A Forever Christmas

by Marie Ferrarella

  “Angel, why don’t you go home?” Miss Joan suggested, even as some of her customers met that suggestion with groans. They’d put up with a lot, all because they were all waiting for one of her breakfasts. “You’ve had a hell of a morning and maybe you should just—”

  “No!” Angel refused with feeling. “I want to be here. I want to be doing something—cooking. It’ll take my mind off that awful man with those flat eyes of his. Please?”

  Her last words were all but drowned out by several of the customers, raising their voices to egg her on, enthusiastically backing her decision to stay and cook for them.

  Faced with Angel’s stubbornness and her customers growing demands to have Angel whip up her specialties, Miss Joan raised her hands in complete surrender.

  “Hey, far be it for me to deny you something that makes you happy,” she declared. “Besides, I think I’d probably have a mass rebellion on my hands if I didn’t let you stay.” She looked at the customers who were all but champing at the bit—threatening to eat that bit at any second if they weren’t fed and fed soon. “Okay, boys, place your orders. She’s staying,” she declared.

  A round of cheers met her words.

  Touched, Angel smiled and retreated to the kitchen. Eduardo was waiting for her. “Thank you,” she said simply, at a loss for any other words.

  In threatening the detective with a shotgun unless he retreated, Eduardo had behaved as if he was her father, bent on protecting her. Something told her that had never happened to her before.

  Whether that meant she had no father, or that she had a father who didn’t care enough about her to come to her defense, she didn’t know.

  What she did know was that she liked the sensation of having someone watch over her.

  Like Gabe, a small voice whispered.

  Eduardo waved away her thanks. “I was not going to allow that man to take you away and leave me with all this cooking to do by myself,” he grumbled. “Since you started to work here, I am not so overworked as I was before,” he told her, refusing to give up the game altogether.

  “Glad I can help,” she told him, brushing a quick, grateful kiss against his grizzled cheek.

  “Are you going to be all right here?” Gabe asked, sticking his head into the kitchen.

  She waved away his concern. “I’ll be fine, Gabe,” she said with conviction. “I’ve got Eduardo, Miss Joan and, from the looks of it, a quarter of the town here to protect me.” She grinned reassuringly at Gabe. She didn’t want him to worry about her. “What could go wrong?”

  The trouble was, he knew what could go wrong. There were a dozen things that could easily conspire against her. More than a dozen, he amended, glancing back over his shoulder at Angel.

  But saying that to her would only make her worry again and the look that passed over her face when she first encountered the detective had slashed at his heart something fierce. He didn’t want her experiencing that again if he could help it.

  Gabe forced himself to walk out of the diner. He needed to get back to the sheriff’s office. Specifically, he needed to get to a computer and find out exactly what there was to know about Detective Jake Wynters of the San Antonio Police Department.

  He hoped it was a lot—and none of it good.

  But either way, he wasn’t about to let the man take Angel away with him, not even if her memory did come back to her.

  He couldn’t shake this sinking feeling that sending her off with Wynters would be tantamount to signing her death sentence. Someone had tampered with her brakes that first day she’d arrived and his gut told him it had been Wynters.

  There was no way that man was going to come near her again. Not if he had anything to say about it, Gabe silently swore.

  Chapter Sixteen

  She was being paranoid , but knowing that didn’t help. Angel still couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being watched even though, when she looked, no one was there.

  That detective wasn’t there.

  For all intents and purposes, she was among friends and safe, she silently insisted.

  She was at the diner, in the kitchen, going about her job with a healthy complement of people all around her, even in the kitchen. Eduardo seemed more alert—and vigilant—than she’d ever seen him and the waitresses were forever coming in to fetch something.

  Even Miss Joan would find various pretexts that had her pushing open the swinging kitchen doors, looking for one thing or another.

  Angel was on to all of them, knowing that everyone was just checking on her. Looking out for her. She more than appreciated it. Especially Miss Joan’s efforts. The woman had to be peeking in at least every fifteen minutes if not more frequently.

