The Christmas Target

by Shirlee McCoy

“He loved anything that my grandmother loved.”

  “I know. And who could blame him? Beatrice has the best heart of anyone I’ve ever known. Remember that old donkey she insisted on rescuing? That thing was as ugly as sin. Swaybacked and old as the hills. She paid me to brush its tail and mane and put little pink ribbons in both.” He glanced at Beatrice, smiling at the memory.

  “I remember. Granddad was afraid she’d want you to paint its hooves pink, too.”

  “She asked. I refused. It was a male donkey. I figured it deserved a little dignity.”

  She laughed, the sound ending on a groan as pain shot through her already aching head.

  “You okay?” Chance touched her shoulder, the warmth of his hand seeping through her damp flannel, chasing away some of the chill she hadn’t realized she’d been feeling.

  “I will be once we figure out what’s going on.”

  “Hopefully that will be soon.” Cooper shrugged into his coat. “Beatrice is a good lady. I’m going to do everything I can to make sure she stays safe. Call if you remember anything else. I’ve got a couple of guys going over the hospital security footage. I’ll keep you updated.” He walked out into the hall and disappeared from view.

  “Here.” Chance pressed a cup into her hand. “You need some sugar.”

  “I need some answers.” She sipped the lukewarm orange juice, her stomach twisting. “I also need Tylenol.”

  “I have that, too.” He handed her two tablets. “Cleared by the nurse, so it’s safe to take.”

  “Did any of the nurses see the guy who attacked me?”

  “They saw him. He had a badge, and they didn’t bother checking his ID. The security guards already found it with the scrubs in a bathroom on the main floor.”

  “Near the lobby?” She swallowed the pills with the rest of the juice.

  “Yes. The sheriff has a K-9 unit moving through. It’s possible they’ll track him.”

  “You know it isn’t, Chance. He walked out the lobby door and he got in a car. He drove away in a vehicle that was either stolen or unregistered.”

  “Probably.”

  “There’s no probably about it. We’ve done this thing dozens of times together. We know how it works.”

  “We know how it usually works. Let’s leave some room for surprises, okay?” He pulled a chair up next to hers and took her hand, the gesture intimate and gentle, and so surprising she didn’t pull away. They’d sat like this before. Years ago. When they’d thought they might be able to make something special out of the thing that was between them—the admiration, the respect, the chemistry that always seemed to steal Stella’s breath.

  She glanced away, her fingers curving through his, her heart slamming against her ribs.

  “I’ve never liked surprises,” she murmured, hoping he couldn’t feel the wild throbbing of her pulse.

  “Then leave room for possibilities. You seem to think the guy was coming after Beatrice. The team is checking into the theory that you’re the target.”

  It was a possibility. She knew that. Her work put her in contact with lots of people who knew how to hold grudges and get revenge. Most of them were far away, and it would be difficult for them to get visas into the country. Money talked, though, and it could accomplish a lot.

  “My last mission was in Egypt,” she said as if he hadn’t been there with her, as if they hadn’t found a child kidnapped by her abusive father and brought her back to the United States. She’d known then just how wrong she’d been to close herself off to Chance. She’d had a dozen opportunities to tell him, a dozen moments when she’d wanted to.

  Fear had kept her silent.

  Fear of loving him and losing him.

  Just like she had her family.

  “We’re checking the whereabouts of the people involved in that. Is there anyone else we should look into?”

  “You know exactly what I’ve been involved in, where I’ve gone and who I’ve angered.”

  “I do, but we also need to think on a more personal level.” He still had her hand, his thumb running across her knuckles. She could have been distracted by that if she let herself be, but she knew he was getting at something, moving toward a subject that he didn’t think she’d want to discuss.

  Her brain might be moving slowly, but she knew exactly what he was asking. She didn’t care. Talking about her personal life—what little she had of it—didn’t bother her. “There’s no one in my life who’d want to kill me out of jealousy or anger. I don’t have an ex-boyfriend stalking me, and I didn’t rebuff some guy who might be holding a grudge.”

  “You’ve been out on a couple of dates recently.”

  “I didn’t realize you were keeping track,” she responded, a little hint of something zinging through her.

  Happiness?

  Pleasure?

  It sure wasn’t annoyance.

  “The last date I went on was a week before my grandfather died. I haven’t seen Noah since then.”

  “Maybe Noah isn’t happy about that?”

  “I’m sure he didn’t give it a second thought. We’re friends. That’s all.”

  “Can I have his contact information? I’d like to verify that with him.”

  “No,” she snapped, and then wished she hadn’t. Beatrice stirred, moaning softly in her sleep. She looked tiny, the bed and linens nearly swallowing her up.

  “Look,” Stella continued more quietly. “Noah was a member of my husband’s special ops unit. We’ve been friends for years. We went out because he’d broken up with his fiancée and was feeling lonely. That’s it.”

  “If that’s it, then why don’t you want me to contact him?”

  “The last thing Noah needs is people butting into his business.” He’d been wounded during an operation three years ago, and he hadn’t been the same since.

