Silent Night, Deadly Night

by Kaylea Cross

  Christa and his mom exchanged grins, hugged him in return, then shooed him away. “Go make yourself useful and get us something to drink while we finish up,” his mom said. “We’re eating out on the back verandah. Your father put a heater out there for us.”

  “On it.” He poured wine for the ladies, and got a beer each for him and his dad. The man himself walked out of the French doors onto the verandah a moment later carrying two platters laden with food. “Is that shrimp and grits?” Rayne asked eagerly. And homemade collard greens.

  One side of his dad’s mouth curved upward. “Yeah. She went all out for you guys.” He set the platters down in the middle of the beautifully set table.

  Ohhhh, yum.

  Rayne handed his dad a beer and took one of the chairs opposite him, dying for the moment he could dig in. He and Christa had been up since four Vancouver time, and had only grabbed a sandwich during their layover in Chicago hours before.

  He leaned forward in his chair and held out his beer toward his dad, a peace offering and homecoming all in one. He and his dad had their issues, but Rayne respected him a lot. Especially for a particular incident that had changed Rayne’s life when he was eighteen.

  While out drinking with friends one summer night, he’d wrecked his mom’s car. He’d woken up the next morning, feeling guilty and hung over, to find his father standing at the foot of his bed. One look at his old man’s face, and Rayne knew he was in the deepest shit possible. Having been notably absent for most of his formative and teen years, his father had dropped everything and flown in from Louisiana to drag Rayne’s sorry ass off to the Marine Corps Recruit Depot in Parris Island.

  Without a doubt, becoming a Marine had turned Rayne’s life around, and if he was honest, he’d always secretly hero-worshipped his old man. Luke Hutchinson was a former SEAL legend and a genuine badass, and was no doubt climbing the walls of this house since he’d transitioned out of the field and into consulting work for the CIA months ago.

  “Cheers,” Rayne said to him.

  His dad touched his bottle to Rayne’s, his gaze warm. “Cheers.”

  Yeah, they’d come a long way in the past few years.

  They both stood when the ladies came out a minute later carrying more food. Rayne groaned and snatched the platter of his mom’s famous buttermilk biscuits from her. “It’s enough to bring a tear to my eye.”

  She laughed and Christa snorted, rolling her gorgeous aquamarine eyes at him. “Yeah, because you’re so hard done by in the food department at home,” she said dryly.

  “I know, I’m spoiled,” he told her, looping an arm around her waist and kissing the top of her head. “But there’s just nothing like your own mama’s cooking.”

  Christa shot him a playful, narrow-eyed look. “You’re lucky I still love you after that comment.”

  “He’s so spoiled,” his mom said with a fond smile.

  “I am,” he admitted. “But I spoil her too. Just not in the kitchen. Right, darlin’?”

  Christa’s cheeks flushed as she cleared her throat and immediately changed the subject. “Thanks for making all of this, Emily. It looks and smells amazing.”

  “It was my pleasure. Now.” She raised her wineglass, smiling at them, and then his dad.

  And it was only then under the light from the lantern hanging above them on the porch roof that Rayne noticed the proof of what his gut had already been telling him. Dark smudges beneath her eyes that she’d tried to conceal with carefully applied makeup.

  His gut constricted instantly, dread snaking up his spine. She seemed a little thinner than the last time he’d seen her as well. Was she just tired, maybe stressed with all the prep for this week? Or…

  She couldn’t be sick again. Just couldn’t.

  “To family,” she said, the joy on her face making his stomach hurt. He loved her so much. Couldn’t bear the thought of her suffering any more. “Love y’all.”

  “Love you back,” they all said, and Rayne held back the questions racing through his mind.

  His mom looked so happy, even in spite of her fatigue. He didn’t want to upset her by asking if she was okay, and there was a chance he was wrong. She might just be tired after getting everything ready for the holidays. She’d always gone all out at Christmastime.

  “So, Christa, how’s the training going?” his dad asked her, passing the platter of shrimp and grits across the table.

