Christmas Hostage (Christmas Romantic Suspense Book 1)

by Jane Blythe

  Keeping her close, he kicked Jeff’s gun away from him.

  It took Hannah’s brain a moment to process what had happened.

  Jeff hadn’t shot her; Tom had shot Jeff.

  She had been right beside Jeff when Tom shot him. She had his blood and brains all over her.

  She started to shake in earnest as it began to sink in just how close she and Tom had come to dying.

  Tom yelled something, but the words didn't penetrate the haze that was settling on her.

  The room descended into chaos as people flooded in.

  Cops, she supposed.

  Hannah didn't care who was here; all she cared about was that they were alive. She pressed herself closer to Tom and clung to him. What would she have done if anything had happened to him?

  “Shh. It’s all right, baby, it’s over now. You're safe, sweetheart. You’re safe.” Tom was stroking her hair, and she suddenly remembered that she was covered in Jeff’s blood.

  “I'm sorry, I'm getting it all over you.” She tried to step out of Tom’s embrace.

  He tightened his hold on her, pulling her closer, cocooning her in safety and warmth. Not just warmth that heated her cold body, but warmth that seeped down inside her, heating her heart that had been so badly damaged by everything that had happened three years ago.

  “Thank you,” she whispered against his chest. “You saved my life.”

  “Actually, I think you saved yourself,” Tom said. “And me.”

  “I think we saved each other,” she said.

  “We’re a pretty good team.”

  “We are,” she agreed. “But maybe no more talk about saving.”

  “Agreed.” He gently eased her off his chest and held her at arm’s length, “Now let’s go get you checked out and cleaned up.”

  Then they could celebrate Christmas.

  Together.

  * * * * *

  10:07 P.M.

  “How are you doing?” Tom perched on the edge of the sofa where Hannah was sitting under a pile of blankets. She had been sitting there most of the day.

  After he shot Jeff Shields to stop him from shooting Hannah, Chloe and the cops who had just arrived had come bursting in. They had confirmed that Jeff was dead. Paramedics had also turned up and Hannah had allowed herself to be checked out without much protest. After ERT had taken some photos of the blood and brain matter that was splattered all over her, the paramedics had taped a white square bandage over the small wound on her temple from where Jeff had dug the gun into her flesh.

  While ERT processed the scene, agents took his and Hannah’s statements. The shooting would be deemed justified. Chloe and six other agents and officers had been just outside the door and had seen that Jeff was about to shoot Hannah. He hadn’t had a choice. It was Jeff or Hannah, and there was no way he was letting Hannah die.

  When they’d given their statements and ERT was finished with Hannah, he had taken her upstairs and put her in a steaming hot bath. She’d still been shaking, and he couldn’t stand seeing blood on her for a single second longer. After she was cleaned up, she had settled herself on one of the sofas in the living room, and since she was still shivering, he had collected several of the blankets in the house and bundled her up in them.

  Chloe had organized getting the floor in Hannah’s hall cleaned, and now the house was back to normal and empty of all but the two of them, for the first time since they’d gotten up this morning.

  “I’m all right.” She smiled at him. Her face was still a little haunted, and her eyes still held a glint of shock, but he knew she would make it through this just like she had worked her way through everything else that had been thrown her way.

  “I was so scared,” he admitted, cupping her cheek in his hand, his thumb absently stroking along her cheekbone. “I thought he was going to kill you.”

  “I thought he was going to kill you.” Hannah lifted her hand to cover his.

  “When you jabbed his wound and then twisted out of his grip, I was simultaneously terrified and impressed.”

  “I knew I just had to get away from the gun and you would take care of him.”

  Her complete and utter faith in him warmed him. He was glad it had worked out because it could just have easily ended with his and Hannah’s dead bodies left lying on the floor for his partner to discover rather than Jeff’s.

  But it had worked out.

  And he had Hannah back in his life.

  This time, he wasn't going to let her go.

