by Lori Avocato
“I was so frustrated, and she kept asking me to calm down, to explain what my issues were. Why didn’t she understand, Kathryn Marie? Why didn’t she listen to me? Why did she make me kill her?”
Kathryn Marie sat speechless. She was watching a horror movie unfold in real life with full interaction in her living room!
“When she reached for her phone, I brought my gun into sight.” Albina looked at her gun and then waved it about to emphasize her words. “We have been through so much together, this gun and I. That was when it got worse. She walked around the desk and asked me questions that no one should know.
“Did I have a lover? When was the last time I saw him? Didn’t I miss him and want to see him again? Did I know what I was doing in bringing a gun in here? Who had touched me last?” The gun hand finally steadied and pointed directly at Kathryn Marie.
“As I groped for answers to her questions, she launched herself at me. I pulled the trigger and she fell a mere few feet away.” Albina’s eyes darkened and her nostrils flared. “Her dying words were, ‘Don’t do it.’”
“I assured her I would, and that her office would be the origination point of a bomb as big as Oklahoma City. They used ammonium nitrate. My bomb was more clever, and the finale is to kill you. The little sister whose paintings hung on her walls.” Tension streamed out of her. “This to me … is poetic. A loose string snipped and the last note played.” She sighed and relaxed. “It feels good to tell the whole story. Only my love was to hear it, but it is a good last request you’ve made. It is not as childish as to ask to call your mother or have an alcoholic drink.” She pushed her long hair over her shoulder. “But your mother is dead, so it is of little use anyhow.”
The comment struck Kathryn Marie hard. She ground her teeth. “Saves you the trouble of killing her, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, yes it does. Brava, Kathryn Marie.” She shifted forward. “I am ready to kill you now.”
Kathryn Marie glanced at the clock. Only five minutes had passed. She needed to keep the woman talking. Devin had to make it here on time. “But, I didn’t get to ask why you do it? Set bombs? Kill people? Commit these horrid acts?”
“Horrid? They are tributes and acts of glory. Everything I do is in the name of al-Qaeda, and my dearest love, Habib.” She put her hand on her chest, over the place where her heart was. “I miss my Habib dearly. It was a torment to date Blicksen. More than you shall know.”
“Blicksen?” That was the man she’d met on base with Devin. All of the pieces suddenly fit together. “So that’s how you received inside information? Knew targets that might be vulnerable.”
“Yes, the man saw only my face and body, not the actions or instigations of my mind. Blicksen talked incessantly about the projects he did with law enforcement agencies. I knew the best places to strike because of him.” Her lips flared, baring her teeth. “Though some choices were personal vendetta, I have been at this for many years.”
Kathryn Marie swallowed—fear would not get the best of her. “I … I believe Blicksen took his role as boyfriend very seriously.” Kathryn Marie spoke softly.
Albina spat on the floor. “I allowed Blicksen to touch me as a means to what I wanted. He is simply a loose thread now, one I will snip after I have dealt with you.”
“He commissioned me to do a painting for you. A picture of a Christmas Rose.”
“Ah, the White Rose—the Angel Rose—said to have been given as a gift to a small child so she might have something to bring the Christ child. It is a sentimental tale, and a powerful plant. A deadly poison may be made from its bloom, and this was my first kill. I reveled in mocking the myth.” She blew out a low breath. “With my beloved, Habib, gone from this earth, I look forward to joining him someday too.” Her gaze steadied, the sentimentality gone. “But not yet.”
This reminiscence chilled Kathryn Marie to the bone. Rose. Why hadn’t I connected the rose with the petals? Please, please, please let Devin get here soon
“It is hard for women to prove their worth to men. Especially when they see them as expendable.” Albina’s voice was hard. “The kills I have are precious to me. Though, I might have enjoyed a painting of my favorite rose.”
Kathryn Marie caught movement out of the corner of her eye. Devin!