  “Great, thanks. I’m in the gym five times a week with the national team trainer, and working out with the pitching staff three times a week as well. In the New Year we’ll start team workouts and indoor practices until the weather warms up enough for us to go outside.”

  “Good lord, when do you fit in everything else, like your landscaping business?” his mom asked.

  Christa smiled. “I manage. And it helps to have a really great support network behind me.” She nudged Rayne affectionately. “This’ll be the first time softball has been back in the Olympics for a long while. I can’t believe it’s coming up so fast.”

  “Remind me where is it this time?” Emily asked.

  “Tokyo, at the end of July. I’m so excited. Been working toward this for years and years.”

  “You deserve it.” His mother turned to him. “Are you going?”

  “Yeah, of course I am.” He took the platter from Christa and served himself a big portion. He’d planned to wait until Christmas morning to give them their present, but now seemed like the perfect time. “And Merry Christmas, because we managed to get tickets for you guys as well. Opening ceremonies and the softball.”

  His mother’s face lit up. “Oh, we’d love that! Wouldn’t we, Luke?” she glanced at him, beaming.

  “Wouldn’t miss it for the world, darlin’,” he said, giving Christa a wink. “We’re damn proud of you and everything you’ve accomplished.”

  She blushed and murmured a thank you, but Rayne could tell the compliment thrilled her. Her own mom was the farthest thing from maternal and they didn’t have much of a relationship, though her stepdad was pretty awesome. Rayne could see his parents’ support meant the world to her.

  “Not as proud as I am.” He reached for her hand and squeezed it, still in awe of her.

  He’d seen firsthand how hard Christa had worked to make the national team. All the sacrifices she’d made, balancing training with her landscaping business to pour her heart and soul into the sport she loved to achieve her dream. He couldn’t wait to watch her walk into the stadium at the opening ceremonies wearing a Canadian maple leaf with her teammates.

  “Thanks, babe.” She smiled at him as she passed him the collard greens.

  He spooned a healthy portion onto his plate, his mouth watering. “So, when does everyone else get in?”

  His mom put a freshly baked biscuit onto his and Christa’s plates. “Ben and Sam should be here in an hour or two. Rhys and Neveah get in tomorrow at lunchtime, and Bryn sometime tomorrow night.”

  He and Bryn had been friends for over fifteen years now, ever since meeting the first time he’d gone down to a family friend’s beach house in Lincoln City, Oregon. He’d gone back at least once every year since, but he and Bryn stayed in touch in between visits. Now she and Christa talked all the time too.

  “What about Dec?” he asked. Bryn’s husband, an active duty SEAL.

  “He’s OCONUS,” his dad answered. “Not sure if he’ll be able to make it.”

  “But he’s going to try,” his mom said.

  The meal was everything Rayne could have hoped for, and then some. The conversation flowed easily around the table while they ate, and his parents asked him about his work on an RCMP Emergency Response Team in Vancouver. Every bite brought a childhood memory, and being able to share it with his whole family made it all the more special. If he could have shaken the worry about his mom, it would have been perfect.

  After he and his dad cleaned up the dishes, he left Christa chatting with his mom in the living room with some tea by the fire and headed for th
e study. He knocked, received a brusque reply to enter, and slid the pocket door open.

  His dad was seated behind the antique mahogany desk, busy on his computer. He looked up at Rayne, and when Rayne didn’t say anything, raised his eyebrows. “Something on your mind?”

  Rayne shut the pocket door and leaned against it, unable to shake the dread. “Anything you wanna tell me?”

  “About what?”

  “About Mom.”

  Just like that his dad’s expression shuttered, and Rayne’s stomach dropped. “She’s fine.”

  Christ, so she was sick. “She doesn’t look fine, she looks exhausted. And don’t bullshit me. If something’s going on, I want to know.”

  His dad sighed and leaned back in his chair to study him. “She’s worried. We don’t know what’s happening exactly, we’re still waiting on more test results she had today. And don’t you dare say anything, because I promised I wouldn’t tell you, and I don’t want her getting upset.”

