Covert Christmas

by Marilyn Pappao

  She flicked a glance at the pack then tried to grab the mug’s handle, but her fingers wouldn’t do as she asked.

  “Hold on with both palms and let the heat of the mug warm your hands. You didn’t notice any frostbite on your fingertips, did you?”

  Shaking her head, she said, “They’re white and numb, but nothing is blue. Judging from how badly they throb, I would bet none of them are frosted. I wouldn’t vouch the same for the tip of my nose, however.”

  “We’ll keep an eye on it. You were lucky. The temperature is moving even lower now as the winds pick up.”

  She was also lucky that he’d come across her when he had. Or in short order hyperthermia would’ve set in.

  “What happened to your car?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “And what are you doing on Farrell Mountain in a snowstorm? I haven’t heard a thing from you in ten years.”

  “I came here to see you.”

  His heart jumped at her words, but he gritted his teeth and tried to find a little righteous anger. “Ever heard of calling ahead?”

  If she’d called and asked to see him, Cam would have warned her off. Apart from the currently dangerous snowstorm swirling around his mountain, he could’ve told her not to bother. He had nothing to say to her after all this time.

  “It’s a long story, Cam. I didn’t come for a reunion. I came here seeking help from the sheriff.”

  Hunkering down on his heels beside the couch, he opened the first aid kit. “I haven’t been the sheriff for the last four years, Tara. You endangered your life in a snowstorm for no reason.”

  She looked surprised but recovered quickly. “You were still my best bet for protection. I don’t trust anyone else. Besides, you were close by. I was trying to shake the man following me. He wants to kill me.”

  “Was that your car on the public road with the bullet holes?”

  She nodded and closed her eyes. “I thought I was dead for sure this time.”

  Filing the “this time” remark for later, Cam pulled supplies out of the first aid kit and put a little antiseptic on a swab of cotton. “I need to tend your cuts. Hold still.” She wasn’t making much sense. What on earth had she gotten herself into?

  “Can you do it while I talk?”

  He grabbed her chin and held her still. “Shut up for one more minute and let me finish tending your face. Then tell your story.”

  Curious, but more annoyed at the intrusion from his past, Cam carefully cleaned her cuts. Only one was deep enough to need a butterfly bandage. The rest were minor and would heal with no trouble. Too bad his heart hadn’t healed from her betrayal the same way.

  He distinctly remembered those first long years of misery, the endless days and sleepless nights after he’d sent her away. Just thinking of it now put a pain in his chest that wouldn’t stop.

  “Facial cuts are done,” he told her as he sat back and checked his work. “And your nose is turning red. It’ll be okay, too. Any other cuts?”

  “Everything else was covered.” She shrugged out of her jacket. “But this parka is definitely ruined. Too bad. It was a lifesaver.”

  “Tell me about the man who shot at you.”

  “A hired killer. Don’t know his name. But I’m fairly sure there’s a contract out on my life. If it wasn’t him, it would be another.”

  “Why?” This wasn’t becoming any clearer. “What the hell have you been doing?”

  “I’ve been undercover.”

  If she’d said she was Chloe’s angel, Tara couldn’t have surprised him more. “Maybe you’d better start at the beginning.” He dragged a chair closer.

  “I will. But I think we’d better call for reinforcements first. That guy is probably still out there. Is the new sheriff someone you can trust?”

  “Definitely. I’ve known him for years.”

  “My cell isn’t working due to the storm, I’d guess. Have a landline?”

  Cam nodded and went to the desk in the corner. “I saw Sheriff Reiner on the way in just now. He’d been searching the area near your totaled car to find any survivors. But his department’s having a real bad day. People are always getting stuck or lost in storms like this one. Hearing about a hired killer in his territory won’t help matters.”

  Picking up the desk phone, Cam was surprised to find it dead. “I guess the landlines are all down with the storm, too. I’m afraid we’re on our own.”