  “It’s not butting in to check on someone’s whereabouts.”

  “Chance—”

  “You can trust me to do things discreetly,” he cut her off.

  Any other day, she might have argued with him, given him a dozen reasons why she knew Noah hadn’t been the guy who’d attacked her.

  She stood instead, placing the juice on the table near Beatrice’s bed and walking to the window. Snow still fell, drifting to the ground in huge flakes. She wanted to walk outside, let the frigid air clear the cobwebs from her head. More than that, she wanted to hunt down the guy who’d attacked her, make sure he didn’t get another opportunity.

  If she hadn’t felt so weak, she might have left Chance with Beatrice and tracked down the K-9 unit that was searching for the perp, but she was weak, and she’d be stupid to go out looking for trouble.

  “It’s not a good idea to stand in front of the window, Stella,” Chance cautioned, but he didn’t pull her away and he didn’t close the curtains.

  He probably thought he was giving her what she wanted, what she always said she needed—space, distance, platonic friendship.

  Except that they could never be friends, because they’d always been meant to be something more.

  “I need to keep Beatrice safe,” she murmured, trying to refocus her thoughts, keep them where they needed to be. “The guy who attacked me is still out there, and I can’t count on him not returning.”

  * * *

  Chance heard the worry in Stella’s voice, and the weariness. She wasn’t asking for help, but they both knew she needed it.

  “We’ll keep her safe.”

  We’ll keep you safe, too, was on the tip of his tongue, but he didn’t say it. Stella prided herself on being able to handle just about anything. She didn’t like needing help, but she’d take it when necessary. This was one of the few times when it absolutely was.

  “I appreciate that, Chance, but Cooper and his department—”
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  “Aren’t going to be able to provide twenty-four-hour protection. HEART can.”

  “At what cost? Another job? A client who really needs your help not getting it because you’re here helping me?”

  “We have plenty of man power, Stella, and you know it. If you don’t want us here, you’ll have to come up with a better reason than that.” She wouldn’t. Because she knew HEART could do what needed to be done faster and better than just about anyone else.

  He was as confident of that as he was that the sun would rise every morning.

  She shrugged, her shoulders narrow and thin beneath her pajama top. He caught a glimpse of her scar again—purple against her pale skin. He knew a little about the story—that she’d been in a car accident that had killed her entire family. That she’d escaped with terrible burns.

  And terrible nightmares.

  She’d never told him that, but he’d heard her talking in her sleep more than once. They’d camped out in dozens of places with the team, and he’d heard her muttering about flames, and then saying a name over and over again.

  Her sister’s name.

  When he let himself, he could imagine Stella as a little girl, trying desperately to save her sister from the fire.

  “If you want HEART out, say so,” he prodded, and she sighed.

  “I would, but I do need the help. Much as I hate to admit it, my brain isn’t functioning at a fast enough pace to keep Beatrice safe.”

  “It functioned fast enough to stop a knife attack.”

  “Muscle memory.”

  “And God?”

  “He does always seem to come through for me. Even when I doubt that He will. I should probably learn something from that.”

  “Like?”

  “I don’t always have to fight my battles alone.” She brushed hair from Beatrice’s face, her palm settling on her forehead. “She feels warm.”

  “She’s under a few blankets.”

  “Warm as in feverish.” She pressed the call button for the nurse and removed one of the blankets that covered her grandmother. “I hope it’s not pneumonia. She inhaled water, and she was hypothermic. She could—”

  “Stop,” he said, taking the blanket from her hand and setting it on the chair. They were so close he could see the flecks of violet in her blue eyes, see the gold tips of her red lashes. “Worrying won’t change a thing.”

  “I’m not worrying. I’m speculating.”

  “That’s not going to change anything, either.”

  “It’s going to keep me going,” she said, turning to her grandmother again, putting some space between them, because it would have been way too easy to walk into each other’s arms.

  Chance knew it, and he kept his distance, because there was more to a relationship than heat and passion. There was deep sharing and vulnerability and a dozen other things that Stella didn’t want.

  “Who says you have to keep going?” he asked, and she shrugged.

  “Me. If I don’t keep moving, I’m going to fall over. Then where will Beatrice be?”

  “In this bed with me watching over her.”

  She looked like she was going to say something in response, but a nurse bustled in, her scrubs swishing as she moved to the bed.

  “Is everything okay?” she asked, and Stella began filling her in, questioning whether or not X-rays had been ordered, asking if there’d been any sign of fluid in the lungs.

  Chance could have waited for the answers, but he had other things to do, a few phone calls to make while Stella was focused on her grandmother.

  He wanted to give Trinity Noah’s name. She might be able to come up with a surname, maybe figure out who the guy was. HEART had plenty of contacts in the military, and it shouldn’t take any time at all to track down a buddy of Stella’s deceased husband. Daniel Silverstone was a military legend. Smart, quick and deadly, he’d died a hero’s death, saving his unit from enemy fire. Stella never talked about him. She never talked about her marriage or what it had felt like to be widowed at such a young age. It was another reason why they’d broken up. Chance had wanted to know, and he hadn’t understood her need to keep it from him.

