Christmas Hostage (Christmas Romantic Suspense Book 1)

by Jane Blythe

  He believed that Chloe had the potential to be an amazing agent. She was smart, and her attention to detail rivaled his own. She was also caring and compassionate, and she wanted to make a difference. He was looking forward to getting to know her better and to work with her.

  But she also had the potential to get herself hurt. She wanted her sole focus to be the end game, but if she didn't pay attention to how she got there, she was a risk to herself and everyone around her. She couldn’t be reckless. She had to be smart—always.

  Chloe’s annoyed face softened. “You’re right, I'm sorry. Thank you for caring. And you’re right, we do have to trust each other. Yesterday I did what I thought was right. Maybe I should have waited for you guys to talk him down. Maybe that was the safer option, I'm not sure, but I am sorry that it stressed you.”

  Tom nodded. His partner didn't get how important it was to play things safe yet, but one day she would. This was only her second case. Everything was still new and fresh for her. And maybe he had overreacted a little yesterday. He was on edge the last few days because of seeing Hannah again, particularly under these circumstances.

  He knew he had a reputation for paying obsessive attention to the details in everything he did, and he also knew that that reputation had developed after Hannah’s assault. That night had changed both of them. And maybe if he’d been paying better attention to things that night, it would never have happened. He wouldn’t make that mistake again, but he also knew he couldn’t visit his issues on his partner.

  “I just want you to be safe, Chloe. Particularly now that you have someone who’s counting on you.”

  “I won't take unnecessary risks,” she assured him.

  He hoped that was true. “You ready to interview Warren Maloney?”

  Warren Maloney was the nineteen-year-old kid who’d held a gun to Chloe’s head yesterday afternoon. The other two men were his seventeen-year-old brother and an eighteen-year-old cousin. Yesterday, the kids had gone through the booking process and now they were able to interview the gang’s ringleader. Tom had been on pins and needles all night, anxious for confirmation that these three kids didn't hold up Hannah’s store.

  “Yep,” Chloe nodded eagerly.

  “We want information about the robberies,” he reminded her, “not about what happened yesterday.”

  “I know,” she assured him.

  Tom held back a small smile. Chloe’s passion and zeal were quite endearing. He just hoped she learned to channel them appropriately and use them to her advantage.

  “Good morning, Mr. Maloney,” he said as they entered the interview room where Warren and his lawyer were waiting for them.

  The young man just glared at them. Warren Maloney was an angry kid. Expelled from school at the age of fourteen after getting into several fights, he started stealing cars. At the age of fifteen, he did his first stint in a juvenile detention facility. When he came out, he went straight back to stealing cars, this time carjacking people at gunpoint. After the last prison stint, he had apparently decided to ditch cars and try robbing jewelry stores instead. Warren was tall and thin with a baby face that made him look no older than about thirteen. Until you looked into his eyes, which were ice blue and cold and weathered as though he’d lived a hundred years already.

  “You’re facing serious charges, Mr. Maloney,” Tom continued. “Multiple counts of armed robbery, assault of a federal agent. There’s no denying the charges, claiming it wasn't you. No excuses. There are a dozen cops and agents who saw you do it.”

  “I didn't hurt her,” Warren said sullenly, his bushy eyebrows knitting together.

  “You held a gun to her head.”

  “I ain’t going back to prison.” Warren’s blue eyes stared defiantly.

  “You most certainly are.”

  “Am not.” Warren turned to his public defender to seek support.

  “They have you for this robbery and the assault on the agent.” The middle-aged lawyer flicked his hand in Chloe’s direction. “Getting off on any of those charges would be unlikely. The other robberies—they don’t really have anything to connect them to you.”

  “Who said there were others?” Warren aimed for nonchalance but looked more nervous than anything else.

  “We know there were others. Three men in clown masks, brandishing guns held up four other jewelry stores,” Chloe said. “We know that. That’s not what we want to talk to you about.”

  “Your brother doesn’t have a criminal record.” Tom changed the subject.

  “Did you have to talk him into committing the robberies with you?” Chloe asked.

  “He’s a good kid. Had his whole life ahead of him. He was doing well in school. He could have gone to college and with hard work, been anything he wanted to be, done anything he wanted to do.”

  “How did you convince him to throw it all away?”

  “Your cousin is a drug addict, right? Is that how you convinced him to help you?”

  “He probably agreed fairly readily. Anything to make a quick buck.”

  “What did you do with the jewelry?”

  “Did you pawn it?”

  “Did you sell it online?”

  “Did you sell it on the black market?”

  “Between the two robberies you got away with, close to twenty-thousand-dollars’-worth of jewelry. Not bad for less than ten minutes’ work.”

  “What was your long-term goal? Did you want the money to start over or to do something with, or did you just want to scare some people?”

  “Who fired the shot that hit Jeff Shields?” Tom asked.

  Warren Maloney’s head had been snapping backward and forward between them as they peppered him with questions. They had wanted to keep him unfocused and off his guard, so when they fired the question about the shooting at him, he was unprepared and his face would betray the truth before his brain had a chance to come up with a lie.

