Spying Under the Mistletoe (Love Undercover Book 2)

by Stina Lindenblatt

  “Shit, what Hallmark card did you steal that from?”

  He slaps me on the shoulder, grinning. “What can I say? Love makes you profound.”

  31

  Chloe

  Some people hate Christmas shopping. They hate the crowds, and they hate trying to find the perfect gift.

  They prefer shopping online and getting it all done with a click of the mouse.

  Not me.

  I love Christmas shopping. I love the sounds and the smells and the sights of the holiday season.

  Online shopping can never beat that.

  “Oh, this is cute,” I say to Kiera, picking up a onesie with a cartoon reindeer on the front. We’re currently looking for a present for her new niece.

  “They’re all freaking cute.” She takes it from me and searches through the neat stacks for more. “Did I tell you, my sister bought tickets to a charity event for while I’m visiting her in Lake Tahoe?”

  “What kind of charity event?”

  “It’s some fancy masquerade ball she’s been helping organize. Which means I need to buy a dress for it.”

  “You don’t sound too thrilled.”

  She grabs a onesie with a smiling snowman on it. “I don’t know. I think I’d be happier just wearing PJs and hanging out with my niece. Getting a dress seems like too much effort.”

  “You could always hope your fairy godmother pays you a visit and turns your ratty old pajamas into a beautiful ball gown.” I grin at her impishly.

  She laughs. “I like that idea better.”

  “But don’t they usually come with pumpkin coaches and kisses at midnight with a stranger?”

  “Given there are no royal princes in Lake Tahoe at this time of year—or any time of the year—I don’t have to worry about that part of the fairy tale coming true.”

  “I don’t know, being kissed by a good-looking stranger, royal or otherwise, sounds pretty wonderful to me,” I say on a dramatic sigh that has her laughing.

  “You miss him, don’t you?”

  Her out-of-the-blue question surprises me. “Miss who?”

  “You know very well who I’m talking about.”

  “Who, Landon?” At her nod, I continue, “In case you’ve forgotten, he hasn’t gone anywhere. He’s still substituting for Zoe’s class.”

  Kiera doesn’t know the real reason Landon’s and my whirlwind romance came to an abrupt end. But she also doesn’t know the truth about my family, and why Mark, my stepfather, and my father disappeared from my life.

  Nor has the news mentioned the discovery of their bodies. The FBI seems to be keeping it under wraps for now.

  “Are you having second thoughts about spending Christmas with your sister and brother-in-law?” I ask, needing to change the subject.

  She shakes her head, then shrugs. “Maybe. But I know I need to go. I’ve avoided visiting them there since…” She leaves the words hanging and shrugs again. Her husband died on a ski hill in Lake Tahoe. “It’s time I finally say good-bye to him.”

  I smile softly at her. “I think you’re right.”

  “Will you help me find a dress?”

  “And get to be your fairy godmother? Absolutely.”

  We continue with our Christmas shopping. One of the sad parts about not having a family to share the holidays with is that it means I don’t have many people to shop for. Which is another reason I love shopping with Kiera.

  She does have a family.

  I do, though, buy my mom a present like I always do. And like what has become tradition, I’ll send it to her without saying who it’s from.

  And she’ll do the same.

  For a second, I wonder if the FBI has told her the truth about her two husbands. Was she aware that her first husband was dead when she married my stepfather?

  My phone rings. I remove it from my purse and answer it.

  “Chloe,” Principal Woodnut says. “Have you spoken with Tabitha Windhouse yet, to get her approval for the costumes?”

  “I left a message, but she never got back to me.” I have no idea why I need Tabitha’s approval. I’ve already told Principal Woodnut I paid for the material myself.

  “Can you try her again? I just want to ensure there are no hitches when it comes to the concert.”

  In other words, she doesn’t want me to give Tabitha a reason to be a pain in the butt when it comes to other school events.

  “I’ll call her again now.”

  “Thank you, Chloe.”

