Crossfire Christmas

by Julie Miller

  Another knock, and the tenor of AJ’s voice had changed. “Teresa, are you in there? Is everything all right?”

  “I’m fine,” she shouted, the volume of her voice jarring to Nash’s ears. “I just need a minute.” She dropped her voice to a whisper again. “If you expect me to trust everything you’ve told me, then you’ll have to trust me first.”

  Big brother knocking at the door wasn’t leaving Nash much choice. “Teresa?” AJ called.

  “One wrong word,” Nash warned, “and this could get ugly fast.”

  “I won’t give you away. I promise.”

  With a curt nod and a refusal to holster his weapon, Nash pried her hand from his shirt and ducked behind the armoire, where he could peek through the back to watch the door open without being seen. Smoothing her sweater back into place and taking a deep breath, Teresa opened the door. “What? Is the building on fire? I said I was coming. Buenos días, AJ.”

  She beamed a smile and traded a hug and a kiss with the stocky dark-haired man. That compact size must run in the family. AJ might be only five-nine or so, but he was built like a fighter. His badge flashed from a chain around his neck in the opening of his padded leather jacket. And despite the small hand clutched in his, the detective was carrying at least one sidearm. Nash lowered his gun to his side, pointing it away from their visitors but keeping himself ready to move if he needed to.

  “Claire.” Teresa exchanged a hug with a beautiful blonde who carried a mini Michelin Man on her hip. “And my two favorite boys. Tony and little Adam.” There were noisy kisses for the toddler stuffed into a snowsuit and the older boy, who held on to his father’s hand. “What brings you here this morning?”

  Nash didn’t get another look before Teresa scooted them all out into the hall and pulled the door behind her, leaving it ajar just enough that he could hear the entire conversation.

  “You’re not inviting us in?” AJ asked.

  The woman called Claire, AJ’s wife, Nash assumed, answered in an oddly toned yet articulate voice. “I told you we should have called first. Maybe she has a guest.”

  “No guests,” Teresa assured them. Then she lowered her voice to a fake whisper. “But plenty of secrets. Santa stopped by for an early visit this week and asked me to wrap up some goodies for him and hold them until he’s back to pick them up on Christmas Eve. I can’t let you into Santa’s workshop, now, can I?”

  “I told you Tía Teresa was helping Santa.” The little boy named Tony sounded quite certain of his holiday rules. “We can’t peek, Daddy, or Santa will know, and he won’t bring the presents to our house. We have to go.”

  Although he could imagine the little boy tugging on his father’s hand, the prolonged silence made Nash wonder if AJ was doubting Teresa’s whimsical story of aiding and abetting the bearded little elf in the red suit. Nash wished he had eyes on the scene, to make sure there were no coded messages being exchanged.

  “You’re wrapping presents?” AJ finally asked. The doubtful inflection in his tone made Nash think no SOS signals had gone up.

  “I am. I’ve even got one for you, big brother. And you’re hard to surprise, so no coming in.” Nash saw Teresa’s hand reach for the doorknob behind her to keep the view into her apartment blocked. “Not that I don’t love seeing all of you, but why are you here?”

  “We were just a few blocks away,” her brother explained. “Tony had a basketball game this morning. We thought you’d like to join us for lunch.”

  “Normally, I would, but...” she slurred her voice through clenched teeth “...there is a lot of work to do.” Then she was speaking normally again. “Did you win your game?”

  “No.” Tony’s pout was audible. “But I did make a basket.”

  “That’s great,” Teresa cheered. “And you’ll get them next—”

  Claire interrupted. “Tony’s game was all the way out in Oak Grove.” Nash was beginning to think the woman might be hearing impaired, from the unique quality of her voice. But that didn’t stop her from being an active part of the conversation. “What your brother really wanted was to see with his own eyes that you’re all right.”

  “All right?” Teresa feigned innocence very well. “Why wouldn’t I be all right?”

