Home for the Holidays: A Contemporary Romance Anthology

by Christine Bell

She ignored him. “I suppose it’s too much to hope that it’s an old girlfriend.”

  “Why would you hope that?”

  “Because the alternative is that someone followed me from Houston.” She lifted the phone to her ear and asked the operator to connect her to the sheriff’s department. Aware of the location of the office, she knew it would take at least half an hour for anyone to get out here. She didn’t know if she could hold them off that long, not with six more rounds and a frozen ass. The barn was on the other side of the hill, along with the bunkhouse. The shots would bring the cowboys running, which terrified Aubrey. She couldn’t allow them to get hurt on account of her. She’d have Erich call the bunkhouse as soon as she was done, and have him tell the men to hang back. Then the two of them needed to figure out how to get back to the safety and warmth of the house.

  The sheriff came on the line and she apprised him of the situation. She hung up and handed the phone back to Erich.

  “Call the bunkhouse and make sure they stay put.”

  She held her breath as he waited for someone to answer. Could they be too late? Were the men already on their way?

  She let out a breath when someone answered and he passed on her instructions. He disconnected mid-question, and tucked the phone in his pocket. She looked from his bare feet to the front door, which still hung open. Already she was stiff from being in the cold, and knew she couldn’t sprint the distance.

  “Scoot over,” she told him, and unlocked her car door.

  “We’re not going to be any safer in there,” he said, pointing to the shattered window.

  “I may have to mess up your yard,” she said, and climbed into the vehicle, inviting another round of gunfire. She lost another window and heard bullets hit the passenger side of the car. One shooter or two, she couldn’t tell. She thought one, but didn’t want to make a mistake, not when Erich’s safety depended on her.

  Keeping her head down, she started the car and winced at the blast of cold air from the vents. She resisted the urge to rev the engine and instead eased it into neutral.

  “Stay with me,” she said as she turned the wheel so the car was between them and the shooter, backing the car toward the house. Bullets followed them, and she winced as one cratered the windshield. She felt more vulnerable as the larger piece of glass became the only shield between her and the shooter.

  Erich ran at a crouch, carrying his rifle, but he wouldn’t go into the open door before she parked the car and shut it off, then rolled out of the car and ducked in the house. Once inside, she held her breath as he followed, grabbing the door knob and pulling it shut behind them. When he would lean on the door to catch his breath, she grabbed him by the waistband and yanked him forward, just as bullets impacted the door.

  “Jesus, Erich!” She fell back on her ass, against one of his chairs, and hoped the bullets wouldn’t shred his house. “Go get the ammo.”

  He stilled. “Do you think whoever it is is going to come up to the house?”

  “I don’t want to take a chance.”

  “Christ.” His expression was icy for a moment before he scrambled for the other room.

  “Keep down!” she ordered as she worked up the nerve to check outside. Because she worried about the strength of the wall, she moved to a corner of the window near the couch.

  Nothing. She couldn’t see anything, even with the light reflecting off the snow, creating a weird glow. Even with the silence of the snowy night, she couldn’t hear anything, any sound of approach.

  Damn, she wished she knew this house better, wished she knew Erich’s routine. Did he lock the back door as a rule? Where was the back door? How many windows? She felt completely blind here.

  Erich skidded across the floor toward her, range bag in front of him, a shirt and boots clutched in his hand.

  “What’s the plan?”

  She wished she knew. She quizzed him on the back door—locked—the locations of the windows—too many. “Call my father.”

  His fingers froze on the buttons of his shirt.

  “He’ll get here faster than the sheriff.”

  “And might get in the line of fire.”

  She caught her breath. She’d thought of that, of course, had thought about the consequences if her father found her at Erich’s in the middle of the night. But they needed help. “Have him stop a distance away. Maybe just seeing a vehicle coming up the road will, I don’t know. Distract them. Scare them off.”

  “You think it’s more than one?”

  She shook her head in frustration. “I just can’t tell.”

