Undercover Holiday Fiancée

by Maggie K. Black

  “He’s not untouchable.” She looked up. The bright glare of high beams filled the rearview mirror. “We’re going to get out of this, and you’re going to be the one to eventually take him down.”

  A vehicle bumped them hard from behind. Her body slammed against the seat belt. Trent shouted out in agony. His face was paler than she’d ever seen it before. How many jolts could his body take before he passed out from the pain? A white van was riding her back bumper. A large red truck was coming up on her left. Trees and a frozen lake lay to her right. The van bumped them again. The truck swerved. She prayed hard, struggling with the steering wheel and fighting to keep them on the road.

  Trent dropped his cell phone onto his lap. “Call Jacob.”

  From Criminal Investigations? “I’ll call 9-1-1.”

  “No!” Trent’s shout echoed through the cab. “Call Jacob! Tell him everything. He knows who you are. He knows I’m undercover. He’ll know what to do.”

  “But—”

  “He’s my brother!”

  “You have a brother?”

  “I have three. I grew up on a farm not twenty minutes from here. Tell my family that I’m sorry.”

  Sorry for what? The red truck sideswiped them so hard she felt the steering wheel yanked from her grasp. They spun. She grabbed for the wheel. But it was too late. The road disappeared from under them. She was thrown against the door as Trent’s truck began to roll, tumbling down the hill.

  Help us, Lord!

  They were going to crash.

  TWELVE

  Darkness swept over Trent in waves, with fractured thoughts slipping through the gaps of unconsciousness. The truck was rolling. Prayers slipped like screams through Chloe’s lips. They were upside down. Right-side up. Sideways. Then they stopped. Pain smashed into his body like a sledgehammer. He passed out.

  Gunshots yanked his mind back to consciousness. Chloe had crawled out of the vehicle and was firing her weapon in the direction of the road.

  “Stay back! You come one step closer and I’m going to shoot!” A long, tense silence fell as he lay there in the vehicle, helpless as she faced down the criminals who had run them off the road.

  Suddenly he felt Chloe’s strong, determined hands pulling his body from the wreckage and out into the snow. Coldness pressed against his back and flakes were falling on his face.

  “They’re gone,” she said. “A red truck without legible plates ran us off the road. An enforcer from the grill got out and doubled-checked that we’d really crashed. I fired at him. He took off.”

  So today wasn’t the day he was going to die. Uncle had ordered his enforcers to run Trent off the road as a punishment or warning, but not told them to finish the job. It wasn’t unusual for Uncle to “warn” someone several times before finally coming to kill them. It was one of the ways he kept people in line and terrified of him. He should probably be thankful this was the first beating Uncle had ever meted out on him. Seemed whatever business Uncle had with him, he wasn’t through with him yet.

  He heard Chloe on the phone with Jacob, telling him where they were and what was happening. Thank You, God. Jacob would know what to do. But how could Trent ever forgive himself for dragging Chloe into danger?

  He felt the warmth of Chloe curling her body against his chest and pulling an emergency blanket over them both. He groaned.

  “You’re not allowed to die, Trent! You hear me?” Her stern voice cut through the darkness and pain filling his mind. “You’re going to stay that same stubborn man I care about who’s too pigheaded to die. You got that? You’re staying alive! I need you and I don’t want to live without you. You hear me?”

  I hear you, Chloe. I’m here. I’m so sorry I didn’t listen sooner.

  Words filled his mind, but before he could get his mouth to work, unconsciousness swept over him again. Then he heard more voices. Deep, strong, familiar voices were shouting his name and filling his chest with hope. A pair of large hands felt for a pulse.

  “Yeah, he’s alive,” a male voice said. It was Jacob, his older brother. “Hang on, bro. Max’s going to give you something for the pain.”

  Max? His younger brother, the paramedic?

  Hey, guys, I’m fine. This darkness just keeps taking over and I keep passing out.

  * * *

  “If you want pancakes, you’re going to have to wake up eventually,” Jacob said.