  “I have something for you, an early Christmas gift,” he told her.

  Hannah’s eyes brightened. “Yeah?”

  He pulled a small black velvet box out of his pocket and dropped down onto one knee, reaching inside the blankets swaddling Hannah to pull out her left hand. “Hannah, will you marry me?”

  Her eyes were as wide as saucers now. “Marry you? Now? We only just reconnected, maybe we should wait and see how things go.”

  “Do you love me?”

  “Yes, of course. Always.”

  “I love you, too. I always have and I always will. We’re stronger together, and we love each other. Why should we wait?”

  “Okay.” Hannah’s face broke into a giant smile.

  “Okay?” he repeated cautiously.

  “Yes, I want to marry you again. I missed you so much.”

  Grinning, Tom leaned forward and kissed her, then took the ring from the box and slid it on to her finger.

  “Oh, Tom.” Hannah’s eyes grew watery when she saw the ring. “You kept it.”

  “I did.” When he and Hannah had divorced, she had given him back the engagement ring. He had kept it in a drawer in his bedroom, unable to part with it. It was as if his heart knew something his brain didn't. That one day he and Hannah would be thrown back together and given a second chance. A chance to fix what they’d let break and wind up together again.

  “It’s perfect,” she gushed.

  “I always loved you, Hannah. Always. I never wanted us to break up. I walked away because I thought it was what you wanted, that it was what you needed, that it was what was best for you. It tore me up inside, but I will always put your needs before my own.”

  “I’ve always loved you, too, Tom. I let you walk away because I thought it was what was best for you. I thought it was what you needed to heal from what happened. I hated letting you go. I wanted you to stay. I wanted you. But I couldn’t let you be hurt by staying with me.”

  Tom curled his hands around the back of her neck and rested his forehead against hers. If only they had talked. “In the future, we communicate so we don’t have another disastrous misunderstanding like that.”

  “We both shut each other out, and we won't do that again. We took a bad situation and made it so much worse because we were both too stubborn to sit down and talk to each other. But now we know better. We won't make that mistake again.”

  Keeping hold of her, he lifted his head so he could look her in the eye. “Let’s get married tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow? Tomorrow is Christmas Day.”

  “What better day to get married? You love Christmas, and it’s a day of hope—of peace, reconciliation, and love. And I don’t want to wait to make you my wife again. We lost three years. I don’t want to lose another second.”

  “What would I wear? And who would marry us at such short notice? And what are we going to do about a reception?”

  “You can wear the same dress you wore for our first wedding. You still have it, right?”

  “I do.”

  “We don’t need to worry about a wedding reception. We’re going to be celebrating Christmas with our families tomorrow, anyway. It can be a Christmas and wedding celebration.”

  “Our families are going to think we’re crazy,” Hannah said. He could see in her face he almost had her convinced.

  “We were going to go to church in the morning, anyway. I spoke with the minister at my parents’ church. He said he’ll perform the ceremony. We can do this, baby.
We can get married tomorrow. We can rebuild the marriage that we had before. After the attack, we gave up on each other. We were both broken and we had a lot to work through, but we’re stronger now, and we’re ready to work on things, to make our marriage stronger than it ever was before. We’re not going to let those men win. We’re not going to let them destroy our love. I have something else for you.”

  “Another gift?”

  “Yep.” Tom pulled out an envelope from his pocket and handed it to Hannah.

  She opened the envelope and took out what was inside. When she saw what it was, she grew teary again, “Oh, Tom. Does this mean what I think it means?”

  “It does.”

  “It’s perfect. The best gift you could have ever given me.”

  “You were right. I was a victim, too. And it’s time to admit it and do something about it. That’s the name of one of the trauma counselors the FBI refers victims to. I know you were going to look for a new therapist after learning what you did about Bryce McCracken, so I thought we could both go. Together and separately.”

