Christmas Hostage (Christmas Romantic Suspense Book 1)

by Jane Blythe

  “Ellen Zimmerman. Hannah said they were friends but not that close. She also said that the woman received a sizeable life insurance payout when her husband died. I looked into her, and she also owns several rental properties, plus she sold her husband’s chain of shoe stores for a lot of money.”

  “I agree, it doesn’t seem likely, but she was the one who suggested that her son go to work at Hannah’s store, and then a month later, the store is robbed. We can't discount it.”

  “Might not be about money,” Chloe suggested. “Maybe Hannah and her husband had an affair, and it’s personal. She and the son decide to teach her a lesson and set up the robbery.”

  Tom glared at Chloe, furious at the very suggestion Hannah would have an affair. “She wouldn’t do that.”

  “Maybe it wasn't the husband. Maybe Hannah and the son were involved. And Ellen didn't like that, decided to teach Hannah a lesson.”

  “She didn't mention dating nineteen-year-old Vincent,” he said tightly.

  “No, she didn't. But she clearly wasn't comfortable being forthcoming about her love life with you in the room. Maybe I should talk to her again. Without you. See if she mentions anything else.”

  “I don’t think she was lying when she said that she hadn’t dated much. Or too uncomfortable to say it in front of me.” He knew Hannah, and he knew what she’d been through. He’d had a front row seat. It made sense that after being gang raped by six men, she wasn't in a hurry to start dating again.

  “It does make sense given her history,” Chloe agreed. “And she has clearly put a lot of time and effort into building up her business, but we have to look into everything. Maybe she’s been dating a lot but just doesn’t want to hurt your feelings by telling you.”

  “Why would hurting my feelings be an issue? We’re divorced. She’s free to date whoever she wants.”

  Chloe rolled her eyes. “The tone of your voice and the look on your face when you say she’s free to date whoever she wants, make your feelings on her love life pretty clear.”

  Tom said nothing. He had nothing to say to that. He hated the idea of Hannah with another man. “We have to talk to her ex.” He couldn’t deny that part of him was insanely curious about who Hannah had dated after their divorce, while at the same time, part of him didn't want to meet the man and acknowledge he was real and Hannah really had had a life after him.

  “We’ll call Garry Smith and set up a meeting. Even though Hannah said the break up went smoothly, it doesn’t mean it did on Garry’s part. Maybe he doesn’t want to let her go. Maybe he thinks, if he can scare her badly enough, she’ll come running back to him. If nothing else, he might be able to give us some insight into anyone who might have a grudge against Hannah. I know she says there’s no one, but I think part of it is she doesn’t want to admit you could be right, so she might be missing something.”

  It was a possibility, but Tom didn't think Hannah would take any risks with her own safety, even to prove him wrong. And the assault had made her vigilant. She would have noticed anyone acting suspiciously around her. If someone was targeting Hannah, then they were doing their best to remain inconspicuous. “There’s something bothering me about the robbery.”

  “What?”

  “They break in after hours. They know that most jewelry stores will have a silent alarm. They tried to get the codes to the safe, but on the way in, they smashed the glass cases and grabbed some stuff. Why bother? If what you wanted was the expensive stuff in the safe, then why waste the limited time you have to grab some of the small-time stuff?”

  “Maybe they thought there was a chance they wouldn’t get the code in time.”

  “Why would they think that? If Hannah didn't have a phobia of guns, she would have given them the code. So why bother with the cheap stuff? It’s almost like they wanted to make it look like a robbery, to look like the others.”

  “Or they just wanted to get away with as much as they could,” Chloe countered.

  “I guess.” His partner was being so logical. He didn't want to be logical right now. Even the possibility that Hannah could be in danger, left him so far out from logical he couldn’t even make contact with it right now.

  “Hey, guys.”

  Savannah Watson, a friend of Chloe’s who worked for the FBI’s Evidence Response Team Unit, was walking toward them. Savannah was a pretty blonde, with large blue eyes, who walked with a cane following a violent assault that had shattered her hip and ruined her dreams of becoming an FBI agent. She had, instead, transferred to the forensic unit.

  “I brought gingerbread.” Savannah set a box down on Chloe’s desk. “And I have news for you two.” She dropped into his chair when he stood and indicated she should sit.

  “You found something at Hannah’s store?” he asked hopefully, anxious for a direction to move in.

  “Yes. I went back and re-swept her store since we know that the robbery there wasn't related to the others, and since there was some question over whether or not she was the real target.”

  “Tom is the only one who thinks that,” Chloe inserted.

  “I think he’s right,” Savannah said.

  “What did you find?” His heart clenched. Up until Savannah said that, he hadn’t been sure if he really was just being wildly unobjective where his ex was concerned or if his gut feeling was right.

  “An FM short-range listening device.”

  “Someone bugged her store?” Tom couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing.

  “Yes. And recently. The battery life is about one hundred and twenty hours; it was ninety percent flat. The robbery was two days ago. That means it was put there not more than three days before,” Savannah explained.

  “So, the robbers were in her store at some point in those couple of days before the robbery,” Chloe stated.