  Now, Warren looked confused. “The shot?”

  “Two days ago, at Sunkissed Jewels,” he replied.

  “We never hit that place,” Warren said.

  It was the confirmation he’d wanted, but he needed to be sure. “You, your brother, and your cousin have been robbing jewelry stores. The Sunkissed Jewels was robbed. Why should we believe it wasn't you?”

  “Because we never did it.” Warren frowned irritably.

  “You shot someone,” Chloe said.

  “I ain’t shot nobody, ever,” Warren protested.

  “You're saying someone else robbed that store?” Chloe asked.

  Warren shrugged. “I ain’t got a clue. Alls I know is we didn't do nothing there. And we didn't shoot nobody, either.”

  Tom looked to his partner for confirmation she believed Warren was telling the truth. Chloe gave him a small nod. “If it wasn't you, could it have been just your brother and cousin who robbed the store without telling you?” He didn't think it was likely, but they were looking for only two people.

  “No.”

  “How can you be sure?” Chloe asked. “Maybe they didn't want to share things three ways. Maybe they decided for that one they'd leave you out.”

  “They wouldn’t. It was all my idea. Zane didn't even wanna do it. And Kurt, all he cared about was getting high. Anyways, we couldn’t have done it. Two days ago, we was at our grandmother’s funeral,” Warren told them.

  “In the evening?” Tom asked.

  “Got home about eleven and went to bed.”

  Tom believed him. Zane Maloney didn't have a police record and there was no evidence he had ever been violent. The cousin, Kurt, had some drug-related misdemeanors, but again, nothing violent. He didn't even think that Warren would have shot anyone. “Did anyone else know about what you were doing?”

  “No.”

  “No fourth person who was supposed to work with you but dropped out?”

  “No.”

  “Was the Sunkissed Jewels on your hit list?” Chloe asked.

  “Didn't really have a hit list.”


  “Do you know of anyone else who might also be robbing jewelry stores?”

  “No.”

  Warren didn't have anything useful to give them, but he’d already given them the one thing they needed. Now they had proof that these kids didn't rob Hannah’s store, they could move on to their next interview. One which would be infinitely harder.

  Hannah.

  * * * * *

  9:25 A.M.

  Had it worked?

  He wasn't sure.

  Had Hannah gotten his message?

  Did she know why he did it?

  Did she understand?

  Did she know that he would never allow anything to hurt her?

  Did she know that everything he did, he did in her best interest?

  So many questions, and he had no way of knowing the answers.

  The cops had caught the gang of masked men who had been robbing jewelry stores, so by now, they must know that those men hadn’t been the ones who robbed Hannah’s store.

  But did they know who did?

  Did they know it was all because of him?

  Did they know that he had paid someone to do it?

  Did they know why?

  Were they looking for him?

  This was so stressful. He hadn’t realized just how much work and anxiety would go into making his plan a reality. Now he lived in constant fear that someone would connect the robbery to him. But if this worked, then it would be worth it.

  He did it all for Hannah.

  He had wanted her for so long, but she didn't look at him that way. She was so self-sufficient, she just went about her life, so introverted, so scared to let anyone in, so determined to do it all by herself.

  But if she would just look at him, then she would see that he was here for her no matter what. That he would do anything for her.

  So, he had come up with an idea that would make Hannah see just how much she needed someone. That even though she was the strongest woman he’d ever met, she needed to have someone in her life that she could count on who would protect her and take care of her and make everything okay.

  He had known that she would need a push to get the message.

  And this seemed like the perfect option.

  Put her in a situation where she was scared, where her life would be in danger, and she should come running straight to him so he could help her pick up the pieces.

  It all seemed so foolproof.

  What could go wrong?

  At the time, he’d thought nothing. But now he was having second thoughts. If he was found out, he could go to prison. And Hannah was so tough. What if he hadn’t given her enough of a push? What if she didn't come running to him? What if she tried to deal with all of it on her own?

  So far, she hadn’t come to him.

  Did that mean he should push harder?

  If the cops knew that Hannah was the target of the robbery and not the jewelry, then they would go through her life with a fine-tooth comb. They would circle around her, providing a protective shield that would be difficult for him to penetrate.

  But he had to find a way to make it work.

  He had to have Hannah for his very own.

  He loved everything about her. She was so beautiful. He adored her long, dark auburn hair; the color reminded him of fall leaves. He loved her eyes, a gorgeous mix of green and blue and gray. He could stare into them forever. It was like staring into the bottomless depths of the ocean. He loved her milky white skin, and the light smattering of freckles across her nose. Stress and hard work made her a little too thin, but once she had him to take care of her, she would be able to relax.

  Although her strength was an obstacle to getting to her, he admired it. Greatly. He knew what she had overcome, and it made him love her all the more. She was smart, and when she let her guard down and allowed herself to have a little fun, she had a marvelous sense of humor. She had a big heart and was always looking for opportunities to help others. She volunteered at a rape crisis center, she worked at a homeless shelter dishing out meals once a week, and she donated a percentage of her store’s monthly profits to help underprivileged children.