  He finished buttoning his shirt before he dialed, but before he hit the call button, sirens sounded in the distance, and closer, an engine roared to life. Aubrey rolled toward the door and rose on her knees, gun at the ready, as taillights disappeared over the hill.

  Aubrey sat wrapped in an itchy blanket in the sheriff’s office, because she hadn’t realized how cold and wet her dress and tights were until they were halfway to the office. The deputy she’d danced with, Daryl, brought her coffee, and she wrapped her hands around the cup gratefully.

  Erich sat across from her, toeing the heels of his boots alternately. She passed him her coffee, because his jeans were soaked, too.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Didn’t put on socks,” he muttered.

  She looked around the sheriff’s office with a cop’s eye. The building was brick and cinder block, painted a dingy white. Several framed paintings of bluebonnets hung around the room, next to public notices typed on curling paper and plastered to the walls with layers of tape. The phones were quiet this late at night, and Daryl looked bleary-eyed, as if he’d been home asleep when the sheriff called him in. He probably had been. She couldn’t imagine there was much call for someone to be at the office all night. Working in that kind of environment was beyond her comprehension.

  Sheriff Doherty returned then with her parents behind him. Her mother rushed forward.

  “You were shot at? At Erich’s house? In the middle of the night?”

  “Mom.” Aubrey tried for a soothing tone, and forced herself to meet her father’s flinty gaze.

  “What the hell is going on?” her father demanded.

  Sheriff Doherty brought over chairs for the Cavanaughs before taking a seat at the desk beside Erich. Aubrey noticed Erich’s shoulders were tight, but he met her father’s gaze head-on.

  “I was leaving Erich’s,” Aubrey said, her voice still a little wavery from shock. “I was fired at a few times, and when I went for cover, I saw both his and my tires had been slashed.”

  “What on earth?” her mother asked. “Who would be shooting at you?”

  She drew in a deep breath and held it for a moment, hoping it would steady her. “When I was in Houston, I killed the younger brother of a powerful gang leader,” she said, giving the sheriff this new information. “I suspect the gang leader might have tracked me down for revenge.”

  “Here?” her father asked. “How would he know where you are?”

  “Why would you think that?” the sheriff asked.

  “Because I can’t think of any other motive for someone wanting to slash my tires, pin me down and make sure I didn’t get away. Part of the reason I came to Cascade was to give my team time to take Manuel Lopez out of commission and keep me out of danger of retaliation.”

  “Erich has plenty of ex-girlfriends,” her father pointed out. “Or current ones, as far as I know. Maybe one of them took issue with you following him home.”

  She thought about setting her father straight, but instead continued on. “I saw the vehicle leave when they heard the sirens. It was a Mercedes or a BMW—was hard to tell at that distance in the dark.”

  “There are certainly a few of those cars around,” Sheriff Doherty said thoughtfully. Cascade had its share of successful ranchers and businesspeople. “Enough that I can see what your father is saying, sorry to say. It just seems a leap to me that someone, even someone looking for revenge, woul
d go out of their way to find you out here, wait for you outside of Erich’s in the cold instead of waiting until you got back to Houston.”

  Having her suspicion dismissed out of hand put her back up. She’d thought it was far-fetched, but whoever had been outside Erich’s house had seemed pretty damned determined to kill her. She wasn’t a rookie—she’d been doing this awhile, and to have her suspicions waved off irritated her.

  “We’ll investigate the scene when it gets light.” Sheriff Doherty rose, dismissing them. “In the meantime, why don’t you get into some warm clothes and get some sleep?”

  Aubrey stood, too, her legs stiff, her whole body aching. God, she could use a drink. “You’ll be on the lookout for a suspicious car in the area?”

  “I’ll put out the alert right now.”

  “I’d be obliged for a ride, Mr. Cavanaugh,” Erich said quietly. “I’ll need a couple of hours to get my truck squared away,

  Her father nodded shortly and the two of them followed her parents out like recalcitrant children. Aubrey’s stomach tightened. Erich hadn’t wanted her father to know about their relationship because of his job, and now the cat was out of the bag. Funny that they’d been better able to keep a secret when they were teenagers.

