by Lori Wilde
WHERE WAS JONAH GOING?
Edie had come back to the sleigh to look for her notebook and caught sight of Jonah in his Santa suit as he disappeared through the door into the storeroom.
Because of the thefts, Trotter had warned all unauthorized personnel to stay out of the warehouse. Jonah was violating store policy.
Why?
She no longer thought he was involved in the robberies, but she wanted to get him alone, and this was a good opportunity.
Yes. She had to speak to Jonah. She couldn’t stand not knowing how he felt about their relationship, about her.
Especially since she’d decided she had to abandon her dissertation. Despite her best intentions, she’d fallen in love with him. She could not objectively do a case study on him. Dr. Braddick had been right.
Trotter or no Trotter, she was going after Jonah.
Taking a deep breath to fortify herself for whatever might happen, she slipped through the empty store as “Blue Christmas” played on the stereo system.
“Jonah,” she called timidly, stepping around a stack of boxes.
Nothing. No one.
Hmm. She had seen him come in here. Couldn’t mistake that Santa suit.
Nor the gorgeous man wearing it.
She trudged through the warehouse, alternately calling out his name, then stopping to scan the area for him.
A few minutes later, she heard a noise and turned the corner into the main warehouse.
And saw Jonah digging in a large crate marked Waste Materials.
Except it wasn’t waste materials in the crate but electronic equipment. Smartwatches, video game consoles, and computers lay in boxes on the ground around him.
Edie looked at the merchandise and gulped.
Oh, Lord, don’t let it be true after all!
“Jonah,” she said sharply, “what are you doing?”
“EDIE!” HE FELT HIS face flush a deep crimson beneath his white beard. “I—I—this isn’t what you think.”
“Are you trying to tell me you weren’t stealing this equipment?” She waved a hand at the crate. The disappointment in her eyes was more than Jonah could bear.
“You don’t understand.”
“Oh,” she said. “I understand too well.”
He ached to tell her that he wasn’t a thief. But he couldn’t blow his cover. Not now. Not when he was so close to finding out who had placed the items in the crate. And not when her own life could be at risk if she knew the truth.
He had only one choice. He had to lie to her.
Jonah hung his head. “All right. You caught me. I’m the one who’s been stealing from Carmichael’s.”
Her cry of dismay clawed him straight down to the bone. “Oh, Jonah! How could you?”
He thought of her notebook in his pocket, pulled it out, and handed it to her. “Seems you’re not above a little deception yourself, Edie.”
She stared at the notebook. “You read it?”
He nodded.
“I can explain.”
He raised a hand. “Don’t bother. Seems you were right about me from the first. I am a bad boy. Rotten to the core.”
“No,” she whispered. “Even after all this, I can’t believe that about you.”
“Believe it,” he said, even though it killed him to utter those words. “Just as I have to deal with the fact that I was nothing more to you than a research project.”
“Jonah, that’s not true. Be fair.”
“You be fair, Edie. You followed me, used me, spied on me. What am I supposed to think?”
Her bottom lip trembled.
Ah, damn.
“You’ve got to turn yourself in to Mr. Trotter, Jonah. It’s the only way to make this right.”
“I can’t.”
“Yes, you can. I’ll go with you. I’ll stand beside you. We’ll get through this.”
“We?”
“Yes. Together. That is if you want me to help you.”
He shook his head. “Can’t resist meddling, can you, sweetheart?”
“I’m not meddling.”
“You’re so damned sexy when you’re righteous.” He took a step toward her. Her hands trembled slightly, but she held her ground.
“Wh-what are you doing?” she demanded.
“This.” He had to test the depth of her feelings for him. Did she love him as a man? Or was he simply a project for her? Someone to reform. He needed an answer.
He took her in his arms and kissed her. He had to have one more taste of those irresistible lips before she disappeared from his life forever. Had to inhale her scent one last time. Had to feel the soft crush of her breasts against his chest.