She resisted sighing with relief. He was coming up the back outside staircase. It was impossible to see from the road as the back was completely fenced in. But Devin would figure it out. Leave it to a SEAL pup to know how to sneak up on someone. As to the EOD and military training, she could only imagine all his covert skills.
“It is too bad I have to kill you. Now that you’ve seen my face … There is much to be done.”
“Why me?” She persisted, trying to draw it out. “Why do you want to kill me?”
“Your sister knew the truth about me. I don’t know what she told you. But I couldn’t risk my real identity being known.” Tossing her hair over her shoulder, she sneered. “Besides that, you are one of those do-gooders. I like to kill you best of all.”
The gun steadied. Pointed directly at Kathryn Marie’s head.
“I don’t know anything about you. I knew my sister worked with Homeland Security and other organizations on extreme stress recognition and its significance with fighting terrorism, but—”
“Goodbye, Miss Pente.” Albina thumbed the hammer on the pistol and laid her finger against the trigger. Before she could fire, a rock flew in through the window, knocking the gun to the ground.
Both women dove for it, grappling in a tangle of arms and legs.
Kathryn Marie kept her eyes on her opponent and their hands grabbed the gun at the same time. When a large fist closed over it, and started to yank it out of their grasps, it discharged.
A sound issued from someone’s mouth.
Slowly Kathryn Marie’s hold went slack. Blood seeped around her.
“I will be avenged,” said Albina as the passion, anger, and drive left her eyes.
A cold stare, reflecting only death peered at Kathryn Marie. Devin untangled them, verified that the terrorist was dead, and then pulled Kathryn Marie to her feet.
He didn’t say a word. Only ran his hands and eyes over every inch of her and when he was assured she was fine, he turned her away from the dead body. Only then did he hug her tight.
The dead terrorist lay in a puddle of ever-growing blood on the floor. She was still in his sight, and the gun was tucked safely into his pocket when he said, “That explains a lot.”
“What does?” She spoke into the side of his warm neck. His presence was heaven-sent as comfort flooded her. Devin provided security and joy in a way she could barely describe.
“The bomb I disabled looked like some of the knots were tied in bows. I’d never seen anything like it before. But women are crafty—neat, tidy, precise, and very creative. Makes sense that it was a woman, because we were looking for a man.” He brushed his lips over the top of her forehead.
“I could find a lot more interesting things to do with a bow.” She whispered into his shirt.
“I bet you could.” Devin smiled as he reached into his pocket. He dialed the police and the FBI. Homeland Security would probably want a piece of the action, too. For now, he relayed the pertinent info. When he gave his full focus back to Kathryn Marie, his words were gentle. “A lot of people with a ton of questions will be here shortly. Are you up for it?”
“Well, I doubt I have a choice.” She squeezed her arms tight, hugging him close. “I mean, at least the threat is over.”
He pulled back a little. “For now. It never really is … this is our reality. The best thing we can do is enjoy what we have. Live our joys, our present, and our happiness.” Devin kissed her with such passion—his lips drinking from hers and feeding such love in return. “You are the best gift I’ve ever been given.”
“Same here. I’m grateful for you.” She swallowed an instant lump that formed when she thought of him not being here. “Thank you for seeking me out.”
“I ha
d to. Your eyes held me, captured me, and I had to know you. Those paintings of yours, they feel like part of your spirit … running free.”
Their lips locked again, and the pleasure and passion grew.
A thought crossed her mind and she pulled back. “I wonder if Blicksen will want his painting now? I mean, who would he give it to?”
“It’s almost the holiday season. I’m sure he could find someone.”
She wrinkled her nose.
He laughed. “Everyone loves someone.” Rubbing his nose on hers, he said, “I am especially blessed, I love you.”
Her heart pounded in her chest. Devin was incredible!
She returned his seal kiss—nose to nose—and then placed her mouth close to his. “I love you, Captain Devin Walds, and I’d like to spend the rest of my life getting to know you, too.” As her lips touched his, she knew that life didn’t give neat little packages that tied up perfectly in a bow. What it did provide were chances to live and to love. It was up to her to make the most of it.