  “Maybe you and I can take care of ourselves, Cam. But I’m worried about your family. What are they…?”

  He stopped her with a raised hand. “We’re in the house alone. It’s just us.”

  Tara suddenly looked stricken. As though that was a situation she had never considered.

  As he opened his mouth to explain, the lights flickered and then the room went dark save for the light from the fireplace.

  Tara couldn’t help the gasp that escaped her lips. “Is that normal? Or should I be worried about the killer coming for me in the dark?”

  “It’s probably storm-related.” He turned and headed to the foyer. “I’ll get my coat and turn on the generator. Afterward, I’ll give the outside a once-over. If anyone is out there, they’ll be suffering from the weather. While I was making your tea, the TV news predicted another twenty inches tonight. No one will be able to get in or out of this property until the storm stops.”

  Horrified at the prospect of being stranded here with a killer stalking her outside and a sexy but annoyed ex-lover inside, Tara watched Cam while he donned his coat, hat and a pair of snow boots.

  “Stay by the fire and make yourself at home,” he told her as he headed for the kitchen. “I need to check on the animals’ welfare after I get the generator up and running. But I won’t be long.

  “When I get back,” he continued, “I want to hear all the details on this undercover operation of yours.” Shaking his head as though the idea of her undercover was absolutely absurd, Cam disappeared around the corner.

  Tara didn’t know whether to be insulted or scared. She’d been so sure that Cam’s whole family would be here for the holidays. It had never occurred to her that the two of them would be isolated together—alone.

  Facing a hitman might be preferable.

  Needing to move around so she could think her predicament through, Tara tested her feet by placing one down on the hardwood floor. Man, that hurt like the devil. She was sure glad she’d thought to put on her padded socks under her boots and jeans before she’d left her apartment this morning and headed out for the governor’s vacation home in Aspen. If the governor had still been in Denver instead of spending the holidays with his family, she might’ve been dressed in something totally unsuitable.

  Brrr. The idea gave her chills. She could be worrying about losing her feet to frostbite instead of fussing about spending time alone with an old boyfriend.

  An old married boyfriend.

  The stabbing pain in the bottom of her foot became bearable, so she put the other one down on the floor next to it. Yipes. She had to bite her lip to keep from screaming. But within minutes she felt stronger and more stable. Maybe she was going to live through the experience after all.

  As she straightened and looked around the great room, the lights came back on. Then she heard the heater cycling on in another part of the house. She wondered how long the generator would last without running out of fuel.

  She went to the fireplace, added a few more logs and stirred the fire. Soon it was blazing.

  Looking around the room again, Tara finally realized what she was seeing. Or not seeing. She’d been to Cam’s home during the holidays many times growing up. Back then, the whole place had glowed with decorations, lovingly put up by Cam’s grandparents. Festive lights, wrapped packages and yummy smells coming from the kitchen. Those were some of the clearest memories from her childhood.

  Yet today, a few days before Christmas, this great room was empty of everything but furniture. Except for the roaring fire, it might as well be August.

  Where was the
tree? Where were the wreaths and holly?

  Wandering from room to room downstairs, she searched for anything that said Christmas. With no luck.

  Tara easily climbed the stairs to the second floor bedrooms. Surely up here she would find some sign of holiday spirit.

  She checked each room as she went down the hall. The first two were guest rooms, and bland. When she came to the room she’d used as a teenager, her hand hesitated on the door handle. Tara wasn’t sure she wanted to see this room again after all these years. Too many memories. Both good and bad.

  But as the door creaked open, Tara was shocked to see a fantasyland in various shades of pink instead of the cool blues and greens of her youth. The bed was covered with stuffed animals. Yes, this room was most definitely being used by a little girl.

  Cam must have a daughter. As Tara moved around the room, she lightly touched the toys and the music boxes. This could be her own little girl’s room. If only things had worked out differently.

  On top of the dresser, she found several framed photos. A little girl with blond pigtails, holding Cam’s hand. An older couple with the same girl at a birthday party. Tara looked around again, but couldn’t find any pictures of Cam’s wife.