And she didn’t resist. She went limp in his arms for a moment, and then she flung her arms around his neck and kissed him back.
I’M HOPELESSLY HOOKED. For the first time in her life, she understood the meaning of being hooked on something. Edie felt crazed with emotion and wildly out of control.
She was addicted to his touch, his smile, his easy drawl. She needed him as desperately as flowers needed sun and rain and carbon dioxide.
Surely this relationship couldn’t be healthy. She was falling for a criminal. Yet how could loving him be so wrong when it felt so perfect?
His kiss took her down, down, down in the torment of exquisite pleasure. He had no right to make her feel so good.
The sound of approaching voices killed the kiss. Jonah pulled back.
“Someone’s coming,” she said. “You’re going to have to give—”
Before she could say the words, Jonah clamped a hand over her mouth. “Shh, don’t utter a sound.”
Oh my gosh. Her breath rattled in her lungs like a loose shutter in the wind.
He grasped her around the waist and dragged her behind a ceiling-high shelf. He crouched low, taking her with him and shielding her head with his body.
Jonah, don’t do this, she mentally begged him and tried to squirm from his grip.
He held her firm and pressed his lips next to her ear. “Please, Edie,” he whispered. “Don’t fight me. Please, please just trust me.”
Trust.
How could she trust a thief?
But oh, how she wanted to believe in him.
She’d counseled so many women who had done foolish things for the love of a man. Edie had sat in her psychologist’s chair, passing judgment on people, offering her opinion on something when she’d had no real idea what she was talking about.
Now she knew the power of love. At this moment, she could have forgiven Jonah anything. Like a mother for her child, she loved him unconditionally. He didn’t have to be a model citizen to earn her trust.
The voices grew louder. Two men were in the warehouse with them. Edie, who’d had her eyes tightly clenched, opened them and peered through a small hole in the boxes around them. She saw trousered legs and shoes.
She recognized one of the voices. Trotter.
Jonah moved, letting her go and duck-walking to the end of the shelf. In his hand he held the gun she’d seen the night they picked up the mannequin and he sang her his song.
The sight of the gun horrified her. What should she do?
“Someone’s been in the crate!” the second man exclaimed.
Trotter cursed. “Get it loaded. Quickly. The truck is here.”
Edie frowned. What did this mean?
Jonah motioned for her to stay down.
“I told you the cops had someone undercover in the store.”
“Shut up,” Trotter said. “This is the last shipment. We won’t be caught. I’ve planted some of the merchandise in the lockers of those men Carmichael made me hire from the halfway house.”
Mr. Trotter was behind the thefts?
Dumbfounded, Edie’s mouth dropped open. Well, if Trotter and his accomplice were the ones who’d been stealing from Carmichael’s, then who was Jonah?
The loading dock doors rolled up. Edie peeked around Jonah’s shoulder to see a large Carmichael’s deliv
ery truck backed against the platform.
“What’s going on?” she whispered.
“Shh. Stay still.”
But the more Edie thought about it, the madder she became. Trotter had stolen from the store, and now he was trying to blame it on Kyle, Harry, and Carl.
Red-hot anger shot through her, and before she had time to consider her actions, habit took over. She was not the type to let an injustice go unpunished.
Edie rose to her feet and marched forward. Jonah grabbed for her ankle but missed. She rushed Trotter who was standing on the loading dock.
He looked very startled to see her.
“Miss Preston,” he exclaimed.
“You—you—creep! How dare you blame innocent people? How dare you steal from the store? This is inexcusable.” Edie shook a finger at him.
Trotter’s mouth dropped open, but only for a second. His eyes narrowed. He lunged for her and grabbed Edie by the hand.
“You’re going to regret that speech, my dear,” he said and pressed the cold, rude nose of a pistol flush against her temple. “Now get into the back of the truck.”
Chapter Thirteen
Damn her sweet, wonderful, impulsive hide.
