A Killer Christmas

by Cherry Adair

  A hundred and fifty- forty- thirty- twenty- He saw the fiery blaze of her hair, the brilliant yellow of her coat, as she and Treadwell fell to the ground in a tangle of arms and legs and started rolling about. Joe saw the glint of a knife in the powerful beam of his Mag light.

  Run, faster, damn it, run. Ninety feet- eighty- He took aim.

  Treadwell and Kendall rolled just as he was about to squeeze off the shot. Shit. She blocked. They rolled again, this time Treadwell on top. Joe fired. The other man jerked with the impact. He tilted.

  Sixty feet- forty-

  Kendall took the window of opportunity and shoved and pushed Treadwell off of her. God Almighty! Instead of running, she surprised the hell out of Joe by jumping on top of Treadwell with a banshee scream of rage. Straddling the man’s waist, she started beating the hell out of his head and shoulders with her fists.

  Twenty feet- Ten- Kendall- Joe grabbed her arm, flinging her aside just as Treadwell’s knife arced toward her chest. He grabbed the killer’s wrist, placed his weight on the knee he applied to the man’s chest, then dug the muzzle of the H&Khard to the underside of the guy’s chin.

  "Play with me, dick. " Joe's voice was low and feral as he applied pressure to a tendon in Treadwell’s knife hand.

  The hold should've caused his fingers to release, but Treadwell’s fingers, slick with blood, remained fisted around the hilt of the gleaming surgical knife. Joe dug his knee into the man’s chest and exerted more pressure on his wrist.

  "Talk to me Kendall," he yelled, keeping his eyes fixed on the killer. "Talk to me, sweetheart!"

  "I-I’m okay," she replied, out of his line of sight.

  "I won’t go back there," Treadwell told Joe vehemently, eyes wild, FBI coat splotched with blood. It sure as hell better not contain one drop belonging to Kendall. "You can’t make me." He attempted to jerk his hand free. "Not going to happen. I won’t go back."

  Joe kept up the pressure of his thumb on the man’s wrist, but the scalpel remained firmly in Treadwell’s bloody, but bloodless hand. In one lithe move Joe surged to his feet, dragging Treadwell up with him. The fingers he had around the knife hand remained there like a vice, his weapon stayed put under the weak jaw.

  "Oh, you don’t have to go back if you don’t want to," Joe assured him with silky menace. "In fact, I insist that you d-"

  "Oh, God! Joe, watch out!"

  He felt the sharp jab of pain in his side a second before Kendall’s warning. Damn it to hell! Treadwell producing a second knife – bigger and considerably more effective – and stabbed him right through the hide of his coat. Ah, crap. The other man was also left-handed.

  Twisting to deflect the depth of the strike, Joe lifted the H&K. Pop. Pop.

  Pop.

  Treadwell’s eyes widened in surprise as he crumpled to his knees, then slowly toppled to his side. His sightless eyes stared at the dawn flooded sky as bright arterial blood drenched the snow at Joe’s feet a satisfying crimson.

  Joe plucked both knives from Treadwell’s limp fingers. He’d only fired two shots.

  Kneeling, he felt for a pulse beneath the crazy bastard’s jaw. Dead. Perfect. He turned his head to see Kendall, eyes narrowed, still standing in the classic firing stance.

  She looked like an avenging angel with her red hair blowing in the wind, the golden glow of a new day backlighting her. "Is he dead?"

  "As the proverbial doornail." Joe assured her as he rose. He kept his gaze on her face as he tossed aside both knives and walked toward her.

  "I’m not sure exactly what that is," Kendall said with only a small tremor in her voice. "But if it’s very dead I’m all for it."

  "Very," Joe assured her, touching the blood on her cheek, and using every ounce of willpower not to fly into a murderous rage and kill Treadwell again.

  "But you won't mind if I check for myself?"

  "You shot him, I insist."

  "I did. Didn't I?" Kendall crouched beside the body, feeling under Treadwell's chin for a pulse.

  "Well?" he asked after several moments filled with her ragged breathing and the susurrus of the snow drifts blowing across the surface of the snow between the tree trunks.

  With his help, she got to her feet. "Dead as a doornail."