  “Or whoever they were working with. Where was the listening device found?” he asked.

  “Under Hannah’s desk. It’s a short-range device, so the robbers would have had to be close by to hear what was happening in there.”

  “Which means they knew she was in there. If they’d just wanted to rob the store, they could have waited until it was empty. Instead, they made sure that she was going to be there.”

  He’d been right.

  This wasn't a random robbery.

  Someone had deliberately decided to target Hannah and her store.

  But why?

  And who?

  And how was he going to find out?

  * * * * *

  2:29 P.M.

  Hannah was nervous.

  She wanted to see Jeff, but she didn't.

  She hadn’t spoken to him since the shooting, but she had been calling the hospital to ask for regular updates on how he was doing.

  At least this was a good distraction from thinking about Tom. She wished she could forget about him. For good.

  No, she corrected herself.

  That wasn't true.

  Even if she could wipe all traces of Tom from her past and her mind, she wouldn’t. She couldn’t. Before the home invasion, they had had a lot of good times together. They had been happy together. They would have spent the rest of their lives together.

  But that night had changed everything.

  She meant what she had said to Tom earlier. What had happened wasn't his fault, despite what he thought.

  There was no way that he could have known what was going to happen. It had been one in the morning, and they’d woken to a sound outside. It had sounded like a crying dog. Tom had gone down to check it out, wondering if the puppy next door had gotten out of its yard.

  It hadn’t.

  When he opened their backdoor, he’d been ambushed by six armed men who had knocked him unconscious.

  She had remained in bed and expected her husband to return, possibly with the puppy in tow. Instead, six men with guns had dragged her unconscious husband into their bedroom.

  What transpired over the next several hours she had tried her best to block fro
m her mind. That she really did wish she could forget about.

  But as much as she wanted to, she couldn’t.

  It was there forever.

  And it had cost her the one person she loved the most in the world.

  The assault had gotten between her and Tom and grown and festered until it was too big for them to overcome. It had torn them apart instead of bringing them together. They had both been struggling to deal with their own feelings and emotions, let alone each other’s. Tom might have been the one who walked away, but the blame for their breakup could be placed equally on both their shoulders.

  Now he was back in her life; at least, for the time being. But nothing seemed different. They still argued whenever they were together. They still couldn’t sit down and sort out their issues. There was still a huge gap between them that she didn't think could ever be bridged.

  One thing she did know was that Tom would find the men who had robbed her store, who had held a gun to her head, who had shot her employee and friend.

  Absently, Hannah touched her hand to her temple. The bruise had darkened over the last two days and was now a vivid mottled mix of black and blue and purple. It was tender to touch, and she still had a slight headache, but it was nothing compared to what Jeff had gone through.

  At least he was going to be okay.

  She had to keep reminding herself of that.

  Like a mantra.

  Jeff was okay. Jeff was okay. Jeff was okay.

  She’d been reminding herself of that for the last forty-eight hours, trying to get it to sink in, but all she could do was feel guilt.

  What if he blamed her?

  She blamed herself, so she couldn’t hold it against him if he blamed her, too.

  He should blame her.

  It was her fault, after all.

  She would work on her gun phobia. She owed that to Jeff at the very least. And she would do whatever else she could to try to make it up to him. Of course, she would pay him his full wage for however long he needed to take off to recover. Or, if he wanted to resign, she would pay him out to make sure he had plenty of money to last until he found another job. She would do anything she could to help him.

  Hannah wasn't quite sure what to expect when she walked into his hospital room. She knew he’d been shot in the upper chest, near his right shoulder, and she knew that the doctors said he would make a full recovery. But was he awake, or did they have him sedated? Was he hooked up to machines, or had he progressed to the stage where he was stable and able to move about freely? Was he confined to the bed?

  She couldn’t hover here in the corridor forever. She may as well get it over with. If he yelled at her, he yelled at her. She would stand there and take what she deserved.

  Before she could talk herself out of it, Hannah opened the door to Jeff’s room and stepped inside, where she relaxed marginally. The bed was empty. Jeff was sitting in a chair by the window, a book perched awkwardly in his left hand. His right arm was in a sling to help protect his injured shoulder.

  He looked all right.

  Hannah sighed in relief.

  As the door swung closed, Jeff turned in her direction. She expected to see anger in his brown eyes, but instead they were full of concern.

  “Hannah!” He set the book down and stood, swaying only slightly, then hurried to her side. “Are you okay?”

  For a moment, she was too choked up to speak. How could he be concerned about her when he was the one who had almost been killed? “I'm fine. How are you?”

  “Be good as new in a couple of days,” he assured her. Jeff gave her a wide smile, his brown eyes twinkling just as brightly as they always did. His silvery brown hair was a tangled mess around his head, making him look more relaxed and casual than she was used to seeing him; but in the end, he looked like the Jeff she knew.

  Searching his eyes to see if he was just placating her, she didn't see anything untoward and relaxed further. “I’m so sorry, Jeff.”

  His eyes crinkled. “Sorry about what?”

