by Bacarr, Jina
He let out the breath he’d been holding.
He was okay now.
With caution, Jared made his way around the perimeter of the cottage until he found a clear vantage point. The circle on the glass Kristen had made earlier was frosted over, but he could see her inside the cottage. He couldn’t help but stare at her for a long moment, relieved. There she was, hands on her hips, defying the jerk in that way of hers that gave a man pause to wonder what it would be like to carry her off and make mad love to her.
Why in the hell such a thought scorched his brain when her life was in danger he didn’t know, but it flooded him with guilt. Keeping desperately to the hope of holding her in his arms again, he flashed back to her looking out that same window earlier tonight. Waiting for him to bring Rachel home, trusting him that he wouldn’t fail her.
He imagined her all smiles and teary-eyed when she heard a man’s footsteps coming up the walkway, thinking it was him. Did she hesitate before she opened the door? Had she been wishing he would return? He wanted with every inch of his being to believe she would have welcomed him back.
But it wasn’t him and a sick feeling suffocated him, thinking about the scene that had followed. Unbearable. Christ, the man put his hands on her, running his fingers over her bare skin like she was a prize kewpie doll he’d won in a carnival.
Jared ground his teeth together and tried to swallow. He couldn’t. Instead he tasted bile in his throat. It sickened him. Because of his inability to face the truth earlier, that he needed help but he was too proud to admit it, she’d had to face the terror of this worthless scum who dared to touch her.
Worse, the man hadn’t stopped looking at her with hunger in his eyes.
With the cunning of a coyote, his back hunched before he pounced on his prey, the bank robber picked his teeth with a knife. Taking his time, enjoying watching her sweat and trying to protect her child.
Jared sucked in his breath. From what he could see, the man had no gun, but a knife could be just as deadly. Then the man said something that made Kristen cry out with an agonizing fear. She shielded Rachel with her body. There was no mistaking the message clearly written on her face.
He intended to kill her. And her child.
Time to move.
Now.
* * * * *
Never, never had Kristen felt more helpless than she did as she wrapped Rachel in her heavy winter coat. She’d nearly died when he threatened to toss them both in the SUV without coats or gloves. They’d freeze in no time in this bitter cold, she’d told him. Grumbling, he let her grab her little girl’s coat, but that didn’t change anything. She had no choice but to do as he asked.
Pray she was right that Jared was somewhere outside. Watching, waiting.
Surely he’d see them leave, stop them before the robber pushed them into the SUV. He wouldn’t let them go.
I was so wrong to let you leave, Jared.
I pray I’ll live to tell you that.
Behind her, the man was looking under the couch, the chair, everywhere for more money. No time to look for her gloves, but she grabbed a pink knitted cap and tied it under her little girl’s chin. Then she sat back on her heels and let out a deep sigh. The child looked like she was going out to play in the snow, not be a hostage to a madman.
“I’m scared, Mommy,” Rachel said, grabbing her and holding her. God, she was shaking, her eyes big and glossy. Kristen felt a surge of hatred toward the thief for doing this to her child. She pulled her hard against her chest, keeping her in a grip so tight she never wanted to let her go.
“Me, too, baby.”
She had never known fear like this, making her so tense she was afraid she’d resort to hysteria if the man went through with his dirty threats and tried to touch her again.
Her little girl’s warm breath on her face did little to calm her fears. Her chest heaving up and down. Her eyes tearing. This child, whom she loved more than anything in the world, depended on her to protect her.
I can’t let him hurt my child.
I have to do what I must, whatever it is.
“Hurry up,” yelled the thief, his patience wearing thin. “I ain’t got all day.”
“I have to get my coat,” Kristen said with what she hoped was nonchalance. She didn’t dare let him see her glance out the window one, twice, then again, hoping to catch the movement of the tall sergeant.
So far, nothing.