  Trent opened his eyes. He was lying on a bed. There was a blanket draped over him. Bright morning sunshine streamed through a window to his right. His eyes focused slowly as shapes swam before him. A row of plastic dinosaurs growled and snarled down at him from a shelf at the end of the bed. He groaned and leaned back against the pillow. He was home. He was lying in his very own childhood bed at the Henry family farmhouse.

  “Look, I’m just warning you, as your big brother,” Jacob added, “it’s Christmas Eve brunch and Mom’s pulled out all the stops. So the fact that you were run off the road by an evil, criminal gang isn’t going to keep us from eating all the good stuff and leaving you with nothing but cereal.”

  He glanced sideways. A tall man, with broad shoulders and chestnut hair, was sitting on a single bed on the opposite side of the bedroom that had been way too small for them even as kids.

  “I’m saying we split his pancakes and just don’t tell him.” A second voice dragged his attention to the doorway. Max’s strong bulk leaned against the frame, his short black hair a mass of curls.

  “Nobody eats my pancakes,” Trent muttered. He tried to roll over onto to his side and almost yelped in pain as his shoulder hit the mattress. There was a sling wrapped around his arm and shoulder. No doubt his paramedic brother’s doing. “What’s going on? What am I doing here?”

  “Steady there, buddy,” Max said. “You have a dislocated shoulder and a nasty concussion.” He crossed the floor in two long strides, crouched beside his brother’s bed and helped him sit. Then he glanced across the room at Jacob. “If I’d known the threat of stealing his pancakes was going to wake him up, I’d have done it twenty minutes ago.”

  “No, you wouldn’t. You’d have gone ahead and eaten them before he could stop you.” Jacob chuckled then leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “We got there less than twenty minutes after the truck crashed. Max and I dragged you up the hill, took you home and got you patched up. Max and Nick popped your shoulder back in. You were conscious. But Max warned us you might not remember much. You’ve been asleep for about nine hours.”

  “Last thing I remember, I was in the truck,” Trent said as his mind filed the pieces back into order. “We were being chased by some vehicles. I was in pain. I told Chloe—” He leaped to his feet so quickly his head swam and his knees buckled. “Where’s Chloe?”

  “Downstairs in the kitchen having breakfast with the family.” Max caught him by his good arm before he crumpled to the ground.

  “Is she okay?” Trent asked. “Is she hurt? Was she injured?”

  “She’s fine.” Max firmly guided him back down to the bed. “A few bruises from the crash. But in way better shape than you. You need to take it easy. You’re going to want to avoid any strenuous physical activity for the next few days. Nothing involving your shoulder for at least two weeks.”

  He nearly groaned in frustration. This was no time for him to be out of commission. Trent glanced at Jacob. “How is Chloe, really?”

  Jacob glanced at Max. Neither of them spoke for a beat. Then Jacob said, “Max, why don’t you go get some pancakes and tell the rest of the fam that Trent’s awake? We’ll join you in a moment.”

  Max nodded and headed down the stairs, with a parting reminder not to mess with the shoulder sling.

  Jacob turned to Trent. “Chloe’s fine. Really. She’s strong and resilient. But as you can imagine, she’s got a lot of questions. I take it y
ou never told her about any of us.”

  No, he hadn’t. Now Chloe was sitting in his parents’ kitchen, on Christmas Eve, eating pancakes with his parents and his two younger brothers. “I take it she knows everything now?”

  “No, we dragged her to a houseful of strangers, put her to bed on the foldout in the den and fed her breakfast without telling her that we were your family.” Jacob laughed. Trent didn’t. “Of course she knows who we are. She’s now met all of us. She knows this is the farmhouse where you grew up. That’s where things are at. But we respect your privacy, so the rest is up to you.”

  Trent winced. “So, you didn’t tell her about Faith?”

  The smile faded from Jacob’s face. “We figured that was your story to tell.”

