Christmas Hostage (Christmas Romantic Suspense Book 1)

by Jane Blythe

  He kissed her forehead then very reluctantly left the room, leaving Hannah with his partner. Cops were dragging Hannah’s attacker to his feet.

  Tom saw red.

  The man had hurt Hannah. He deserved to be hurt a million times worse.

  But this man was only the middle man. He wasn't the one they needed. They needed the one who’d planted the bug—the one who was after Hannah.

  “Who is it?” he demanded, stalking across the room.

  “Who’s what?” the man asked, but Tom could tell by the look in his eyes that he knew exactly what was being asked of him.

  “Don’t lie to me and don’t play games,” he growled, getting right up in the man’s face. “Who paid you to hurt Hannah?”

  The man squirmed.

  “Who?” Tom held his face millimeters from the man’s.

  “I don’t know his name.”

  “Then how did he find you?” Why did nothing on this case go smoothly? They had one of the men who’d committed the robbery at Hannah’s store, they had confirmation someone had set it up on purpose. But the only man they had in custody didn't even know who had hired him.

  “Through a friend.”

  “The other man who held up the store a few nights ago.”

  The man nodded. “But he ran a couple of days ago. We were supposed to get the ring and then disappear, but he took the ring and ran.” The man’s face grew bright red, and he vibrated with anger.

  “What ring?”

  “He promised us a ring that was worth more than fifty grand.”

  So, it was an inside job, someone who knew what Hannah had in stock. “Why did you come back here?”

  “He asked me to. Said he’d get me a ring of my own. All I had to do was come here and scare her. I was just gonna leave when you showed up.”

  “Do you have a phone number for this man?”

  “He uses a different one every time.”

  Burner phones. “Is he young or old? Any accents? Anything you can tell me about him from talking to him?”

  “He sends texts.”

  Tom groaned. Of course he did, because nothing went smoothly in this case. “Take him away,” he told the cops. As they led the man away, Tom noticed he was limping. Hannah must have gotten in a blow to his knee. His heart swelled with pride. She never gave up, she was the ultimate fighter.

  “Did he tell you who it is?” Hannah asked when he returned to her side.

  “No, I'm sorry. He said he doesn’t know.”

  “It’s Jeff or Vincent. I gave them the code after the robbery. One of them went in and stole a ring. I was going to call you and tell you when the man attacked me.” She began to chew on her bottom lip, and he couldn’t help but smile. She was so adorable when she did that.

  “We’ll figure it out,” he promised as paramedics joined them in the small, cramped room. He should probably move back and give them more space to work, but he didn't. The fear of turning up here to find a masked man and blood on the floor, and then seeing Hannah tied up and bleeding, hadn’t left him yet. It wouldn’t for a long time.

  While one EMT began to check Hannah’s vitals, the other shot him a look. “I'm going to have to remove her top to check her injury.”

  “Okay.”

  “Tom,” Hannah raised a brow at him.

  “You already used up your one ask-me-to-leave-the-room pass. You don’t get another one.”

  For a moment, Hannah looked like she was going to argue, but then she turned to the medic. “It’s fine, go ahead.”

  As the medic cut away her damaged sweater, Tom saw the continuation of the long shallow cut that started on her cheek, and a much deeper wound on her left breast that was still oozing blood. How dare that man mar Hannah’s beautiful breasts. The desire to pummel him until his face was a bloody, unrecognizable mess was overwhelming.

  “How bad is it?” he asked, when the medic was finished examining it.

  “Needs a couple of stitches.”

  “You’ll do that here,” Hannah said, not asked.

  “If that’s what you want,” the medic agreed.

  “It is.”

  “You should go and see a doctor within the next day or so if you're not going to go to the hospital,” the medic cautioned.

  “Okay,” Hannah agreed noncommittally.

  “I’ll make sure she does,” Tom inserted. He expected Hannah to complain, to inform him that she didn't need anyone to take care of her, that she could take care of herself, that it was none of his business whether she decided to go and see a doctor, and that he’d overstepped his bounds.

  But she didn't.

  She said none of that.

  She just smiled up at him.

  * * * * *

  3:15 P.M.

  He hoped he hadn’t scared Hannah too much.

  He only needed her scared enough that she would seek comfort and solace in his arms, but so far it didn't seem to be working.

  Why hadn’t she come to him?

  He didn't understand it.

  He knew she had a phobia about guns. The fake robbery at her store should have been enough to send her running straight for him.

  But it hadn’t.

  He had waited patiently, trying to give her time, not wanting to take things further unless she left him no other choice. Still, she didn't come.

  When it became clear that he didn't have any other choice, he had reluctantly upped the ante. He had sent one of the men who had committed the robbery back to Hannah to scare her a little more.

  He wasn't pleased to hear she’d been injured.

  That wasn't part of the plan.

  The man was just supposed to scare her, maybe tie her up and leave her. He wasn't supposed to cause her physical harm. He would have to be clearer about that next time. It couldn’t happen again.

