Christmas Tango
(A Soldiering On Christmas Novella)
By Aislinn Kearns
Christmas Tango: (A Soldiering On Novella)
Copyright © 2016 by Aislinn Kearns
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Fanfiction is encouraged.
http://www.aislinnkearns.com
Cover by Vila Design
Editing by Nikki Rose
For my stepfather,
Whose help and support has been invaluable to my success
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Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Epilogue
Soldiering On Series
Author Bio
Chapter 1
Duncan tugged at the unfamiliar noose around his throat—also known as a bow tie. He was trussed up in a penguin suit, suffocating in the restrictive clothing.
The grand ballroom was stifling, though whether that was reality, or a hallucination brought on by lack of breath, Duncan couldn’t be sure. All he knew was that he didn’t belong in this place.
The room was fancier than any he could remember being in. The roof above them was at least three stories up, and made entirely of glass. Balconies stretched across the upper portions, giving a perfect view of the mingling crowd. Instrumental Christmas music drifted from hidden speakers, and sconces dotted the walls, simulating flickering candlelight like a ballroom of old. Wreaths and bells hung the walls, adding a festive cheer to the dull proceedings.
A sharp elbow jabbed his side. “Smile,” Mandy hissed. Her fingers tightened on his arm, pressing her point.
Duncan plastered on a smile, but even he could tell it probably looked more like a grimace. Mandy rolled her eyes at him, but he just shrugged, unrepentant. He hadn’t wanted to come. She should be thankful that she got that much. Pretending to enjoy the stuffy occasion was one step beyond.
Mandy Lennox, bane of his existence and his business partner—in that order—had, in her infinite wisdom, forced him to come to this Christmas fundraising auction. Despite his stark refusal to accompany her, he had still somehow found himself in a custom-made tuxedo, escorting Mandy around a room full of rich people. She claimed it would be a good networking opportunity, wanting to find wealthy clients for their joint business.
Soldiering On was his pride and joy. He’d started the security company—with Mandy’s help—over a year ago to give veterans injured in the line of duty an opportunity to continue using their skills after being discharged. But the best part of the job was that they could help people that needed it—people that needed protection, or expertise. Duncan and his team were doing something that mattered.
He could admit to a need for at least a few well-paying clients like Mandy wanted, but it wasn’t his priority. The people that needed their help were. But it was Mandy’s mission in life to find wealthy clients for Soldiering On, and the only thing she seemed to care about. As long as it didn’t interfere in his life, he didn’t mind what she did. But playing nice with a bunch of rich people hadn’t been on Duncan’s agenda.
At least Mandy looked stunning in a thin sheath dress the colour of midnight. Her creamy shoulders were left temptingly bare, and her blonde hair was twisted up into a complicated knot. He had never felt their stark differences more keenly than he did in that moment. She was sleek, breathtakingly elegant, and clearly belonged in this crowd in a way he never would, despite his expensive tuxedo. He was a rough soldier with a bad leg and barely a dime to his name.
A man with teeth like a lighthouse beacon moved into Duncan’s field of vision, grinning unnaturally wide. Duncan blinked, bringing his thoughts away from his business partner and onto the intruder.
“Mandy,” he said, eyeing Duncan’s companion with an unsubtle appreciation. “How lovely to see you again.”
Since no one looked his way, Duncan felt safe rolling his eyes.
“Charles,” Mandy purred. “You’ve done a lovely job with the decorations. So festive. It seems like the evening will be a real success.”
She bent forward to kiss the man’s cheek, oozing charm.
Charles lapped it up. “Thank you. I hope you’ll stay for the after-party.” He winked—actually winked!—at her.
Mandy wasn’t fooled. Duncan was sure he was the only one that noticed the imperceptible tightening around her eyes that showed her displeasure. But her smiled stayed in place.
“That will depend on what my date wants to do, since he’s my ride. This is Duncan.” She nudged Duncan, who obediently stuck out his hand.
Charles’ gaze shifted to Duncan for the first time. The disinterested look told Duncan that Charles had already forgotten his name. “Hey, pal. Welcome to the party.”
They shook hands and let go before it was polite.
“Well, I better do the rounds,” Charles told them. He disappeared into the crowd, which consisted mostly of men and women between the ages of 60 and 103 from the looks of things.
Duncan felt old most days, now that he was pushing forty and had retired from the military. But this lacklustre crowd made him feel positively sprightly.
“Your date?” he asked slyly.
Mandy rolled her eyes. “I had to put him off somehow. He’s obscenely wealthy, so I like to keep him onside. But he’s persistent.”
“Well, I’m happy to run point between you and any men tonight. They really should learn to take a hint.”
The fact that Charles had completely ignored Duncan and the proprietary hand Mandy had on his arm irked him. Why would it be so out of the question that they were an item? Or had Charles just not cared either way?