  She wrapped her arm around his waist and leaned her head against his chest. Joe wrapped both arms around her. The perky yellow coat was slashed to ribbons, she was shuddering with cold and the sudden loss of adrenaline that had kept her going. Fuck it, it kept her alive.

  She needed medical attention, and he had to get her out of the frigid wind which was picking up again. "Did he cut you?"

  She shook her head against his chest. "No."

  "Liar. How bad?"

  "Bet I won’t need one stitch," she assured him, clutching the front of his coat in both hands as she stood in the circle of his arms. Her casual tone was hard won, the terror was still clear in her expressive eyes.

  An unfamiliar aching tenderness gathered inside him. He had to clear the thickness from his throat before he could speak. "You won’t mind if I play doctor later, and check that out for myself."

  "No playing. If you want to be my doctor you have to take the job seriously," Kendall’s lips curved. "I insist on a complete and thorough physical."

  "I concur. Top to bottom and everything in between. Let’s get the hell out of Dodge before then. Come on." He wrapped his arm around her, and they walked between the trees and out into a paddock.

  A grudging dawn painted the pristine snow a sullen gray/pink as Joe swung her into his arms.

  In the distance he saw the posse arriving. Dozens of local cops, Feebs, and Federal Marshals racing across the tinged snow toward them. There’d be questions and more questions-

  He veered off and headed in the opposite direction. "How do you like the great outdoors so far?" he asked conversationally.

  She pulled a comical face as she looped her arms around his neck. "Not very."

  "Yeah, I can see how the situation would require some rehabilitation," Joe sighed. "The kids would like it out here, though."

  She shot him an amused glance as they walked. "Whose?"

  "Ours." He rubbed her arm. "Four do you think?"

  "Don’t you think we should go on a few dates before we start naming our children?"

  "How many?"

  "Children?"

  "No dates. How many dates would you consider appropriate?"

  "Your call."

  "Okay. Three."

  They came to the snowmobile Treadwell had left under the trees. "Hop aboard," Joe said, helping her maneuver onto the machine.

  "Aren’t we a couple of stages beyond dating?" He asked politely, starting the engine.

  "No," Kendall told him, wrapping her arms about his waist and resting her cheek on his back. "We are not several stages past dating. I want movies, and dinners, and flowers. You can start by calling me."

  The snowmobile picked up speed. Anticipation made Joe’s heart pick up speed too. Four miles to a bed. "I don’t have your phone number," he shouted as the wind carried them forward.

  "I programmed it into your cell phone last night," Kendall laughed, her breath warm against his cheek.

  They burst through the trees. Ahead was a pristine expanse of white, pure and fresh and untouched. It held only a few small shadows and was tinged with the promise of sunshine. Kendall tightened her arms about his waist as they approached the house and he shut off the engine.

  A group of grim, foot-stamping men waited for them on the porch.

  Kendall averted her gaze from two men carrying one of the bodies out of the house to a waiting snowmobile. "I hate to be ungrateful, but how soon can we get rid of them?"

  Joe helped her off the snowmobile. "Let's have doc Campbell take a look at you. He's the one in the brown coat. While he checks you out, I'll answer questions and speed them on their way."

  The rest of the men were returning from their trek across the snowy field, looking none too happy.

&n
bsp; Joe hugged her against his side as her feet faltered in the soft snow. "While doc looks at that arm, I'll hook up the Christmas light's generator to the water heater so you can take a nice hot shower and defrost. Take your time. I've got this."

  TWELVE

  Treadwell was dead.

  The relief Kendall felt was so profound her body shook with the realization that she was really free. Her mind was numb. Emptied of the awful images branded there for so long.

  She'd gotten away from him again.

  Thanks to the courageous man who had, in the process, stolen her heart. Joe had taken charge, fielded all of the questions from the local cops and insisted the taciturn, white-haired doctor attend to her immediately and thoroughly.

  The cut on her arm hadn't required stitches after all. The doctor cleaned her abrasions and applied a few butterfly bandages on her cuts. He then prescribed a hot bath for her aches and pains which she gladly agreed to do. Kendall had felt worse, much worse.