Jonah had wanted to follow Trotter and Freddie, see where they were taking the stolen goods to fence. Now his cover was about to be blown. They had his woman, and he would die before he let them leave the premises with her.
But Trotter had a gun pressed to her head.
Jonah’s gut roiled.
He stood, then moved past the shelf and around the boxes. He raised his gun in both hands. “Police. Let her go, Trotter. It’s not worth dying over.”
“Police?” Edie’s words echoed in the building. “You’re a cop?”
Jonah’s eyes met hers. And darn if she didn’t grin as big as a kid in a cotton candy factory.
Trotter swung his gaze to Jonah and cursed vehemently. Freddie the Fish was still tossing electronic equipment into the wooden crate. He stopped what he was doing and blinked. “Santa?”
“Sorry, Freddie, I’m afraid a sack of coal is all you’re going to find in your stocking this Christmas. Get your hands over your head.”
Jonah turned the gun on Freddie. The man kept staring at him as if he couldn’t believe he was being arrested by Santa Claus. Jonah stepped over, relieved him of his gun, and ordered him onto the ground. He cuffed Freddie, then trained his duty weapon on Trotter.
Trotter remained at the loading dock entrance, Edie clutched in his arms.
But the woman didn’t have the presence of mind to be afraid. She kept haranguing him with words. Jonah almost smiled.
“You should be ashamed of yourself,” she lectured. “Didn’t your mother teach you that it’s not nice to point?”
“My mother’s dead,” Trotter said.
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
Trotter shrugged. “That’s life.”
“Well, stop and think a moment. What will your wife say?”
“She left me. Ran off with an insurance executive. I didn’t make enough money to please her,” Trotter responded bitterly.
Jonah watched Edie’s face. He could see her mental cogs whirling. What was she up to?
“A man of your standing.” Edie shook her head as if she didn’t have a pistol against her temple. “Why would you do this?”
From his position on the ground, Freddie the Fish snorted. “He doesn’t make enough to pay off his gambling debts. He’s into my boss to the tune of two hundred grand.”
“For shame!” Edie scolded, and Jonah prayed Trotter wouldn’t blow her away just to shut her up. “And to think I had so much respect for you.”
Trotter blinked. “You did?”
“Yes, but that was before I found out about this. How on earth do you expect to earn back my trust?”
The girl was as nutty as a Christmas fruitcake, Jonah concluded. He’d suspected this about her the moment they’d met when she’d tried to block him from stripping out of his flea-bitten Santa suit. Lucky for her, he was very fond of fruitcake.
Most women in the same predicament would sob or faint or freeze. Any of those responses would have been normal reactions.
But Edie Preston certainly was not normal.
Not by a long shot.
Her unconventional approach was one of the things he liked most about her.
“Well?” Edie demanded. “How do you expect to redeem your reputation?”
Trotter seemed confused. Jonah used the opportunity to creep closer.
“What do you mean?” Trotter asked, sweat beads popping out on his broad forehead. “There’s nothing to redeem. I’m going to kill you and Santa, then I’m going to load those electronics onto this truck and drive away.”
“Hey,” Freddie protested. “What about me?”
“You’ve set me up with the fence. You’ve served your purpose,” Trotter said. “Maybe I’ll shoot you, too. Place the gun in your hand. Make it look like you murdered them, then shot yourself out of remorse.” Trotter paused to consider his new scenario. “Yes. It just might work. After all, as the girl said, I do have a reputation. Who would believe I was robbing the store?”
“It’s not going to happen, Trotter. Put down the gun and let Edie go,” Jonah said tightly.
“You’re in no position to be issuing orders, Stevenson.”
Jonah stared at Edie, peering deeply into her eyes. Silently, he sent her a message and prayed mental telepathy really worked.
Duck, run, move your head, anything to give me a clear shot at him.
