Covert Christmas

by Hope White

  “Wait, Bree.”

  She kept walking, fuming about everything that had happened in the past forty-eight hours, from her brother’s rudeness toward a wounded man in need, to a stranger threatening her with a gun.

  It seemed strange that Scott’s enemies would hang around town considering law enforcement was on the lookout for suspicious characters. Whatever they were into must be incredibly important.

  Not her problem or concern. Her only concern was doing right by Scott.

  As she approached her home, Fiona rushed the fence and barked her greeting. “Hey, girl,” Bree said.

  “Bree, stop ignoring me,” Aiden said, stepping up beside her.

  She opened the gate and let Fiona out to give her a hug. “You could learn some manners from my dog,” she said to her brother.

  She led Fiona up to the front porch and sat in the rocker. “You want to talk to me? Talk,” she said.

  “Stop being so angry.” He leaned against the porch railing.

  “Wow, you’re even telling me how I should feel? That doesn’t sound like Thomas,” she said in a sarcastic tone.

  She knew the words were harsh, but couldn’t stop them from tumbling out of her mouth. Essentially it was the truth. Aiden was acting like an overbearing, domineering male.

  Aiden crossed his arms over his chest. “I guess I deserved that.” He glanced her. “But try to understand where I’m coming from. You’re obsessed with a guy who’s obviously into something dangerous.”

  “He’s not into something dangerous. Danger is finding him.”

  “It’s the same thing.”

  “No, it isn’t.”

  “I don’t want to argue semantics.”

  “You started it.”

  “And now we’re twelve again,” he muttered.

  Bree continued to stroke an enthusiastic Fiona, but didn’t respond to Aiden. What could she say? He was right. They were fighting like kids.

  “Let me try again,” he said. “All my life it’s been my job to protect my baby sisters. I thought I did an okay job, then you moved to Seattle and I couldn’t protect you. And now...this situation with Scott feels like the same thing.”

  “But it’s totally different. Thomas was a manipulating bully who’d convinced me I was a failure without him. Scott is a gentle, wounded soul who needs our help. Have you even talked to him?”

  “It doesn’t matter.” He shook his head. “I failed you with Thomas and this feels like it’s happening all over again.” He pushed away from the railing and paced to the top of the steps. “Right here in my own resort.”

  “Aiden—”

  “Try to understand, Bree, okay?” he said, not looking at her.

  “Sure.” She hesitated. “But could you do me a favor and ease up a little? Get to know Scott before you make assumptions?”

  “I’ll try.” He started down the porch steps. “You going by Mom’s tonight?”

  “No. Chief Washburn is sending over a forensic artist to meet with me and Scott.”

  “Text me if you need anything.”

  “Will do, thanks.”

  Her big brother headed to the main building looking a bit defeated. A part of her understood his need to protect her and she greatly appreciated it, but another part resented the inference that she couldn’t take care of herself. She’d done pretty well. She’d saved Scott from the bad guys in the mountains and today she’d avoided being kidnapped. She had Scott to thank for that. If he hadn’t come racing across the street to accost the driver Bree might have been forced into the car.

  Scott may think she’d done her duty and didn’t need to help him any longer, but she disagreed. She would feed Fiona, whip up her specialty, mac and cheese, and head to Scott’s room with dinner. The forensic artist could meet her there and the three of them could work on the sketch.

  She glanced across the property at Scott’s room. The curtains were drawn. She hoped he was resting. Lord knows if she suffered a gunshot wound and mind-numbing concussion she’d welcome the healing benefits of sleep. Still, he had to eat. She took Fiona inside and got to work on dinner.

  * * *

  Scott awakened with a start. He gasped and sat up in bed, fighting the violent images of a young woman being tossed out of a moving car onto the pavement. He rushed to her side, turned her over.

  Bree. It had been Bree’s face staring back at him.

  He flopped back down in bed. “Only a dream.”

  But it felt real, his panic strangling his vocal cords, tying his chest in knots and cutting off his ability to breathe or think straight.

  A soft knock tapped at the door. Must be the forensic sketch artist, either that or the officer telling Scott he was leaving for the night. They couldn’t possibly keep an eye on him 24/7. No department had that kind of budget, especially a small department like Echo Mountain P.D.

  The tapping grew insistent. Scott sat up a little too quickly and his head pounded. Time for more aspirin.

  “Coming!” he called out.

  He stood, surprised that he didn’t waver or grow faint. Man, he hated being this weak, this out of it. He padded to the door and looked through the peephole: Breanna smiled back at him. She held a large bag in her arms.

  He pressed his forehead against the door. He wished he could ignore her or tell her to leave him alone. It was the best thing for both of them. Well, the best thing for her, anyway. Scott knew that he had a better chance at surviving the next few days with Bree in his life.

  “You okay?” her muffled voice called through the door.

  He swung it open and forced a smile. “Sure, I wasn’t expecting you.”

  “I tried calling but no one answered.”

  “I unplugged the phone.”