  “I won’t.” One thing he couldn’t fault his father for was how protective he was of his wife. Rayne ran a hand over his face, reeling inside. “How serious is it?”

  “We’re not sure yet.”

  Jesus. The delicious meal he’d just enjoyed was now sitting in the bottom of his stomach like a ball of concrete. “Is there anything I can do?”

  “Just let her enjoy every moment of having you and Christa here. You know you’re her world.”

  Rayne nodded, wishing he could actually do something to make it better. A rush of sadness shot through him, sharp and acidic. His mom had been to hell and back more than once already, and had suffered far too much pain in her life.

  It wasn’t fair. He couldn’t accept that the cancer was back, afraid that she wouldn’t be able to beat it this time.

  The sound of the doorbell made him and his dad look at each other. “That’ll be Ben and Sam,” his dad said, rising as Rayne straightened.

  Rayne let his father pass and stayed in the study for a few moments to collect himself. More than sad, he was getting angry now. Fuck you, cancer.

  He drew a deep, steadying breath. Whatever happened, if this was going to wind up being their last Christmas together, then Rayne wanted it to be a holiday none of them would ever forget.

  Chapter Three

  “So how’s civilian life treating you?” Ben asked him.

  Luke reached into the fridge to grab him a cold beer. “As well as can be expected.” At least he got to be home with Em.

  Ben grinned. “You’re bored to shit, aren’t you?”

  He let out a low laugh. “Sometimes.” After doing what he’d done his entire adult life, suddenly being out of the action was a jarring—and not always easy—transition. “They keep me busy with various things that come up.” But it wasn’t the same. “I don’t travel much anymore, at least not overseas very often.”

  “And you’re finally going gray on us, I see.”

  Luke lifted an eyebrow at him. He’d just turned fifty-two. “Yeah. And I’ve earned every single one of them.”

  “True enough.” Ben grinned and saluted him with the bottle.

  “He’s turning into a silver fox,” Sam said with a wink, and carried her mug of tea through to the living room to join the others.

  Luke followed with Ben, and found Em in her element, her daintily slippered feet curled up under her on the sofa as she talked with the others while a fire crackled in the grate next to her. The glow of the flames flickered over her face, blending with the white lights on the Christmas tree in the corner.

  She laughed at something Rayne said, and Luke couldn’t help but stare. She was so damn beautiful, inside and out, and this was the first time in weeks he’d seen her this happy and relaxed. She deserved every bit of happiness she could find.

  The thought of anything taking her away from him now, after all they’d been through, after all they’d withstood, was unthinkable.

  He shoved it from his mind before it could take hold, refusing to give it screen time in his head. Tough as the health scare was for them, having a house full of guests right now was actually a blessing.

  Em had been born and raised in Charleston, and was every inch the Southern lady. She loved to entertain, loved taking care of those closest to her, and spending the next few days with their extended family would help keep her mind off everything. She’d known Bryn for years through Rayne, but the others she’d only gotten to know over the past year because they all worked with Luke.

  Em had become especially close to Nev since then. It had started because of Em’s health and Nev being a doctor back during the mission in Beirut earlier this year, but now they talked all the time and Em considered her part of the family. And also, by extension, Nev’s taciturn husband, Rhys.

  Now there was an interesting dynamic. Rhys was the polar opposite of his outgoing, prankster twin. He might seem antisocial to most, but Rhys was one of the best operators Luke had ever worked with, and Luke considered him a good friend.

  Having Nev here to help keep an expert eye on Em’s health over the next week would take a load off Luke’s mind. Whatever happened, he didn’t want his wife stressing about the status of those tests, though he knew she was still worried.

  All in all, he’d never been so glad to be “retired.” Whatever happened going forward, he would be at her side, and being home with her helped take the edge off craving the action of being out in the field.

  She glanced up when he entered, her little smile hitting him square in the heart. God, he loved her. Her warmth and kindness, her unbelievable bravery through everything she’d faced, and the steely core inside the comparatively fragile-looking exterior. His Em was a fighter, and he’d be right there to fight beside her every step of the way through this.