  “KCPD got a report on a truck shot up on Lee’s Summit Road last night.” AJ Rodriguez was definitely a cop. Nash recognized the direct, no-nonsense demeanor. “I know you take that route home from work, even though I’ve told you to use a safer, well-lit route when it’s late. Especially in this weather. You know the city doesn’t clear that road as often as the main routes.”

  “I did take that road home after I did some shopping last night,” Teresa confessed. She was smart, mixing in enough of the truth to make her lies sound plausible. “There were a couple of slick spots, but the snow wasn’t an issue for me.”

  “Did you see anything?” AJ asked. “Dispatch got a call from a woman about the truck. She never identified herself. They got disconnected before the dispatcher could get an ID.”

  Nash held his breath, waiting to hear her answer.

  “So of course you assume it was me.” Nash recognized the defensive bristle in Teresa’s voice. “Like no other drivers would be on that road?”

  Nash hadn’t seen much traffic except for her sedan. He’d been lucky she’d stopped.

  “I tried calling you this morning and there was no answer.”

  “I lost my cell.”

  AJ wasn’t giving up on this. “I called the landline, too.”

  “I had a late night. I unplugged the phones so I could sleep in. I knew one of my siblings would be checking up on me this morning.”

  AJ remained coolly unruffled, despite the growing tension in his baby sister’s tone. “You didn’t see anything? I got a look at that truck this morning. There was nothing in it except for blood on the seat. There were tracks from more than one vehicle at the side of the road, and multiple footprints in the snow.”

  Nash could count the seconds of silence as Teresa hesitated. This was it. He wondered how good she was at lying to her family—or if this was the moment when she tossed him over to the enemy. “Well, I did see a black truck in the ditch and thought I could help, but...it was already empty when I got there. The driver must have hitched a ride.”

  “You went up to a stranger’s truck? Alone?” Nash heard a low-pitched curse in Spanish. “Teresa, there’s a BOLO out for the owner of that truck.”

  Be on the lookout for the driver in question. Him. Nash clenched his teeth to stifle his own curse. The mole in Houston must have listed him nationwide as some kind of fugitive.

  “Why?” Teresa asked.

  “Usually, when there’s that much blood, we look for a body to go with it.”

  “Antonio.” Claire chided her husband, probably not wanting their children to hear details like that.

  “I saw an accident on the side of the road, AJ,” Teresa insisted. “I’m a nurse. I’m expected to help if someone’s injured.”

  “At the hospital.” So Teresa’s independent streak could get under her big brother’s skin, as well. “No one expects you to risk your life on a dangerous road in the middle of the night.”

  “I expect it of me.” Her temper was brewing. “I’m okay. I didn’t see...” Nash tensed. Don’t hesitate, darlin’. He’ll know you’re lying. “There was no one in the truck. I’m all in one piece. See for yourself. Claire, a little help here? I’m sorry I have to turn down the lunch invitation, but I have things I need to take care of today.”

  “There was a lot of blood, Teresa. The truck had out-of-state plates and, did I mention, bullet holes?” Nash held his breath while AJ pushed Teresa for the truth. “You take foolish—”

  “Antonio. Amo,” Claire interrupted in a quiet voice. “Your sister is fine. She’s also grown-up. She has a job to do, just l
ike you and me. We need to go and give her her space. Come on, boys, tell your aunt goodbye.”

  “Bye-bye,” the little one chirped.

  “Bye, Tía Teresa,” Tony echoed.

  There was a rustle of hugs and goodbyes.

  And one last warning from her brother. “If you run into something like that again, you call me before you take matters into your own hands. ¿Comprendes?”

  “Entiendo.” Yes, she understood.

  “I’m trying to take care of you,” AJ insisted.

  “And I was trying to take care of the injured driver.”

  “I know, little one. But you could have run into a dangerous man. You give me cause to worry, yes?” There was a momentary pause, then, “I love you.”

  Judging by her muffled voice, there was another hug. “I love you, too.”

  And then the door was closing and Teresa threw the dead bolt.

