Concealed Identity

by Jessica R. Patch

  Holt caught Blair’s frown.

  The bell tinkled as Lola breezed out the door and a guy several years younger than Holt entered.

  “Hey, Manny. What can I do for you?” Blair asked, and wiped her hands on her jeans.

  “It’s what I can do for you.” He set a cake container on the counter. “Sophia made her famous double-chocolate cake. Three layers.”

  “Oh. My.” Blair touched her throat. “Tell her she didn’t have to do that.”

  “You’ll be sharing that with your new neighbor, right?” Holt asked.

  Manny turned and nodded. “Manny Menendez.”

  “He’s Sophie’s brother. She works for the Drummonds,” Blair offered, then did what Holt wanted to do. Slid her finger into the icing and closed her eyes to savor it. “This is amazing.”

  “I know,” Manny said.

  Holt stopped gawking at Blair’s display and faced Manny. “Holt Renard.”

  Manny gave a nod of acknowledgment. “Well, Mitch has me shoveling hay today, so I’ll see you later.”

  Blair waved her goodbye and turned to Holt. “What brings you in? You know I was getting cake?”

  “What’s the deal with that little saying?” He quirked his thumb toward the bell above the door.

  “Haven’t you ever seen It’s a Wonderful Life? It’s a classic Christmas movie. Bell rings. An angel gets its wings.”

  This woman was adorably strange and confusing. “Maybe. I don’t remember.” Holt scoped out the place. Decorated Christmas trees in every corner, merchandise underneath as if they were Christmas gifts. Even an old mantel had been secured to the wall complete with stockings hanging.

  Colored lights ran the length of the walls and hung from the ceiling. “So...what’s up with this?” He twirled his finger around the store.

  “I like Christmas.”

  Holt feigned shock. “Really? I had no idea.”

  Blair tossed him a flat look, but he spotted a fair amount of amusement in her eyes. Hopefully, he could regain the ground he’d lost last night when she suddenly turned wary again. He hated to admit he really liked her.

  “Everything in here represents a life lived. Those bowls.” She pointed. “Someone may have mixed dough to make a Christmas pie or to throw together a birthday cake.” She motioned toward an old club chair and ottoman. “A dad might have read his child bedtime stories sitting there, maybe The Night Before Christmas. Somewhere along the line, those memories were tossed out. Not wanted. I find that sad.”

  But what did it have to do with Christmas 24/7? Holt perused old books, hutches, curio cabinets, coins, knives, dolls and various stuffed toys.

  He understood the concept. He’d kept some of Trina’s belongings for years, then couldn’t bear the memories and had given them away. He jabbed a thumb toward a kiddie tea set. “A little girl had a tea party and invited some of those stuffed animals.”

  Blair beamed. The first real smile he’d seen. It lit him up brighter than the window display. “Yes, maybe. And over there a grandfather taught his grandson how to play chess.” Excitement laced her voice. She enjoyed this—imagining, pretending...dreaming.

  Holt eyed the old table with a wooden chessboard arranged on top. Something about seeing her thrilled and happy set off a spark in him, and he played along to keep that smile on her face, the childlike wonder in her eyes. “And he went on to win the national championship to make his grandpa proud, but Grandpa died before he saw it and so the boy couldn’t stand to play chess again. And he gave his memories away,” he murmured. Just like Holt.

  Running her slender finger down the chessboard, Blair slowly nodded. “Perhaps. People discard memories in the form of objects for all sorts of reasons. I like to think I’m giving someone a chance to make new memories.”

  Holt understood more than he wished to.

  “You play pretend well.” Blair gave him a nod of approval.

  If she only knew how well.

  Blair cleared her throat and rubbed her nose, reminding him of Jeremy’s habit. Guilt ate at Holt. For keeping the fact that he knew Jeremy from Blair and because Jeremy’s disappearance might be Holt’s fault.

  If something happened to him, how would he look Blair in the eye and explain?

  “So, what did you need?” Blair tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

  “My store needs equipment. I’m working on building my inventory, but it’s sparse. I guess I could set up a few undecorated Christmas trees and call it a forest.”

