Risky Christmas (8 page)

“I'll think about it,” he said, knowing she was right. “But he might say no.”

“He might say yes.”

Brian pressed his lips to the top of her head. He'd do anything to please her, and he wanted to see his nieces. Mending the way with Peter would be worth it. “Are you bringing this up in case you have to leave?”

“I don't want you to be alone.”

He smoothed a hand over her hair, enjoying the sexy disarray he'd caused. “I'm more worried about you.”

She shifted beside him, aligning her lips to his. When her tongue slipped into his mouth and her thigh slid across his, he thickened with arousal, his body roaring back to life. After the night they'd had, he doubted he could perform again.

“You're killing me,” she groaned. “How old are you?”

“Thirty-six. Too old for another round.”

“Hmm. All evidence points to the contrary.”

“That's just for show. If I tried to get on top of you, it would flee in protest.”

She smiled, falling onto her back. “My parts would also protest.”

“Are you sore? I'll kiss you better.” He ducked under the covers, wrestling with her playfully while she dissolved in giggles. Although they didn't make love again, he felt satisfied. Just hearing her laugh filled him with happiness.

“I should go before your girls wake up,” he said finally.

“Yes.”

He put on his clothes from the night before while she donned a pair of soft pajama pants and a T-shirt with a cupcake on the front. After she called to let the deputy know he was leaving, she saw him outside. It was a cool, gray dawn, the sky bleeding with drizzle. The foggy marine layer would burn off in the midday sun.

He turned to kiss Leah goodbye. “I love you.”

She hugged him hard. “I love you, too.”

Brian hadn't expected her to say it back. In his experience, love didn't come easy, so the words touched him deeply, reaching a place no one else had. He felt like he'd been given the greatest gift of his life.

“I'll call you later,” she said, smiling.

His throat closed up and he could only nod in response. Afraid to make a fool of himself by crying on her lawn, he walked the short distance to his house. Last night, he hadn't bothered to lock the front door.

As soon as he stepped inside, he paid for the oversight. A man came rushing from the shadows, swinging a crowbar.

L
eah was too excited to sleep.

She put on a pot of coffee and made blueberry muffins from scratch, humming a cheery tune. Brian was in love with her! And she loved him back. Today she was going to enjoy the present and not think about the future.

It was New Year's Day. Her resolution was to start living again.

Soon the kitchen was fragrant with the smell of fresh-brewed coffee and warm blueberries. On impulse, she poured a cup for Brian and wrapped a few muffins in a napkin. She wanted to surprise him.

The fog wasn't so thick that she couldn't see the deputy parked outside. He was very incognito, and if she hadn't been told what his car looked like, she wouldn't have noticed him. With a slight nod in his direction, she dashed next door.

Standing on the front step, she peeked through the screen. “Brian?”

He didn't answer.

She was about to open the door and walk in when she noticed his feet sticking out from behind the kitchen counter. His boots were pointed up at the ceiling, as if he'd stretched out on the floor for a nap.

Growing uneasy, she called his name louder. No response.

Last week, she might have entered the house to find out what was wrong. She'd have assumed he'd fallen, not been struck.

After her close call at the market, she couldn't afford to take that chance. She retreated a few steps, intending to alert the undercover officer. Before she got the chance, a figure burst through the screen door, coming straight at her.

She screamed, stumbling backward. Although he was wearing a ski mask, she knew it was Mariano Felix. Acting on instinct, she dropped the muffins and threw the coffee mug at him, splashing hot liquid in his masked face.

He cursed, swiping at his eyes with a gloved hand.

Her chest seized when she saw the gun in his other hand. As she turned to run, the edge of her shoe caught on the uneven sidewalk and she fell to her knees, crying out. A bullet cut through the air above her head.

The deputy marshal exited his vehicle, his weapon drawn. He strode forward, shouting at Leah to stay down.

Felix took aim at the new target and fired twice in rapid succession. The sound was oddly muted but the odor of gunshot residue assaulted her senses. She
watched in horror as the deputy marshal crumpled to the ground.

Felix advanced to finish him off.

Leah didn't stick around. She scrambled to her feet and headed the opposite direction, using the same strategy that had saved her the last time she'd tangled with Felix. She couldn't worry about the deputy marshal or wonder what had happened to Brian. In order to protect her children, she had to run away from them.

