Cozy Christmas Shorts

by Halliday, Gemma

  "Wait." Britton slid in front of me. "You think someone who works here tried to kill you? That's nuts. Why would anyone want to hurt you?"

  I shrugged my shoulders. "I wasn't very nice earlier. Maybe they were just having a bad day. But, they aren't going to get away with it. It was so cold." I wrapped my arms around myself, shivering. That bath was sounding better and better, but it would have to wait.

  I grabbed Tate and Britton by the hands and led them toward the gift shop, Britton clip-clopping like a show horse across the lobby tile. Stopping in front of the barred doors, I dropped hands and wiggled my fingers for my keys, which Britton promptly supplied. After opening the door and locking us back in, I flipped on the lights. Everything in there was hooked into the one switch, so the neon that lined the souvenir shelves blinked on, and the television screens mounted to the walls promptly sprang to life, announcing drink specials, discounted show tickets, and massage add-ons. I caught myself staring at the hot stone therapy, practically drooling. Forcing myself to focus, I dug behind the counter for the receipt book we'd used the day before. I grabbed the box and put it on the counter, pulling out the pages from the book and splitting them between the three of us.

  "Okay, hooded sweatshirts go here." I pointed to a spot next to the register. "Everything else can go back into the box." It only took us a few minutes to sort them. I was a bit disheartened by the large pile of receipts next to the register when we were done. "Okay, so maybe we gave away a few more than I remembered."

  Tate slid his elbows from the counter and stretched, his face brightening. "You said the guy was tall and lanky, right?"

  I nodded.

  "Well," he continued, "I know we can go back through the pile and get rid of the plus sized sweatshirts, then."

  "And all of the women's, too," Britton offered.

  I sorted through the twenty-two slips and ended up with three that fit our parameters. Holding them up, I proudly announced, "We have our suspects."

  Tate grabbed the papers. "Huh. Two of these three are pretty tough guys. Ken Johnston has been dodging the police for a while. So far, he's gotten off of all charges." He laid his slip on the counter. "And, Sean Rogers has his black belt in karate." He gingerly added his slip to the other, as though he didn't want to make the paper angry. "So, I say we start with this guy. Andrew Phillips." He dropped the slip on the stack.

  Britton giggled. "Andrew wouldn't hurt a fly. He's a sweetheart and the best valet we've ever had. He even gives small gifts to his favorite customers, like these." She pointed at the casino snow globes on the shelf. "I'm pretty sure he's been working for us since way before I even started dating Dickie." The smile fell from her face at the mention of my dad, tears welling in her eyes. She pushed her shoulders back and stood tall, forcing the grin back in place. "Let's start with the karate guy."

  Tate's eyes widened. "Are you sure?"

  I picked up the slips and waved them as we headed for the door. "You guys aren't going anywhere near these men." Before flicking off the lights, I checked out the three addresses and tucked the papers into my blazer pocket. They were all local, all within a few blocks of the casino itself, which would help shorten the search. As I locked the door and latched the gate, I said, "I'm going to call Alfie and let him know what we found." I swiped on my phone and dialed his number. No answer. My spidey senses told me he was ignoring my call. I snottily rattled off to his voicemail the information we had and the names and addresses of the men. Then I hung up.

  Britton crossed her arms over her ample chest. "There's no reason we can't go get Andrew's alibi while we wait on Alfie to get back to you. Our party starts in an hour, so it makes sense to get that one out of the way."

  "Fine." I knew I'd regret it, but the word came out before I had a chance to run it through common sense.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  We had crawled at a snail's pace down Lake Tahoe Boulevard toward Pioneer Trail in one of the few cabs desperate enough to brave the weather. What normally would have taken five minutes, took us twenty. Finally we pulled up to the address on file for Andrew, a small cottage next to a dilapidated apartment building. I escorted the Claus family to Andrew Phillips' door—which thankfully stood under a large awning—and knocked with one hand and ran a hand over my hastily brushed hair with the other, attempting in vain to smooth it.

  "Who is it?" a deep voice snapped from the other side.

  I leaned toward the door. "Tessie King, Mr. Phillips. Can I come in?"