  I end the call and speed-dial Tabitha’s number. It goes to voice mail again. God, I really hope she’s not avoiding my calls on purpose.

  I leave her the same message as before and ask her to call me as soon as possible.

  “Trouble with Tabitha again?” Kiera asks.

  I tell her about the issue.

  “I wouldn’t be surprised if one of her kids has an activity tonight,” Kiera says, “and Tabitha had to drive them to it.”

  “Good point. I’ll try her again later.”

  Once we’ve finished buying presents, we head to a store that has fancy dresses.

  “Wow, these are gorgeous,” I say as we search through the racks of ball gowns in rich jewel colors. “Your fairy godmother couldn’t do much better.”

  Kiera pulls out a burgundy ball gown. The top is made from velvet and has a sweetheart neckline held up with spaghetti straps. The floor-length skirt is layers upon layers of gauze fabric with a slight shimmer to it.

  “It’s gorgeous. Try it on.”

  “Isn’t it a little too much?”

  “For a ball? No, I’d say it’s perfect. You’ll look like a princess.”

  She returns it to the rack. “Maybe I don’t want to be a princess.”

  “Everyone wants to be a princess, to feel special for just one day. And you more than anyone deserves that. Besides, what does it hurt to try it on?”

  She removes it again. “Okay, I’ll do it. Are you trying one on, too?”

  “I’ll pass. I’m not the one attending a ball.” I’m not even doing anything for New Year’s Eve, other than watching the countdown on TV and watching a movie.

  I won’t even get to kiss anyone at midnight.

  So basically, my typical New Year’s Eve celebration.

  Kiera disappears into the dressing room. I glance at my phone, checking to see if anyone has texted me, even though I know no one has.

  “Merry Christmas,” a deep voice says behind me. “Ho ho ho.” The crisp ringing of a bell cuts through the air.

  I turn to find Santa walking toward me. But this isn’t an old man who was made up to look like him. This man is a lot younger…and there’s something oddly familiar about his eyes.

  “Merry Christmas, young lady.” He says it loud enough for everyone to hear and rings his bell again. “Do you have a holiday wish you want to tell Santa?”

  Instead of giving me a candy cane, he hands me a Christmas tree ornament shaped like a shooting star. The silver threads—woven like a dream catcher—sparkle in the store lights.

  Why does it look so familiar?

  “If you wish on a shooting star,” I ask Nikolai, “does the wish really come true?” Our families were staying in a large cabin in a forest—like in a fairy tale—the summer after my father left. Nikolai and I had snuck out of the house, and were studying the stars twinkling in the late-night sky. I’d never seen so many before then.

  Nikolai enthusiastically nods. “I’m positive it’s true.”

  “Have any of your shooting-star wishes come true?”

  He thinks about it for a moment. “Not exactly, but maybe I didn’t do it right.”

  “There’s a right way to make a wish?”

  The memory fades, replaced with a new one. Now I remember why the star is so familiar. It belonged to Nikolai’s family. I bought it for their Christmas tree after the shooting-star conversation.

  “Nikolai?” I whisper, my voice too stunned to come out louder than that. “What are you doing here?”


  “I came to check on you. Heard there’s a contract on your head. Sorry about that.” He flashes me the angelic smile I remember from when we were kids.

  It usually meant he’d been far from angelic.

  “Thanks,” I say with a small smile I don’t mean. “How long have you known about it?”

  “I also heard you’ve got a bodyguard.”

  Still do. Somewhere.

  I resist the urge to glance around and track down Adam.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask again.

  “I wanted to check that you’re okay. The Feds are obviously doing a crappy job of protecting you.”

  “And you’re doing a better job?”

  He snorts a quiet laugh. “Touché.” The smile vanishes from his face. “The only reason they’re trying to protect you is because they want something from you.”

  “And what’s that exactly?”

  “What have you told them about our family?”

  I finger the ornament. If I hurl it across the room while making a wish, does that count? “That’s not an answer.”

  “And neither is that.”

  Now, that’s the Nikolai I remember and loved.