She sprinted down the street and turned left, toward the shore. On New Year's Day morning, The Strand was eerily quiet. A few stray partygoers staggered along the sidewalk, and a homeless man pushed a shopping cart through an empty parking lot.

The damp air mixed with the smells of last night's debauchery, creating a stomach-curling miasma of spilled beer and public toilets.

Her canvas tennis shoes slapped against the wet pavement in a rhythm that matched her thundering heartbeat. Heavier footsteps pounded behind her, proving that Felix had given chase. Leah didn't know where to go. He would follow her into a house or vehicle. There was no time to hide, no place to run.

High tide limited her options further. Big waves crashed against the rocks, warning her to stay back. The beach was under water, and the surf was far from gentle this morning. She'd reached the edge of the ocean. The end of the road.

Bullets peppered the sidewalk, spurring her into motion. Taking a deep breath, she leapt onto the jumbled rocks and dove headfirst into the pounding waves. The rush of icy water sent her into an instant panic. She was helpless to fight against the powerful current and
breath-stealing cold. But a darker danger awaited her on the surface.

Saltwater filled her eyes and nose as she sank down, letting the waves drag her out.

 

Brian groaned as he regained consciousness.

A sound he'd never heard before, but recognized as a bullet fired using a silencer, sent a chill racing down his spine. He struggled to keep his eyes open, bracing his hands on the kitchen floor to orient himself.

Leah was in trouble.

His hair was sticky with blood, his head throbbing in agony.

Leah was in trouble.

There was another muted gunshot, followed by a faint scream. Brian dragged his body upright, clinging to the unfinished countertop. Swallowing his nausea and ignoring the dull pain in his head, he stumbled toward the front door.

Leah was in trouble.

A man in a black ski mask was standing over a body in the middle of the street, his gun drawn. Brian wasn't sure how he'd been injured, but he didn't have any trouble guessing who the bad guy was.

The man in the mask left the corpse on the ground and took off running. Brian wiped the blood from his eyes and searched his immediate surroundings for Leah. She wasn't in his field of vision. The screen door was bent, hanging off the hinges. A broken coffee mug and a trio of smashed muffins littered his front walk.

He frowned at those items, trying to make sense of them.

His brain finally kicked into gear and he staggered
outside, looking down the street. The masked man was chasing a small figure in the distance. Leah.

Brian couldn't catch them on foot—not in his condition. But he might have a chance in his truck. Limping toward the driver's side, he opened the door and climbed behind the wheel, wiping blood from his forehead. He fumbled for the keys and started the engine. When it turned over, he stepped on the gas, praying he wasn't too late.

The masked man turned left at the corner, his outline dissolving in the morning fog. Brian drove as fast as he dared. Keeping the truck on the road was a challenge in itself. His vision swam in and out, breaking his concentration. As he hooked a shaky left, the road before him shifted, floating out to sea.

Brian blinked the blood from his eyes, trying to clear his head. He was hallucinating. The urge to slump over the wheel and sleep was hard to resist.

When the street rematerialized, he accelerated and tightened his hands on the wheel, as if he could hang on to reality by exerting pressure. They were almost at the beach. Would Leah have gone this direction?

Through the heavy fog, Brian saw a dark figure on the rock border between the street and the ocean. The surf was up. He stepped on the gas, charging down The Strand. The man on the rocks lifted both arms, aiming his gun at the crashing waves.

Leah was in the water, barely staying afloat.

“No!” Brian cried out, terrified for her. Even if he managed to get out of his truck and overpower her attacker, which was unlikely, he might not be able to save her. He could barely stand, let alone swim.

But Brian wasn't a quitter, and he had a weapon of
his own. His work truck might be old and beat-up, but it was a heavy, dangerous piece of equipment. Using the best tool he had, he picked up speed, bracing himself for a kamikaze crash.

Gritting his teeth, he drove full tilt into the jagged rocks. His front bumper took out the masked man at the knee, sending him flying through the air. Brian's head hit the steering wheel as the truck tumbled into the ocean.

Water rushed in the driver's-side window and everything went black.

 

Leah was drowning.