  In fact, Tara couldn’t remember seeing any pictures of a young woman anywhere in the house. She quickly walked out of the girl’s room and headed for the master bedroom. This was going to hurt, but now that she’d thought of it, she needed to see some evidence of the woman who shared her life with Cam.

  Tara hesitated once again at the door, but then took a breath and pushed it open. The room that had once belonged to Cam’s grandparents had not changed much.

  Still the same beige walls. The same heavy, hewn wood furniture. Even the same king-size bed with the thick down-filled mattress.

  But there were no photos. None at all that she could see. Not even of the pretty little girl.

  Something was wrong in this house. Turning, she headed for the walk-in closet and threw open the doors.

  Except for Cam’s clothes, the huge closet stood empty. Empty? Was Cam divorced?

  “Find what you were looking for?” Cam’s voice spun her around.

  Busted.

  “Cam, where is your wife?”

  Furious at the nosy question, Cam said, “Not that it’s any of your business, but Mandy died giving birth to my daughter. Four years ago on Christmas Eve.”

  Tara had the decency to look embarrassed. “Oh, I’m so sorry. This time of year must be terribly hard on you. I…”

  “Let’s take this discussion down in front of the fire. The generator is set to cycle on and off every two hours to save both propane and the pipes. The great room will remain the warmest part of the house.”

  He took her by the elbow and ushered her out of his bedroom. Standing in the master bedroom closet, staring at the empty space where Mandy’s clothes once hung, was the last place Cam had expected to find Tara. When he was younger, he had dreamed many times of Tara’s clothes hanging in a closet next to his. He had built a lot of pipe dreams on that very idea.

  Now he refused to succumb to the temptation that her presence ignited. It was wrong of him to still want her as much as he did. Made him feel disloyal to Mandy—a not unfamiliar emotion.

  Cam let go of Tara’s arm and preceded her down the stairs. Since they were stuck here, she might as well say what she’d come to say. He would listen and then feed her and find her a semi-warm place to sleep until he could get her off his mountain. But that was it.

  No reminiscing. No erotic daydreams while she was this close. And absolutely no touching allowed.

  “To ease your mind about your pursuer,” he began as they hit the bottom of the stairs, “while I was outside, I discovered the driveway has been completely blocked by a small avalanche of snow. Unless the guy can fly through the middle of a deadly storm and land in a thirty-mile-an-hour gale, he will not be getting through.”

  She put her hand to her heart. “Thank God. Maybe we’ll be able to reach the sheriff before the snow stops.”

  “I want to hear more about it. How are you feeling now? Make yourself comfortable on the couch in front of the fire while I fix us something to eat before the generator shuts down again.” He turned away and headed into the open part of the kitchen.

  “Uh…how long do you think we’ll be stuck?”

  Cam pulled a carton of eggs from the fridge, not certain how he should answer. Tara saved him the trouble.

  “I know, it depends on the storm. I’m really sorry to be such a bother, Cam. This isn’t working out at all the way I pictured when I decided to come to you for help.”

  “That reminds me. Tell me again why you came here?”

  “I think I’d better start at the beginning.”

  “Go ahead. I can listen and cook at the same time.”

  He filled the coffeemaker and set it to brew. Then he pulled a pan off the hanging rack, cracked several eggs into a bowl and began to chop a few veggies. His movements were deliberate, economical. Cooking was one of those things he did under duress. But he had been learning to get by with it for the last four years.

  Tara stood up and wandered toward the huge open countertop that lay between the kitchen and the great room. “I guess I should start by telling you that I graduated college with a law enforcement degree.”

  Law enforcement? Another huge surprise from a woman he’d once thought he knew better than he knew himself. But Cam kept his mouth shut and let her go on with her tale.