  “What does it matter what I’ve told them?” I ask. “It’s not like I’m aware of any big secrets they don’t already know.” And for that, I’m grateful.

  I’d hate to consider what kinds of skeletons are lurking in my family’s closet.

  Nikolai’s face relaxes for a moment, and I’m reminded of the boy I used to know. The boy who used to be my best friend.

  “Do you know anything about the murder of my last boyfriend, Mark Greenwood, or about the murder of my father and stepfather?” Maybe Nikolai can give me the answers the FBI and I seek. “Do you know why they were all killed?”

  His expression gives nothing away. “You can’t trust anyone, Chloe. Please promise me you’ll—”

  “What do you think?” Kiera asks behind me, interrupting whatever Nikolai was about to say.

  I turn to find her walking toward me in the gown. And for a second, Nikolai is forgotten.

  I grin at her. “You look gorgeous. You have to get that dress. It’ll be perfect for the ball.”

  And it will be. With her blonde hair cascading over her shoulders in light waves, she looks breathtaking.

  “In that dress, I’m positive you’ll have a magical night.”

  “I could definitely use magic to get through it.” Her gaze flicks to Nikolai. “What do you say, Santa? Can you spare me some magic for the night of the ball?”

  “I’ll see what I can do.” He places his hand on his belly, which has obviously been augmented with pillows. “Ho ho ho.”

  “You’re getting the dress, right?” I ask Kiera, ignoring him.

  “You don’t think it’ll be too much? I mean, it is only for one night. And it’s not like I have a date to impress.”

  Her gaze returns to Nikolai, and a puzzled frown forms between her eyes. “You look familiar. Have we met before?”

  He shakes his head. “You’re probably confusing me for someone else.”

  “Maybe.” The word is drawn-out, uncertain. “All right, I’ll buy this dress,” she says to me and returns to the change rooms.

  I turn to Nikolai.

  The boyish look is back on his white-bearded face. Only it’s the sad smile I remember from when his father told him he couldn’t be a cop when he grew up. “I’ve missed you, Chloe. I miss how we used to talk about our dreams for the future. I guess neither of us pursued them in the end.”

  “Well, given eight-year-old me dreamed of being a princess, that’s not too surprising. I haven’t exactly had too many princes cross my path.”

  “Have you tried kissing a frog? I’ve heard that’s the best way to land yourself a prince these days.”

  “Darn it,” I say, snapping my fingers. “The last frog that crossed my path was stretched out on a dissection tray. And I don’t think kissing a dead frog works quite the same way.”

  Something moves in the corner of my eye. I don’t have to turn my head to know it’s Adam. The question is, why did Nikolai take the risk of being discovered when he knows damn well I’m not here on my own?

  Did he really believe the Santa costume would make a difference?

  “I really am sorry, Chloe,” he says. “About everything. Just remember the star. It has the answer to everything.”

  Before I can respond, and ask what the heck he’s talking about, he pulls a gun from his sack and whirls around. This is followed by a series of gunshots from every angle.

  Screams fill the air, muffled by the loud pounding of my pulse in my ears.

  On instinct, I dive to the ground, praying Kiera does the same in the change room. Praying that stray bullets don’t hit her or anyone else.

  Nikolai steps forward, still shooting at the unseen target.

  And then he’s no longer walking.

  His body sags to the floor.

  I scream…because despite the man he’s become, he once meant the world to me.

  Even though deep down I know it’s a dumb move, I wiggle over to him, still clutching the shooting star. I’m vaguely aware of tears staining my face and dripping on the gray carpet.

  “Nikolai? Oh, God, Nikolai, say something.” I check his pulse. Even before the confirmation, I know he’s dead.

  A sob escapes me, and I look up, only to spot something even more chilling through the racks of clothes. It propels me to my feet.

  My ears are ringing from the shooting. Muffled sounds of someone yelling reaches out to me, but I don’t stop to see who it is. With my wish slipping softly from my lips, I half stumble, half lunge at the two injured men on the floor: Landon and Adam.