  He’d done a lot of unforgiveable things in his life, mostly in the line of duty—with one glaring and spectacular exception. It didn’t matter that she’d forgiven him for accidentally putting that scar beneath the edge of her jaw and then taking off on her and Rayne all those years ago. For essentially abandoning her, and leaving her to raise their son and then later fight the battle for her life alone.

  He still hadn’t—couldn’t—fully forgive himself for hurting her and walking out on them. But he’d thought of them every day they were apart. He’d never stopped loving her, not ever, and now that she was miraculously his again, he made it his mission to be the husband she deserved every day.

  She shifted on the sofa and patted the cushion next to her. Luke sat down and stretched an arm across her shoulders, his chest tightening at the way she curled into him, the light, familiar scent of her vanilla perfume scenting the air. Her trust and unwavering belief in him never failed to humble him.

  “Rayne was just telling a funny story about helping Christa at a national team practice a few weeks ago,” she said as Ben and Sam sat together near Rayne and Christa.

  “Only a few players could make it because the coach called an extra workout at the last minute, so I thought I’d give them a hand at the indoor field.” Rayne shook his head, looking down into his wife’s face with a sardonic expression. “They put me at third to do some pick-off plays. The next pitch came in and Christa fired the ball at me from behind home plate. I wasn’t ready for it. Barely got my glove up in time to stop it from taking my head off.”

  Christa laughed. “I wasn’t worried. I knew your reflexes would kick in.”

  “Glad you’re keeping him on his toes,” Luke said with a grin. He was happy to see that Christa had come out of her shell since first meeting him. She’d been so quiet and shy that first time at his old place in Louisiana. Now she was comfortable being herself around them.

  “We should have a slo-pitch game when everyone gets here,” Ben said, and everyone looked at him. “What? It’d be fun.”

  Sam poked him in the ribs. “You just want an excuse to strut around in your BoSox gear in front of everyone.”

  He grinned. “Well, that too.”

  Th
e conversation carried on easily around the room after that, inevitably shifting to the times they’d spent together over the last few years—a lot of tough times in dangerous circumstances now glossed over with gallows humor. Christa and Rayne didn’t know the others as well as they knew Bryn or Dec, but they knew enough, and had heard the stories of working ops with Luke.

  Family wasn’t always something you were born into, and this proved it. They’d all shared blood, sweat and tears together, forging a bond that could never be broken.

  After a while, Ben got up to take Luke’s empty bottle while Em was talking to Christa. “Can we talk to you alone for a minute?” Ben murmured to him.

  Luke met that pale green gaze, searching for any sign of concern, but couldn’t get a read on Ben’s expression. “Sure.” He leaned over to kiss Em on the top of the head. “Excuse me a minute, sweetheart.” As soon as he got up, Sam did too. She and Ben followed him to the study.

  Luke flipped on the light, waited for them to enter then shut the pocket door behind them, crossing his arms over his chest. If they’d brought him in here for a private update, it must be important. “Something wrong?”

  Sam shared a look with Ben before replying. “We’re not sure, to be honest.” She pulled something from her pocket. A flash drive. “Someone sent this to me at our home address, along with a key and a note. It arrived this afternoon just before we left for the airport. I was able to crack the encryption on the electronic files, and we think the numbers on the note might be coordinates, but I need to keep analyzing the data. Can I work on it in here? I need a secure connection, and I’d rather have privacy and not have to answer questions from anyone while I work.”

  Luke already didn’t like the feel of this. “Where was it sent from?”

  “D.C.,” Ben said. “It’s a list of bank accounts, and some photos of a guy we don’t know. Sam’s gonna try some facial recognition programs to see if she can get a hit.”

  Luke turned his attention to her. “Why you?”

  Sam shook her head. “I have no idea why anyone would want to send it to me. I’m in between contract jobs right now with the Agency, just finished my latest one a couple days ago. As far as I can tell, this isn’t related.”