Christmas Confidential: Holiday Protector

by Marilyn Pappano

  Miri took a step and bumped the table, surprised it was there. With a quiet, “It’s okay,” Dean nudged her around it, and by the time she cleared the other side, Sophy was there, grabbing her in a breath-stealing embrace.

  Something inside Miri broke, some ice, some force that had kept her going the past twenty years, and she sagged against her younger sister, tears seeping from her eyes. For the first time since she’d sat at her mother’s deathbed, she cried.

  “I’ve wondered, I’ve hoped, I’ve prayed... Oh, Ali, I thought I’d never see you again!” Sophy pushed her back a little, her hands tightly gripping Miri’s, and gave her a sweeping look. “You haven’t changed except for getting taller. We still look so much alike except you’re still so gorgeous.”

  They did look alike, though Sophy’s features had such sweet softness to them. Miri knew she looked harder, tougher, but that was okay. Toughness could fade.

  Finally Miri found her voice, and of course, her comment was inane. “You’re all grown-up.”

  “Twenty years will do that. How did you find me?”

  “The internet. You and Oliver and Chloe.” And dear old Dad. “Have you seen...?”

  Tears welling, Sophy shook her head. “I tried a few times to find them, to find you, but...” Her eyes darkened with sadness. “I did find Mom’s obituary a few years ago. I went to Asheville, to see if you were still there, or the little ones, and I visited her grave. Have you seen the kids?”

  “Not yet. I wanted to see you first. I wanted to bring you—” Miri freed her hands and tugged the backpack from her shoulder. First she pulled out the storybook, rewarded with instant recognition, then she removed the bear.

  Sophy’s eyes lit with delight. “Boo! Oh, my gosh, I can’t believe you kept him for me. Mom and Dad—I mean, my adoptive parents—bought me every teddy bear they could find to replace him. They couldn’t accept that he was irreplaceable.” She hugged him, then swiped at her eyes. “Oh, Ali, thank you!”

  Dean came to stand beside Miri, and she glanced at him long enough to see that she was definitely going to hear I told you so from him a time or three. “Sophy, this is Dean Montgomery. He’s, um...” My boyfriend? My lover? The man I love most in the world?

  He offered his hand, and her sister took it. “I haven’t asked yet, but I plan to be your brother-in-law soon.”

  Sophy kissed his cheek. “Welcome to the family, Dean.”

  “Yeah, welcome to the family, Dean.”

  The voice came from behind them, rough, mocking, sending chills through Miri. She’d heard only a few words from that voice, but she recognized it. Stiffly, she turned to face him and his buddy.

  The men from the bus station.

  * * *

  Muscles taut, Dean moved to block both Miri and Sophy from the men’s view. He recognized the flaring of satisfaction that he was right; the run-in with them hadn’t been coincidence. Given that they were both holding guns, he would have much preferred to be wrong. The fact that his own weapon was nestled in the small of his back didn’t offer much comfort, not with the two women behind him at risk.

  “What do you want?” he asked, feeling Miri’s trembling even though she wasn’t actually touching him.

  “Same thing we wanted in Dallas. Her.” That was the man who’d stepped out of the shadows and clipped him on the jaw. He was average height, muscle-bound and ugly as a monkey. The other guy was still grinning, just like that night. “We’d’ve been happy to settle for just her then, but Mr. Garvin said if she led us to anyone else, especially a pretty little blonde who looks just like her, we could take you all.”

  “You’d really risk life in prison for a cut of $110,000?” Dean shook his head. “You’re stupider than you look.”

  The smiling guy snorted. “There’s no risk if you don’t get caught. Besides, we’re getting a hell of a lot more than that.”

  Monkey Guy moved a few slow steps closer. “Let’s talk stupid, Montgomery. First, remember the other night when you told us you were carrying a .45? Give it up. Set it on that table in front of you.”

  Grimly Dean pulled the pistol from its holster and, holding it by two fingers, carefully set it on the table.