  Nash crept out of his hiding place to find her leaning against the door with her eyes shut. “You okay?” he asked.

  Her eyes popped open to meet his gaze. “I got rid of them, like you said. Endured the lecture, lied to my family. It’s all good,” she added, her sarcasm evident in her tone.

  “I get the idea your brother knows you’re lying.”

  “Well, it’s the first time I’ve harbored a fugitive, so I wasn’t quite sure what to say.”

  “Teresa...” Maybe she was partner material after all. Nash holstered his gun, surprised at how well she’d covered for him. But it might not be enough. The tiny dots of bruising beside her mouth were a clear indication to even a bad detective that something wasn’t quite right in Teresa’s world. “There are other reasons why law enforcement might issue a BOLO besides looking for a criminal. Maybe someone in Houston filed a missing-person report on me.”

  Her gaze flashed up to his. “Do you think that’s what happened?”

  Honestly? Nash shook his head, wishing he had a better reassurance to give her. “Your brother sounded too worried about you.”

  “AJ always worries.” Teresa tapped her thumb against her chest. “Trouble, remember?”

  He hated that she joked about herself. Ignoring the urgency of the situation and the instincts that warned him her brother was a hard man to fool, Nash stroked his fingertips across the injury again. “I’m sorry. I wish I didn’t need you to do this for me.”

  “I wish I could believe you.” Her dark lashes fluttered against her cheeks at his touch. Man, he was taking liberties he had no right to. He didn’t have time to care about anything except finishing this job and avenging the deaths of his men. But this woman who was full of surprises stunned him again when she turned her face into the cup of his hand, turning his comfort into a caress. “I’ve seen your injuries. If nothing else, I do believe you need me.”

  Nash let his fingertips slide into the edge of her hair. “What you did for me last night was a brave thing. You knew you could help, and you did.”

  She smiled up at him, easing a little of his guilt before pulling away and leaving his palm tingling with the imprint of her cool skin pressed against his. She headed for the kitchen. “You didn’t give me a choice.”

  “Take the compliment, darlin’. You didn’t have to stop on that empty stretch of road. And I’m still alive, so you must be doing something right.”

  “Thank you for saying that.” She pulled a ladle from a crock beside the stove and pointed it at him. “This is all going to turn out right in the end, isn’t it?”

  Nash was done lying to her. “I can’t make that kind of guarantee.”

  She held his gaze for several seconds longer before her eyes shuttered and she went to work.

  While she packed them some food, Nash sorted through his go bag, taking stock of his gear and prepping another magazine of bullets. “You’re protecting AJ and his family, too. Remember that. I’m sure lying to your family sucks, but the fewer people who know about me, the better for both of us.”

  “I know. I’ll pack some medical supplies, too. And you still need a winter coat.”

  “We’ll buy one somewhere along the way. And a hat.” A real Stetson to replace the one he’d sacrificed would take too much of his cash. But Kansas City had been a stockyard town back in the day—there had to be some knockoff cowboy hats for sale somewhere.

  “There’s a Chiefs stocking cap in the front closet you can borrow,” she offered. “It’s not too girly.”

  Nash went to the closet and pulled out her coat and the stocking cap he found in a basket on the top shelf. The red and gold clashed with his Texans football spirit, but sporting the local team’s colors would certainly help him blend in in K.C. He pulled the knit cap over his head. “This’ll do for now.”

  “Is that what your money’s for? Coats and hats?”

  “It’s for whatever we need. I always keep a stash when I’m undercover so I don’t have to use credit cards or ATMs that can be traced.” He got out his phone and met her at the sink. If they were going to be a team, with her following his orders to the letter, then he was going to show her a little of that trust she’d asked for. He pulled her hand away from the dish towel she held and placed the cell in her palm, curling her fingers around it and holding on. “Call your supervisor and someone to cover your shift. Do everything I say, and I promise I will keep you alive. And I’ll do my damnedest to solve this case and have you home to your family and that hospital party by Christmas.”