She let out a deep sigh and, with reluctance, she opened the hall closet. The familiar smell of mothballs filtered through her nostrils, sending strange thoughts through her mind. Her hands shook as she reached for her heavy coat. What if she was wrong and Jared hadn’t come back? If she and Rachel got into the van with this insane man, they’d never get out alive.
She conjured a mental image of her grabbing the knife away from him, cutting her hand with the blade, the pain searing through her but she didn’t stop, thinking of Rachel, only of Rachel and keeping her out of the hands of this madman. Then plunging forward with her whole body on fire and—
Stabbing him.
Dear God, what insanity has come over me?
She nearly broke down at the thought that she would even consider such a vile idea. Panic seized her as she searched for an answer. Yes, it was horrible, but it was also survival. And to survive, for her child to live, she’d have to do the very thing that was her greatest fear. She’d have to find a way to stop him, even if it meant using his weapon against him.
Oh, God, no!
She let go with a long shudder through her body, her nerve endings tingling, understanding for the first time the difficult, gut-wrenching decisions Jared faced on the battlefield, knowing each day, each moment, he and his men must be ready to take down the enemy to survive.
She understood now how passionately Jared was committed to maintaining faith in his mission, how he cared for the men under his command, his unwavering commitment to them. He was a man of complete integrity and that was why he’d come here.
For Scott. And for her.
She prayed she’d have the chance to tell him that. To help him peel back the painful layers of war and sacrifice and release his fears. And to heal.
She put on her heavy coat, the warm fleece lining providing some protection if she was going to get the knife away from him—
Wait, what was that? A banging sound?
She shot her head around in time to see the thief cutting up cheese on her chopping board, reveling in slicing each piece. To her relief, he was so focused on stuffing his mouth with yellow chunks, he didn’t notice her looking out the window at frequent intervals.
But she was looking in the wrong direction.
The hairs on the back of her neck stood up when a slight breeze caressed the nape of her neck. As silent as a Dickens’ ghost and just as magical, she felt his presence before she saw him.
Jared.
There, coming out of the shadows behind the thief, holding a long flashlight. Inwardly, she wanted to jump out of her skin, but outwardly she struggled to remain calm. Not give him away. He must have sneaked in through a back window.
His eyes flickered for a moment, seeking her out. Locking gazes with her, he nodded toward Rachel, telling her to shield the child from what was about to go down. She wanted to cry out his name with joy, but instead she nodded back. Without a word, she grabbed Rachel and turned her face away, but not soon enough.
“Mommy, look!” the little girl cried out. “It’s Santa Claus!”
Kristen emitted a loud groan from the pit of her stomach, clutching her child in her arms, praying the thief would think her Santa sighting was a kid’s holiday fantasy.
“I warned you to keep that kid quiet!” the thief said, his nerves frayed. Fear spread through her when he grabbed his knife, swinging the sharp blade around in a deadly arc. “Get into the van, now!”
She didn’t move, intent on giving the sergeant time to make his move, keeping Rachel pressed up tight against her, stroking her head and pray
ing the thief didn’t take a swipe at them with his deadly blade.
Jared was at his back in an instant, shoving the end of the flashlight into the man’s ribs. “Put down that knife if you want to live to see Christmas morning,” he demanded, the tone in his deep voice chilling.
“Give me a break, Santa,” the man muttered, stopping in his tracks. His eyebrows shot up, but he didn’t lose his cool. With a shrug, he dropped the knife onto the rug. “I didn’t hear you land on the roof.”
“Shut up and drop to your knees before I knock you out cold,” ordered Jared, tossing a roll of duct tape to Kristen, his face drawn and angry. She caught it, and then sent Rachel running to her room. “Wrap our friend up nice and pretty to put under the sheriff’s Christmas tree.”
The robber smirked. “You don’t fool me none with that toy—”
Before Kristen could catch her breath, the thief spun around and tried to grab the sergeant’s ankle, but Jared knocked him backward.