  Of course, no one had been shooting at them then.

  They rode in silence to Erich’s. Her father pulled up beside Erich’s truck and let him out.

  “I’ll send Vince over to give you a hand, and then he can see to getting Laura’s car fixed and home,” her father said.

  Erich nodded. “I appreciate that.” With a lingering look at Aubrey, he closed the back door of the truck.

  They hadn’t said two words to each other since the sheriff arrived. She had no idea what he was thinking, but she wouldn’t blame him if he was pissed at her for bringing this trouble to his door.

  She was in the process of changing clothes when her mother knocked softly on the bedroom door, then opened it without waiting for an invitation.

  “Maybe a shower would warm you up,” her mother said, lifting the sad, damp dress from the end of the bed and folding it over her arm.

  “I just want to get some sleep,” Aubrey said, stepping into her sweats. “Is Dad pissed about Erich?”

  “Not at Erich, but at the situation.” She sat on the edge of the bed. “Are you in any position to be getting into a relationship?”

  “We’re not in a relationship,” Aubrey replied automatically.

  Her mother stiffened. “I’d like to think I raised you better than that.”

  Aubrey sighed and sat beside her. “I’ve always had a thing for Erich, but I’m not staying around, so it’s not a relationship.” Though she never felt as comfortable with another man as she did with Erich, never felt like she could be herself the way she was with him.

  But no, she was going back to the HPD after Christmas. Back to her old life. Her lonely apartment. Her empty bed.

  “Dad shouldn’t be upset with Erich. It was my choice, and I’m an adult.”

  “He’s not happy, but he’ll get past it. It’s a thing with men, you know, knowing a man is putting hands on his little girl. Now, if he knew the two of you had been involved when you were younger, then he might be upset.”

  Aubrey pivoted to look into her mom’s knowing eyes.

  “Just because I didn’t say anything didn’t mean I didn’t know why you were suddenly so eager to go horseback riding every day. And you weren’t that quiet climbing back up into your room.”

  “Why didn’t you say anything?”

  Her mother’s eyes fell to the comforter. “I thought maybe if you wouldn’t stay for us, you might stay for him.”

  “Mom.” She covered her mother’s hand on the comforter. “You know I had to go. Wanted to go.”

  Her mother’s gaze snapped back to hers. “And live this life where you’re shot at? In danger?”

  “I promise, that happens less than fifty percent of the time.” She tried to lighten the mood, but the look of horror on her mother’s face told her she’d failed. No one had ever accused her of having a sense of humor. “No, really, less than five. Maybe three. Or one. Mostly it’s sitting behind a desk, doing paperwork. Walking around looking for clues.” Something she should be doing now, instead of going to bed.

  “Talking to people who are dangerous. I know, I watch those shows. I can’t wrap my mind around my daughter doing that job, being that tough.”

  “I don’t feel particularly tough these days.”

  Her mother squeezed her hand. “That’s because you understand the consequences of your actions. You still have empathy, which is something I worried you’d lose.”

  She didn’t want to admit that she felt herself losing it, occasionally wanted to lose it, so she wouldn’t suffer a breakdown as she had after killing Jorge. Her colleagues expected it. She would be a better cop because of it. But she resisted.

  “So you won’t stay for Erich this time, either?”

  She tried to hide the surprise that her mother still wanted her to stay. “No, Mom. I need to go back.”

  Erich stiffened as Adam Cavanaugh walked into the garage where Erich was inspecting the bullet holes in his truck. He hadn’t bought the truck new, but damn it, it was new to him, and the nicest truck he’d ever owned. Now, once Mr. Cavanaugh fired him for sleeping with his daughter, he wouldn’t be able to afford to even get the bullet holes repaired.

  He turned to give the older man his full attention, waiting for the man to tear him a new one. Adam Cavanaugh was not known for subtleties. But the man did appreciate strength.

