by Rita Herron
Sheila gave him a cautious, frightened look, as if he shouldn’t promise something that might be impossible.
But if he didn’t bring Angelica back, he’d damn sure die trying.
“What about your shoulder?” Sheila asked. “And you’ll need backup.”
“My shoulder’s fine,” Max said. “I’ll call for backup when I find them. I’m going to see Coper now, and make him tell me who the man is.” He patted Stevie’s back, then gave Sheila a warning look. “Don’t go to Angelica’s, the man might go there, looking for him.”
Sheila nodded and took Stevie. Max handed her his keys, then jumped into the police car Sheila had arrived in, and radioed for an APB to be issued on the white van. He’d only gotten the first two letters of the license plate, but he relayed those to the dispatch officer, as well.
His pulse raced as he drove toward Pandora’s Box. A few minutes later he pinned Coper to his desk. “Tell me who that man was I saw leaving your office, and what his connection is to Gina North.”
“I—want a lawyer!” Coper stammered.
“Listen, Coper, I don’t give a damn about your operation here right now. That man killed Gina, and now he has her sister. If you don’t cooperate, I’ll hold you accountable for murder.”
Coper collapsed and folded like a rag doll. “His mother worked for me. His name is Hank Hummings.”
“Where does he live?”
Coper scribbled an address as he wiped sweat from his brow. “I had nothing to do with Gina’s murder.”
Max shoved him backward in the chair. “If I find out you did and you covered for Hummings, I’ll be back. And no amount of money or any lawyer will keep you out of jail this time.”
Max stormed from the office, ran to his car and called in the address for backup as he sped toward Peachtree Parkway. His stomach clenching, he cut around vehicles and traffic, wishing like hell the last-minute shoppers would get off the road. Angelica’s life depended on him.
He couldn’t lose her. Not now.
The afternoon rush hour had begun early and an accident on I-285 had traffic in a tangle. He cursed, then realized that Hummings wouldn’t be waiting in the thick traffic, either, so he swerved off the interstate, frantic.
Static popped over the radio and he tapped it, then called in his location. “Do you have anything on the van?”
“A unit just spotted it near Piedmont Park.”
Gina’s house wasn’t very far from there. He sped up, made a turn and headed toward the little house. Sweat beaded on his forehead and trickled down his jaw as an image of Angelica’s terrified face flashed into his mind. Unbidden, he saw her lying on the floor, bloody and glassy-eyed in death like her sister.
No…
He had to make it in time. Angelica could not die.
He had to save her and take her back to Stevie.
Chapter Nine
When Angelica finally regained consciousness, the sight of the yellow police tape around her sister’s house brought a fresh wave of panic and grief. She swallowed hard, had to stay alert to look for an opportunity to escape.
Hummings jerked her from the van and dragged her toward the door. He kicked the door open, then shoved her inside. The den floor with its shattered Christmas tree looked macabre in the waning sunlight. Outside, the wind had picked up, banging branches against the windowpanes, as if threatening a storm like the one that had been so blustery the night Gina had died.
“Come on,” Hummings snarled. “I have a plan.”
She balked, digging in her heels, although a dizzy spell made the room swirl. “What kind of plan?”
“I still need the boy, and now that cop. I have a feeling if I call, they’ll come running.”
She sucked in a sharp breath. “Max will never let you have Stevie.”
“Not even to save your life?”
“No.” Even if he suggested a trade, she wouldn’t allow it.
Hummings laughed in her face, then shoved her into the wing chair in the den. The bloodstain on the floor mocked her as he grabbed a piece of rope from his pocket to tie her arms and feet.
She had to act now. She pitched forward as if she were going to faint, then brought her knee up into his groin. He bellowed, rage flaming his face as he yanked at her hair. She reached for the chair, swung it toward him, tried to poke him with the legs, but he jerked it from her and flung it across the room. Wood splintered and the window shattered. Then he back-handed her face. She bounced into the wall, her head connected with the door edge and she slumped to the floor. Then everything went black.
MAX HAD RADIOED for backup, but he didn’t intend to wait. Angelica’s life depended on it. He burst inside the house, hoping to catch Hummings off guard. A shot pinged off the wall by his head, and he ducked behind the door, then angled himself to see inside the den. Angelica was lying on the floor just as her sister had been. God, no. She couldn’t be dead.
“Go ahead and pull the trigger,” Hummings shouted. “But before I die, I’ll finish her off.” Hummings aimed his pistol at Angelica.
Fury rippled through Max. He was an excellent marksman, but his hand was shaking as he raised his gun. One bullet to the center of the man’s head and he’d crack like ice.
But if he missed, the man would shoot Angelica.
She moaned and lifted her head, and his heart soared with relief. Her terrified gaze met his and she mouthed the words, I love you.
His heart squeezed as he pulled the trigger.
Angelica screamed as Hummings fell on top of her. Blood seeped from his forehead where Max had shot him.