With every wave that broke over her head, she became weaker. Brian had taught her how to tread water in a calm swimming pool. Doing it in a tumultuous ocean, while bullets speared the surface all around her, was impossible.

She couldn't stay calm, or float or catch her breath. Her lungs were burning and her throat felt raw. The cold seeped into her bones, robbing her ability to think.

When a truck slammed into the rocks at the shore, she screamed, ducking under water once again. She resurfaced during a lull between waves, gasping for air. The saltwater felt buoyant, keeping her afloat. Leah's sobs of terror quieted as she realized that Felix was no longer shooting at her.

In fact, he was lying on the rocks, his neck twisted at an odd angle.

She took a ragged breath, studying the truck that had rolled into the ocean. Cosgrove Construction, its side read. Brian was alive!

Before the next wave came, she got a good look inside the cab. Seawater was pouring through the windows. He
was behind the wheel, unmoving. Maybe unconscious. If she didn't save herself, and him, they'd both die.

Mandy's face flashed before her, quiet and thoughtful. She pictured Alyssa's big smile.
I love you, Mommy.

Tears rushed to Leah's eyes as a new resolve steeled her. She was the only parent they had left; she had to keep fighting. Filling her lungs with oxygen, she dove under the waves, kicking wildly. It wasn't graceful, but she didn't drown. Pushing aside her fear, she focused on Brian, remembering the feel of his lips against hers. He'd breathed new life into her. Now she would do the same for him.

Using every ounce of strength she possessed, she propelled herself through the water, making her way toward the upended truck.

As soon as she reached the passenger side, she clung to it, panting from exertion. Brian was wedged inside, his torso under water. She screamed for help, waving her arms at two surfers in the distance. They weren't close enough to assist her.

Luckily, the front windshield was shattered, offering a way in—and out. Safety glass floated on the surf, clinging to her wet hair. Leah crawled inside the cab and grabbed his legs, heaving with all her might. Somehow, she pulled him out from behind the wheel, maneuvering his upper body to the surface. When she saw how blue his skin looked, a cry of agony wrenched from her throat.

Soon, the surfers came to her aid. Working together, they were able to move Brian through the damaged window. Sirens rang out in the distance as they struggled to keep his head above water. Leah pressed her lips to his and exhaled, trying to resuscitate him.

He was so cold.

The next few minutes passed in a blur. An ambulance and a squad of police cars arrived. Brian's body was taken from the water on a rescue stretcher and carried away. Leah wanted to go with him, but she was detained for questioning.

“My kids,” she said, accepting a scratchy wool blanket from a female police officer. “I need to check on my kids.”

“We'll send someone to your residence right now,” the policewoman promised. “Can you identify the man on the rocks?”

“Mariano Felix,” she said, glancing in his direction. Someone had lifted the ski mask, exposing his sightless eyes. Shivering, she draped the blanket around her shoulders. It was over. But instead of relieved, she felt numb.

“Can you explain what happened?”

Leah didn't know where to begin. Before she could collect her thoughts, a gray midsize sedan pulled up to the scene. Deputy Marshal Joel Dominguez got out of the car, showing his badge to the officers who had already responded.

Over the past eighteen months, Dominguez was one of the few people Leah had interacted with. He'd been assigned her case, and although they didn't have a close personal connection, he was a good man.

Like Brian, he'd bought her girls a Christmas present.

Seeing Dominguez's concerned face made her own crumple with sorrow. She let out a choked sob as he wrapped his arms around her. “Are my daughters okay?”

“They're fine.”

Leah wept harder, unable to stop. It was as if a year
and a half of tension and fear came pouring out of her, onto him. He patted her back awkwardly, as uncomfortable with tears as most men. When she quieted, he released her. “What about Deputy Marshal Stevens?” she asked, looking up at him.

He shook his head, a muscle in his jaw flexing.

“Oh, my God,” she whispered. “I'm so sorry.”

“It wasn't your fault, Leah.”

She hugged the wool blanket around her body, her stomach twisted in knots. A man had given his life to protect her. “Does he have a family?”

“He has…had a fiancé. No kids.”

Another good man lost. Her throat tightened and she glanced out at the choppy gray ocean. A light drizzle began to fall again, soaking the slate-colored rocks. She couldn't handle any more death.

If Brian didn't make it, she'd be devastated.