She watched in horror as the man recovered and kicked him in the gut and the flashlight flew out of his grip. Her hand flew to her mouth, hurting so inside for this soldier who’d become a part of her life so quickly.
Jared took the punch with nothing more than a grunt, but the thief had the advantage when the flashlight rolled over the rug toward him. With a silly grin on his face, the man grabbed it and waved it around menacingly.
“Too bad Santa didn’t bring a real gun,” he said with a smirk before flipping on the flashlight and shining it in the sergeant’s eyes.
Jared’s hand shot up to shield himself from the brightness. “Think you’re smart, don’t you?”
“Yeah. I saw it was just a flashlight in the window reflection.”
“But you’re not smart enough. Get back, Kristen,” he yelled, blinking several times before hitting the man, his fists flying in all directions.
She watched as if caught in a spell, wiping her hands damp with sweat on her apron. God, he was like a powerful machine, defending her. And Rachel. She’d never seen anything like it. Her heart bled from the pain of watching him put himself in jeopardy. Her insides clenched into a tight ball when she saw the sergeant slam his arm across the man’s chest, hurling him backward. He crashed into the wall, making the kitchen windows rattle and knocking pans off the shelf.
He’s protecting me. Why? Because Scott asked him to?
Or is there another reason?
Jared wasn’t finished.
His anger fueled his actions, giving Kristen no doubt the thief wished he’d never tried to rob her, much less taunt her with his dirty talk. Jared charged the man and got in a right cross and left hook, and then beat him until he staggered back and forth and collapsed on the floor, groaning and holding his jaw. He rolled from side to side in agony, wheezing and coughing like he couldn’t catch his breath.
Kristen could see his face was bruised and streaked with blood. She almost felt sorry for him, and then she remembered he had every intention of hurting her child. She hoped he’d get what he deserved. A long stay in a place where he couldn’t hurt anyone else.
“Enough…enough,” he begged, sucking in air and dust and putting up his hands in surrender.
“You sorry bastard,” Jared began, “threatening a little girl and her mother. Why I oughta…”
He left his thought unsaid, but Kristen sensed the thief knew he was lucky Jared didn’t lose his head.
The sergeant turned and looked at her, his fists bloody, sweat dripping down his face, but the heated emotion she saw there stunned her. A fierce look that told her he’d protect her against anyone, anything.
She felt her heart squeeze when his eyes widened, giving her the indication that he had surprised himself with how personal his feelings were in taking the man down, that his actions went way beyond duty. She wanted to tell him she liked that about him.
She did so with a grateful smile.
He nodded, reading her thoughts. Kristen couldn’t look away, certain he wanted to say something, but he didn’t. She wished he would take her in his arms, hold her close and nuzzle his face in her hair and then kiss her. That was impossible, of course, but she wished it just the same.
Her shoulders slumped. She was exhausted from the whole ordeal, but grateful to be alive.
And Rachel was safe.
Jared never lost control of the situation. With a loud command to get up, the sergeant leaned down and dragged the man to his feet as they heard heavy footsteps pounding on the porch and the front door burst open.
Now what?
Kristen spun around, not knowing what to expect. Her nerves taut, she grabbed the iron poker off the floor, ready to pounce on whoever came through that door. Did the thief have an accomplice?
Jared locked eyes with hers, clearly telling her he’d handle it and not to put herself in any more danger. She saw something else, too. Hurt. As if it pained him to see her put herself in such an awful situation to protect her child. She braced herself for the worst, but relaxed her bold stance when the chilly air coming in off the snowstorm brought a welcome sight to her bleary eyes.
Sheriff Hogan and his deputy stood at the open door, guns drawn in the classic braced firing position and trained on them. A wild flurry of snowflakes swirled in behind them.
Kristen let out a big, cleansing breath. She was never so happy to see him.
“Merry Christmas, Sheriff,” Jared said, smiling at the lawman as he shoved the bank robber toward him. “He’s all yours. Wrap him up and he’s ready to go.”