He also realised something else. “Am I the only Black guy in the room?” he asked Mandy under his breath, bending down to her so that his words couldn’t be overheard.
Mandy huffed. “I admit the crowd is rather monochrome tonight.”
“Why am I even here?” he asked her. He obviously didn’t fit in, and not because he had inherited his father’s dark skin. These people were born into money. He was career military, like his father before him. He didn’t have centuries of wealth and power behind him.
Mandy narrowed her eyes at him. “If I have to suffer through this evening, then so do you.”
Duncan blinked. “What are you talking about? You love this stuff.”
“It’s a necessary evil. I see the benefits, and they outweigh the inconvenience to myself.”
Duncan never knew quite what to expect from Mandy.
“You’re a constant surprise,” he told her.
“I do actually like the dancing, when they have it,” she admitted with a shrug. “But the rest I could take or leave.”
Duncan’s mood soured even more. Of course she liked dancing. One thing he could no longer do now that his leg was so badly banged up from the war.
Not having noticed his reaction, Mandy scanned the room, her gaze landing somewhere behind him. Her expression lit up.
“The food’s out,” she said and dragged him in the direction of a white table-clothed sideboard loaded with dishes covered with silver lids. The only other person that seemed to have clocked to the food was a man in a suit a
few levels below what most of the other guests were wearing.
Duncan smiled briefly, glad he wasn’t the only one completely out of place at a ritzy event.
The guy frowned when he saw Duncan eyeing him and backed off. Duncan sighed. He didn’t mean to glare. It was just his face, and size. But he tended to make people nervous.
“I should check in with the office,” Duncan murmured as Mandy loaded up a plate full of tiny, complicated-looking pieces of food.
Mandy glared as she munched on something that resembled a mushroom with leaves on it. She swallowed. “It’s nine o’clock at night. No one is there.”
Duncan took a breath, but she interrupted him before he could get a word out. “I know that Blake is on call, but don’t bother him. He’ll let you know if he needs you.”
“Why are you so concerned that I not call him?”
She smiled sweetly. “Sierra has something special planned for tonight. You don’t want to interrupt.”
Duncan shuddered. That was more than he’d wanted to know. Still, he pulled out his phone—just to check the time—and saw that the battery was dead.
“Bloody hell,” he muttered.
“I told you,” Mandy said, peering at his screen upside down. “You need to get a portable charger. Or a better phone.”
It was a familiar argument. “It’s fine, I just forgot to charge it.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re such a technophobe.”
“It’s functional,” he told her. “It does what I need it do.”
She gave him an unimpressed look. He didn’t see much point in explaining to her that the simpler the device, the better it usually was. Blake, Sam, and Paul were the ones that liked the newer, fancier equipment. Duncan was old school.
“Whatever,” he said, in lieu of what he really wanted to respond. “I’m going to hit the head. I’ll be back.”
He needed to cool off, get some fresh air. He couldn’t even take off the bow tie for a spell, because there was no way he’d get it back on.
He wished he had a weapon. At least then he’d feel like himself. But with the cut of the custom-made suit Mandy insisted he get—at her expense—it would’ve been far too obvious.
He pushed his way through the double doors at the back of the ballroom and into a carpeted service corridor. The kitchen lay at the far end, but no aromas of cooking emanated from that direction. Evidently the food was catered from an outside source. A number of doors and corridors came off the one he was standing in, and a staircase on each wall led to the upper levels. Based on the building’s size from the outside—of which the ballroom the auction was in barely took up half—there must be a whole warren of rooms that were not for the party guests. Perhaps he should go up and see if he could find the way to those balconies; get a better lay of the land.
But first, more pressing matters. The bathroom was bigger than his entire apartment, and far fancier. Duncan’s foul mood grew worse as he took care of his business. He had to get out of this place; find an excuse and escape the rest of the evening. Who cared if the expensive ticket Mandy had bought for him was wasted before they even got to the main event of the evening? It wasn’t like he could buy anything at the auction, which would start any moment.
He finished washing his hands and reached for the paper towels. Maybe if he—
His thoughts were interrupted by the lights shutting off. The room was in total darkness, without even a window to filter in some moonlight. Must be a blackout.
Duncan’s hand was on the door handle, ready to return to Mandy to see if she was okay.
That’s when he heard the gunfire, followed by screams of terror.
Chapter 2
As soon as the room went dark, Mandy ducked low, huddling near the buffet table. Was it a simple blackout, or something more?
Working with military types over the last year had made her paranoid. When her eyes adjusted to the weak moonlight from the glass ceiling above, she tried to spot anything out of the ordinary. Her view was blocked by confused people shuffling around.
That confusion didn’t last long, replaced by a quick slice of fear.
The loud ricochet of automatic gunfire echoed through the hall. Everyone ducked, hitting the floor with an almost choreographed precision. Screams drowned out every other sound.
Then, silence.