Max ran toward Angelica and shoved the man off her. He was dead.
Panting, he pulled Angelica into his arms and held her.
An hour later, after the police had arrived and he’d relayed the events as they’d unfolded and Angelica had filled in the blanks of Hummings’s motives, Max drove Angelica to the police station.
The minute Stevie saw her enter, he jumped up from Sheila’s lap and ran toward her. Angelica, still shaken, swooped the child into her arms. “It’s all over, baby. We can go home now.”
Stevie snuggled against her and Max’s heart clenched. Sheila gave him a questioning look as he left to drive them home.
But he had no answers. Angelica had said she loved him.
But he was the same man he’d always been. Although he wasn’t a drinker or a gambler like his father and although he’d almost had a heart attack back there when he’d thought Angelica was dead, he wasn’t a family man, either.
EVEN THOUGH Max was quiet on the ride home, almost brooding, Angelica refused to recant her admission of love. She wouldn’t push Max, either. He had kept his promise. Found her sister’s killer. Protected Stevie with his life. And saved her in the end.
What more could she ask from him?
That night after Max left, Stevie tugged at her hand. “Why didn’t Max spend the night again?”
“Because we’re safe now, honey.” Neither one of them could expect any more.
“Come on, it’s almost Christmas.” Angelica tried to sound cheerful. “Let’s decorate the tree and wrap some presents.”
Stevie took her hand and together they started their life as a family.
However anxiety still plucked at Angelica as she tucked Stevie into bed later that night. She still had to worry about Stevie’s real father returning and wanting custody of Stevie….
THE LAST TWO DAYS had passed without a word from Max. He had sent over a security company to change all of Angelica’s locks and install a security system. She’d talked to Sheila, who assured her Max was fine, that she wished she had answers to his commitment problems, but she didn’t.
Stevie still had a few nightmares, but they were slowly fading. He’d even written a new Dear Santa letter. Angelica’s heart had broken when she realized he’d drawn the bicycle again without training wheels. Only this time, the man pushing him on the bike was Max.
The doorbell rang and she ran to answer it,
praying it wasn’t Eddie Germane. She’d hoped to wait until after the holiday to deal with him, but after seeing the final story that had been printed about Gina’s murder, he’d already phoned twice, harassing her. She was certain he didn’t really want Stevie, only Gina’s money. And Angelica was determined that she keep Stevie, and that the money go into a trust for Stevie’s education.
Sheila, Mikey and Sheila’s fiancé stood in the doorway dressed in bright red sweaters. “I’m glad you guys are going with us to the orphanage,” Sheila said. “But we have another stop to make before we go to the station and collect the presents.”
Angelica narrowed her eyes, but Sheila only shrugged, although a mischievous smile warned Angelica that Sheila was up to something.
A few minutes later they stopped at a small apartment complex, and Sheila ordered them all out of the car. The moment Angelica spotted Max’s SUV, she had a feeling she knew Sheila’s plan. And that Max wouldn’t be happy to see them.
He opened the door, looking rumpled and sexy in a Braves sweatshirt and jeans. A bottle of Scotch stood on the coffee table, making her wonder if he’d been drinking.
“Happy Christmas Eve, Malone,” Shelia chirped. “Come on, we need you to go with us to the orphanage.”
Max frowned, but his look softened as he spotted Stevie.
“I told you I’d pass this year.”
Sheila spied the whiskey. “What, so you can start on that bottle?”
“It’s not open,” Max huffed.
“We need a Santa, and you have to be it.” Sheila shoved a bag toward him. “Now, get dressed.”
“What the—” He caught himself. “You know better. I don’t play Santa.”
“The captain has the flu,” Sheila said. “Morrison is in the hospital with a kidney stone. Adkins and Murphy are working other cases. You’re it.”
Max’s panicked look almost made Angelica laugh.
“Please, Max,” Stevie said, tugging at his arm. “The kids at the orphanage are waiting.”
Max’s gaze shot to Angelica. “I want Stevie to know that Santa is good,” she whispered. “Not to remember him the way he did before.”
Another pained look tightened Max’s face, but he reached for the bag and begrudgingly accepted the Santa outfit.
MAX HAD FELT like a fool in the big furry getup, but he had to admit that seeing the kids faces light up had warmed his soul. A soul that had been dying ever since he’d left Angelica’s two nights before.
She loved him. He didn’t know why, but she did. And he was damned if he knew what to do about it.
Sheila and her family disappeared after the cookies and punch, and he wound up driving Angelica and Stevie back to her house.
“Thank you, Max,” Angelica said.
He gritted his teeth. He wanted to kiss her so damn badly he could taste her.
But she smiled, offered him an understanding look, then ushered Stevie from the SUV. “Come back to see us,” Stevie said.
Max nodded and ruffled the little boy’s wiry hair, although he knew he probably wouldn’t visit. He couldn’t get addicted to being part of their family life. It was too damn tempting.