  Even with one of them taking things too far, finding those two men had been a serious stroke of luck. They had been greedy enough to do what he’d asked in exchange for the ring. Which was the perfect payment because it didn't even cost him anything. Hannah would just assume the robbers had taken it and add it to the list submitted to the insurance company, so she would be reimbursed for it, as well. A win-win.

  As great a plan as he’d had, it still didn't seem to be working.

  So, he’d come here.

  He was at a loss; he didn't know what to do next. He couldn’t risk Hannah being physically hurt again, so maybe this would show her how much she meant to him.

  Carefully, he picked the lock on the back door of Hannah’s house. He knew where she lived, but he’d never been to her house before. Well, he had never been inside her house before. He’d been here lots of times. Just watching the house. It made him feel closer to her here. And if he was lucky and he came by in the summertime, he might see her sitting in her backyard in a bikini, lying on her lounge with a book in her hands.

  He loved those days.

  He’d sit and stare at her, transfixed, imagining what it would be like to touch her, to kiss her, to run his hands all over her body, to put his hands inside her body, to be inside her, to come inside her. Those times he watched her usually ended with him masturbating, because she got him so hard he just couldn’t help it.

  He would have her.

  He wouldn’t allow any other outcome.

  How could he be without her?

  He dreamed about her every night. She drove him wild every time he was in the same room as her. She consumed his thoughts during the day and his dreams at night.

  He had to have her.

  He had to.

  He’d thought she would be his by now.

  Maybe she would be if it wasn't for that FBI agent.

  He knew who the man was. He knew everything about Hannah Buffy. He knew that her full name was Hannah Jade Buffy. He knew that she had been born on October 31st, the second of three daughters to Joel and Freya Buffy. He knew that while her older sister Rachel had been the sporty one and her younger sister Bethany was the academic
one, Hannah had been the artistic one. She might be artistic, but she was smart, too, and had been a straight A student throughout school. He knew that she loved to swim, read, and ski, in addition to making jewelry. And that Special Agent Tom Drake was her ex-husband.

  He knew about the home invasion.

  He knew that it had destroyed her marriage.

  He knew that when she was suffering the most, her husband had walked out on her.

  He knew that it had been three years since they’d last seen each other.

  Only now, it seemed Tom was back, and it looked like he wanted Hannah.

  Well, that was not going to happen. Tom Drake had had his chance with Hannah, and he had tossed her away. Now it was his turn. And he would never, ever let her go. Not for anything. No one was going to get in the way of him getting what he wanted. No one was going to stop him from having Hannah for his very own. No one. And if anyone, including FBI agent Tom Drake, got in his way, then he would kill them.

  Hannah would be his.

  As soon as she knew how much she meant to him and how he wanted to make her the very center of his universe, she would be happy to belong to him. She would know that he would make her happiness his top priority. She would know that his love for her was all-consuming.

  She would know that soon.

  Maybe she already knew it, and she just needed that little push to overcome her fears and turn to him. To learn that being strong and independent was a good thing, but so was letting the man who loved you more than life itself take care of you.

  These gifts would show her how he felt about her.

  Chocolates, because Hannah was the sweetest person he had ever met, in a heart-shaped box, because she and she alone owned his heart. And a bouquet of forget-me-nots—for true love and because he would never forget her—tulips—red for undying love—and violets—blue for faithfulness. He had chosen all of them especially for her. He hoped she appreciated them.

  He tiptoed through her kitchen. Even though he knew she wasn't here, her house filled him with a sort of reverence. He set the gifts on her kitchen table where she would be sure to find them when she returned home.

  He wanted to stay, to be here waiting for her, but he couldn’t. That would startle her and he didn't want to do that. She had to be the one to come to him, and she would.

  Perhaps even today.

  After what had happened earlier, she would be scared and shaken and in need of comfort and support. Who better to give it to her than him?

  She would come.

  She would.

  He was sure of it.

  * * * * *

  4:40 P.M.

  “Ready to regroup?” Chloe asked.

  Tom looked up from his computer where he’d been running background checks for the last hour. He hadn’t wanted to leave Hannah; he didn't want to be away from her right now. When the paramedics had finished with her at the store, she had allowed him to drive her to one of her sister’s houses so she wouldn’t be alone and someone could keep an eye on her following the attack since she wouldn’t go to the hospital.

  He knew she was all right and he knew she was being well taken care of and he knew he was going to go back and watch her house tonight, but that didn't loosen the pull that wanted to draw him back to Hannah’s side.

  But he had a job to do, and he was going to do it. He had to make sure that Hannah was safe. He couldn’t stand the thought of her in danger again, of her being hurt again. He kept picturing the bloody gash on her smooth white skin. That would not happen again.

  Focus on his job.

  That was what he had to do right now.

  “You want to go first?” he asked his partner.

  “You can.”

  “The man who attacked Hannah today is Tristan Hinkle. He’s twenty-seven and has a lengthy criminal history. Assault and battery, domestic violence, a kidnapping. Started with fights at bars, then the cops were called to his house several times after he beat his girlfriend. He’d be sent to prison, and she kept taking him back every time he got out. When she finally decided she’d had enough, he kidnapped her.”

  “How’d he do so little time for the kidnapping?”

