A Knight Before Christmas

by Alicia Dean

  the process. Her hand reached out to catch it, but it tumbled

  to the floorboard.

  "Shit."

  Barely able to see in the dim lighting of the car, she

  dabbed at her eyes and felt around until her fingers touched

  the phone.

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  She was about to shove it back into the glove

  compartment when its familiarity caught her attention. This

  wasn't the phone she'd seen Donovan use, but she'd

  definitely seen one like it before. It was identical to the one

  Rudy had. Of course, it couldn't be Rudy's. Maybe this was

  one of Donovan's old phones she'd never seen before.

  The words made sense, but something told her they

  weren't true. A sickening dread filtered through her heart,

  compelling her to find out. She flipped the phone open, but

  the power was off. Pressing down on the 'End' button, she

  waited as the lights and noise announced the phone was

  powering up.

  When the cell phone was fully on, she stared down at it,

  her body beginning to tremble with the awful realization. The

  phone laying in her palm most definitely wasn't Donovan's. It

  belonged to Rudy. The one missing since the accident.

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  Chapter Twenty-One

  Nicolette stared at the phone. Rudy's wallpaper—a movie

  poster for the tear-jerker movie The Notebook—stared back

  at her. She'd always teased him about having such a girlie

  photo on his phone. She grinned at the memory as tears rose

  to the back of her throat.

  Then, fear, confusion and betrayal overtook nostalgia.

  There was only one reason Donovan would have Rudy's

  phone. Donovan had been with Rudy the night of his accident.

  If Donovan had been with Rudy that night...if he'd lied all this

  time...if he'd kept Rudy's cell phone...

  Dear God.

  Donovan had killed him.

  Her hands trembled as her mind tried to work out her best

  course of action. Had Donovan known about the affair all

  along? Was that why Rudy had died, because he couldn't

  keep his dick in his pants?

  She should call Heath. Or should she? The last

  conversation they'd had, she'd screamed at him that she

  never wanted to see him again. Now she was going to call

  him begging for his help? No. She should call 911.

  Before she could decide, she saw Donovan come out of the

  restaurant, heading for the car.

  She looked at the phone. Rudy had Heath in his speed dial

  on number two. Her finger pressed the 'two' and sure

  enough, Heath's name popped onto the screen.

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  "I hope you like grilled onions on your cheeseburger,"

  Donovan was saying as he climbed into the driver's seat. "I

  also got you fries."

  If she called 911, she'd have to speak to them and

  Donovan would hear her and get to her before help arrived.

  She put her thumb on the Send button and whipped the hand

  holding the phone behind her back.

  "Thanks." She attempted a nonchalant smile but wasn't

  sure she pulled it off. "That sounds great."

  Over and over, her thumb pushed the Send button. She

  wouldn't be able to speak to Heath, but if he saw multiple

  consecutive calls from Rudy's phone...hell, when he saw one

  call from Rudy's phone, he'd realize something was wrong

  and, hopefully, he'd come to her rescue.

  A twinge of guilt shot through her. Heath was probably

  smack dab in the middle of a wedding right now.

  The ride home was silent and when they arrived at

  Nicolette's, Donovan carried the food inside. Nicolette

  continued to hold the phone behind her back, managing to

  shrug out of her coat while keeping the phone tucked out of

  sight.

  Donovan placed the bags on the coffee table, then frowned

  as he peered closely at Nicolette. "Nicolette? Is something the

  matter?"

  Her terror must have shown in her expression, because

  realization dawned on his face. In place of his puzzlement,

  she saw a cruelty she'd never known him capable of.

  "Ah," he said with a slow nod. "You know."

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  The guilt went away, and her thumb began to frantically

  press the Send button. Please, Heath, please figure it out,

  and please don't be so mad at me you won't bother to

  respond.

  Amelia had managed to decorate the family room in a

  Christmasy, weddingish way that seemed to work well, like

  Santa and Mrs. Claus had used Martha Stewart for their

  wedding planner.

  The triplets looked cute in their frilly dresses. Zoe was

  gorgeous. She wore his mother's wedding gown and stared

  adoringly up at Alex as Judge Parker performed the

  ceremony, his balding head reflecting the shine from the

  lights above. On the other side of Zoe, Jesse was radiant in a

  blue beaded gown, though Heath couldn't help notice that her

  blue eyes didn't shine with the same joy they normally did.

  Had Clint hurt her, in spite of Heath's warnings? If so, his

  eldest brother would have him to answer to.

  Heath returned his focus to the ceremony and tried to

  keep his mouth spread in a smile, but the glow on the faces

  of the bride and groom only magnified the hollow ache in the

  pit of his stomach.

