Spying Under the Mistletoe (Love Undercover Book 2)

by Stina Lindenblatt

  My hip lands hard on impact with the asphalt, breath jolted from my lungs.

  For a stunned moment, I lay sprawled on the ground, attempting to make sense of everything.

  Landon is a few feet from me, fighting the man who grabbed me. His fist flies toward him. The man ducks back, avoiding it.

  I glance around, searching for something that might help level the odds in Landon’s favor.

  A gun lies on the asphalt a few feet from me. But I have no idea how to use one, and I don’t want to accidentally kill Landon or seriously injure him.

  I scramble up and push the gun aside with my foot, hiding it behind a garbage can in case the tables should turn to the bad man’s advantage. That’s when I spy a tree branch on the ground—a gift from heaven.

  I dive for it.

  The branch is heavy in my hand, but not heavy enough to keep me from hoisting it up. I adjust my hold on it like it’s a baseball bat.

  Landon ducks the man’s fist and lunges forward. The man reverses a step.

  And I swing the branch with every ounce of strength I possess—and then some—aiming for behind the man’s knees, relying on momentum to work in my favor.

  The element of surprise works to my benefit. He stumbles back. Before his attention can return to Landon, Landon levels a blow at the man’s head.

  He goes down in a crumpled heap.

  For a minute, all I can do is numbly stare at the man passed out on the ground while Landon checks him out. I open my mouth to say something, anything, but the words are too stunned to leave.

  Every cell in my body vibrates, and I can feel myself start to shake.

  “Thank you,” I finally manage to get out as Landon straightens. “He had a gun, and…and he was going to take me somewhere, but I don’t know where.”

  Now that the dam has been torn down by that simple thank-you, the remaining words come out in an unstoppable gush. “He must have dropped the gun when you jumped him. I knocked it away so he couldn’t grab it.”

  Landon slowly approaches me as if I’m some sort of wounded animal that he’s afraid will claw him if he gets too close. “Did he hurt you?”

  I shake my head.

  Landon wraps his arm around my shoulders. “You’re shaking.”

  “Oh, I just thought we were experiencing an earthquake,” I joke. Well, attempt to joke. It comes out clumsy and falls flat on its face.

  “You’re in shock. Let me drive you to my place. Whiskey might help.”

  Now that he’s said it, I wouldn’t mind cuddling the bundle of fluffiness. It might help distract me from what happened.

  “Shouldn’t we call the police?” My voice is still shaky.

  “I’ll do that now. They can interview you at my home.”

  “What about the gun? We can’t just leave it and him here. A kid might find the gun and hurt themselves or someone else. And he might regain consciousness and escape.”

  The last thing I want is for him to attack another woman, one who doesn’t have a guardian angel named Landon watching over her.

  He nods. “Okay, I’ll call them now. But you need to sit.” He’s got a point there. I’m not sure my legs will keep me upright much longer.

  He assists me into his jeep and turns on the engine. “This should help warm you up.”

  He doesn’t climb into the driver’s seat. Instead, he shuts the door and tracks down the hidden gun while talking on his phone.

  He returns to the unconscious man and removes a gun from the holster I didn’t know Landon was wearing. It was hidden under his leather jacket.

  Standing over him, Landon starts talking to him, the gun pointed at the creep. The man shifts his body slightly. He then stills, probably realizing my guardian angel is packing a weapon, and the man no longer is.

  I should be shocked that Landon is standing there holding a gun. I hate guns, especially given their criminal links to my family. But after what I just went through, I couldn’t care less that he’s packing heat. I’m just thrilled he showed up when he did.

  Landon continues talking to the man. I can’t hear anything he says over the engine’s purr and the heat blasting through the vent.

  After what feels like a lifetime, a black SUV and a cop car pull up. A man and woman climb out of the SUV and walk to where Landon’s standing, guarding the downed man.

  They look like plainclothes police or detectives. All three individuals have what appears to be a discussion with Landon. He does most of the talking and points to where I hid the gun.

  I continue watching them, trying to process everything that happened since I left the school. I especially pay attention to Landon. He seems more at ease with everything going on than I would expect from a teacher.

  Like this is an everyday occurrence for him.

  Like he was a cop in another lifetime.

  Eventually, their discussion ends. The cop removes a pair of handcuffs and clicks it onto the bad man’s wrist. The entire time he talks to him, possibly telling him his rights. The bad guy doesn’t say anything, his expression blank.

  The cop and the male plainclothes officer drag the criminal off the ground and shove him into the back seat of the cruiser.

  The woman walks to where I hid the gun and bags it as evidence.

  Landon returns to the vehicle and climbs into the driver’s side. “How are you doing?” His brow crinkles with concern.

  “I’ve been better.”

  He puts the jeep into reverse.

  “Aren’t the cops going to interview me about what happened?” I ask.

  “I’ve told them everything I witnessed. But they might be over later to talk to you if necessary. Do you have any idea who the man was?”

  I shake my head. “I’ve never seen him before.” And I’d be more than happy to never see him again.

  “Okay. Let’s get out of here.”