  “Took a deal to a lesser charge and pled guilty. He’d been out of prison for about two months before the robbery at Hannah’s store.”

  “Who was his partner?”

  “Troy Abbadakka. Also twenty-seven, he grew up with Tristan, they lived across the street from each other, went to school together, and got into bar brawls together. Troy has also been in and out of prison. Mostly snatch-and-grab robberies. He’d stake out ATMs, wait for someone to withdraw cash, then follow them, hit them over the head, and run off with their bags. He was out for about four months before the robbery.”

  “So, he had plenty of time to set up the plan with whoever orchestrated the robbery.”

  “He did. And according to Tristan, it was Troy who was the one who had contact with the man who wants to hurt Hannah. I looked into whether either Tristan or Troy spent time in prison with Warren Maloney or his cousin, and I didn't find any connections.”

  “We know the robbery at Hannah’s store wasn't related to the others,” Chloe reminded him.

  “I know. I just wanted to confirm to make sure. According to Hannah, a ring worth around sixty-five grand was missing. Tristan confirmed that whoever hired them was going to give them a ring as payment. Which means it was an inside job. We’re looking at either Jeff Shields or Vincent Zimmerman.”

  “Jeff was shot,” Chloe said.

  “What better way to throw suspicion off himself than to be injured? If we didn't know about the ring, we wouldn’t even have been looking at him. And Hannah thought that he’d left the building. He was in the back room; he could easily have gotten away, but he stayed.”

  “Hannah stayed, too.”

  “Because she wanted to try and get Vincent out before the men got to him. But Jeff could have left. He didn't. And not only didn't he leave, but he didn't even stay in the office. He went into the workroom where Hannah and Vincent were being held at gunpoint,” he said.

  “To save Hannah.”

  “Right. The timing is suspicious. He stayed out of sight until right when Hannah was going to be shot, then he bursts in to save her.”

  “I guess you could look at it that way,” Chloe agreed.

  “But we looked into both of them at the time of the robbery and neither of them had criminal records; so what did you find?” They had split the work—he looked into the two men who robbed Hannah’s store, and Chloe looked into Hannah’s two employees.

  “Jeff Shields is fifty-four, never married, no children, but he comes from a big family. He has nine brothers and sisters and over fifty nieces and nephews. It seems like he’s pretty involved with his extended family, and has had some of his siblings’ children come and live with him at various times for various reasons. He has worked at the jewelry store for the last thirty years. When Reginald Thames sold the store to Hannah, he stayed on.”

  “Doesn’t really sound like the kind of man who would want to hurt her,” Tom reluctantly acknowledged.

  “No, he doesn’t. Besides work and family, he also volunteers at a homeless shelter and works with underprivileged kids.”

  That caught his attention. Hannah had volunteered at a homeless shelter for as long as he remembered. She also always donated some of her wages to help underprivileged kids. Coincidence or something more?

  “What?” Chloe asked, reading the look on his face.

  “Hannah does, too.”

  “A possible connection,” she agreed.

  “What about Vincent? He had only been working for Hannah for a month. Is that long enough to become obsessed enough with her to want to hurt her? Especially given that he doesn’t have a criminal record.”

  “Vincent Zimmerman doesn’t have a criminal record, but Charles Zimmerman does,” Chloe beamed at him, her brown eyes glowing with excitement.

  “Who’s Charles Z
immerman?”

  “Vincent’s brother.”

  “You think he might be involved?”

  “In a way.”

  “You think that Charles somehow coerced Vincent into helping him? Or somehow took advantage of him? Or that both brothers were involved?”

  “In a way.”

  “Chloe,” he growled with frustration. He got that this was all new to Chloe and that the thrill of solving a case got her all excited. But this wasn't a game to him. This was Hannah’s life. He wanted answers. Now.

  “You know how Hannah said that her friend Ellen’s husband had died fairly recently? Well, what she didn't say was that one of Ellen’s sons had died, too.”

  “She probably didn't think it was relevant.”

  “She probably didn't; she would have no reason to.”

  “But you think it is?”

  “Vincent and Charles were twins. They were inseparable up until high school, then they headed down different paths. Vincent wanted to be a doctor, and he studied hard. He didn't spend much time with the other kids, he didn't go to parties, and he didn't date. All he did was study. Charles was more into the party scene. His grades started to slip when he started drinking, and it got out of control. He had numerous drunk driving offenses, and he wasn't even legal drinking age when he died. Charles was a violent drunk, particularly with his father. Gavin Zimmerman was a competitive shooter, so he owned several guns. A few times, Charles got a hold of them and threatened his parents and brother. The police were called a few times and Charles was sent to rehab, but it wasn't very successful.”

  “That’s all interesting background on the brothers, but what does it have to do with this case? Charles Zimmerman is dead, and he was the brother with the problems.”

  “Gavin and Charles died in a car accident. Gavin had been sick; he’d had several heart attacks in the couple of years before his death, so the cause of the accident was deemed to be Gavin having a heart attack at the wheel, losing control and causing the car to crash.”

  “You think it was something else?” So far, Tom had no idea where his partner was heading with this.