  Blair laughed.

  “Gigi said she’d help me. I’m gonna take her up on it.” If his intuition was right and Blair was as protective as he thought, she wouldn’t want Gigi alone with him. She might be laughing and sharing a bit about her business, but being polite was a far cry from trusting someone. She wouldn’t even let him in the house for the night when an intruder had been prowling, which meant Holt didn’t have her solid trust. Yet.

  Besides, he didn’t want Gigi helping him. He wanted Blair. Which unsettled him.

  Blair scurried behind the counter. “Gigi can’t,” she said, worrying her lip. I’ve—I’ve got her doing a lot of inventory and prepping for the launch of our online store. But...but I can. I’ll do it.” Obviously, she didn’t want to, but would say anything to get Gigi off the hook. He wasn’t proud of manipulating her, but she might be able to help Holt find Jeremy. And it kept him close in case whoever tried to kill her made another attempt. Regardless of why someone had come after her, he wasn’t going to sit idly by and let her be harmed.

  “Great. Where do we start?”

  “Naming the store for one.”

  “I’m all imagined out.”

  Waving him off, she rounded the counter. “My store is It’s a Wonderful Life. Because, one, I love the movie. It’s the last thing I watched with my mother before she died. We watched it Christmas night. The next morning she went out shopping and died in a car accident.”

  That explained Christmas all year round. Blair was keeping her mother alive through the store. An ache throbbed in his chest.

  Blair looked lovingly at her merchandise. “I never want to forget the memories of Christmas with her. How I felt. And it’s also perfect for my store. The little girl who snatches up a princess doll knows in her heart that life got a little better. A hunter finds the blade he’s been searching everywhere for and his Saturday mornings have turned—”

  “Wonderful. Not just wonderful but wonder-full.”

  Blair squinted at him, nodding. “See? Use your perception and imagination. You’ll have a name before you know it.”

  Holt grunted. What was the point of using so much imagination for a store that wasn’t going to ever open.

  Blair straightened a stack of old books. “I need to make a trip to Memphis in the morning. There’s a little shop about thirty miles away. A huge junk store. We can use my truck if you want and see if we can’t find some goods there.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  “Oh, do you think you could help me unload that dresser from yesterday’s auction? I’m not in a big hurry, but we’ll need it cleared out before we leave tomorrow.” Blair waved to a woman and young daughter as they entered the store, the mother threatening the child with no ice cream if she touched a single thing. Why bring little kids to places they couldn’t explore? Never made sense to Holt.

  “You got it.” Holt had seen into Blair’s heart a little today, and he couldn’t find a single way that, with her sweet spirit and sentimentality, she could be knee-deep in criminal activity.

  So why spend all that money on that one storage shed last Saturday? Ronnie Lawson said his truck had broken down. Holt wondered if that had been sabotage or coincidental. No way. Blair Sullivan wasn’t a saboteur. She wasn’t directly involved in drug trafficking.

  At
least not willingly.

  Holt’s gut twisted. He had to know the truth. Just what had Blair gotten herself into?

  THREE

  Blair had tossed and turned all night. Every creak and pop had her bolting upright in bed and checking in on Gigi, who snored lightly, as if they both hadn’t almost taken a dirt nap. The gun under her pillow had brought some comfort.

  She’d learned to shoot with Mateo at the gun range.

  Querida, it is important to be able to take care of yourself. It will make me feel better when I am away so long.

  Yeah. Right. Little did Blair know she was learning to defend herself from drug lords. But when he called her sweetheart in Spanish... She was so over sweet talk and charm. Blair wanted real honesty. She’d take gruff and unpolished over silvery prose any day.

  “I put the dresser in the back room. Did you want me to haul the other stuff out? Some pillows and bric-a-brac.” Holt stood in the store area, hair still damp from his shower and the scent of his soap wafting through the air. She had to ride with that all day? She must be a glutton for punishment.