  He opened the door as far as the security latch would allow, smiling through the crack at me. He blinked several times as he gave Tate and Britton the once over. I wanted to blurt, "I know, right?" but I bit my tongue.

  "Um, I'm kind of busy right now. Is this something that can wait?"

  "Time is of the essence, I'm afraid. I promise we only need a few minutes of your time."

  Britton pushed in front of me. "Hi, Andrew." She did a cute little flirty bounce-and-wave move that almost emptied the top of her dress. Which Andrew obviously enjoyed very much by the way he stared and the huge smile on his face.

  He closed the door, unhooked the latch, and waved us in, following Britton with his eyes the entire time.

  Even though the man standing before us was tall and lanky, just like the guy on the video, I understood Britton's earlier sentiment about him. He was clean-cut, well dressed, and very polite, even his bed was made. Well, other than the gawking, but Britton had that effect on most men.

  "Ignore the mess. I'm just sorting through my, uh, guest gifts." He pushed the heavy snow globes and other items into a box quickly and set them on the desk. Continuing to stare at Britton's cleavage, he asked, "What can I help you with?"

  "Well," I muttered, wandering into his line of sight. "We need to know where you've been this afternoon." Unwilling to divulge too much information after the way Alfie had acted earlier, I avoided any specific time or details.

  "Why?" His eyes darted between us as he backed away, his hands fidgeting, gaze dropping to his feet. He finally looked up, glancing between the three of us.

  Tate took the lead. "We've had an incident at the Royal Palace, and we just need to make sure you weren't involved in any way." Tate placed a reassuring hand on Andrew's arm, which Andrew quickly shrugged away.

  "Involved in what?" Andrew asked, his head cocking to the side, eyes narrowing.

  I stepped in front of Tate. "I'm sure it's nothing you've done, but we do need to clear you. We've just gone through some gift shop receipts and narrowed down the suspects. Unfortunately, you are one of them. So, we just need to know where you've been this afternoon. Do you have an alibi for your whereabouts?"

  Andrew backed farther away, his gaze darting around his small living room. He lunged for the end table nearest to him, and yanked out a small handgun. "Damn it!" he barked. "How in the hell did you guys find out?"

  The three of us gasped in unison and put our hands up.

  Waving mine in front of me, I slowly inched toward him. "Please, put the gun away. I'm sure this is all a misunderstanding."

  "Seriously, how did you find out I was using gift shop items to move product?" His upper lip twitched, and his face morphed in anger, transforming him from clean-cut to thug in seconds.

  My mind was reeling. I processed the situation in front of me. Evidently there was a whole lot more to the man who was expertly aiming a gun at me, including being a drug pusher.

  Tate spoke, pulling Andrew's gun barrel and attention toward him, "No, that's not what…"

  I locked rounded gazes with Tate and gently shook my head while making a zip-your-lips motion over my own.

  Britton whispered directly into my ear, "What are you doing?"

  I slipped her my phone and mouthed, "Dial Alfie's number and leave the line open." Clearing my throat, I drew his attention away from Britton and walked to the foot of the bed. I forced a look of confidence to my face and announced, "No, Andrew, the jig is up, and Alfie is on his way here."

  Andrew
scoffed and turned the gun back on me. "I've worked at the Royal Palace long enough to know that Alfie would never send anyone to do his dirty work. He'd have been the one to come question me, if that was the case."

  Damn, I'd forgotten that he'd worked for us that long. I kept my confident façade in place. Quickly thinking, I blurted, "But, it's my casino now. I've helped the security office out on many occasions since taking over the helm. We've been watching you," I lied. I put my hand out. "Give me the gun, and I'll make sure they go easy on you."

  He prattled off an impressive string of curse words. "Do you think I'm an idiot?"

  "No," Britton blurted. "Not at all. Please, put the gun away so we can have a rational conversation. I know you. This isn't you." She wiggled and bent slightly at the waist, giving him a better view of her chest. It worked for a little bit.

  Shoving her into Tate, Andrew yelled, "Stop that! I can't concentrate with those in my face."

  I'm pretty sure that's what she was going for. I put my hand out again. "Please, give me the gun."