  Each time Miss Joan stuck her head in, Angel would flash a smile at the diner owner and continue to go about making whatever meal had just been ordered. As for Eduardo, it seemed as if he never really took his eyes off her even though the senior short-order cook went on working at a steady pace himself.

  Angel pressed her lips together. She was surrounded by people who cared about her and she was protected. So why was this uneasy feeling rising up and taking hold of her over and over again, like the tide repeatedly lapping at the shore?

  There was no logical reason to feel so edgy, she kept telling herself.

  The problem was, she wasn’t listening.

  When it came time to leave, Angel breathed a sigh of relief, confident that she could finally get beyond this nagging uneasiness.

  But that feeling was short lived.

  Leaving the diner with Gabe, she could feel the hairs on the back of her neck rising up for no good reason. Nothing seemed to be out of place and that police detective who’d shown up this morning claiming to be her fiancé was nowhere to be seen.

  Detective Jake Wynters had apparently disappeared after Rick had ushered him out.

  Apparently.

  Angel looked around her one final time before getting into Gabe’s truck.

  “He made you nervous, didn’t he?” Gabe said rather than asked, sliding in behind the steering wheel.

  She cleared her throat, buying herself some time, and then asked innocently, “Who?”

  Gabe’s smile was one of tolerance. “I think that’s the first time I’ve known you to lie.” His smile deepened. “I’m happy to say you’re not any good at it. You know who I’m talking about, Angel. That police detective who said you were his fiancée.”

  The very thought of a relationship with that detective made her shiver. She looked away from the man at her side and stared out the side window.

  With a shrug she hoped looked disinterested enough, she said, “He seemed a bit intense, but he did go away.”

  Gabe had asked his sister to do some research on the man who claimed to be Angel’s fiancé. The San Antonio police detective had an impeccable record with several commendations for bravery and a long list of accolades in his file according to what Alma had managed to dig up. He sounded like an honorable, upstanding law enforcement officer.

  But Gabe couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. Either someone had deliberately cleaned up the man’s file—or the detective was good at playing a dual role. Either way, Gabe had seen the fear in Angel’s eyes when she looked at Wynters and that was enough to convince him that the detective wasn’t going to get within ten feet of her.

  “And I intend to see that he stays away,” he told her, commenting on her conclusion.

  Oh, if only…

  Angel shook her head in response to his words. “You’ve got no reason to make him stay away, Gabe,” she reminded him.

  “I’ve got the best reason in the world,” he contradicted. “You.” Coming to one of the town’s few traffic lights, he stopped, waiting for it to turn green again. He studied her profile thoughtfully as he waited. Her jaw was so rigid, it looked as if it could shatter. “You’re sure you don’t remember him?” he prodded gently.

  Exasperated with herself, Angel shook her head. “I’ve tried over and
over again, but I just can’t pull up anything. I’m drawing a blank,” she emphasized. Angel sighed, looking up at the vehicle’s ceiling. “Wouldn’t I be able to remember him if I actually knew him?”

  While Alma had looked into Wynters’s background, he’d spent the time trolling the internet, learning what he could about amnesia. The more he read, the less he seemed to know. Other than the condition defied boundaries.

  “There are lots of different types of amnesia, Angel.” It wasn’t really an answer to her question, but it was the best that he could do.

  “Right,” she murmured. “And I’ve got the annoying kind.” So where did that bring her? That she knew him? Or that she didn’t?

  “Maybe there’s a reason you don’t remember,” Gabe suggested. “Maybe your mind is trying to protect you from something you couldn’t deal with at the time and maybe still can’t.”

  She rubbed her forehead. Her head was beginning to hurt. “Well, I won’t know about that part until I remember, will I? If I remember,” she amended, the frustration in her voice growing.

  He tried to lighten the mood. “Right now, all you have to remember is that you’ve got a starving man with you.”