  “How are things going in there?” Boone asked as Chance stepped into the hall. He’d taken a seat in the chair again, his legs blocking half the corridor. To the untrained eye, he looked relaxed, but Chance sensed the tension in him. He was ready for more trouble.

  They might get it, but it wasn’t going to be at the hospital. Not with so many deputies and security guards roaming the hallways.

  “Beatrice seems to be holding her own, but Stella’s worried.”

  “I meant with the interview. Was she able to remember anything else?”

  “Nothing that is going to help us put a name to her attacker. I do have the name of the last guy she dated.”

  “Noah Ridgewood?”

  “She didn’t give me a last name.”

  “It’s Ridgewood. I texted Scout to see if she remembered.”

  “Thanks. I’m going to have Trinity see what she can dig up on the guy. I’m also going to have her call in another team member. You need to get home to your family.”

  “I can stay a few days. Scout will understand.”

  “Maybe, but your kids won’t. They need you home when you can be there, and this isn’t a paid mission. It’s a favor for a friend.”

  Several HEART members had been married in the past year. Chance tried to give them as much family time as possible. It was important for their marriages, their homes and their work. If he had a wife and kids, they’d be his priority. God first. Then family. Then business.

  That was the way his father had raised him.

  It was the way he’d planned to be if he’d gotten married.

  At this point, he doubted that would happen.

  He’d found the woman he wanted to be with. He’d probably end up waiting a lifetime for her to realize she wanted to be with him.

  He frowned, glancing at the door and calling himself every kind of fool for falling for Stella again and again and again.

  “Kids do grow up fast at this age.” Boone said. “And I have lots of lost time to make up for with Jubilee.”

  “You guys are doing okay, right?” Chance had asked the question so many times he was sure Boone was tired of it, but being reunited with a daughter who’d been missing for five years was challenging. Even in the best of circumstances.

  “Better than I anticipated. She’s a smart kid, and she’s eager to fit in with the family. The counselor seems to think she’s doing remarkably well.”

  “Anything I can do to help?”

  “You’ve already done enough. You helped find her. You helped keep her safe. You gave me two months of leave.” Boone shook his head. “I owe you. We both know it.”

  “A person can never owe family, Boone. We do what we can for one another, and we don’t keep score.”

  “Exactly.” Boone stood and stretched. “Keep that in mind when you’re dealing with Silverstone.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “She’s been thrown off the horse more than once. It’s not surprising she’s afraid to get back on it.”

  “You’re talking in riddles, and I’m not in the mood.”

  “I’ll make it plain then. Family is everything. Stella is family. To me, she’s like a sister. To you...” He shrugged. “You get to decide, but I’d say she’s a lot more, and I’d say you’d be a fool to let her keep avoiding what you both so obviously want.”

  “And what, exactly, would that be?” he asked, irritated with the conversation and with the fact that Boone could read him and Stella so easily.

  “Like I said, that’s for you to decide. Just make sure you don’t let the past get in the way of whatever the fut
ure could be. Family should never keep score of the good things, but we shouldn’t keep score of the bad, either.” He pulled a bag out of his pocket. Not cookies this time. Chips. “You going to call your sister? Maybe we can get that information before the sun goes down.”

  “Sure,” Chance said, gladly allowing the direction of the conversation to change. Whatever was between him and Stella, it was theirs to deal with. Hopefully, Boone would keep that in mind.

  He dialed his sister’s number as he walked to the end of the hall, following the same route the K-9 team had tracked earlier. Down a longer hall. Around another corner. Through doors that led into a stairwell.

  The guy had run to the lobby, changed his clothes in a bathroom there and escaped completely unnoticed.

  The security cameras had to have captured him, though. There were cameras in the stairwell and in the lobby. Chance was anxious to see the footage and to find out whether or not they’d gotten a clear picture of the guy’s face.

  Because if they had, he’d be that much closer to keeping Stella and her grandmother safe.

  He left a message for Trinity as he walked into the hospital lobby. A few police officers were gathered there, a large German shepherd beside one of them. It looked like the K-9 team had followed the trail as far as it could and then returned to the hospital.

  Chance wanted to know exactly where the trail had ended, what they had found at the end of it. A parking space? A dirt road? A shed or house of some sort?

  There was no time like the present to find out.

  He pasted on the easy smile he’d trained himself to use, the one that said he wasn’t a threat, that he only wanted a friendly conversation. He’d learned long ago that he could catch more flies with honey than with vinegar, so he kept the vinegar for cleaning up messes and for making reluctant people give him the information he wanted.

  The honey, though?

  He used it as often as he needed it.

  The officers eyed him as he approached, and he was sure they were noticing the bright tie and the starched white shirt, the tailored pants and jacket. He liked people to underestimate him, to assume he was a business man who just happened to run a hostage rescue team.