  Blair had planned on going to Jeremy’s apartment today to find answers. Now she had to do it with Holt along. Maybe he wouldn’t ask too many questions. But until she was 100 percent sure he wasn’t dangerous, she’d make sure Gigi didn’t go near him. Which meant Blair had to help him supply his store with merchandise—while keeping an eye on him. Everything felt too coincidental. Or the paranoia was getting the best of her again.

  “No. It’s not taking up much room. I’ll get it later. You ready?” Was she? Last night, in between contemplating fatal scenarios, she’d thought about the way he’d slipped into her pretend game so easily. Behind those billion-dollar looks and the killer smile, Holt had some tender spots. Or maybe he was using all that for some hidden agenda.

  I’m being ridiculous. Would a coldhearted killer talk about a boy playing chess and losing a grandpa? Confusion gnawed at her gut. She couldn’t trust her judgment. She’d been dangerously wrong before, but that didn’t stop the way she was drawn to him as he used his vivid imagination. The way he’d arrested her heart with the lovely yet tragic story. Holt had shifted something inside of her. But she’d make sure to remedy the feelings. Remain cautious. Stay guarded.

  “So, where’s Gigi today?” Holt asked as he hopped in the passenger side of her truck.

  “She’s helping out at the senior home.” Which was why Blair chose today to check on Jeremy. She couldn’t shake her suspicion that he was in trouble, and her sister had enough to worry about without being dragged into Blair’s search for answers. “She’s overseeing the weekly activities there.”

  Holt nodded. “How long have you wanted to own your own business?”

  Blair eased by Farley Pass, the ruts in the grass still there from the other day. Her chest constricted. She glanced in her rearview mirror.

  “Since I was sixteen. Before that I wanted to be a race car driver.” She laughed. “How about you?”

  “I guess I wanted to be what all little boys want to be. A race car driver. A firefighter. I wanted to be a hunter. A park ranger.”

  “A police officer.”

  “What?”

  “Wasn’t that on the list? Every little boy wants to be a cop, right?” Adjusting the AC, she glanced at him.

  “Sure, although a park ranger always ranked the highest on my list. Love the outdoors.” He cleared his throat. “So, I was thinking about the name of my store.”

  “Yeah?”

  “How about Clear Blue Skies?” He leaned forward, caught her attention.

  “Not bad. But no cigar.”

  Holt snorted. “I’m bad at this. Naming things. I had a turtle once and I named him Slowy. Original, yeah? And then I named my dog Doggy.”

  “As long as you don’t name your store Story.” Blair chuckled and they continued their small talk, stopped for a coffee and fell into easy banter all the way into Memphis. He perked up and took in the surroundings. “So, what errands do you need to do? You said you had a few.”

  Blair turned into Jeremy’s apartment complex. “I need to check on my brother. I haven’t heard from him in a while.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Wish I knew.”

  Holt continued to scan the complex with narrowed eyes and a deep line creasing his forehead, giving him a dangerous appearance. “Want me to go in with you? This doesn’t seem like the nicest neighborhood.”

  “Nah, sit tight. I won’t be long.” The less she entangled him in her life, the better. If the people who sent her a dead rat thought she was talking to him, they might hurt Gigi. Jeremy could be in danger, too. She had to handle this discreetly.

  “All right, well, I’ll be right here if you need me,” Holt said, concern lacing his voice.

  Nodding, she unbuckled and jumped down from the truck. Climbing the stairs to Jeremy’s apartment, Blair fished the spare key from her pocket then slid it into the lock. It turned too easily. She twisted the knob and the door opened. Okay, she used to keep her house unlocked, but she didn’t live in an apartment complex in a shady part of town.

  She slipped inside. The place smelled like week-old gym socks and rotting trash—it was a disaster. Jeremy didn’t have cleaning skills, but this went beyond living like a slob.

  Hairs stood on her neck. A TV hummed from the back bedroom.

  Jeremy must have been gone for more than a week. But he’d never have left a place like this if he’d planned to travel.

  The door creaked behind her and she jumped. Holt loomed in the doorframe. “Sorry,” he whispered. “I got worried.” His gaze swept the area. “And for good reason. This place has been tossed.” His concerned expression overrode her irritation at him for not staying in the truck like she asked. Striding over to her, he laid a hand on her shoulder before he crept down the hallway.