  Andrew's maniacal laughter filled the room. "Go on and try to take it from me. I dare you."

  The door burst open, the frame splintering, pieces flying off in different directions.

  I looked up to see the last person I expected. Agent Ryder. His Sandy brows were drawn, his dark eyes scanning the surroundings, his gun pointed directly at Andrew. "Can I give it a go?" he growled. Behind him I could see two other men in dark jackets, also holding guns. Beside them, to my surprise, stood Alfie, cell in his hand.

  Andrew looped his arm around my neck and swung my body in front of his. He jammed the barrel of his gun against my temple, tearing the skin. Warmth trickled down my cheek. I didn't realize it was blood until it dripped onto the hand I'd wedged into his grip at my neck. Panic shot through me as I gasped for air, my feet only occasionally touching the floor as he whipped me around to show Ryder and his men he meant business.

  "Let her go," Ryder warned.

  "Not a chance. I'm only going to say this once. I need a car and some cash, enough to get me far away from here. I'm not going to take the fall for this. I'm just the messenger."

  "I know you are, Andrew." Ryder's voice was now eerily calm. "We've been watching you—that much is true. We'd just hoped you'd lead us to the bigger fish."

  "Had certain people just waited for a return phone call, we might have avoided this situation," Alfie added, his gaze narrowing in on me.

  I glared back at Alfie, even as I fought against Andrew's tightening grip. Hey, it wasn't my fault that apparently my Director of Operations and the FBI had been working together to bring down a drug ring in my casino without telling me anything about it.

  "Are you for real?" Andrew laughed as he pushed the gun harder against my head. "So, this little lady here is just trying to make a name for herself?" He dragged his arm across my neck, almost closing my windpipe entirely, until his hand clutched my chin. Clamping my jaw in his strong grip, he whipped my head to face him. His eyes were wild, the pupils almost completely dilated, and his nostrils flared. "How's that working out for you right now, huh?" he seethed through gritted teeth.

  With the gun away from my head, Tate snuck up behind Andrew and swung a heavy snow globe by the base in an upward motion with strength I never knew he possessed, smashing the globe into the side of his head. The initial thud gave way to glass shattering and glittery water washing over us both. Andrew folded to the floor at my feet, knocked out cold, with a sizeable, snow-covered Christmas tree from inside the globe wedged firmly in his nose.

  "Pretty well, actually," I eked out, my voice hoarse from his abuse.

  Ryder leaned down and picked up the white baggie that had flown loose from the base of the globe. "Well, we now know how he was trafficking the drugs. That's at least something."

  I watched in slow motion as the men in black swarmed to the room, quickly slipping cuffs on Andrew and snapping pictures of the pile of snow globes. Ryder took a step closer to me, his eyes narrowing in on the cut at my temple. "You okay?" He reached toward me.

  Backing away from his hand, away from the anger of him falling off the planet, I nodded, swallowing hard past my nearly crushed esophagus. "Dandy."

  The corner of Ryder's mouth hitched up. "I'll admit I'd been looking forward to seeing you again, but this wasn't exactly how I'd envisioned it."

  "How had you envisioned it?" I couldn't help asking, my cheeks immediately going warm from my sarcastic tone.

  He shrugged, though the smile widened. "I was hoping it would be more along the lines of dinner, a glass of wine, sunset over the lake, and then—"

  "Tessie!" Alfie's voice interrupted, just as Ryder was getting to the good part. I turned toward the imposing figure, barreling toward me with purpose. He examined my temple then pulled out his handkerchief, wiping away the blood. "I'll call Dr. Morgan."

  "Like hell you will. I have a bath to take."

  Tate jumped in then, winding me in his embrace. "I was so worried."

  "Me, too," Britton cooed as she gently tucked hair behind my ear to survey the damage.

  "Oh, crap, Tate," I squirmed free of his arms. "I've got your suit all glittery."

  He looked down at the front of himself and turned in the light, smiling. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

  "I've got to deal with this mess," Ryder said, indicating Andrew's prone form. "I trust you can get our girl safely home?" Ryder asked Alfie.

  Alfie gave him a curt nod.