“Merry Christmas,” he said gruffly.
Angelica smiled, then gave him a long, lingering, hungry look before she rushed Stevie in out of the cold.
Max drove home, a light snow falling, the crystalline white flakes dotting the windshield, fogging up the window. When he entered his apartment, the bourbon bottle was there on the table, teasing him to take a drink and forget his sorrows. That he was lonely tonight.
That he missed Angelica and Stevie. That he hadn’t wanted to leave them alone, that he’d wanted to go inside and spend the night with them.
Maybe forever.
But did he have the courage to tell her what he wanted? And would the boy accept Max into their lives? What kind of father would he be anyway? A disappointment like his own?
Loss and fear speared through him. He didn’t want to feel lonely. Needy. Didn’t want to ache for Angelica or her nephew.
He especially didn’t want to disappoint them.
Frustrated and telling himself he’d done the right thing, he reached for the bottle, screwed off the lid, about to take a swig to dull the pain. But Stevie’s precious face and Angelica’s beautiful smile floated into his mind and he stalked to the kitchen sink and poured the scotch down the drain. He couldn’t miss what he’d never had. The very reason he shouldn’t have tasted Angelica again.
Or gotten involved with her family.
ANGELICA’S HEART ached for Max, but she reminded herself that she and Stevie were a family. That the two of them would survive. All she had to do now was to fight Eddie Germane.
Christmas morning she woke early, dressed in sweats, then rushed to make coffee and turn on the Christmas lights before Stevie awakened. But he appeared on the steps in rumpled pajamas before she made it to the den, his hair sticking up in all directions.
“Do you think Santa came?” she whispered, wishing she could have found another train.
Stevie nodded, although a skeptical look crossed his face. The child had had so many disappointments. Angelica wanted this day to be perfect.
She took his small hand in his and they tiptoed to the den, then she flicked on the tree lights. The room burst into a glow of twinkling colors. Suddenly a train churned and whirred around the sparkling tree.
Stevie’s eyes widened. “Santa brought me a new train.” His eyes glittered as his gaze traveled over the presents. The bicycle. A dinosaur play tent. A baseball bat and skates. Except for the train, they were all gifts from her as Santa.
A train conductor’s hat lay on the sofa with Stevie’s name spelled in bright red letters, too. One she hadn’t bought. Stevie jammed it on his head just as the doorbell rang.
Angelica laughed and raced to answer it, wondering who was visiting so early and who’d bought the train. Maybe Sheila and Mikey.
Max stood on the other side, looking sexy and sheepish, his arms loaded with gifts. “Mind if I come in, Angel?”
“You brought the train?” she whispered.
He lifted a finger to his lip. “No, Santa.”
Her heart pitter-pattered as she ushered him inside. When Stevie saw him, his eyes lit up. “Max, come look! Santa came. He’s real! He’s really real! He brought me a train and a bicycle without training wheels and a tent and skates and a baseball bat.”
“I see, buddy.” Max dumped the other presents under the tree, then hugged Stevie. “What did he bring your aunt?”
Stevie clapped his hands. “I don’t know.”
Max pointed to the stocking with Angelica’s name on it. She looked inside and removed an envelope. Her eyes misted with tears as she opened it. It was a formal document with Stevie’s birth father’s signature, giving her full custody of Stevie. “Oh, Max. I…don’t know what to say. How did Santa manage?”
Max winked. “He has his ways.”
She laughed through her tears. “This is the best present I could have gotten.”
He shifted, looking uncomfortable. “Uh, well. There’s something else inside.”
Her stomach fluttered as her fingers connected with a small box. She met Max’s gaze, questions in her eyes. It was probably earrings, maybe a necklace. She was too afraid to hope.
“Open it, Angel.”
Her hands trembled as she smoothed a finger over the velvet box. Then she lifted the lid and gasped. A solitaire diamond twinkled beneath the glittering Christmas lights. The firelight illuminated Max, as he dropped to one knee.
“Will you marry me, Angel?”
Her breath locked in her chest. “Oh, Max, it’s beautiful. Of course, I’ll marry you. I love you so much.”
Max swept her into his arms for a kiss and the world faded. She knew nothing but his lips, his body and the elation she felt at Max’s proposal. Then a giggle punctuated the air and she and Max pulled apart. Stevie laughed and covered his eyes.
Seconds
later his smile wilted into a frown. “Max?”
Max knelt beside him. “What’s wrong, buddy?”
“Angel and I…we didn’t buy you a present.”
Max scooped up Stevie and pulled Angelica into his arms. “Are you kidding? I got the best present of all. You, and an Angel for Christmas.”
Stevie giggled again and they all hugged, the splendor of Christmas warming Angelica’s heart as her life loomed full of promise. She would always miss her sister, and would keep her memory alive for Stevie. But today, the three of them would be happy.