  It was over.

  A sob caught in her throat as she closed her eyes and rested her head on the rim of the tub. She would've gotten warmer more quickly if Joe had joined her. She waited for him to burst into the bathroom and join her in the decadently ginormous tub. Part of why she'd stayed neck-deep in the jetted tub until her skin started turning pruney. It was no real hardship.

  It had taken a long time to gradually keep adding warmer and warmer water until she had it hot enough to pinken her skin. After she got used to it, the hot water felt amazing against her frozen skin.

  As tempting as it was, she couldn't stay in the nice, toasty warm bathroom forever. She'd probably been in there for an hour.

  For all she knew, he'd left with the others now the danger to her had passed. But if he'd left, surely he would've come to say goodbye?

  She'd put her number in his phone, but she had no idea how to contact him. Was T-FLAC listed? She doubted it. And if he'd left without telling her, he probably didn't want her to contact him anyway, despite his words and actions earlier.

  It was weird she'd bonded with him in such a short time. Maybe fear had imprinted him onto her. Maybe the fact that he'd been here to protect her had been the turn on? Maybe it was because he was sexy and intense and there for her when she needed him? Hell, maybe, it was just incredible chemistry that had nothing to do with danger, fear or Treadwell. Whatever the reason, Kendall felt the connection down to her marrow. Yet, another thing to discuss with her therapist.

  "And a hell of a lot of good thinking like this is going to do me." There was no reason to stay in Montana. If she could get a flight out tomorrow, she'd surprise her family and spend the holidays in Chicago. They'd be thrilled to see her.

  While there was power, she applied eye makeup, and dried her hair before dressing in the long, stretchy red velvet dress she'd planned to wear to the Christmas party. Even if Joe wasn't in the house, Kendall felt more human with makeup on.

  She had no idea what plans he'd had to cancel to be here with her.

  Would he spend Christmas with friends? A girlfriend?

  A look out of the window before she went downstairs showed the sky low and gray. It looked as though it was going to snow again. There were dozens of deep ruts in the pristine snow from the various vehicles coming and going, an indication that the small army of men had left. She winced seeing the giant crack in the tree near the front steps of wrap-around deck, that had nearly scared her to death when it had ripped under the weight of snow. Was that only a few hours ago?

  "Joe?" Kendall called hopefully when she hesitated half way down the stairs, afraid of what she'd see. The lights were on, and it was clear there were no bodies, no blood, no sign that anything dramatic had happened here at all. It was surreal seeing the Christmas decorations looking exactly as they had done before she fled the house.

  The mouthwatering smell of bacon mingled with that of cinnamon and pine. Her stomach rumbled.

  "Kitchen," he called out.

  She let out the breath she'd been holding as she got to the bottom of the stairs and turned into the brightly lit kitchen where the savory smells made her mouth water. Bacon. Pancakes. Eggs.

  There were no signs of a struggle. No indication of the violence and mayhem that had trashed the kitchen earlier. It was a bit surreal seeing Joe, spatula in hand, look up as she walked into the kitchen as if nothing untoward had happened.

  "Everybody left. I answered all the questions to their satisfaction." Putting the spatula down, he came around the island, his eyes never leaving her face. Extending his hand palm up, he looked her up and down. Slowly. "God, you're gorgeous."

  He was gorgeous. The air in her lungs evaporated as Kendall placed her hand in his, palm to palm. His warm fingers closed over hers. His hair was damp and finger combed off his face. Wearing jeans and his cream Aran sweater he looked more delicious than the bacon smelled.

  Kendall smiled all the way to her bare toes. "I'm impressed. You showered and made breakfast?"

  And someone got rid of the blood and gore, thank God. "There's no sign anything happened here. How on earth did they clean up everything so fast? I know it felt as though we were out there forever, but it couldn't have been that long."

  "T-FLAC cleaners. They do this for a living."

  She shuddered. "What a horrible job."

  "Unfortunately, they're kept quite busy."

  "Let's change the subject." She indicated his jeans, which emphasized his long legs. He too was barefoot. "Did you raid our host’s closet?"