  Ryder nodded back and leaned down to lift Andrew up by his armpits. He had almost maneuvered him out the door when he paused and turned back toward me. "By the way, Tessie, you got any plans for New Year's?"

  I shook my head in the negative.

  Ryder grinned. "I'll call you about that dinner."

  Despite the frigid temperatures, I felt the heat in my cheeks spreading clear down to my toes.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  After Britton doted over me in my room, cleaning up the gash at my temple and bandaging it better than any nurse ever could, I put my hand over hers as she fussed even more. "You've done a fantastic job. Thank you. There are party guests waiting in the living room for you."

  She dropped her chin and looked at me through her false eyelashes. "Do you promise that you're okay?"

  I traced an X over my heart. "Promise."

  Tate appeared from my bathroom, strings of lights in hand. "Your bath is run, candles are lit, and I've taken out the wow factor so you can relax, my lady." He curtsied the best he could with his hands full.

  I looked around my room at all of the remaining lights that would inevitably keep me awake most of the night.

  Reading my mind, Tate bubbled as he waved a hand around my room, "You're going to love them tonight. My momma let me put them up for Christmas every year. I always slept like a baby."

  I smiled at him, feeling so blessed to have found two people I knew I could trust. They were as close to siblings as I'd ever had. Well, with Britton being my stepmother, that was complicated. "Thanks, guys. Please go take care of the guests. I'm going to soak until I prune."

  Tate offered Britton his elbow. "Shall we?"

  She nodded and slid her hand into the crook of his arm. As they were closing my bedroom door, Britton popped her head back in. "I'm giving you thirty minutes, or I'll be in to check on you."

  I almost said yes, Mother, but that would've been weird. Instead, I just nodded and pushed the door closed, forcing her out into the hall.

  "I mean it," she muttered through the door.

  The music flicked on, but it was quickly turned way down. The lights blinking in my room made me smile now, knowing Tate's childhood connection with them. Undressing, I put both ruined outfits in the hamper, not entirely sure that any of it could even be repaired or saved. I stared at the side of the bed where I'd hurriedly shoved my Manolos earlier. I probably didn't even want to know how bad that damage was.

  I walked into the bathroom and closed the door behind m
e, but Jack was quick and had followed me in. The room was dark except for the candles flickering from the vanity, casting long, dancing shadows on the walls. Sinking into the bubbly, lilac scented water, my body finally relaxed. The water was probably hotter than Dr. Feel Good wanted, but I was a rebel like that. Captain Jack made circles around the large tub ledge, understanding that foamy water was coming between him and the hand that really needed to pet him. He finally curled up on the rug to wait it out. I tried to shut my brain off, but there were still two would-be murder suspects. Was it Karate Guy or Jail Bait?

  I soaked for a bit longer, trying to close my eyes and shut off my brain, but I couldn't get the questions out of my head.

  Leaning over the side of the tub, watching the little fur-ball curled up, asleep on the rug, I asked, "What did I ever do to either one of them?"

  Jack's head popped up at the sound of my voice. He offered me a cute little hybrid purr/meow before resuming his rounded form. Drying my fingers, I scratched his ears, listening to his purr while attempting to piece things together. When my thoughts wandered into trying to figure out what happened with Ryder, I finally gave up, not able to sit still even with the ambiance Tate had set for me.

  After drying off, putting on my underthings, and brushing all of the glitter out of my hair, I grabbed the garment bag Tate had delivered to my room and hooked it over the bathroom door. I almost passed it by, knowing I had plenty of party dresses that would suffice. With the outfits he and Britton had picked out, I figured he'd picked out something that would make me resemble a sexy version of a Keebler elf. Not wanting to see Tate's disappointed pucker, I reluctantly unzipped the bag. A neon pink note was attached to the hanger.

  I know you aren't as flashy as we are, so I found a little something that practically screamed your name. XXOO Tate

  Overly emotional from all that had happened that day, a tear slid down my cheek as I ran a hand over the long red satin dress. Tate even knew my size. It fit perfectly. Staring into the mirror as I dabbed on makeup around the bandage, I felt kind of like a princess.