  “What are you doing?” Blair followed, but he threw his hand out to stop her. She paused, frowning. Was the same person who ran her off the road, shot at her and left her a dead rodent as a warning responsible for trashing Jeremy’s apartment?

  Holt slipped into the back bedroom and Blair opened the guest room. No sooner had she stepped inside than a towering figure lunged from the side of the door, knocking her to the floor with a crashing thud.

  “Blair!” Holt bellowed.

  The hulking man pushed past her into the hallway. She jumped up, rubbing her hip that now thumped in pain. “Holt!” Exiting in time to see Holt’s fist connect with the guy’s face, Blair gasped and froze.

  The attacker’s feet flew into the air as he sailed on top of the glass coffee table, shattering it into hundreds of pieces. Holt pounced on him, seemingly oblivious of the broken glass, but the guy in the mask clipped Holt’s jaw and elbowed his ribs, giving him time to spring up and blast to the front door.

  Holt growled and darted after him.

  “Wait! Holt!” Blair ran to the concrete stairwell and stared as Holt sprinted across the parking lot like a madman, hot on the assailant’s trail. Then she lost sight of them. She should call the police. Jeremy could be hurt. But if he wasn’t—if he’d been kidnapped—and she called the police, whoever took him might kill him. She’d been warned. People she cared about would die. Gigi could die. Jeremy could die!

  No cops.

  Dizzy with anxiety, she leaned against the wall and tried deep breathing. Heavy footsteps from the stairwell below shot her heart into her throat. She looked down. Holt. Thank You, God, for keeping him safe. His intense eyes held fury and something she couldn’t quite place her finger on. His dark hair had matted to his brow.

  And then he bounded up the stairs and was nearly on top of her, his hands grasping her shoulders, roaming her face, her head. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” Urgency coated his voice and warmed her belly. And the guar
d she’d been fighting to keep up slipped, if only a little.

  Blair wasn’t sure how to respond.

  Strong hands framed her face, his breath against her cheeks. “I lost him on the main road. Tell me you’re okay. Blair? Blair!” He gave her a shake.

  She blinked and found her voice. “Probably gonna have a bruise or two, but I’ll survive. Why would you tear after him like that? You could have been killed!” She scanned his arms, a few nicks from broken glass. “You’re bleeding. You could have really been hurt, Holt.” She had enough people to worry about, to be responsible for. Had something happened to him, Blair might never have forgiven herself. “What were you thinking?”

  He sighed and wiped his brow. Hair hung in his eyes and she reached up and swept it to the side. He paused, caught her gaze and held it, a connection sizzling between them.

  One beat.

  Two.

  She held her breath. This man should not be doing crazy wonderful things to her emotions like this. She should be able to control them better. But his genuine interest in her well-being and courage only melted her.

  Finally, he broke the charged silence. “Before, I thought you needed protection. But now I’m thinking it’s time you tell me what’s going on.”

  How was she going to explain this? “The truth is, I’m not sure.”

  Holt tipped up her chin. “Not good enough. Someone wants to hurt you. Someone may have hurt your brother. He hasn’t been home in days. Aren’t you concerned?”

  Blair broke free of his hold. “How do you know he hasn’t been home in days?” She never mentioned that. Not once.

  Holt’s mouth opened, closed. He glanced inside the apartment. “It smells like weeks-old trash and there’s a moldy pizza box near the coffee table. It’s obvious. And you told me he’s been unavailable for a few days. Something doesn’t add up. Talk to me.” Desperation laced his voice, as if finding Jeremy was as important to him as it was to her.

  Fisting her hands to keep calm, she trudged inside the apartment. A few hours in a truck with this man and his actions yesterday didn’t mean he could be trusted. She’d made such horrible choices in her past. Could she make good ones now? But Holt could have been killed. He couldn’t have known an intruder had lurked inside. Behind the danger in his eyes, something drew her. She couldn’t place her finger on it. But after all she had put Holt through, he deserved some answers.