Five men were left standing in the centre of the room. She couldn’t make out their features, but the shape of large assault rifles in their hands was unmistakeable. Worse, they held the guns like they knew how to use them. Like her people at Soldiering On did.
Fear slithered through her, icy cold and paralysing.
“Good evening,” said one man, stepping forward. His tone was almost pleasant, so incongruous given the situation. His voice carried across the room, reaching each person with chilling precision.
Where the hell was Duncan? The one time she needed him, he was nowhere to be seen.
The man—the leader of this group, she guessed—continued to talk. “The rules are thus: Do not speak unless you are spoken to. Don’t try to escape, or fight us. You’ll lose. Don’t try to call for help. Billy here will be collecting your phones in just a moment. If you follow these rules, you will most likely get out of this alive.” He paused. “But no promises.”
Mandy shivered at the threat of violence.
A man who must be Billy came forward holding a sack. One by one, he held it out to people, waiting until they dropped their phone inside. The quiet was tense, made all the more so by the definitive thunk of each lifeline disappearing into the bag.
The man spoke again. “You can keep your wallets. Those might come in handy later.” She could hear the smile in his voice.
What the hell was this man planning?
Billy arrived in front of Mandy, his mean eyes glaring. He was a small, wiry man, with lean muscles on his frame. She recognised him as the man that had been hovering near the buffet table five minutes earlier. A plant? He was the only one of the group wearing a suit.
Mandy tried to get a hint as to what they were doing, or planning, who these people were, but his face revealed nothing. She reluctantly took her phone out of her clutch and placed it in the bag. She felt suddenly naked, as if her only hope was walking away with Billy.
She hoped Duncan was safe, away from all this. She’d had a suspicion that he’d been planning to escape the party when he’d gone to the bathroom. Hopefully he’d followed through.
What a mess.
Billy reached the last person in the room and waited while they pulled out their phone with a shaky hand and dropped it in the sack. He hefted the bag over his shoulder and moved back to the centre of the room. It must weigh a ton with about one hundred phones in there, but he didn’t strain under the weight.
Billy deposited his sack near the leader, who thanked him with an almost condescending tone of voice. Then, the man turned to another of his comrades. “Klaus, round up any stragglers.” Klaus, a lumbering blond giant, moved towards the doors at the back of the room, nudging people out of his way with the muzzle of his gun.
The leader cleared his throat, returning the attention to himself. “You must be wondering why we interrupted your party this evening. Well, it’s simple. We want you to bargain for your lives.”
The atmosphere of the room stiffened and changed. The hostages had a sudden inkling of what the man wanted and were getting ready to defend their worldly goods.
Mandy ran inventory of what she could bargain with. She was wealthy, but not to the extent that some of the people in the room were. Her most valuable asset was Soldiering On, but she wasn’t going to give that up. She had about half a million in liquid cash she could offer. Hopefully that would be enough.
“We’re going to walk away tonight with one hundred million dollars,” the leader announced, gesturing to his crew. “We don’t care how much each person puts forward, we just care about the total. What you offer into the pot is up to you. But,” he paused, “if we don�
�t make a hundred million by midnight, people will start dying. So I recommend that you go in with your best offer.”
The man stepped back, smiling. Nobody moved. Nobody breathed.
He glanced around. “Oh. Feel free to talk amongst yourselves. Negotiate.”
Whispers built around the room, hesitant at first but slowly gaining in strength as the leader didn’t react to their talking. Mandy assessed those around her. A couple sat a few feet away, their hands gripped tightly together, not saying a word. Mandy guessed they would be about 70 from their parchment-like skin. Their backs were straight, and they still looked regal in their eveningwear, despite sitting on the floor.
She shuffled over to them. “Hi, I’m Mandy,” she said.
They turned towards her. “Clark,” said the man. “And this is my wife, Loretta.”
Mandy arranged her face into a reassuring expression. “Nice to meet you. Are you guys okay?” she asked.
Sad smiles graced their mouths.
“Yes, thank you, dear,” Loretta replied. “It’s just that this situation isn’t ideal.”
Understatement of the century.
“We don’t have anything to bargain with,” Clark added. “We’re just here as guests of a friend. We didn’t intend to bid on anything.”
“Ah,” Mandy murmured. “I have a bit, but not as much as I think I’d need to appease people. There are just over one hundred people in this room, which would mean each person would have to donate a million dollars each. But a lot of people are couples, who presumably share finances. Two million per couple is a lot of money.”
They nodded. “Do you…do you think we’ll get out of this alive?” Loretta asked, a tremor in her voice.
Mandy cleared her throat. “I’d like to think we’ll find a solution.”
A man, about fifty and clearly living the good life, spun around. “What do you mean ‘we’ll find a solution’?” he hissed. “Who the fuck has a couple of million just lying around ready to give to this asshole? It would take me days to put together that kind of money. Jesus.”
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