Being with him, living the best of their time together, and enjoying their careers and worlds, this was the glory her sister would want for her. This would be how she honored those who had left too soon. All of this happiness, she was going to hold tight and celebrate for as long as she could. Time and happiness were fleeting and way too precious.
Life with him, she could wrap this image around her heart and tie a very beautiful, yet flexible ribbon around it. This gift of the heart, she’d look forward to unwrapping … every day.
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Christmas to the Rescue
Lia DeAngelo
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Lia DeAngelo makes her author debut in the Highland Press anthology, Holiday Op. She began her love affair with writing fiction when she set pen to paper writing LADY PATRIOT, a historical romance set in eighteenth century America, which was awarded second place in the historical category of NEORWA’s 2004 Romancing The Novel Contest, third in the SVRWA’s 2004 GOTCHA contest, and third in the NTRWA’s 2005 Great Expectations contest. She then turned to contemporary romance and finished FOR LOVE OR RAVIOLI, which was a 2009 Golden Heart(R) Finalist in the contemporary series category, won first place in RWASD’s Spring into Romance contest, and took first in the 2007 RWI’s Where the Magic Begins Contest.
Ms. DeAngelo also owns and manages L.D. Writing and Consulting, providing business development, resume writing, and commercial writing services to small business and individual clients. She spent nine years as a Wall Street professional, holds a Bachelor of Business Administration in Finance and Economics from the University of Richmond, is a Chartered Financial Analyst (CFA), and is a Certified Professional Resume Writer (CPRW). She lives in Cave Creek, Arizona with her best friend and companion, Lucy the dog.
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Dedication
My wonderful Mom and Dad, who are my most ardent cheerleaders. I wouldn’t be here without your loving support and understanding.
The Ls—Lona, Laurel, and Laura—for your unending patience with me, especially when I run myself around in circles over a story.
Lucy, you fill every day with joy and humor just by being you.
Anne Elizabeth, for thinking of me and being the kind of special friend that comes along but a few times in one life.
My Phoenix girls, Amanda, Donna, Jill, and Carmin, for listening to me talk about this dream and encouraging me every step of the way.
My brother, Jeff—you are in my thoughts and my heart.
The Ruby Slipper Sisterhood. There’s no place like the bestseller lists!
One day we will all get there.
To the men and women of the military who put their lives on the line for our freedom and our survival, every single day.
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Chapter One
Petty Officer Annabelle Foster let her duffle bag drop to the ground, crossed her arms over her heavy orange jacket, and glared at the jolly holiday nightmare formerly known as a Coast Guard Patrol Boat. Decked out in flashing red and green Christmas tree lights, sporting a Charlie Brown Tree, a Menorah, a dancing Santa Claus, and the kitchen sink of holiday ornaments, the thing looked like something from a holiday episode of Pimp My Ride.
“This is the reason you called me back to base?”
She shook her head, unable to not gape.
To think she’d come rushing back to base, adrenaline pumping, heart racing, ready to jump aboard a helo destined for search and rescue in the black, freezing waters of the Bering Sea. Instead, the only soul drowning on this December, Alaska night was Annabelle—in a sea of holiday hoopla.
George Stanton, her new commander, smiled and puffed out his chest. “Foster, meet your very first mission for Team Kodiak.”
She blinked snowflakes out of her eyes. “You can’t be serious.”
“Do I look like I’m joking?”
Wearing a red scarf wrapped around a navy blue bomber jacket, munching on a giant Snowman cookie, the man informally known as Stickler Stanton looked like he’d lost his mind along with all the other holiday nut jobs around this place.
Not that she would say so. The new kid should probably mind her Ps and Qs. Hardly a week had passed since she’d transferred from New Orleans to one of the most prestigious positions available to a Coast Guard Rescue Swimmer.
A post in Kodiak, Alaska.
It didn’t get much more dangerous, more challenging, or more rewarding. And Annabelle was more than ready. What she wasn’t ready for was this joke of a mission blinking red and green and blaring the Beach Boys Christmas Album.