  The man shoved the gun into his coat pocket. “Second, you really believe Smith hired you to recover his money, don’t you? With all his millions, he don’t give a damn about what she took. He knew you’d had a thing with her. He knew you was the one she’s most likely to trust. As long as we kept her scared enough to stay with you, we could follow right where she went.” He paused. “And then clean up.”

  “You put a GPS tracker on my car before she was released.” Disgust with himself tasted ugly. He’d helped them keep track of her. He’d led them here, damn it. Some P.I. he was.

  Then a worse realization settled in his gut. “Smith knows who she really is.”

  A soft gasp came from behind him. Miri had thought Smith was clueless about her, that he’d written her off as part of a disastrous practice family, but she’d been wrong. He hadn’t forgotten, and he had far more than money to lose. God, how could he have misjudged the bastard so completely?

  Monkey Guy nodded. “He seen some pictures of her after she was locked up. Didn’t take him long to figure it out.”

  Of course not. Sophy had been six years old the last time she’d seen Miri, but she’d needed only moments to recognize her.

  “A man in his position, he’s gotta do what he’s gotta do.”

  Twenty-four hours ago, Dean had believed the man’s hype. Now he knew Smith was a snake just like these guys. He would do anything to maintain the false image he’d created. Even order his own daughter killed. And if his second daughter and Dean had to die, too, he could live with that, as long as his precious reputation remained intact.

  Monkey Guy shifted his attention to Sophy. “You got a back room to this place?”

  “Y-y-yes.” She raised one trembling hand and pointed to a door half hidden by a hanging quilt.

  “Go on. You two ladies first.”

  Still clutching the bear, Sophy led the way. After a few steps, Miri caught up with her, wrapping her arm around her, murmuring, “I’m so sorry. I never would have come here if I’d known...” And Sophy whispering back, “It’s okay, Ali, it’s okay.”

  The storeroom had originally been the old house’s kitchen. The cupboards remained, but the appliances had been removed, with large cubbies built in their spaces. It offered no weapon, no cover for the women, no island to hide behind, no back door to escape through. Whatever Dean did, he would have to take out both men quickly to minimize danger to Miri and Sophy.

  Once they were all in the room, the three of them against the counter where the sink would have been, the two men just inside the door, Smiley asked, “You got any rope around here?”

  Sophy’s head trembled left to right. Miri scoffed. “It’s a quilt shop, moron. She’s got needles and thread and patterns and fabric.”

  And really sharp scissors, though none were lying around at the moment.

  Monkey Guy nodded, and Smiley began searching cabinets. The best he could come up with was a spool of wide grass-green ribbon dotted with striped Easter eggs. He started with Sophy, pulling her away from the counter, tying her hands behind her back, shoving her to the floor six feet away.

  Miri eased a step closer to Dean, looking up at him, her expression fearful. “I’m sorry.”

  “Me, too.”

  “I love you.”

  Typical Miri. Admitting something that important when it just might be too late to mean anything. He was about to murmur the words back when a faint sickly smile touched her lips and she mouthed, Get ready.

  Get ready? What the hell was she planning?

  The answer came quickly enough when Smiley reached for her. As he tried to turn her, she danced away to t
he side, forcing him to move with her in a struggle to gain control. “Please, don’t tie my hands, please. I spent too much time in handcuffs, I really can’t handle it, please, please—”

  Her last words were drowned by a scream. Not smiling anymore, Smiley spun away in a crouch, cursing, hands over his face and blood streaming over his fingers. The knife she’d lifted from the glove box, its blade bloodied, was in her right hand, the sight almost enough to turn Dean’s stomach before he launched himself at Monkey Guy.

  They both hit the floor hard, and the man’s gun flew from his hand, striking the floor in the shop, discharging once with a thunderous bang before sliding to a stop. Straddling him, Dean fumbled in the guy’s jacket for his own gun, bringing the barrel a scant inch from the sweet spot right between the man’s eyes. “I warned you,” he said softly. “This HK will make your Christmas very unmerry. Don’t even blink.”