  And for that, she thought, she was eternally grateful. She was exceedingly lucky to have Gabe in her life and she knew it.

  “Hungry, huh?” She laughed.

  He glanced in her direction, his eyes sweeping over her. Loving what he saw. “In more ways than one,” he assured her with feeling.

  A warm feeling rushed over her, banishing everything else into the background, as she anticipated their evening together. All that mattered to her, really mattered to her, she reminded herself, was in this car with her, driving her to his home.

  To their home, she told herself, taking tremendous solace in the feeling that generated.

  Everything was going to be all right, she silently promised herself. Clinging to that promise. And when everything died down again, then she’d tell Gabe her news. That was another promise.

  * * *

  “NEED HELP?” GABE ASKED as she began to head to the kitchen the moment they walked into the house.

  Angel shook her head. This was her domain and she did best in it alone. “Thanks for offering, but it would only take longer that way.” She laughed.

  Off the hook, he pulled his shirttails out of his trousers and began to unbutton his shirt. “Okay, then I’m going to go upstairs, wash up and change,” he told her.

  A nervous anticipation danced through him. It had been like this for most of the day. His uniform shirt hanging open, he shoved his hands into his pockets and did his best to appear as if he hadn’t a care in the world.

  Gabe curled his right hand around the item he’d tucked in there earlier. As his fingers made contact, his heart sped up, launching into double time.

  He was still trying to decide whether to give it to her tonight, or tomorrow morning. Tomorrow was Christmas but the day was all but bursting at the seams with the activities planned into the framework of that special day. Alma and Cash had invited everyone in the family to come spend it at their house, and of course, there was the celebration in the town square.

  But he wanted to snag a private moment with Angel because this was a private gift. He wanted it to be their secret for a few moments before they wound up sharing it with everyone else.

  Tonight, after dinner. He’d give it to her after dinner, he decided, wavering again.

  Moving toward the living room, Gabe caught sight of his reflection in the mirror. Angel was going to turn him down if he didn’t do something about the way he looked, he thought. He looked one step removed from a saddle tramp.

  “Right now, I wouldn’t even say yes to me,” he muttered under his breath. He needed to wash up—fast.

  Whistling, he hurried up the stairs and into his bedroom to get a fresh set of clothes.

  He didn’t notice the shadow along the floor in front of him until it was too late.

  * * *

  ANGEL DID HER BEST to bank it down, but the tightness in her chest insisted on coming back the moment Gabe left her, quickly growing until it struck her as being almost too large to manage.

  Certainly too large to ignore.

  Relax, you have to relax, she silently ordered herself. There’s no reason to feel like a cornered rabbit. There’s—

  Turning around, she barely stifled the scream that leaped to her throat.

  “What are you doing here?” she demanded of the man who seemed to materialize out of nowhere. The very hair on her head began to tingle.

  “Taking what’s mine,” Wynters snarled at her, abandoning any pretext of friendliness. Initially ready to forgive her when he’d arrived in town this morning, he was now furious with her for what she’d put him through. “Did you think you fooled me with that wide-eyed act of yours in the diner?” he demanded. Rolling his eyes and affecting a singsong voice, he mimicked what she’d said to the deputy this morning. “‘No, I don’t know him.’ Like I was nobody,” he snapped, reverting to his own voice. There was pure hatred in his dark eyes. “Well, it’s not working. You know damn well who I am and you’re coming with me, Dorothy.”

  He tried to grab her wrist in order to drag her away, but she pulled back. Fear clutched at her but she struggled to rise above it. “Don’t call me that,” she ordered, desperately trying to sound as if he wasn’t really frightening her. “That’s not my name.”

  “The hell it isn’t,” he spat out. “You’re Dorothy, all right. Too bad your boyfriend had that poster circulated. Up to that point, I really thought you were dead.” His smile was cold, deadly.

  Where was Gabe? What had he done with Gabe? Angel thought frantically.