  “If you’ve come for an apology, sir, I don’t have one.”

  Adam lifted his eyebrows at Erich’s forthrightness. “You think I’m here to demand to know your intentions toward my daughter?”

  “If I was her father, I know I would.”

  The older man inclined his head. “I’d be naive to think she’d been a virgin all these years. Her mother, however, has the notion in her head that if Aubrey falls in love with you, she’ll stick around.”

  Erich had a similar notion, though he was realistic enough to know it was a pipe dream. “I think we both know Aubrey better than that. She won’t give up the life she worked so hard for, for a man.”

  “I raised her not to give any power to anyone else. I guess I can’t complain when she doesn’t do what I expect.”

  Erich’s shoulders relaxed incrementally. He’d allowed fear of her father’s reaction stop him once before. Not this time, not when he came so close to losing her in the most final sense of the word. “I have no intention of staying away from her, sir.”

  Adam’s eyes flicked to his, bright with surprise. Then he rolled his shoulders. “It’s been rough, seeing her hurting this way, not being able to do anything, say anything. I want more than anything to see that pain gone from her eyes. If you’re the man to do it, well, I’m not going to stand in your way.” The older man didn’t say another word, but turned and walked out, leaving Erich speechless.

  He’d just been given the man’s blessing. Now what was he going to do about it?

  Aubrey couldn’t sleep, not when she knew the investigation was going on only a few miles down the road. Besides, every time she closed her eyes she heard the shots, felt the impact of the bullets against her car, saw Erich running toward her, shirtless and shoeless, carrying that rifle.

  Damn, in retrospect, that had been hot. Foolish, but really hot.

  She shoved back the covers, shed her sweats and pulled on jeans, socks and boots. She dressed in layers and slipped her holster onto her belt. She’d have to borrow someone’s car to get to the site.

  But when she went downstairs, the house was quiet. No one was home. She looked out into the horseshoe driveway—no cars. Fine. She could walk, she supposed. It wasn’t far to Erich’s place, but she might need to go into town afterwards. She’d go down to the stable and borrow someone’s.

  Wrapping up in her coat—she didn’t remember Cascade havin
g such a long cold spell before—she marched through the crunchy thin layer of snow down to the stable.

  She realized, as she stepped inside, that she didn’t know many of the cowboys anymore. She’d been away too long. She didn’t know if they’d know her.

  A group of them were talking when she walked in, and they broke apart, gazes down. Okay, they may not know her, but they knew who she was.

  “Hi, guys. I need to borrow someone’s truck.”

  “Miss Cavanaugh,” one of the older cowboys stepped forward. “Where are you looking to go?”

  She thought she might remember him, Mac or Mark or something. As she recalled, he and Erich weren’t particular friends. “I need to get over to Erich’s.”

  His gaze flicked to the gun on her hip. “You could call him to come get you, but I doubt he’s there. He was heading to another ranch for a pick-up of your dad’s new mare.”

  She’d considered calling him, but she’d already caused him enough trouble. She doubted he wanted to hear from her. “He isn’t. But I need to get over there anyway.” She didn’t know what they knew about what happened last night and she didn’t feel like filling them in.

  “You don’t intend to shoot him or anything, do you?”

  “No, of course not.” But she’d be damned if she walked around unarmed when she didn’t know where the shooter was. Or who.

  Mac/Mark beat his hat against his thigh a couple of times. “I can give you a ride, I suppose, if you can find your way back.”

  Not exactly what she wanted, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. “That would be fine.”

  She tamped down nerves as they approached Erich’s house. Mac/Mark was silent, which was fine with her. When they crested the rise, though, he blew out a whistle through his teeth. Damn, the sheriff’s department was here already. And her mother’s car was gone, towed to town, most likely, for new tires and new windshields and patches for the bullet holes. She winced as she thought of the damage to her mother’s luxury car. It wouldn’t be cheap, or fast. She wondered if Erich took care of that, or if her father had. She opened the door before Mac/Mark came to a complete stop.