  She nodded, accepting the deal. He hoped. She pulled away, crossing to the dismantled wall phone to open the thick directory beneath it. “What about your family, Nash? Are they safe from the men who are after you? Do you need to warn them?”

  “Ain’t nobody at home to call, Peewee. It’s one of the hazards of the job. No parents. No siblings. No girlfriend...” Phone calls. A nagging suspicion, one that should have registered sooner, finally worked its way through the pain and guilt and low-grade fever. He followed her to the phone book. “Why didn’t your brother mention your cell phone? You said you lost it, but I trashed it and left it on the floor of my truck. If he saw the blood in the seat, he would have seen that, too.”

  Teresa shrugged. “AJ said there was nothing inside.”

  Nash processed all the possible explanations, not liking a one of them. “So who cleaned up after we left?”

  “The police?”

  “AJ’s the police. If they found your cell, they could get your number from the computer chip inside. He’d know it was yours.”

  She nodded, understanding his concern. “And if he knew that was my phone, especially in pieces like that, he’d have been on my case even more. Especially if he found it in a truck belonging to someone the police are looking for.”

  “Someone else beat the cops to it.” And that someone could already be en route to Teresa’s apartment.

  With a renewed urgency pumping through his blood, Nash crossed the living room to peek outside through the blinds again. He’d checked earlier for anything that seemed suspicious, but he was noting the details now. There was some slow-moving traffic, but the block was too long and there were too many trees along the winding road to know if anyone was circling around for a closer look. There were two parking lot entrances to Teresa’s place. Seventeen cars parked there and at the curb in front. More in the lot for the apartments across the street.

  “Is something wrong?” Teresa’s voice at his shoulder startled him. “You’re scaring me a little bit.”

  A bundled-up man was sweeping snow off the sidewalk across the street, showing no interest in anything except his task. Nash looked for occupied vehicles. A van in the parking lot had a mom strapping a child into a car seat in the back. The wind shifted, blowing the exhaust away from a black SUV parked across the street, revealing a dark-haired man behind the wheel, talking on his cell.

  Nash didn’t st
artle when Teresa touched his arm, although his pulse still kicked into a higher gear. “What is it?”

  He pulled her off to the side of the window, keeping her out of sight as he pointed out the black vehicle. “Is that your brother?”

  She peeked through the blinds. “No. I don’t know who that is. AJ drives a Trans Am. Or Claire’s red Escalade when they have the kids.”

  Taking her hand, Nash pulled her into step behind him. “Come on. We need to go.” He tossed Teresa her coat and hoisted his bag onto his good shoulder. “Is there a back entrance we can use to get to the parking lot?”

  “Sure.” She slipped into her coat, pulled a backpack from the closet and loaded it with the thermos and food. Nash picked up her purse and dropped the whole thing into the knapsack’s main compartment when she started to pull out certain items, hurrying her along. “Do you think that man is here to kill you?”

  “I’m not waiting around to find out. Let’s go.”

  She stopped tying the backpack and snapped her fingers. “The first-aid kit.”

  When she dashed past him, he grabbed her hand again and turned her toward the door. “We don’t have time. Vargas’s and Graciela’s thugs travel in packs.”

  “Packs?” Her fingers shook as she unlocked the door.

  “If that’s a cartel man, I don’t know where his partner is. He might already be in the building.” Nash entered the hallway first, scanning both directions to make sure they were alone while she locked her door behind him. The elevator at the front of the building hummed to life as the gears in the shaft engaged. Not good. “Someone’s on their way up.”

  Teresa nodded toward the opposite end of the hall. “The back stairs are down there.”

  When she started to walk, Nash pressed his hand to the small of her back and hurried her into a jog. “Move it, darlin’.” The elevator might not be coming to the fourth floor, but no sense taking any chances on being seen. “Rule Three—avoiding a confrontation beats fighting your way out of one. I won’t get caught in the middle of a shoot-out with you here.”