by Ann Bruce
“What—”
“Get back inside your room. This is police business,” ordered Sergio. His cover had been blown anyway.
The blond head disappeared and Sergio began scanning the call histories on the cellular phones. It didn’t take him long to find what he needed.
Chapter Four
Noelle exited St. Patrick’s Cathedral. The congregation inside was still singing “Joy to the World” and she simply couldn’t handle it. Normally, she loved Christmas mass and after an hour of singing Christmas carols, she’d be feeling at peace with the world, but today, nothing could take her mind off what had happened during the early morning hours.
NYPD, EMS, ME and a whole slew of other acronyms had swarmed the hotel. It had been a zoo. While trying to take it in, she’d wondered if the fifty she’d slipped the taxi driver hadn’t been enough of a bribe. Or had the men in search of Sergio used something more…persuasive than money to make him cough up where he’d dropped off the injured man who’d literally jumped into his vehicle?
After taking two minutes to ensure she wasn’t physically injured, Sergio had disappeared. She assumed he had paperwork to fill out or some such thing. She didn’t know and she told herself she didn’t care.
On the sidewalk outside the church, the chilly air frosting her breath as fat snowflakes drifted down to land on her uncovered head, Noelle made sure her scarf was completely tucked inside her pea coat, stuffed her gloved hands inside her pockets and started walking away from the tall spires of the gothic-style structure.
Instead of going back to the hotel, her feet took her to the gigantic tree lit with seventy-eight thousand tiny lights. Not feeling the cold, she stood there in Rockefeller Center and watched the hundred or so skaters enjoying the rink at the foot of the decorated tree and the golden statue of Prometheus. In the distance, she heard the faint jingle of Salvation Army bells while laughter rang out as people skated by, their blades whispering on the ice. Some were obviously novices as they clutched tightly onto whoever had talked them into putting on blades and venturing out onto a sheet of frozen water. Some were more skilled and showed off by skating backward, performing spins, even some low jumps. Around her, spectators, some warming their hands around cups filled with steaming beverages, oohed and ahhed at the spectacular tree and the brilliant trumpeting angels.
A toddler bundled up in a snowsuit and a white helmet plodded through her vision, gurgling with merriment and clapping his mitten-covered hands, obviously thrilled to be skating without aid. A young woman holding the hand of a grade-schooler glided behind him, calling out his name and cautioning him to be careful. Noelle didn’t think he was listening.
A small smile lifted the corners of her lips.
A snowflake landed on her nose and didn’t melt instantly. Noelle swiped at it with her right hand and began walking again. People were hurrying everywhere. Some were on that desperate hunt for last-minute gifts. Most were hurrying home to be with their families and friends. Being small of stature and in no rush to be anywhere, Noelle easily navigated through the crowds.
The display in the Saks Fifth Avenue window drew her, mesmerized her with its intricacy and detail. Mechanical dolls twirled and spun and danced and glided to Tchaikovsky’s most famous ballet in an elaborate display of lights and color. Noelle inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly, feeling a little more of her tension drain away, and continued on, allowing herself to stop and admire all the window displays en route.
She lost track of time. When she reached Macy’s and admired the miniature holiday world they’d created for Jim Henson’s Muppets, complete with Times Square, Central Park, the Empire State Building and the Statue of Liberty, Noelle decided she was ready to head back to the hotel.
Or so she told herself.
When she reached the hotel, her nose and ears were chilled but Noelle kept walking. It was still early and it wasn’t like she had to meet anyone. Besides, she wanted to see the window display at Bergdorf Goodman. She really did. And it was only two blocks from the hotel.
She walked a little faster then slowed down when she reached the beautiful building that had once been the home of the Vanderbilts. Unlike Lord & Taylor’s traditional yet traffic-stopping Nutcracker theme, the dazzling displays in the windows of Bergdorf Goodman were very avant-garde, like something out of the mind of an artist showcased in the Museum of Modern Art. Noelle gazed longingly and wished the department store was still open.
With a wistful sigh, she turned around and took her time covering the two blocks back to the hotel.
Ten minutes later, she exited the elevator car and started down the corridor to the new suite the hotel had given her after the shootings. Without breaking her stride as she rounded a corner, Noelle extracted her card key, looked up and came to an abrupt halt.
Sergio Ramirez, looking drawn, straightened away from the wall and gazed at her, his eyes unreadable.
Despite her orders not to do so, her heart started beating quickly and heavily in her chest. Telling herself not to be a ninny, Noelle closed the distance between them.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, proud that her tone was uninflected.
He reached out a hand then let it drop before it touched her. He ran it through his disheveled hair instead. “I’m sorry.”
She opened the door and held it for him. “For?”
He stepped inside the room then turned to face her. “I had to…take care of something important.”
She nodded, letting the door close behind her. She locked it.
“There was a mole. I had to—”
She waved a dismissive hand, interrupting him. “You don’t have to explain.”
“I want to.” His voice roughened. “And I wanted to make sure you didn’t leave before I had a chance to talk to you.”
Hope burgeoned in her chest, making it difficult to breathe. Then came the fear, reminding her of Gil.
“Say something, damn it,” he snapped, tone no longer conciliatory or apologetic. “And if it’s something I don’t like, you’re not leaving this room.”
Hope won, and something eased in her chest. “I’m thinking,” she said.
“About?”
She smiled, thinking of the suitcase presumably still at Gil's, where it could remain until hell reached absolute zero. “Shopping.”
“What?” He sounded bemused.
She laughed. “You just gave me the perfect excuse to go on a shopping spree.”
His brows snapped together even as he caught her arm and pulled her to him. “I’m going to take that as a yes.”
Her hands came up and cupped his face. “Were you asking a question?”
“Yes.”
Her smile dimmed a little. “What about after?”
“I come visit you in your city.”
“Long distance, then.”
“Yes.” His hands found the small of her back, pulling her closer. “It’s a start.”
She slowly nodded. “It’s a start.” Her hands drifted down to his shoulders. “So do I get to see where you live?”
“Later,” he promised and brought his mouth down to hers.
December 25
Some time later, Sergio wrapped himself around Noelle, molding her softness to the planes and hollows of his body, her back to his front. Lips brushing her ear, he murmured, “You were on Santa’s nice list this year.”
Noelle slanted a questioning look at the man behind her.
“You got me, didn’t you?”
A slow smile lit her face. “And you even unwrapped yourself.”
About the Author
Ann Bruce is the pseudonym for a self-professed computer geek who, in between snowboarding, reading comic books, and wearing out the buttons of her PS2 controller, writes because it’s an acceptable means of explaining all the conversations that take place in her head.
Ann welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email address on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.
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Also by Ann Bruce
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Fall Dead
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