  She leaned against the counter and watched him work. “I went to work for the state, the CDPS. But shortly afterward I was recruited by the CBI, the Colorado Bureau of Investigation. After a while, I was promoted to a special unit, working under the governor’s direction.”

  “Sounds like you were good at your job.” He wasn’t surprised. He’d always known Tara was smarter than anyone else imagined.

  She shrugged off the compliment. “I guess so. One day the governor called me into his office and told me he had a problem. He’d been approached by someone who supposedly had secret intel on the attorney general. Intel about the AG skimming, not only from his own political action committee, but also from state coffers.”

  “Isn’t the attorney general in charge of the CBI? That would make him your commander.”

  Tara nodded. “Right. And we’d always gotten along well. This wasn’t something I was thrilled to hear, Cam. Believe me. But the governor asked me to go undercover. He wanted me to ask the AG for a job in his election office so I could spy on him and find the facts.

  “It meant I had to quit my CBI job and stop outwardly being in law enforcement.” She sighed deeply. “I just couldn’t turn down the governor, could I?”

  “I suppose not. But…”

  “Yeah. I had a lot of ‘buts’ in my mind too. Still, I did it—secretly hoping to find that the intel was wrong. That the AG wasn’t a crook. Unfortunately, that hope didn’t pan out.”

  “The AG is skimming?”

  “And taking bribes and…well, I have all the pertinent info on a thumb drive and I was on my way to turn it over to the governor. To put an end to the career of a man I had always respected.”

  Cam’s law enforcement training kicked in. “I assume the AG found out you were spying.” He put a mug of coffee down in front of her.

  “Yes. I don’t know how long he’s suspected, but last night I realized someone had been tailing me. I called the governor and he told me to bring the drive to him at his family’s vacation home in Aspen without letting on. We still don’t know who we can trust.

  “Obviously I didn’t get there,” she said calmly as she took a quick sip of coffee. “I wasn’t far from the turnoff for Juniper when I realized I hadn’t lost the stalker. I figured my chances of reaching here and maybe shaking the guy first were a heck of a lot better than trying to make it all the way to Aspen.”

  “And you nearly died trying.” He could scarcely believe this was the same girl he used to know.<
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  He plated the eggs and took them to the kitchen table. “Grab the silverware and come eat.”

  He’d said the words as though the last ten years had never happened. But when she went to the correct drawer with no prompting, the pain reappeared in his chest and a lump as big as the Rockies jumped into his throat.

  As Tara sat at the table in her old place, she said. “While we eat, can you tell me about your daughter? About the night your wife died?”

  His back went up immediately as he claimed his own chair. “Why? It couldn’t matter to you.”

  “Yeah, it does. Something is still bothering you there. I can tell by the look in your eyes when you mentioned she’d died and by the fact there’s no pictures of your wife in the house. I still care about you, Cam.”

  Talking about his wife’s death was the last thing Cam wanted to do. He’d managed to put off the psychiatrists when they’d tried to probe. Rehashing the whole deal now, especially with Tara, was out of the question.

  He would tell her no. But knowing Tara, she would keep asking until she finally exposed his sore spots. Hell.

  Chapter 4

  A few hours after the meal was over and dishes put away, Tara felt groggy from sitting quietly in front of the fireplace. She noticed the couch cushions jiggling under her bottom and when she opened her eyes, Cam was sitting close. He carried two after-dinner glasses, both containing a dark liquid that glowed amber in the firelight.

  “You’re awake,” he said softly. “The electricity is off again and I added logs to the fire. Would you like a glass of brandy?”

  “It’ll probably knock me out cold, but thanks.” She took a tentative sip. “Is everything all right?”

  He shrugged and swirled the aged liquid in his glass. “The snow is falling harder now but everything is quiet. I’ll probably have to shovel off the porch roof if we get much more of this. Don’t want it collapsing.”

  “Sounds dangerous.”

  Cam shook his head. “Not really. Are you still tired?”

  “Not really.” She used his own words and gave him a wry smile. “I’ve been resting my eyes. Why?”