  “I love you so much.” She pulled his face closer so she could whisper her lips across his. “I was going to give this to you tomorrow, but I want you to have it now.” Hannah unwrapped the blankets from around herself and went to the Christmas tree, retrieving a gift that was sitting underneath. Tom sat on the couch and Hannah returned and settled herself in his lap, handing him a green and red striped box, tied with glittery gold ribbon with a large bow on top. “I was going to give this to you the next Christmas we would have celebrated together. I kept it. For some reason, I couldn’t get rid of it. It was like I somehow knew that we would find our way back to each other.”

  Intrigued, he opened the box, and his heart melted when he saw what was inside. “It’s beautiful, Hannah.” Carefully, he lifted the snow globe out. She’d gotten it specially made for him. Inside the glass dome was them. Him and Hannah. They were building a snowman, and the little model Tom had his arm around little model Hannah. They were in the yard of a house that looked just like the one they had always talked about buying. The little house had been decorated for Christmas with little lights around its eaves and a wreath on the door.

  “Do you like it?” she asked.

  “Sweetheart, I love it. Every time I look at it, I'm going to think of you.” He pressed a kiss to her cheek. He had never loved a gift as much in his life as the one he held in his hands.

  “Shake it.” She beamed at him.

  He did and snow filled the little world as it began to play a song, “Joy to the World.” It was his favorite Christmas carol, because it reminded him of Hannah and her childish joy at Christmas time. He hugged her tightly. “You are the most amazing, beautiful, sweet, caring, kind, loving person on the planet.”

  Hannah giggled. “You just think that because you love me.”

  “I think it because it’s true,” he corrected. He kissed her, long and slow, relishing the feeling of the woman he loved in his arms, her arms around his neck, her lips on his. This was what life was all about, and right about now, he didn't think it could get any better than this.

  When he finished kissing her, Hannah yawned. She’d held up amazingly well throughout the day, but now she needed rest.

  “Bedtime.” He scooped her up and deposited her on her feet.

  “Wait, we can't, we have to get the milk and cookies first,” she protested.

  Tom chuckled. “You are too cute.”

  “Cute?” She made a face at him. “Thirty-year-old people are not cute.”

  “If you say so, babe.” He grinned.

  She rolled her eyes at him and hurried off to the kitchen, returning a moment later with a glass of milk, a chocolate chip cookie on a Santa plate, and a couple of carrots. “Here we go, snacks for Santa and his reindeer,” she announced, setting them on a small table next to the Christmas tree.

  He just laughed. He loved that Hannah still wanted to leave milk and cookies for Santa, even though she was an adult now and knew he didn't exist. He loved that spark of childish joy that still lived inside her, and he was so grateful that what she’d been through hadn’t extinguished it.

  “Go to bed.” He swatted at her behind. “I’ll be right up.”

  “Okay, don’t be long. I’ll be waiting.”

  The look she shot him before she sauntered out of the room was enough to have him quickly gobbling up the cookie, chewing on the carrots, and gulping down the milk so he could join his fiancée in bed. Making love to the woman who owned his heart, falling asleep with her in his arms, then waking up to tomorrow morning and making her his wife.

  This was the best Christmas ever.

  EPILOGUE

  ONE YEAR LATER

  DECEMBER 25th

  5:58 A.M.

  “Wake up. Tom, wake up.” Hannah shook her husband, trying to rouse him. Some nights he slept like a rock.

  It was Christmas morning. She wanted to run downstairs, sit on the floor in front of their tree, and exchange gifts. Why was Tom always so hard to wake up when she wanted him awake, but whenever she wanted him to stay asleep, the tiniest noise woke him?

  “Tom,” she groaned.

  “What?” came the groggy reply as he rolled over in bed.

  “It’s Christmas morning,” she reminded him.

  “And?” He looked like he was about ready to go straight back to sleep. He hadn’t even opened his eyes yet.