  “They shot you because I didn't give them the code. I wanted to, but I couldn’t talk. You came in to save me but they shot you instead. I'm so sorry.” She couldn’t stop a few tears from tumbling out and trickling slowly down her cheeks.

  “They shot me because they chose to. That had nothing to do with you,” Jeff said firmly.

  “But if I had just—”

  “No,” Jeff cut her off. “I don’t want to hear any more about you blaming yourself. It was not your fault, Hannah. It was not your fault.”

  She didn't believe that, but she didn't argue. “You should be sitting down. Are you really okay?”

  “Doctors say I was lucky; the bullet didn't hit anything vital. I lost a bit of blood, but rest and some physical therapy and I’ll be fine in a few weeks,” he told her as they went and sat in the two chairs by the window. “Some FBI agents came by. Agents Drake and Luckman. They said our robbery wasn't related to the others.”

  “I know.” She still couldn’t believe that this was about her. Who would want to hurt her? The list was short. Very short. There was no one. Not a single person. Maybe someone hadn’t known that she had taken over Reginald Thames’ store and they’d really been after him. Jeff had worked for Mr. Thames then stayed on when she took over. Maybe he knew something. “Could there be anyone who would want to hurt Mr. Thames?”

  “No,” Jeff replied immediately. “You knew him. He was a sweet old man. He wouldn’t hurt a fly. There’s no one who would have any reason to want to hurt him.”

  He was right. Hannah knew that. “What about you? Is there anyone who might want to hurt you?”

  “The agents asked me the same thing, but I told them there wasn't anyone who would have any reason to rob your store just to hurt me. And even if there was someone with a grudge against me, why would they target your store to get to me?”

  “I don’t know,” she answered helplessly. None of this made sense.

  “What about Vincent?”

  “Vincent?”

  “We don’t really know much about him. You never checked references or work history or anything with him.” Jeff’s tone was slightly reprimanding.

  “He’s Ellen’s son.” She hadn’t seen a reason to look into Vincent’s references. He was the son of her neighbor and friend, and she had only intended for him to work for the month or two over Christmas and into the new year and then she would look for a permanent replacement for Amelia. “Do you think it could be Vincent they were really after?”

  “No.”

  She was surprised by the confidence in Jeff’s tone—maybe he knew the teenager better than she’d thought.

  “I don’t think this was personal. We know it wasn't related to the other robberies, but that doesn’t mean they were targeting any of us. I think it was random. I don’t think you need to worry about anyone coming after you or me or Vincent. It was just random, Hannah, I'm sure of it.”

  Hannah hoped Jeff was right.

  She really did.

  She’d dealt with enough crime in the last few years; she didn't want to have to deal with anything else.

  * * * * *

  9:18 P.M.

  This was probably a stupid idea.

  And she wasn't going to be pleased if she found out.

  Yet Tom had no plans on leaving.

  Hannah was never going to know he was here. And given that someone had bugged her office, he couldn’t stand the thought of her being home alone and unprotected in the event that whoever planted the listening device came after her here.

  Was that likely?

  Probably not.

  But why take the chance?

  He would much rather park his car across the street from Hannah’s house and sleep in it. Then, if anything happened, he’d be right here. He had failed Hannah once already. He wasn't going to do it again.

  If only he had done things differently that night, then those men would never have gotten inside the house. A noise in the backyard in t
he middle of the night should have been more than enough warning that something was wrong. He should have taken his gun with him just to be safe.

  But he hadn’t.

  And Hannah had paid the price.

  Those hours, sitting there, tied to the chair, watching those men rape his wife repeatedly and so roughly she’d been left badly bleeding while he was powerless to do anything about it, were the worst of his life.

  They were pure hell.

  He hadn’t expected to walk out of their bedroom alive.

  By some miracle, they had survived.

  Then the hard work of recovering had begun.

  He and Hannah had both struggled, and those struggles had ended up tearing them apart. When his wife needed him the most, he had bailed. He had honestly believed it was because it was what she wanted and what was best for her.

  But now, he wasn't so sure.

  Hannah had called her store the nickname he’d given her, and today she’d asked him if he would have stayed if she’d asked. She was sending him all these mixed signals. Now he didn't know what to think.

  The one thing Tom knew was that under no circumstances would he allow anyone to hurt Hannah ever again.

  DECEMBER 21st

  8:44 A.M.

  His back was aching today. Sleeping in his car, while Tom believed it to be a necessity, was still the most uncomfortable night he’d spent in years.

  Hannah had always hogged the bed, plastering herself all over him: her head on his chest, her leg thrown across his, her hair tickling his nose all night. She was a cold sleeper so even on the hottest of nights she never kept to her side of the bed, instead draping herself on top of him. He, on the other hand, was a hot sleeper, and most nights her body heat had made his own rise to the point where he was sweltering.

  He had loved every second of it—falling asleep with her at his side, feeling her warm body against his if he woke during the night.

  It was heaven.

  And never once, not even on the hottest of summer nights, had he ever rolled her body off his.

  Tom knew he didn't want it to be over between them.