  “I can’t,” I say, coming to my senses. “I need my car, and I’m expected at the seniors’ home.”

  “You can let them know you won’t be in today. One of my colleagues can fix your tire and bring your car to my place.”

  “Colleagues?” My state of shock must have addled my brain. Nothing he’s saying makes sense.

  11

  Chloe

  Landon parks his jeep in his garage and helps me down. Even with the heater blasting on our way here, a chill penetrates deep in my bones.

  He scoops me up in his big strong arms—a sweet caveman to the core.

  “I can walk,” I tell him. Not that I mind being in his arms. Maybe I can borrow some of his heat to banish the chill.

  “I know you can.” He carries me to the door leading to the house.

  It’s probably just as well, even if it’s a short distance. I’m not sure my legs are on speaking terms with me yet.

  He lowers me to my feet. I quickly miss his heat.

  He unlocks the door, steps inside, and turns off his security alarm. He’s five steps above me in that department. The closest thing my building has to security is the buzzer for a tenant to let you inside the front door.

  And even that isn’t a deterrent for anyone who wants in. Mrs. Rayne is hard-of-hearing and has a tendency to open the door for anyone who presses the buzzer.

  A little bark comes from the laundry room.

  Just what I need.

  I kick off my shoes, and without saying anything to Landon, I head that way. As expected, Whiskey is in his crate. “Hey, little fella. I could use some cuddle time from the sweetest guy around.”

  “Are you referring to the dog or me?” Landon says behind me.

  I laugh. “The dog. Definitely the dog. Is it okay if I remove him from his crate?”

  Whiskey answers for Landon with a little woof and touches the metal door with his good paw.

  Landon chuckles. “There’s your answer.”

  I open the door and remove the puppy, so he doesn’t try walking with his injured leg. I cuddle him to my chest. He reaches up and licks my chin.


  I smile at him. “Thanks, I needed that.”

  “I should probably take him out to do his business.”

  Looking around for Whiskey’s leash, I say, “I can take him.” It’s not like I have anything better to do. Watching the puppy poop might be a great distraction.

  Okay, maybe not.

  Landon removes the leash from on top of the washing machine. “Go sit on the couch and call the senior center to let them know you won’t be volunteering today.”

  “But I have to go.” I want to tell Mathilda that the Christmas concert doesn’t need to be canceled.

  “No, you don’t. You’re still shaken. Plus, you and I need to talk about something.”

  That piques my curiosity. “What?”

  “You’ll find out soon enough. Now go sit. Or else I’ll throw you over my shoulder and take you to the couch myself.” The humor in his tone is overridden by the gleam in his eyes of someone who doesn’t accept no for an answer very often.

  He holds out his hands for Whiskey. I pass him the little furball.

  The furball gazes adoringly up at him.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to adopt him?” I ask. “He really likes you.”

  “I like him, too, but that doesn’t mean I want to keep him for the long term. I’m just the temporary home until he finds something better.”

  If you ask me, Whiskey has already found something better, and he agrees with my assessment.

  Landon grabs Whiskey’s leash and heads for the front door. I sit on the couch in the living room and phone Mathilda. I explain why I won’t be able to volunteer and tell her the good news about the concert.

  “That’s wonderful! Thank you so much, Chloe. The residents will be thrilled when they hear the great news.”

  The warmth from her words fills me—her concern over what happened, the relief about the show. It chases away some of the residual chill that remains even after holding Whiskey.

  We talk for a few more minutes until I hear the front door click shut, and I end the call.

  Landon enters the living room and places Whiskey on my lap. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

  He heads to the kitchen and returns soon after with two glasses containing an amber liquid. He hands one to me.

  I take it from him and sniff it. “What is it?”

  “Whiskey.”

  “When you said whiskey would make me feel better, I thought you meant this little guy.” I nod at the puppy in question.

  Landon shrugs and sits next to me.

  Whiskey—the puppy—settles himself on my lap.

  I sip the lukewarm liquid. It burns going down, and I cough. The movement nearly bounces Whiskey off my lap. “Sorry,” I tell him, my eyes tearing up from the drink.

  He gives me a happy, unperturbed doggy grin and settles himself again.

  “You said you need to talk to me about something,” I say to Landon, still curious at what he has to tell me. Happy to talk about anything other than the attack.

  Landon takes a long draw of his drink, but unlike me, he doesn’t cough. “I’m not exactly an elementary school teacher.”

  “That’s right. You usually teach high school.”

  He shakes his head, the movement slow and emphatic.

  “You don’t usually teach high school, either? But you’re a substitute teacher, right?”

  “Nope. I work for a company that people hire for security purposes.”

  “You mean you install security devices in homes and businesses?”

  He laughs under his breath. “Nothing like that.”

  “So, like a bodyguard?”

  “It depends on the individual client’s needs. There are other things we do, too.”

  I nod as if I understand when in truth, I’m on the opposite end of the spectrum. “Okaaay. If you’re not a substitute teacher, why are you at my school pretending to be one?”

  “Because our client believes your life is in danger.”