  The blinds were raised and the light coming in through the large expanse of the kitchen windows was pale, but the spots in the ceiling brightly illuminated the entire country style kitchen, and did wonderful things to the planes of Joe's strong features. His freshly shaved jaw made Kendall long to cup his face. She resisted.

  "I did." He drew her over to the breakfast nook, where he'd removed the stack of plastic tubs filled with decorations, and set the table with a fir-green tablecloth. He'd found the square, white Christmas dishes with stylistic sprays of red berries and green holly leaves and set the table. The centerpiece was one of the small, decorated potted rosemary trees, twinkling with battery operated lights, from an upstairs bedroom.

  "Come and sit," he guided her to the end of the banquette seat against the wall. "This is our first date."

  "It's a perfect first date." Her heart galloped pleasantly, and a sense of euphoria made anything seem possible. The rush of endorphins made her giddy.

  She smiled as she slid onto the long seat. "This looks fabulous. You went all out." It was the sweetest thing a man had ever done for her. She wouldn't have thought, in a million years that a guy like Joe Zorn could ever be called sweet.

  He hadn't looked 'sweet' when he'd confronted Treadwell earlier. He hadn't looked sweet at all. He'd looked like a guy who'd kill without a second's thought.

  "I hope my culinary attempts impress the hell out of you. I don't do a lot of cooking." He left her at the table and went to open the warming drawer to withdraw several platters which he brought back to the table. "I figured you'd need some downtime. I didn't want to interrupt you. Hope it was long enough for you to regain your equilibrium. Believe me, I should get a prize for my restraint in not coming upstairs to join you in the tub. Coffee, black, right?"

  That was a long speech for Joe.

  Tummy growling, Kendall adjusted two trivets so he could place the hot dishes on the table. "I'll get it." She started to slide off the cushioned bench seat.

  "Stay put." Instead of the fancy coffee machine, he'd made coffee in the same pot she'd used on the stove. He returned with two steaming red mugs.

  She took hers in both hands as he slid in on the other side of the table. Instead of staying there, he scooched over to her side of the bench seat, hip to hip. "We need to fast track." His eyes gleamed wickedly as he cast her a sideways glance. "Twenty-one questions?"

  The air between them sizzled with awareness. With danger off the table, Kendall felt buoyant a
nd optimistic. And unwilling to let this moment pass. "We could just sort of – you know? Skip to the chase?"

  He gave her a stern look. "Absolutely not. You said three dates. You didn't stipulate the time frame, however. I say we have until this afternoon." He dished up crisp bacon, fluffy scrambled eggs, and two, slightly charred pancakes on a separate plate, and added a twig of faux Christmas tree as garnish which made her smile.

  "Favorite color?" He passed her the syrup bottle as she plucked the plastic greenery off her eggs.

  The heat of his thigh pressed along the length of hers seemed to burn her skin.

  Kendall rid herself of the 'garnish', then poured syrup on her pancakes. Starving, she picked up her fork. "Purple. You?" She forked a drippy bite into her mouth. Sweetness exploded on her tongue.

  "Marmalade." He ran his palm over her hair, then leaned in to lick a little drop of maple syrup off the corner of her mouth with a flick of his tongue.

  His dilated pupils were ringed with a sliver of intense blue as he lifted his head.

  The clean, soapy smell of his skin went to her head making her dizzy with longing. Damn it, she craved more than a quick kiss. Turning, she tapped her lower lip. "You missed some."

  "Three dates. . ."

  "Whatever. Kiss me!"

  Her breath snagged in her throat as his head lowered, blocking out the light. With a small sigh, Kendall closed her eyes, parting her lips to welcome him. He stroked her face with gentle fingers, tipping up her jaw to better angle her mouth. She breathed him in, wanting him with a strength and desperation that should have frightened her. Instead her belly quivered with anticipation, and moisture dewed between her legs.

  She opened her eyes.

  The tight intensity of his expression should've scare her to death. Instead Kendall curled her fingers into the springy wool of his sweater, feeling the rock-hard planes of his chest flex under her exploration. She wanted to feel his skin, and dragged her hand down so she could slip her palm under his sweater.

  His skin was hot, smooth satin, his abs contracting at her touch.