  There was a more than ten-year gap between the oldest and youngest of the Henry brothers. Max had just been a toddler when Faith had died. Nick hadn’t even been born yet. But Jacob had been fourteen when their sister had been killed. He’d been the one standing outside when Trent had sauntered home, waiting to explain why there were cop cars parked on the lawn, and the crying from the house was so loud he could hear it from the driveway. The death of their sister was a shared but mostly silent bond between them, even as they each pursued a career in law enforcement.

  “Thank you.” It was a conversation he knew he needed to have with Chloe. If he was honest with himself, it was the one topic that every other conversation he’d ever avoided having with her had come down to. He’d once had a younger sister. She’d been murdered by a killer who’d never been caught. He’d blamed himself.

  “Chloe saved your life, you know.” Jacob’s voice cut through Trent’s thoughts. “If she hadn’t steered the truck clear of the trees before the crash, or dragged you out of the truck, or kept you warm until we got there, or called me...”

  Or caused a scene to get him out of the Pit when he was too stubborn to listen.

  “I’d be dead twice over,” Trent said. “I know. She’s a spectacular cop and I owe her my life. Did she or you file a police report?”

  “Against Uncle and the Wolfspiders, no. She informed the higher-ups, of course. But she said whether actual charges are pressed is your call. She said you guys never heard Uncle give the order to cause the accident and that when she challenged the criminal who’d run you off the road, he just turned and walked away. My guess, and hers, is that the vehicle’s already been ditched by now and they staged it to look like an accident. It’s your investigation and taking down the Wolfspiders is your deal.”

  That was one way of putting it.

  “It was a warning,” he said. “If Uncle wanted to kill us, we’d be dead by now. He’s probably still hoping he can use me.” Trent stood. So did Jacob. Was it his imagination or had the room shrunk even more since they were kids? They were both practically hitting their heads on the slanted ceiling. “Chloe probably thinks I’ve acted like an idiot.”

  “Well, maybe you have,” Jacob said. He smiled.

  “Maybe.” Trent chuckled and ran his hand over his jaw. The stubble he’d shaved off yesterday was already starting to grow back. “Chloe doesn’t let me get away with anything.”

  Then the smile faded from his face. “I’ve been undercover with the Wolfspiders for years, and this is the first time Uncle has turned against me. I can’t assume it’ll be the last. Knowing him, he’ll probably lay low for a bit and wait to see what my next move is. Hopefully the fact that I’m going to disappear and fall off the map again when I head to the diamond mine will be enough to make him think he’s scared me into hiding. If he still truly believes I’m dirty, he’ll think I’m more use to him alive. He won’t make a big move against the family if he thinks he can still use me. But when I finally do take him down, it will put a target on the backs of everyone I love.”

  His brother nodded. “We’ll discuss it with the family. I’ll try to convince the folks to take a holiday somewhere warm for a few weeks while we wait to see how this is all going to play out. Then maybe I should move home for a bit to keep an eye on the folks while you’re away.”

  “Maybe,” Trent said. Lord, am I overreacting? Was Uncle just meting out a beating on me to remind me who’s in charge? Or does last night mean everything’s changed in my game of cat and mouse with Uncle, and he’ll come after me again?

  Jacob went downstairs, leaving Trent to get dressed in a borrowed pair of jeans and a plaid shirt. Of the four Henry boys, only the youngest, Nick, still lived at home, and even then only between stints of military service. But the four bachelor brothers always returned home for Christmas. He never imagined he’d be the first one to bring a woman home for the holidays, even if he hadn’t done it on purpose.

  His feet walked slowly down the wooden stairs and crossed through the living room. A fire crackled in the redbrick hearth, filling the space with warmth. A real and towering Christmas tree stretched up to the ceiling. The sound of laughter and the smell of bacon floated toward him. He paused in the doorway. Mom and Dad, Jacob, Max and Nick all sat around the old kitchen table passing plates of food, eating and talking. And there, in the middle of it all, sat Chloe, clad in one of his old gray sweatshirts and a pair of his jeans from high school days, when he was still all stringy limbs and before he’d put on any bulk.

  He watched as she laughed and smiled, bantered with his family about her plans to spend Christmas dinner with her sister’s family and accepted the bacon Max dumped on her plate before drizzling a dose of his mother’s maple syrup over it. Chloe fit with his family, somehow. She belonged there, in that happy mass of Henry family breakfast, in a way he was never sure he had.