  “I guess I didn’t do as good a job on those brakes as I thought. You’ve got a charmed life, Dorothy.” He saw her looking toward the stairs. “Oh, your boyfriend?” he guessed, taking great pleasure in what he was about to say next. “Save your effort. He’s not coming.”

  Fear for herself turned to anger and outrage, infusing her with strength. “What did you do to him?” she demanded.

  He laughed contemptuously. “Don’t worry, I didn’t kill him. He’s just going to have a killer headache when he wakes up. And an empty house. Now let’s go!” Wynters ordered. This time, he produced a gun to back up his command.

  She had no doubts that the man with the cold eyes could use the weapon on her without blinking. Still, she backed away until she felt the stove against her back. “He’ll find you,” she warned him defiantly. “He’ll come looking for me and he’ll find you.”

  “Doubtful.” He taunted her. “That hayseed deputy’ll be looking for a San Antonio detective and his slut—and we’re not going back to San Antonio.” He paused, letting his words sink in, savoring the fear he knew she had to be feeling. “I’ve got a whole new life planned for us. And if you don’t do what I tell you, if you give me any trouble, you can be erased real quick,” he promised malevolently.

  “Now you either come with me, or I’m going to go upstairs and finish your boyfriend off.” He cocked the hammer on the weapon he had trained on her. The barrel was pointed at her throat. “You’ve got to the count of five to make up your mind. One, two, three—” He stiffened as he felt the cold steel against his neck.

  “Put the gun down, Wynters,” Gabe ground out. He’d barely come to and had to hold on to the walls as he made his way down the stairs, praying he wasn’t too late. He didn’t doubt for a second that the rogue detective was going to kill Angel, if not now, then soon. His type didn’t tolerate being defied, especially not by a woman.

  “Guess your head’s harder than I thought,” Wynters cracked. “The next time, I’ve gotta do it right.” Then he spun around, head butting Gabe. The gun in Gabe’s hand went flying.

  With his vision blurred, Gabe scrambled to his feet, holding on to Wynters so the latter couldn’t lunge at Angel.

  The two men fought, winding up on the floor. Because his head felt as if it had been c
racked open and was still spinning, Gabe suddenly found himself on his back. Wynters was on top of him, his hands wrapped around his throat. The detective had fifty pounds on him. Gabe struggled to claw his hands off, but he was rapidly losing consciousness.

  From a great distance away, he heard it, heard the guttural scream as a crack of thunder echoed.

  Or was that the sound of a gun being discharged?

  He felt the pressure against his throat loosen. Beginning to suck in air, he still couldn’t draw in enough to counteract the effects of being choked. His efforts to breathe were further impeded by the sudden heavy weight that slumped over him.

  Wynters.

  Angel dropped the gun she’d fired. Wynters’s gun. She’d shot him with his own gun.

  Everything seemed surreal.

  Her legs felt like rubber as Angel pushed herself to run the short distance to where Gabe was lying on the floor. Shaking badly, she grabbed one of Wynters’s arms and dragged his literally dead weight off Gabe. Once she’d separated the two, she dropped to her knees and anxiously scanned Gabe’s body to see if he had any other wounds on him.

  Why wasn’t he opening his eyes? Her panic mounted. “Gabe, are you all right? Can you hear me?” She was sobbing now, afraid she’d been too late.

  Behind her there was all sorts of commotion, but she could only focus on Gabe.

  “Gabe, please. Answer me,” she pleaded.

  He opened his eyes then, just the barest hint of a smile feathering along his lips. “I was right. You really are something else,” he told her weakly.

  She let out a ragged sigh, sinking back on her heels. Tears fell freely. He was alive. Gabe was alive. She could handle anything else that came her way as long as Gabe was alive.

  Only then did she realize people were talking to her, asking questions. It took her a few moments to orient herself and focus on what they were saying. And then she saw Rick. Angel could have cried with relief.

  “Are you all right?” he asked her, taking her hands and helping her to her feet.