“What exactly am I supposed to do here?”
Crumbs sifted down the front of his jacket as Stanton popped the last of the cookie into his mouth. “You, my friend, have been elected one of two esteemed Coast Guard representatives for the Kodiak holiday parade. You’ll ride that float suited up just as you are, doing your best beauty queen wave.”
Somehow she couldn’t picture a beauty queen wearing an orange life vest, wet suit, and black winter cap. “Sir, do I look like a beauty queen?”
He turned his piercing eyes on her. “You’ll do.”
Gee, thanks. “Why me?”
“Foster, people like heroes. Especially those of the female variety.”
Annabelle swore under her breath. It had been years since her name made the papers for a series of dramatic rescues performed in the eye of Hurricane Katrina. The last thing she wanted to do was strut around in her first week like some returning war hero. She wasn’t here to be trotted out like a prize pony; she was here to save lives. End of story.
“Foster, hop on board and get your Christmas face on.” Dusting off the front of his jacket, he sent her a stern look. “That’s an order.”
What if she didn’t have a Christmas face? Why did people think everyone automatically loved all things Christmas? The last time her family even halfway celebrated the overblown occasion, she was seven years old. And that year, Santa never showed up. Of course Dad carefully explained how he’d left them alone out of respect because of Mom’s passing. As if Annabelle hadn’t long before guessed Santa’s true identity, and couldn’t figure out that days and nights spent in the ICU didn’t allow time for Christmas shopping.
It was just as well. All the toys and new socks, shiny red ornaments, and tinsel couldn’t bring Mom back. And after that, the holidays never seemed all that bright and merry. Honestly, it was just a day. A day on which she was often called upon to help those that lost their good sense amid all the merrymaking.
But orders were orders. And Annabelle was a team player.
Muttering, she yanked off her cap, shoved it in her bag, and climbed into the boat, where the Beach Boys crooned out Merry Christmas, Saint Nick!
Blech.
The term Semper Paratus, Always Ready, had just taken on new meaning.
“Welcome aboard!” A man wearing a white chef coat and black dress pants stepped ou
t of the cabin carrying a plate of the same cookies Stanton had been eating. Annabelle’s gaze honed in on the giant white snowmen, their little blue scarves, and miniscule carrot noses. They were probably that perfect mixture of crunch on the outside, soft and buttery in the middle. Mmmmmm.
On second thought, this mission might not be so bad …
Her gaze lifted to the bearer of the tasty treats.
On third thought, this mission could be downright dangerous.
Cookie Man came bearing not only nice treats, but also the naughtiest little smile she’d ever seen. Maybe it was the way his black baseball cap shadowed a pair of intense blue eyes. Or the dark dusting of five-o’clock shadow along his jaw line. Whatever it was, he had something interesting cooking up the pristine, white sleeves of his chef jacket. Something other than iced snowmen.
“Care for a cookie?” he asked.
There was only one good thing about the holidays—the cookies. “Why thank you.” She plucked one off the plate and took a small, tentative bite. She chewed slowly, letting the flaky, yet still soft and chewy goodness flood her taste buds. It was one of the most decadent things she’d ever tasted. The Rolls Royce of sugar cookies, to say the least. Another bite. Oh my … Spectacular.
Just like those electric eyes watching her every move.
In a visual game of chicken, she kept her gaze locked on his, and continued to devour her snowman, limb by delicious limb. Mr. Mysterious didn’t look away either, probably expecting her to flinch first. A tactical error on his part. Because she never gave in. Give a man an inch and he’d take a mile.
Anyway, if he was like most guys, he’d look away first and never look back.
Without breaking eye contact, he reached out his hand. “Petty Officer Foster, pleasure to finally meet you in person.”
Annabelle blinked as her cold fingers wrapped around his large and surprisingly warm hand. “Should I know you?”
“Sure, if you watch the Food Network.”
“I watch Law and Order and CSI.”