  “Trent! Sit! Eat!” His father’s voice boomed through the kitchen. Trent felt all faces turn. But no sooner had Chloe’s eyes met his than she looked back down at her plate again. His father crossed the room toward him. “Food’s getting cold. I was just about to throw some extra bacon on.”

  “Dad, Mom, guys, I’m sorry to cause you all so much trouble. We need to talk about what last night could mean, for all of us.”

  His dad’s large, callused hand landed on his shoulder.

  “I know.” His dad’s voice dropped. “Jacob’s already briefed us. He’s called someone from Victim Services who can come brief us later, and we will talk more. In the meantime, stop blaming yourself for things out of your control. Sit. Eat. Talk to your family. It’s Christmas Eve.” He steered him toward the seat beside Chloe, even as Nick rose to vacate it and pull up a chair on the other side of the table. “You’re home now.”

  Home. In Dad’s way of thinking that meant the place where some things didn’t have to be said and long explanations didn’t have to be given, because being sorry was enough to be forgiven, and forgiveness was all that mattered. But what happened when someone did something bigger than a mere apology could cover? How did a person just accept forgiveness, drop their baggage at the door and take a seat at the table?

  Sure, he’d physically stepped through the door and joined the family, dozens and dozens of times, acting like he was one of them. But somehow it had never been enough to fully remove that invisible barrier he’d felt spring up and block off his heart from theirs in the terrible moment he’d learned that Faith had died.

  No matter how many times he’d told them he was sorry for not keeping her safe and they’d assured him he was forgiven.

  No matter how many times his father told him he was home.

  His father’s hand was still resting kindly on his shoulder. Trent sat beside Chloe and said sheepish hellos around the table, thanking them all for what they’d done last night. He took the food his family passed him and the coffee Jacob poured into his cup. His good shoulder brushed against Chloe’s.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “This isn’t how I wanted you to meet my family.”

  “They’re really rather wonderful.” She smiled. But her gaze seemed to sweep i
n everyone but him.

  “Are you okay?” he asked. Was she hurt? Was she angry or disappointed in him? Were they still okay?

  “I’m a little sore,” she said. Her eyes were green again, without the colored contacts she’d worn the night before. “As I gather Jacob told you, I called the powers that be and filled them in on what happened last night and the state of our investigation. Apparently the Wi-Fi went down in the night, so I’ve only been able to use your family’s landline. Your brother Nick is hoping to get the Wi-Fi back right after breakfast.”

  She smiled and yet her eyes stayed silent. As if that secret and unspoken connection they shared—the one that enabled them to read each other’s thoughts in a glance—was gone. She held up her mug toward Jacob for a refill of fresh coffee.

  “Fresh cream and maple syrup, right?” Max asked.

  “Oh, absolutely.” She reached out her hands as they were passed down the table to her.

  Trent watched as she poured both into her coffee and stirred it slowly, turning it from her usual plain black to the color of caramel that, to her, meant comfort and home.

  Conversation flowed again around the table like an invisible current of warmth and happiness, sweeping Chloe up along with it and carrying her along. As breakfast finished, he stood and reached to help clear the dishes. But his mother waved him down. “Don’t worry about it, Trent. We’ve got more than enough hands. Why don’t you go show Chloe the barn?”

  The barn. In other words, she was suggesting he take Chloe to the one place on the family farm where he used to go to deal with the loss of his sister, Faith.

  It was a conversation he and Chloe needed to have, and should have probably had long before this moment. Now, with everything crashing around him, could he really afford the time to open his heart to Chloe?

  “Don’t worry,” Jacob said softly, as if reading his mind. “Whatever we do next, it can wait twenty minutes. Nick’s busy working on the phones. I’m going to sit Mom and Dad down to talk about that vacation we talked about. There’s only one road into the farm and the barn’s close. You’ll be in sight lines of the farmhouse the entire time. I’ve got things covered.”