  Without taking his gaze from Monkey Guy, he asked, “Miri, you all right?”

  “I am. I’ve got his gun.”

  He grinned. “I warned you about Blondie, too. You don’t want the kind of trouble that she’ll bring.” He risked a glance at her then, bloody knife in one hand, Smiley’s pistol in the other, looking as if she could continue kicking ass all day, and added with certainty, “But I do.”

  * * *

  Christmas Eve was sunny but cold, the snow they’d left behind scheduled to arrive before midnight. Miri hoped it would. A white Christmas would be nice, wouldn’t it? It was cozy here in Sophy’s apartment. More important, she wasn’t alone. Her sister was there, she still loved Miri and she wanted to share their lives. Her first Christmas miracle ever.

  No, the second. Dean was the first.

  She and Sophy had talked until their voices were hoarse. Miri had told her...almost everything. Not the details of the first eight years. If Sophy believed the time when it was just Miri and their mom had been much better than reality, what could it hurt? Dean knew the truth, and that was enough for her.

  It was late afternoon. The shop was closed. The two men who’d threatened them the day before were in the Copper Lake jail, one bearing stitches thanks to Miri’s knife work, and all they’d gotten for Christmas were charges of kidnapping and attempted murder. They’d talked until they were hoarse, too, about their boss and his boss, John W. Smith, and the conspiracy to preserve the great man’s reputation.

  Now she and Sophy sat at opposite ends of the sofa in her living room, a fire blazing, their third round of hot cocoa gone, quiet for the first time in hours. Dean had gone out, but he would be back soon to spend Christmas Eve with Sophy’s parents. Her mother had come over that morning, greeting them like long-lost family.

  Family. That was all Miri had wanted for Christmas. She was the luckiest person in the world.

  Heavy treads sounded on the steps outside, then Dean let himself in. His hair was windblown, his cheeks red and snowflakes dusted his shoulders. He hung his coat on a rack near the door, took a small package from the pocket, then came to kiss the top of her forehead before taking a seat across from them. “Got to open a present before we go to the Marchands’ house,” he said, setting the box in the middle of the coffee table.

  “Oh, good.” Sophy jumped to her feet, disappeared into her bedroom, then returned with a very large box, placing it on the floor near Miri. “Open Dean’s first. It’ll make mine even more appropriate.”

  Miri’s hand shook as she picked up Dean’s box. It was beautifully wrapped with a shiny gold bow, too small to be anything besides a jeweler’s box. It could be earrings or maybe a pendant, but deep in her heart she knew it was a ring. I plan to be your brother-in-law soon, he’d told Sophy.

  Miri planned to let him.

  She removed the paper carefully—the first time she’d gotten a gift in years—to reveal the deep blue case and opened the lid. The ring inside was beautiful, a pearl set in gold, a diamond on each side. Blinking away tears, she looked up to find Dean watching her intensely.

  “You saved my life. Now it’s yours.”

  “You saved mine right back.” She slid the ring on her fourth finger. “It’s perfect.”

  He came to kiss her, a long, sweet promise, then nudged her so he could sit beside her. “I love you,” he murmured as Sophy moved the big box to the table.

  She smiled tremulously at him before her sister said, “Now it’s my turn.”

  This gift wasn’t wrapped. It was just a large box, the flaps folded to secure the top. Her name was written in marker across one flap, along with a date five years earlier. Inside was a large tissue-wrapped bundle. Laying it on the table, she began unrolling it, finally revealing a large section of an intricate quilt.

  “It’s a Double Wedding Ring,” Sophy said. “I made one for each of us.”

  Five years ago. Even then, her sister had been thinking about her. Even knowing she might never see her again, she’d created this for her. Miri wiped tears from her eyes. “Thank you. It’s beautiful. I should hang it like a museum piece.”