  “And I want you to get up.” She poked him, and then when that didn't work, she straddled him and planted her lips against his, kissing him passionately. That had the desired effect. Tom blinked his eyes open, his hands came out from under the covers to grasp her hips, then tried to find their way inside her pajama pants. “Hey, none of that.” She swatted them away.

  “You kissed me,” he pouted.

  “Only to wake you up.” She grinned, climbed off him, and grabbed his hand, pulling him out of the bed after her.

  “Why are you so excited this morning?”

  “Because it’s Christmas.”

  Hannah practically ran down the stairs to the living room, where she went immediately to the small table beside the tree where she’d left milk and cookies for Santa and carrots for his reindeer. She was thirty-one now, much too old to leave snacks for Santa Claus on Christmas Eve, but she couldn’t let go of the tradition from her childhood. She loved that Tom went along with it, playing the role of Santa and eating the snacks, just like her dad used to when she was a little girl.

  “He came.” She clapped her hands and held up the empty plate and glass for Tom to see.

  He was standing watching her, looking almost impossibly hot as the sweat pants he slept in hung low on his hips, and his bare chest showed off his perfect abs. His eyes were twinkling merrily with amusement. “You’re so cute when you do the Santa thing.”

  She poked her tongue out at him. “I am not cute.”

  “Oh, you are.” He came to her, wrapped an arm around her waist and drew her against him. “Happy Anniversary, Mrs. Drake.”

  “Happy Anniversary, Mr. Drake.” She kissed him, ending it when his wandering hands started to roam again. “Gift time.” She extricated herself from his grip and sat down in front of the tree, reaching underneath for one particular gift.

  “Why are you so peppy this morning?” he asked again as he joined her.

  “I’m always peppy on Christmas morning.”

  “No, you're extra peppy today.” He was looking at her suspiciously.

  “You’re just being paranoid.” She ruffled his brown locks. “Here’s your gift.”

  Looking no less suspicious, he took the box and opened it. “New Christmas stockings,” he said as he pulled out the first one.

  “So we can hang them on the mantle,” she beamed. “See, yours has Santa Claus on it.”

  “And yours has Mrs. Claus,” he said as he reached into the box and pulled it out. Then his eyes grew round. “Hannah.”

  Tears of joy filled her eyes,
and she nodded. “Look in the box.”

  He lifted out the third Christmas stocking, and picked up the pregnancy test with blue and pink ribbon tied in a bow around it that was lying underneath. “You’re pregnant,” he put his hand on her stomach.

  “Santa Claus, Mrs. Claus, and this time next year, we’ll have a little baby Claus,” she put her hand over his.

  “I love you so much.” He swept the back of his hand across her cheek then kissed her, tears in his eyes. Her big, strong, macho husband was crying.

  “You’re happy, right?” she asked, suddenly anxious. They hadn’t talked about starting a family yet. They both knew they wanted one, but they hadn’t discussed the timing.

  “Ecstatic,” he assured her. “This is the best gift you could ever have given me.”

  “This is the best Christmas ever.” She smiled contently.

  “You said that last Christmas,” Tom reminded her.

  “I was wrong.”

  “You betcha you were.” Tom pulled her into his lap and kissed her again.

  Hannah laid her head on his shoulder and snuggled closer. Four years ago, she had hit rock bottom, and she couldn’t foresee a future where she was this happy. One year ago, she had been given a second chance, a chance to reclaim what she’d lost, to get her husband back. This year, she and Tom were celebrating their second first year anniversary with their baby growing inside her.

  This really was the best Christmas ever.

  Also by Jane Blythe

  Detective Parker Bell Series

  A SECRET TO THE GRAVE

  WINTER WONDERLAND

  DEAD OR ALIVE

  LITTLE GIRL LOST

  FORGOTTEN

  Count to Ten Series

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  Flashes of Fate Series

  CHARITY'S WRATH

  MACKENZIE'S TRUST

  Subscriber Book

  FLASHES OF FATE