  “Danger? I teach kindergarteners. How can my life be in danger? I mean, other than what happened at school. But that was a random attack. It could’ve happened to anyone.”

  And that’s when I get it—helped along by Landon’s serious expression. “It wasn’t random, was it? Is this because of my family?”

  Well, doesn’t that just poop all?

  And to think that all this time, I’d thought that by turning my back on my family, I would be free from the lifestyle I wanted nothing to do with. But in the end, it had been little more than an allusion.

  Once you become part of that family, there’s no escaping.

  I’d heard stories over the years that people who worked for my grandfather but then wanted out ended up swimming with the fishes—or the sharks.

  At first, I’d thought it was nothing but a myth, like Greek gods, dragons, and Cyclops.

  I was wrong.

  Just like I was wrong in believing I had truly walked away from my family.

  Nothing could be further from the truth.

  “My client found out a contract had possibly been placed on your head. After what happened today, it’s no longer a possibility. It’s very much true.” Landon doesn’t seem too thrilled about that.

  That makes two of us.

  “Your client? Who’s your client?”

  He doesn’t answer right away. “When was the last time you talked to your cousin Nikolai?”

  That gets a startled response from me. “Nikolai? What does this have to do with him?” My words come out soft, little more than a whisper, as memories of my cousin flood me.

  Of his parents dying fourteen years ago when one of our grandfather’s enemies blew up their car. Nikolai’s brother and sister were with them at the time. They were going to see the Philharmonic Orchestra, but Nikolai backed out at the last minute, more interested in attending a hockey game with his friends than attending the concert with his family.

  He was sixteen years old at the time.

  I was also supposed to be in that car. This was one of those rare times when being hit with the flu was a good thing.

  Before Landon can answer, I guess, “That’s who your client is? My cousin?”

  It actually makes sense. Nikolai was always looking out for me when we were kids. If I got hurt, he would try to make the pain go away, even if it just meant bringing me cookies and watching my favorite show with me.

  When a bully decided to pick on me at school, Nikolai was the one to put him in his place.

  And when Nikolai heard a rumor about me that was going around school, he was the one to set everyone straight.

  Landon hesitates for a brief second, then nods. “That’s right. He wants to keep you safe. You weren’t supposed to find out about it, though. We thought it’d be best if I become your boyfriend, so I’d have a logical reason for being with you all the time. Practically twenty-four seven.”

  “Twenty-four seven? You mean not only are we supposed to work together, I’m also supposed to live with you?” Nikolai and I haven’t seen each other in years, but he should know me better than that.

  I would never move in with a man I’ve only known for a few days.

  That would be crazy.

  “That’s right,” Landon confirms. “It’s the best way to keep you safe until all the individuals associated with the contract on you have been arrested.”

  “Arrested? Since when did anything related to my family result in arrests? I mean, other than when members of my family are the ones who are being arrested. This is nuts.” I’d start pacing while thinking things through, but that’s not exactly feasible with Whiskey on my lap.

  Not unless I want to remove him.

  Which I don’t.

  “I didn’t escape my family and their criminal activities only to end up with a fake boyfriend who’s also the bad guy.”

  Landon’s eyebrow quirks up. “Bad guy? What do you think I am, a comic book villain?”

  I wave off his comment. “You know what I mean. I have no intention of
being yanked back into that family.” I’m still confused by his earlier comment. My family does everything they can to avoid the cops and the FBI. They don’t try to get people arrested.

  They just kill them off.

  “Is that’s why you wanted me to wait for you so you could walk me to my car?” Another thought kicks me in the gut, knocking it out from under my heart. “That’s the real reason you took me out last night to the restaurant, and why you want to help with the Christmas concert?” It wasn’t because he liked me and wanted to help me out. It was because he was hired to be my bodyguard.

  Landon cringes. Not a whole lot, but enough for me to catch it. “Yes, I’ll admit they’re part of it.”

  “So, you don’t actually want to date me?” I think I do a pretty decent job of keeping the hurt from my tone and ignoring the real issue here. “And you don’t really want to help with the Christmas concert?”

  Landon finishes his drink in a swift move and lowers the glass to the coffee table. “That’s not entirely true. I might not know the first thing about running a Christmas show, but I do want to help with it. And as for the dating part. Like you, I don’t date. So we’re all good on that.”

  “So, you were pretty much planning to use me for sex?” Why else would anyone move in with their new boyfriend or girlfriend after a few dates?

  Landon rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, we didn’t exactly think that one through. We were more focused on keeping you safe without you discovering the real reason you and I were a couple.”

  Well, that’s a relief. Kind of.

  “You aren’t even interested in me that way?” I’ll definitely need more whiskey to get through this conversation.

  Possibly the entire bottle.

  I down the contents of my glass and return it to him. “Can I have some more, please?”

  “Are you sure?”

  I nod. Between what happened in the parking lot after school and Landon’s confession, I require something that will make me…happier.

  Dear Mom, I mentally write.

  If you were my age and a hot man wanted you to live with him while he was protecting your butt, would you do it?

  Oh, and what would you do if you escaped your Russian mafia family only for that family to want to drag you back in again?