  An apologetic expression creased her features. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

  “Nope.”

  “I did wake you and you’re being nice. I’m sorry.”

  “No, I was awake, honest.”

  “Have you eaten dinner yet?”

  “No, I thought about ordering room service.”

  “Not necessary.” She brushed past him into the room. “I made sandwiches, green salad and my famous macaroni and cheese.” She placed the bag on the table and started pulling out containers. “It would be nice to have company for a change while I eat. I mean, other than canine company.”

  He stood there, holding the door open. A part of him wanted to convince her to leave because she was putting her life at risk just by being here.

  “This is a high-carb meal so we should both sleep great tonight.”

  He couldn’t take his eyes off her carefree smile. You never would have guessed she’d been threatened a few hours ago.

  Because of him.

  “Bree—”

  “Sir,” Officer Carrington said, stepping into the doorway, “you should keep the door closed.”

  “Right, thanks. You’re not staying all night, are you?” he asked the officer.

  “No, sir. Someone’s relieving me in about twenty minutes.”

  “Come on, before it gets cold,” Bree called from the table.

  “Thanks,” Scott said to the cop and shut the door.

  “The weather’s crazy outside,” Bree said. “The wind’s blowing like a Kansas tornado is about to touch down.”

  “When did that start?”

  “Last hour or so. Would you like ham and Swiss or turkey and cheddar?” She held out two foil-wrapped sandwiches.

  “Whichever one you don’t want.”

  “That’s not an answer. Come on, pick.”

  “Turkey cheddar.”

  “Great. Have a seat.”

  She set the table with paper plates, napkins and forks, put a sandwich on each plate and p
eeled the lid off a plastic bowl containing a green salad. “Hope you’re okay with vinaigrette dressing.”

  “That’s fine.” He sat and clenched his jaw against the pain of his bruised ribs.

  “Looks like you need a pain reliever.” She dug in her purse and pulled out a bottle of acetaminophen. She set it on the table beside her keys. He noticed her key chain read: Let Go, Let God.

  “It’s a gentle reminder when I get frantic,” she said, eyeing him.

  Frantic because of the mess he’d dragged her into these past few days.

  “Help yourself,” she said, like they were old friends enjoying a meal.

  But they weren’t old friends. They were strangers, and she was an innocent bystander threatened by the violence trailing him.

  “You shouldn’t be here,” he said, rubbing his forehead.

  “And where should I be?”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “I think I do. What you were trying to say was, ‘thank you, Bree, for bringing me a homemade meal so I didn’t have to order room service.’ Notice how I said homemade, not home-cooked. The only thing I cooked is this.” Eyes widening with anticipation, she pulled the top off the macaroni and cheese.

  “That smells amazing,” he said.

  “Makes you change your mind about wanting me to leave, huh?” She smiled and shoved a serving spoon into the pasta.

  “I never said I wanted you to leave, but we both know the danger of you being here.”

  “What danger? We’re locked in this room with a cop standing guard outside that door. Relax and enjoy some carbs with me. Wait until you see what I brought for dessert.” She rubbed her hands together like a kid on Christmas morning.

  Suddenly the lights went out.

  SEVEN

  “Scott?” Breanna said.

  Scott could feel the fear floating off her body.

  “Place your hand on the table between us,” he said. He sensed her body shift. He reached out and slid his hand over hers. Their fingers automatically curled into a perfect hold.

  “It’s okay. I won’t let anyone hurt you,” he said. How was he going to manage that when he couldn’t see anything and didn’t have a weapon to defend them?

  “It’s probably the generator,” she said with false confidence.

  “Has this happened before?” He stroked the back of her hand with his thumb.

  “The power has flickered before but it’s never gone totally out.”

  When she squeezed his hand he knew he had to do something to make her feel safe.

  “I’m going to check in with Officer Carrington,” he said.

  “Don’t let go.”

  “Okay, then why don’t we check in with him?”

  He stood and led her by the hand to the door.

  “This is awfully creepy,” she whispered.

  “Yeah.” And if it had anything to do with Scott’s situation, he was going to figure out a way to check out of this hotel and stop putting these people in danger.

  They stepped up to the door. “I’ll open the door but you stay out of sight.”

  “Okay.”

  He cracked open the door and peered into a pitch-black hallway.

  A beam of a flashlight hit Scott square in the chest. “Stay in your room,” Officer Carrington said. “I’ll find out what’s going on. Lock your door and don’t open it to anyone but me.”

  Scott shut and locked the door. Adrenaline coursed through him. He had to get control of this situation, if nothing else, for Bree’s sake.

  “Wait,” she said, “I’m an idiot.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “I have a flashlight app on my phone.”

  She dug into her pocket. The glow from her cell phone illuminated her beautiful face. She pressed the screen a few times and a flashlight beam lit the area around them.

  “See, not so scary,” she said, directing the light into the room.

  Something knocked against the window and she jumped.

  “Bathroom,” he said. With his arm around her shoulder, he led her into the roomy bathroom and locked the door. “Extra precaution,” he said. That made two doors someone would have to get through to get to them.