  Landon is gripping his shoulder. Blood seeps between his fingers. Adam looks dazed, blood dripping along the side of his face.

  “We need an ambulance,” I scream to anyone who can hear me.

  Adrenaline courses through me. It’s the only thing pasting me together.

  I drop beside Landon, mentally going through what I learned in the first aid course I took last year. They didn’t cover gunshot wounds, but the instructor taught enough for me to know that I have to stop the bleeding. Now.

  “Hold this.” I tuck the star in his free hand—hoping it’ll bring us both luck—and yank at a bright-pink ski jacket on the nearby rack. It tumbles free of the hanger.

  “You know, pink isn’t really my color.” Somehow, he manages to chuckle.

  Ignoring his smartass comment, I lay it on the floor behind him and cradle the back his head with my hand. “I’ve got you, Landon,” I say gently. “Lie down so I can check your shoulder.”

  Groaning, he shakes his head. “I need to check on Adam.”

  “I’ll help him next. But I need you to lie down first. Okay?”

  He nods, and with my help, does as I asked. I push myself to my feet and grab a bunch of cotton tops from nearby hangers. I fold them into makeshift pads and gently pry his hand away from his shoulder.

  Blood gushes from the wound.

  Fuck.

  It’s not a big hole, but that doesn’t mean anything if the bullet hit a major blood vessel.

  I carefully place a pad of clothing on it. “I need to move you a bit so I can check for an exit wound.”

  He nods. The pain on his face clenches my heart like it’s one of Whiskey’s chew toys—minus the high-pitched squeak.

  With my help, he moves his upper body enough for me to peer under his shoulder. His shirt is covered in blood, but there doesn’t seem to be an exit wound.

  I ease him down again.

  “I’m going to check on Adam. Promise me you won’t go anywhere.” The last words feel like they have to push past the squeaky-toy-sized lump in my throat. “And promise me you’ll hold on to the star. Rumor has it, it’s luckier than a shooting star.”

  To the casual onlooker, it sounds like I just mean for Landon to stay where he is. But it’s more than that. I’ve
already lost three men that I loved, I can’t lose him, too.

  Not this way.

  When he doesn’t answer, I repeat it. “Promise me, okay?”

  “I promise,” he mumbles and tries to move. “Adam.”

  I lean down and kiss his forehead. “I love you,” I whisper softly enough so he can’t hear me.

  A man crouches next to Landon, his breath fast, as if he’d sprinted here. “I’m an off-duty paramedic. What happened?”

  Relief almost knocks me on my butt at his words. “He was shot in the shoulder.” I could kiss the man on the forehead like I did Landon, but he’s got more important things to do—like saving Landon’s life.

  The paramedic gaze shifts to Adam. “What about the other man?”

  “I was about to check on him.” I crawl over to where Adam’s slumped on the floor. “Hey, Adam.” I shake his shoulders slightly, not enough to really move him. But enough to check if he’s conscious.

  He moans in response.

  The paramedic is asking Landon questions, and he tells Landon his name. Rob.

  Kiera, back in her regular clothes, joins us, pale and shaking, and stands by Adam’s feet.

  Her gaze shifts from Adam to Landon and then to the guns next to them. Her eyes widen in fear. “Shouldn’t we get those guns away from them before they hurt anyone else?”

  “They’re the good guys,” I say, examining Adam’s body for additional signs of injury. “Where the hell is the ambulance?”

  “It’s on its way,” a man in a uniform says, approaching. Mall security. “The cops, too.” He hands me a first aid kit, gun drawn. “Is the other man alive?” He nods in Nikolai’s direction.

  Rob looks up at me, and then at where the security guard had gestured.

  I shake my head. “No, he’s dead.” My voice cracks into a hundred pieces, but I’m not sure for who, exactly. The man who I haven’t seen in many years, or for the boy who was at one time my world.

  “Why were they shooting at Santa?” Kiera asks, voice trembling. “Since when did the good guys try to kill Santa?”