  The judge read passages from the Bible, then Zoe and Alex

  spoke their vows. Heath nearly grinned at the incongruous

  sound of his suave little brother speaking the flowery words.

  On his cue, Heath handed Alex the ring.

  Heath's cell phone vibrated with a low buzzing sound, but

  he reached in his pocket to silence it, watching as Jesse

  handed Alex's ring to Zoe.

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  After Zoe slipped the ring on his finger, Alex turned to

  where the girls stood, each of them in different states of

  restlessness, shifting and tugging at the edges of their

  dresses.

  "Michaela, come here, please," Alex said.

  When she moved toward him, Alex went down to one

  knee.

  Placing a hand on her father's shoulder, Michaela said,

  "Can we be done yet?" The too-loud whisper carried in the

  still room and laughter erupted.

  Alex chuckled and placed a chain holding a locket around

  her neck. "Just about, sweetie."

  As his baby brother performed the same ritual with his

  other two daughters, Heath tried hard to blink back tears. He

  gritted his teeth and blew a breath out between his lips. Since

  his arrival in Kansas City, he'd become a blubbering fool.

  Time to haul his ass back to Oklahoma. In less than twenty-

  four hours, he'd do just that.

  His phone continued to buzz and he frowned. What the

  hell? He was in the middle of his brother's wedding,
for God's

  sake.

  Finally, he discreetly pulled the cell from his pocket and

  looked at the display.

  A chill coursed through him, and he found it hard to draw

  breath. Rudy's phone number appeared, over and over.

  Fuck. Nicolette?

  Mumbling a quiet apology, Heath slipped away from the

  wedding and rushed out the door, not looking back to see the

  reaction of the wedding guests, or the bride and groom.

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  He punched in Nicolette's number, his heart pounding as

  he waited for her to answer.

  When the call went to voice mail, his worry increased. Was

  she ignoring him because she was angry with him or was she

  in trouble? He tried to call Donovan, but didn't get an answer.

  Shit.

  Donovan shook his head as he moved slowly toward

  Nicolette.

  "I can't believe you killed him," she said tearfully. "You

  were his friend."

  "Right. He was my friend, and he screwed my wife."

  "So you murdered him?"

  "I was with him that night. I knocked him unconscious,

  choked him until I thought he was dead, then rolled his car

  down the hill. Little did I know that he wasn't quite dead. I

  never figured on him slipping into a coma. Lucky for me he

  never recovered." He shook his head, still moving toward her

  as she backed away. "I didn't want you to end up getting

  hurt. You and I are innocent. It's Rudy and Marla who should

  pay."

  "Why did you kill Rudy and not Marla?"

  He smiled as if she'd asked the most obvious question in

  the universe. "I love her." He shook his head again, his voice

  filled with regret. "I can't let you go free. It will ruin my life."

  "I won't say anything, I promise."

  He laughed. "Yeah, like I believe that. You do see why I

  couldn't let Rudy live, right? I mean, he was a liar, a phony.

  Running a charity for drug addicts while he was one himself.

  Preposterous. And then, what he did to me. With my wife..."

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  Nicolette didn't remind him his wife had done it to him,

  too. He knew that. Besides, if she did, he might say, "Oh

  yeah, that's right. Let's go back and get her, and I'll off you

  both at the same time." Even though Marla had broken her

  trust and screwed her husband, Nicolette didn't want to watch

  her die. Not much anyway.

  Nicolette searched her mind for something to say that

  would stall him, but her brain was frozen in disbelief and

  terror.

  Donovan sighed as he continued, "Marla knew I had

  something to do with Rudy's death. I lied to her about where

  I was that night. She knew I knew she was fucking Rudy. She

  put two and two together and accused me of causing the

  accident. She threatened to leave me right after he died, but

  I told her I had proof of what had happened between them. I

  told her I had the phone with all her text messages back and

  forth, the sick, twisted things they said to one another. That I

  would ruin her chances for a political career. Destroy her

  family."

  Nicolette finally found her voice. "Wow. The ingredients of

  a happy marriage. Fear, threats and intimidation."

  He shrugged. "Whatever works to get what you want,

  right? Very soon, all this will be over for you, but first I need

  you to write a note letting everyone know how despondent

  you are over your husband's death and the subsequent

  humiliation of his drug use. You cheated with his best friend,

  and now you've lost him too. You have nothing more to live

  for."

  "No one would believe that."

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  "Come on. It's all true. I mean, you don't have any family.

  You and Heath are done, even though the two of you

  probably rutted like pigs in heat for a while. The charity will

  most certainly fold." He moved closer, the look in his eyes

  sending a terrifying chill through her soul. "Really, Nicolette.