  “What now?” she said.

  “We wait for the all-clear from Officer Carrington.”

  “I hate waiting.” She sat on the closed toilet seat, shining her light across the sink area where he’d spread out his toiletries. He felt exposed, as if getting a glimpse of his personal things gave her yet a closer look into his soul.

  Scott shifted to the floor, pressing his back against the bathroom door. An assailant would have to get through Scott to hurt Bree. Yet how much damage could Scott do considering his weakened physical condition? That got him thinking.

  “Can you swing that light across the sink area again?” he said.

  She did and he looked for something, anything to use as a weapon. Not much you could do with shaving cream, toothpaste and deodorant. Then he spotted a blow-dryer. He got up and grabbed it, weighing it in his hand.

  “What are you thinking?” she said.

  “Not sure yet. Trying to get creative in case we have unexpected company.” He sat back down.

  She pointed the flashlight at the ceiling to light up the bathroom. Even from here he could see her worried expression.

  “It’s probably an outage from the storm,” he suggested.

  “That makes sense. It was wild out there.”

  “Lots of stuff blowing around?”

  “Yep. Resort staff were chasing after patio chairs.”

  “That’s probably what hit our window.”

  “Wait, why don’t I call Aiden and ask him what’s going on?” She reached for the phone and hesitated. “Probably a bad idea.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “He’s got enough on his hands without his little sister pestering him.”

  “He’ll want to know that you’re okay,” Scott offered.

  “I guess.” She eyed the phone but didn’t make the call.

  “Breanna, what’s the hesitation?”

  “He’ll freak when he finds out where I am.”

  “Understandable. Well, I’m not letting you leave until the lights come on and I know you’re safe.”

  “Wait, I can call Harvey, or at least text him.” She grabbed the phone and texted a message, then reactivated the flashlight app and aimed it toward the ceiling. “He’s probably crazed because of the outage.”

  A sudden pounding echoed from the outer door. Bree sat straight.

  “They can’t get in without a key card,” Scott assured, but she didn’t look convinced.

  The pounding stopped. Bree’s green eyes widened with fear. Scott got up and rubbed her shoulder. “It’s okay.”

  Someone pounded on the bathroom door and Bree yelped.

  “What’s going on in there?” Aiden demanded.

  “Aiden?” she said.

  “Bree? Open the door!”

  Bree made a face at Scott. This was going to be ugly.

  Scott reached for the door, but she grabbed his shirtsleeve. “I’d better open it.”

  She took a deep breath, stood and opened the door. Her brother shined a flashlight in her face.

  “Hey, point that someplace else,” she protested.

  He aimed it at Scott, who put up his hand to block the beam. The intense light started to spike a headache.

  “What are you doing here?” Aiden said, glaring at Bree.

  “Waiting for the forensic artist,” she said. “We were about to eat dinner when the lights went out.”

  “You were about to eat dinner,” Aiden said, his tone flat.

  “What’s with the pow
er outage?” Bree asked.

  “If you were about to eat dinner, then why were you hiding in the bathroom?” Aiden said, ignoring her question.

  “Scott thought it was the safest place to be. So, is it the storm?”

  Her brother didn’t answer for a few seconds. Scott couldn’t see Aiden’s expression because it would require Scott to look directly into the flashlight, but he could guess the guy was shooting him death ray eyes.

  “Yes, we think it’s the storm,” Aiden said. “Maintenance is out there checking the lines.” He lowered the flashlight and glared at Scott. “But if it’s something else, if someone intentionally—”

  The lights popped on.

  “That was quick,” Bree said.

  “Not quick enough,” Aiden countered, motioning them out of the bathroom. “We lost all power, even emergency lights. That doesn’t reflect well on the safety of our guests.”

  Scott understood Aiden’s anger toward him if this hadn’t been a weather-related incident. Scott had already made up his mind he was leaving if that were the case.

  Aiden’s phone rang and he ripped it off his belt. “What have you got, Harvey?”

  As Aiden paced the room, Scott’s muscles tensed. He remembered Harvey was the resort’s security manager, so Scott was intent on watching Aiden’s reaction to the call.

  “Yep, okay. That’s good news.” Aiden glanced at Scott, then at Bree. She was busy spooning macaroni and cheese onto plates.

  Scott couldn’t believe how resilient she was, considering only a minute ago she was trembling in a dark bathroom with a stranger. Well, not exactly a stranger. They’d engaged in more than small talk during the past few days.

  She must have caught him looking at her because she narrowed her eyes at him. “What?”

  “You amaze me.”

  She blushed and refocused on her dinner.

  “Harvey said lightning hit a transformer and knocked out the power, but he’s not sure what happened to the emergency lights since they’re on a different system. I’ve got to go talk to guests, give them coupons for free ice cream cones or something.” He sighed and ran his hand through thick, blond hair.

  “Thanks for checking up on us,” Bree said. “We have plenty of macaroni if you want to stop back later.”