She didn’t seem the least bit scared. Imperceptibly, she nodded. Had she understood what he wanted?
“This has gone on long enough, Mr. Trotter.” Her voice was firm.
Then with a quick one-two action, she came down hard on his instep with her heel and drove her elbow backward into his gut.
“Oomph.” Trotter’s face darkened, and he loosened his grip on her.
Run, Edie, run.
But instead of moving out of the way, Edie turned inward, grasped Trotter’s gun-toting wrist, and bit him.
“Yow!” he yelped.
His gun clattered to the cement.
“Serves you right,” Freddie the Fish mumbled from his low-level vantage point.
Jonah didn’t waste a second. He covered the ground between him and Trotter in two long-legged strides. He took the man by the collar and held on for dear life, his duty weapon pushed against Trotter’s cheek. Let him have a dose of what he’d just dished out to Edie.
Pride for her welled inside him.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“Yeah!” She feigned boxing moves at Trotter, hopping from one foot to the other. Jab, jab, uppercut. “That’ll teach you to mess with Santa Claus, you big bully.”
The woman was too much. Jonah grinned. “You made a mistake when you took this one as a hostage, Trotter.”
“Tell me about it.” Trotter glowered. “I should have fired you both when I had the chance.”
“Edie,” Jonah commanded. “Get the cell phone out of my hip pocket. Dial 9-1-1. Get them to patch you through to Chief Truman West. Tell him that Santa’s got a surprise package waiting for him in Carmichael’s warehouse.”
JONAH WAS A COP. JONAH was a cop. Edie mentally chanted, grinning.
She should have known her instincts about him hadn’t led her astray. She hadn’t made a mistake by falling in love with him.
She’d been waiting on a bench in the busy police station for over three hours. She’d already given her statement to one of the officers who’d arrived to help Jonah cart off Trotter and his unhappy accomplice.
Now she was waiting for Jonah to wrap up the details of the arrest. They had a lot to discuss.
Like what the future might hold.
An eager excitement fizzed inside her, and Edie struggled to quell her nervousness.
When Jonah finally emerged from behind closed doors minus the Santa suit, his dark hair combed back off his head
, a gun holster at his hip, a badge pinned on his chest, Edie’s heart tripped.
He was so handsome. So forceful. So manly. He was chatting with another officer, and he hadn’t seen her yet. She gulped and held her breath.
Her nervousness transformed into something much more palpable.
Fear.
A million what-ifs rose to her mind. What if he didn’t want her? What if she had somehow screwed things up between them?
She pushed aside her fears. Edie wasn’t one to sit and wonder. For better or worse, she was the type to grab the bull by the horns and demand answers.
He finished his conversation and started across the room. Phones rang, computer keyboards clacked, voices hummed, but Edie could scarcely hear anything over the steady pounding of her heart.
Rising to her feet, she moved toward him.
“Jonah.”
“Edie.” He stopped.
Anxiously, she studied his face, searching for a sign.
“You’re still here.”
“Yes.”
“I thought you’d be long gone.” He smiled faintly. A smile was a good thing. Yes?
“I wanted to talk to you.”
“That’s good. I needed to talk to you too.”
“You do?”
His features turned serious. “Do you have any idea how foolhardy you acted today?” He shook his head. “I can’t believe you simply charged over to Trotter and started lecturing him.”
“He had it coming.” She notched her chin upward.
“Edie, he is a dangerous man; he had a gun. Didn’t you think about that?”
“I could only think about one thing,” she said.
“And what was that?”
“How he was framing the other guys. Blaming them for his wrongdoings. He had to be held accountable. I couldn’t sit by and do nothing.”
“Fools rush in,” Jonah muttered and shook his head.
Her heart knocked painfully against her chest. He thought she was a fool.
“Did you learn anything from this?” he asked.
“What do you mean?”
“About rushing into situations without enough information.”
“Now that you mention it,” she admitted, “I was pretty scared.”