  Sophy swiped her own eyes. “Oh, hell, no, Ali. I expect you two to conceive my nieces and nephews under it.”

  Miri hugged the quilt. She would never be apart from her sister again, no matter how many miles separated them. The hours of work and skill Sophy had put into the quilt ensured that.

  Clearing her throat, Sophy stood. “I guess we should get going—”

  “Wait.” At Miri’s interruption, she sat down again, but Miri stood. Boo was in a place of honor under the Christmas tree, and she’d seen a pair of scissors in a drawer in the kitchen. She got both, then sat on the coffee table. “Don’t worry,” she said when she saw the concern in her sister’s eyes, then she carefully snipped a dozen stitches from the bear’s side. Once the hole was big enough, she began withdrawing flat packets of money, stacking them neatly, until Boo looked anorexic instead of well-loved and robust.

  “Remember all the child support our father never paid?” She pushed the money toward Sophy. “Merry Christmas, Soph.”

  “Oh, my God. Ali, I can’t take— You should keep— This is—” After a moment she looked up. “Wow.”

  After they restuffed the bear, securing his side with safety pins, Sophy gathered gifts from under the tree while Dean helped Miri into her coat. She pulled the pink hat over her hair, then looked up at him. “Do you still care that I’m not giving back the money?”

  “After your father hired someone to kill you? No way.”

  “I’m sorry I don’t have a gift for you.”

  “You are my gift, Miriam.” His grin, quick and smug and more charming than ever, warmed her. “And I plan to keep unwrapping you for a long, long time.”

  * * * * *

  In memory of my mother, Wanda Strain, and my nephew, Kevin Dillman, who loved the holidays. I know you’re enjoying Christmas in heaven.

  Linda Conrad

  A Chance Reunion

  To my dear mother, who always made Christmas special, even if that meant having spaghetti every Christmas Eve. I can make the spaghetti, Mom, but it’s never the same without you.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 1

  That danged statue of a reindeer sitting on the bar nearby grinned at nothing in particular and blinked its red nose in perpetual holiday cheer.

  Gage Chance didn’t know whether to ignore the too-cute decoration or pull his weapon and blast the miserable cheery monstrosity right off its perch. Christmas. To quote a smarter man than he would ever be, “Humbug.�
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  Downing the last of his longneck, Gage dropped a few bills on the bar and slid off the stool. Tired and frustrated, he was done—for the night and with this trip.

  The trip had been a long shot, anyway. As a professional investigator, he knew better than to take anonymous tips he couldn’t verify. Yet when the email showed up in his inbox, he’d wanted so bad to believe.

  The person you seek can be found in the Piñon Lake area of California.

  That “person you seek” line had to be referring to his lost little sister. He and his brothers had tried in vain for twenty-one years to get a line on Cami’s whereabouts. Even to this day, the FBI still carried an open case file on her.

  She’d been kidnapped from their ranch in Texas at the age of four by their mother’s sister and apparently sold to the highest bidder in Los Angeles. But that’s where the trail ran cold. The aunt’s body was discovered in the L.A. morgue a few years later, dead of an overdose. His family had been concentrating their search for Cami in the southern California area ever since.

  Raking a hand through his hair and resettling his Stetson, he walked toward the door and the too-festive twinkle lights beyond on the street. Even though he’d tried for twenty-four hours after that message came in to find an original IP address for the sender, the internet trail petered out in a maze of international switchbacks and phony addresses. He should’ve guessed it was a gag. Or worse, that it could’ve been someone who wanted to get him out of Chance for a few days.

  Stepping out the door into the lightly falling snow, he pulled his satellite phone from his jacket’s pocket. Better call one of his brothers back at the ranch and make sure everything was okay.

  Travis answered at the main house. “It’s a little late, bro. Remember the time difference? We have a kid in the house and just got her back in bed.” Travis’s yawn came through loud and clear.