul-deep ache signifying the stain of sin. “I just want this to be done. Hacking his office computer for Remy didn’t work. I was going to try his home.” But she shivered then, and gave away her real feelings.

  “I don’t want you near him, Rach.” He could see it made her sick to even think about being near the vice president. And why not? William Anderson had victimized her in the worst way.

  He could hardly tell her to stay out of this.

  Steve said, “It’s clear he’s targeting you. That guy who attacked you—”

  She made a face like she didn’t know who he was talking about.

  “The man in the alley with the knife this morning.”

  She shook her head. “Was that seriously this morning?”

  He said, “I know. But that man was there to kill you, not kidnap you. You’re a target. I’d rather you laid low until this whole thing is done.” When she started to argue, he lifted a hand. “One sec. Because you need to understand something.” He paused. “I’m a whole lot more distracted not knowing where you are, and worrying about whether you’re all right. I don’t expect that to change, but I’d at least like to know that you’re protected.”

  “I don’t want the Secret Service up in my space all the time.” She bit her lip. “I know it was just one guy who sold me out, but I can’t separate him from the rest of the agents. If one can turn on me and something happens again, I don’t know what I’ll do.”

  He laid his hand on hers and said, “I know. Me either.”

  “I don’t trust them. And I know that doesn’t make logical sense, but I have to go with what I feel, until I can sort it all out.” She paused. “I’m working on it.”

  “Good.” He knew she was seeing a counselor, and he had thoroughly vetted the woman. “I can call some friends of mine, if you want. Ask them to come and stay with you. Make sure your space is secure, and that you’re safe getting back and forth from where you need to be.” He asked it like it was a question, but the truth was he already had them keeping an eye on her…and the rest of his team. As of this afternoon, he’d put it in place—after his heart almost stopped seeing her with a knife to her throat.

  Steve didn’t want to take any chances. Not with any of their lives.

  She brushed her hair back. The woman was exhausted, and he was keeping her up.

  “By the time you reach your bed, you’ll probably sleep until dinner.”

  Her eyes lit, but she shook her head. “Too bad I have a meeting at eight in the morning. I’d have enjoyed working from home.” She grinned.

  In another life, he’d have taken her to a different restaurant—and not in the middle of the night. He’d have worn a suit, and maybe persuaded her to wear that blue dress from last Christmas. Things would have been a whole lot different without the blackmailer messing with their lives so thoroughly that he couldn’t even imagine being more than a friend to her.

  And how could he even have that much with her? This was probably all wishful thinking. Trying to fabricate a connection between them when it was the last thing either needed. The fact that she knew him would surely blow up in their faces. No one cared that they’d never been more than friends.

  Not that he hadn’t wanted it. Rachel was the dream that life would never let him have. There were too many reasons why they could never be closer than two friends supporting each other. And Steve didn’t need Bradley to tell him what he already knew.

  He didn’t need his friend telling him to back off Rachel.

  She lowered her cup. “Those are some seriously deep thoughts.”

  He was grateful she’d let him sit in silence, rather than force conversation. So many women chattered just to fill the silence. Steve enjoyed quiet, and the chance to think. Especially during a time like this.

  He reached over and squeezed her hand. “I was just—”

  His phone buzzed across the table. He’d laid it facedown. Not that doing so made it more polite.

  She motioned to it. “See what it is. It’s fine.”

  If circumstances had been anything else, Steve would have ignored it. This was the kind of woman you shut your phone off to spend time with. No distractions, full focus.

  Maybe one day.

  He flipped the phone over to see what had come in, since the buzzing had stopped now. Not a call. It was an email. The lock screen displayed the address as unknown@unknown.com.

  He frowned, and swiped to see the message.

  An address, and the specifications for a high-powered sniper rifle. A date—three days from now. A time, and place.

  Target: the president.

  Steve shot out of his chair.

  “What—”

  He said nothing, just strode to the back door of the restaurant. When he stepped outside, he started running.