  He wanted her so badly, it consumed him. He ached with the desire to hold her in his arms, to kiss her, to make love to her, to be the center of her world.

  He needed a way to find out if Hannah had gotten the message.

  If she was scared enough that she sought solace with him.

  And if she hadn’t, he would take things up a level.

  He was going to do whatever it took to have her.

  He wouldn’t stop until she was his.

  * * * * *

  9:36 A.M.

  Tom was nervous as he stood at the door to the interview room where Hannah was waiting for them. When they’d first met, he’d never been nervous around her. Their relationship had seemed natural from the very beginning.

  They’d met back in their first days of college. He’d been studying criminal justice, she’d been studying business management, and early one morning they had literally bumped into each other at the library.

  The attraction had been instantaneous.

  Maybe not love at first sight, but there was definitely a spark.

  He’d asked her out that day, and Hannah had said yes. Their first date had been that night. And that was when he knew. He’d taken her to an amusement park and they’d stayed until closing, eating junk and riding the roller coaster over and over again. They’d had such a great time laughing and talking that he’d known that she was the woman he wanted to spend his life with.

  Although, like any other couple, they had had their ups and downs, they always found a way to work through any issue that arose and remain together. He proposed a year after they met, at the library, right where they had bumped into each other. They’d married shortly after they graduated.

  Everything had been going so well. He was happy in his job as an FBI agent. Hannah’s store was growing, they had talked about the possibility of starting a family, and their future had seemed so bright. And then that night had changed everything.

  After that, he had started to feel nervous around Hannah. She’d been raped and traumatized. She’d had nightmares and jumped at every little noise. He’d wanted to take away her fears, but at the same time, he hadn’t known how to handle her. He had worried about failing her, about not saying or doing the right thing, about not giving her what she needed. Not because he thought she was weak but because he didn't know what his place was anymore. He was Hannah’s husband, and he wanted to be there to comfort and support her, but at every opportunity, she pushed him away. That left him feeling helpless, and as such, anxious around her because he didn't want to overstep his bounds.

  Nine years of closeness had been wiped away in the three years since they’d divorced, and he was feeling even more unsure around her. More so than ever since they'd spoken yesterday, and she had accused him of throwing away their marriage because he was too stubborn to admit he had needed help.

  As much as he didn't want to admit it, he thought Hannah might be right.

  He had made her his priority back then because she had been the one who’d been so violently assaulted. But he had been there, too. Maybe she hadn’t been the only one who had needed time and help to deal with the trauma they’d been through.

  Tom wasn't sure, and right now, he didn't have time to contemplate it.

  “Can we hurry up and get this over with?” Hannah asked as soon as they opened the door. She looked nervous and edgy and didn't appear to be doing anything to hide it. She was wearing jeans, black, knee-high boots, and a pink sweater with sleeves that came right down over her hands—and was twisting them between her fingers as she paced the small room. He knew Hannah hated police stations after all the hours she’d spent in them recounting the story of her assault so many times.

  “We’ll be as quick as we can,” he assured her, resisting the urge to take her elbow and guide her to the table. Instead, he went and sat. Chloe followed
him, and after eyeing the door longingly, Hannah came and joined them.

  “You found them, right? The men who robbed my store, who shot Jeff?”

  Her hopeful, blue-green eyes cut him deeply. He was about to shatter that hope. “We found the men who robbed the other four stores,” he told her gently. “We arrested them yesterday afternoon attempting to rob another. We just finished interviewing one of them. They weren’t the ones who held up your store, Hannah.”

  Disappointment filled her face. “Are you sure?”

  “We’re sure, Ms. Buffy,” Chloe replied.

  “Then, who robbed my store?” Her eyes searched their faces seeking answers.

  “We don’t know.”

  “So, you were right.” Hannah turned to him. “What happened at my store wasn't related to the others.”

  “I didn't want to be right, Hannah,” he told her.

  She arched a brow at that. “How are you going to find them?”

  “Through you. Through everything you can tell us,” he replied.

  “We need a list of everything that was taken so we can try to track it,” Chloe said.

  “I started making a list, but the store was a mess. It might take me a while to get you a complete list.”

  “That’s fine,” he assured her. “I asked you before if you thought anyone might want to target you through your store and you said no. Now I need you to really think about it.”

  “This could still just be a random robbery, right?” Hannah asked.

  “Yes,” Chloe answered quickly. “It absolutely could. It probably is. But we want to be sure that it isn’t anything else.”

  “Is there anyone who might want to hurt you?” Tom asked.

  “No. I told you that already. I don’t know what you want from me. There’s no one who would want to hurt me. I'm sure this was just random. It’s Christmas. They probably wanted to make some quick money and thought my store was an easy mark. That’s it. Nothing more,” Hannah finished emphatically.

  She was growing agitated. And the more agitated she got, the less likely they were to get any answers from her. “Tell us about the store,” he asked, redirecting her attention away from the robbery. “It’s not the one you had when we were together.”