  What the fuck do you have to live for?"

  He'd backed her against the cocktail table. She had

  nowhere else to go. Her cell phone rang, and hope rose in her

  chest.

  Heath? It had to be Heath.

  "I need to get that," she said. "If I don't answer, whoever

  is calling will become suspicious."

  He laughed. "Right. Because no one ever misses a fucking

  phone call." He reached out and clamped a hand around her

  neck. "Now, be a good girl and come with me. We have to do

  this all exactly right to make it look convincing. And, we have

  to make sure there are no disturbances, so I need you to

  come peacefully."

  "No." She shook her head. "I won't come quietly. I'll fight

  you like a crazy woman, and you can explain why I wrecked

  my house before I killed myself."

  A hard look came into his eyes. "I'll make you a deal.

  You're going to die no matter what. If you cooperate, I'll

  make it quick, painless and no one else will be hurt. If you

  make me fight you, after I leave here, I'll go over to Louisa's.

  Her Christmas gift this year will be a great deal of pain. Is

  that what you want?"

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  She looked into his face and knew he was serious. He

  would do it. Her shoulders slumped, and she reached back to

  grip the edge of the table behind her.

  Heath, please call. Please come. You're my only hope.

  Hope rose when she heard a loud knock on the door, then

  Heath's voice shouting, "Nicolette? Are you in there? Let me

  in."

  Shit. She must have locked the door after letting Donovan

  in, an unconscious habit she'd developed since living alone.

  "Heath!" she screamed as loud as she could. "I'm in here.

  Donovan is—"

  "Shut up!" Donovan hissed. Confusion, then anger crossed

  his face. He looked toward the front door.

  Nicolette's fingers touched the Santa's workshop figurine.

  She brought it around just as Donovan turned his attention

  back to her. She slammed it into the side of his head. He

  dropped to his knees, a dazed look in his eyes. Blood trickled

  from beneath his hair, and Nicolette let the figurine fall from

  her shaking fingers to the floor.

  She paused, momentarily paralyzed before her brain

  kicked into gear. Run, get the hell out of there. Turning, she

  started toward the door.

  Before she'd gone two steps, Donovan's hand shot out and

  grabbed her ankle. He still seemed dazed, but his grip was

  like steel.

  "Heath!" she called out. "I'm here. Donovan's trying to kill

  me."

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  She tried to kick out at Donovan's hand, but he held tight.

  No more sounds came from the front door. Had Heath not

  heard her and left? Maybe he was calling the police. Maybe—
<
br />   A loud crash of breaking glass sounded at the patio door.

  Heath.

  Glass shards clung to his hair and his clothing. His golden

  eyes searched frantically until they fell on Nicolette. He

  grinned with relief and started toward her.

  Donovan released her ankle and moaned, then pushed his

  hands against the floor, trying to rise. Heath was on him so

  fast, Nicolette was barely aware he'd changed directions.

  Jerking Donovan up by the shirtfront, Heath slammed his

  fist into his face, over and over. Nicolette clamped her hands

  over her mouth, frozen to the spot. She shivered as she

  watched in disbelief. She'd never seen Heath violent. Never

  seen him harm a soul.

  "Heath!" She rushed over and grabbed at his arm. "Stop.

  You're going to kill him."

  Heath paused at her touch, his fist drawn back. Donovan,

  his face bloody and battered, was no longer conscious. Heath

  released him, and his limp body dropped to the floor with a

  dull thud.

  Heath came to his feet, his chest rising and falling with

  deep breaths. He looked down at Nicolette, and she reached

  up to pick broken glass from his hair. He captured her wrist in

  his hand and brought her fingers to his lips.

  "Heath," she breathed his name on a sigh, then fell into his

  arms, sobbing and covering his face with kisses.

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  "Be careful." Heath laughed, his voice hoarse from

  exertion. "I'm covered in broken glass."

  "I don't care," she murmured, still clinging to him.

  "Are you okay?" he asked roughly.

  "I'm fine. I was so scared. I was afraid you wouldn't come.

  You saved me again."

  She felt his smile against her hair.

  "It's what I do," he said. "I'll always save you."

  She pulled away and looked into his face. "Here I thought

  you were a King. Turns out you're a knight."

  He brushed the hair back from her eyes. "Are you sure

  you're all right? He didn't hurt you?"

  "No. I'm fine."

  Heath shook his head, and a dark expression took over his

  face. "Good God. It's my fault you almost died."

  "What are you talking about? Like I said, you saved me."

  "You were only in danger in the first place because of me."

  He drew in a deep breath. "I sent that son of a bitch over