Kristen could see the respect for the sergeant in the sheriff’s eyes as he cuffed the thief and his deputy dragged the man out to the waiting patrol car.
“I couldn’t have done a better job myself, Sergeant,” said the sheriff, pushing his cap back on his head. Then he turned to her. “You and the little girl okay, Kristen?”
“Yes, thanks to Sgt. Milano.” She shot him a grateful smile that pleaded with him to stay, and then handed him a towel so he could clean up.
“Just doing my duty, Sheriff,” Jared said with a straightforward look that left no room for questioning. He wiped his face and hands clean. Kristen beamed when he finished with: “I promised Scott I’d look after her and I kept my word.”
She wanted to kiss him for that.
“No doubt the man you caught is the bank robber,” said the sheriff, putting his service weapon back into his holster. “But where is the money he stole?”
“Ask Mr. Carey about that, Sheriff,” said Kristen, and then she explained how the thief told her when he ordered Mr. Carey to open the bank safe, he discovered it was empty.
“Which explains why he broke into the farmer’s trailer looking for money,” said the sheriff. Before he could elaborate, his cell rang and he excused himself to take the call.
Kristen shot a glance at the sergeant, giving him an imploring look.
What about the bagful of money lying on the floor?
How am I going to explain that?
Jared understood and pushed the bag filled with Aunt Gertrude’s savings behind the sofa while the sheriff’s back was turned. No need to explain now. Later would do when the fuss had died down.
“If what the bank robber told Kristen is true,” the sheriff said, clicking off his cell. “I owe it to the folks of Kissing Creek to pay Mr. Carey a friendly visit to explain himself.”
“You mean before he tries to leave town,” Jared said candidly.
“He won’t be going anywhere.” His frown indicated he believed the banker was hiding something. Then with a smirk, he added, “Need a lift, Sergeant?”
Jared shot her a hopeful look. “That’s up to the lady.”
The sheriff looked at Kristen, not judging her, but she knew what was on his mind.
And Jared’s.
He never took his eyes off her, his tall, muscular body overpowering the cottage room with his broad shoulders. Yet he didn’t seem out of place in the cozy setting. Just the opposite. She liked the sound of his heavy boot
s pounding on the floor, his deep voice saying her name, like he’d come home.
To her.
He was still wearing his field jacket, but the sleeve was torn all to hell and he’d ripped off a knee pocket on his pants leaving a hole in the fabric.
She smiled wide. Only a cold-hearted woman would send a man out into the bitter cold dressed like that. Right now she felt as hot-blooded as they came. She was inviting trouble if she did what was in her heart, but if what happened here tonight had taught her one thing, it was that she’d never find peace if she didn’t.
She took a deep breath and made her decision. “I promised the sergeant I’d make him some sugar cookies.”
“And spaghetti,” Jared reminded her, stretching out on the sofa.
The man didn’t waste time, did he? Still, he looked so pleased, so darn happy about what she’d said, she couldn’t help but feel giddy herself. Was that the biggest grin ever to light up a Christmas Eve? she thought, acknowledging his wide smile.
“You’re a lucky man, Sergeant,” said the sheriff as he swung open the front door. He gave a final look in her direction, his sad puppy eyes telling her he knew his luck had run out. “Kristen bakes the best cookies in town.”
Then, taking the cold, snowy wind with him, he was gone.
She waited for Jared to take her in his arms, she knew he wanted to, but he lay on the sofa, staring at her instead.
“Are you sure you’re okay with me staying?” Jared had to ask. “People will talk.”
She smiled. “You’re a hero, and I’m proud to have you in my home.”
“Is that the only reason?” he said, sitting up and edging closer to her, his hands going around her waist. She could see the hesitation, the questions he wanted to ask her but didn’t, the longing he didn’t try to hide.
She was never more sure of anything.