  The blackmailer had given Steve his task. The reason why Steve had been co-opted into this whole thing in the first place.

  He was supposed to assassinate the president.

  **

  The next morning Rachel left her meeting and headed back to her office in the Rayburn building. She traveled in the tunnels that stretched under the street between her office and the Capitol building. It was old hat now. But seeing tourists, and their wonder, never got old.

  She entered her office just before ten, and her intern glanced over from the computer.

  “Morning.” The smile was polite, but distracted.

  Rachel started to remove her coat. “Anything interesting happen while I was gone?”

  The young woman shook her head. Rachel didn’t run a stuffy office like some senators did. She was fine with her people dressing down on occasion. Especially when interns like Ellayna walked all around the building giving tours. No point in wearing fancy shoes when they would be uncomfortable.

  Rachel loved that people came all the way here from their homes just to see what they did. Her home state might be Virginia, and her parents’ house that she and Bradley inherited was there, but DC was a cosmopolitan city. People wanted to get a look at how it all worked.

  “Not that I’m going to tell you before I make you a cup of coffee.” The intern got up. “You look a little…”

  “Wrecked?” Rachel laughed and made her way through the tight winding hall back to her office. The other two women who worked for her were on the phones. She waved to both of them.

  “I wasn’t going to say.” Ellayna dragged the word out, following her, and Rachel could hear the smile in her voice.

  Rachel glanced back over her shoulder. “Honesty is always the best policy.”

  “What about, ‘the truth hurts’?”

  “I thought it was supposed to set you free?”

  The intern shook her head. “I’m not sure I believe that. Sometimes it’s better left uncovered because it’s no one else’s business.”

  Rachel was inclined to believe the same. God saw everything, so there was no point in trying to hide from Him, right? With people, it was an entirely different story.

  She settled in her chair with a groan as the fatigue hit her. But was that the worst thing happening right now? Not hardly. She hadn’t even asked how Steve was, and he had a knife wound! So selfish. Plus, she’d hit him with her car.

  She was the worst friend ever.

  Rachel ran her hands down her face. Sure, he’d ditched her in the diner and run off
, but he didn’t seem to have done it without good reason. She could hardly get mad at someone trying not to get captured. Trying to find evidence that would convict the man who’d destroyed her life.

  Still.

  No. She shook her head, even though she was alone now in her office. She wasn’t going to think badly about Steve. She respected him way too much for that, and knew he never did anything without good reason.

  Ellayna strolled in, carrying an extra-large size mug.

  “You’re a gem.”

  She set the cup down in front of Rachel.

  “Seriously. I should give you a Christmas bonus.”

  The young woman laughed. “I won’t say no.”

  Rachel shared a smile with her.

  “I’ll email you everything. There’s nothing that won’t wait five minutes. Or even long enough for a fifteen minute power nap.” She headed for the door. “I’ll make sure you get at least that much quiet time.”

  Rachel didn’t have to smother the yawn. The door clicked shut, and she let it out in all its jaw-cracking, ear-popping glory.

  She leaned back in her chair and ran through the details of the meeting she’d just come from. A legal pad in her drawer was a good place to make notes. Ellayna would be able to type them up for her. Rachel didn’t love her computer. Not since she’d first viewed the video of what happened to her on this very machine.

  It made no sense that one event had changed her feelings about an inanimate object, but it was what it was. Her therapist was teaching her to accept her own feelings instead of dismissing them as inappropriate or misapplied. Or even just plain wrong. She had to work it through, and then get past them.

  Her feelings for Steve, though? She didn’t want to get past those. Seeing him, and having him hold her hand, had been more impactful to her than him saving her life on the street yesterday—even though that had been intense. When she’d sat across that diner table from him, it had made her wonder what could’ve happened between them had their lives not gone different directions.

  Okay, so it was more like they’d been torn apart.

  But whining at the unfairness of it all wasn’t going to help. And it certainly wasn’t going to fix the problem. Any of the problems she had right now.