Undercover Holiday Fiancée

by Maggie K. Black

  Right. But still, the sooner he left the farm the safer his family would be.

  He glanced at Chloe. She nodded. “Sounds good to me.”

  He found his coat hanging on his childhood hook by the back door and his boots in the cubby with his name on it. Chloe helped him zip it up over the sling. They pushed through the back door. Bright sunshine met his eyes, filtering through thick flakes that danced in incongruously from pale clouds to the north. Snow lay thick and white in pure unbroken sheets at their feet, spreading out to the horizon.

  Trent and Chloe walked, in silence, their footsteps crunching in the snow, past the frozen pond and toward the barn. His eyes searched her face as they walked. But her features were so emotionless it was like she was carved from ice.

  “I’ll be honest, Chloe,” he said. “So much has happened in the past twenty-four hours that I literally don’t have a clue what to say right now. Two days ago, I was a hockey coach, facing down the end of my investigation into which of four young men in Third Line had a connection into a dangerous new designer drug. It was supposed to be a quick and simple assignment.

  “All I had to do was find out who was making and selling the stuff then I could move on to my next investigation. But then the Gulos attacked the sports center and threatened Third Line. You sprung to their rescue and mine.

  “Then you were attacked, a potential informant reached out, we went undercover together, Royd attacked again and suddenly I discovered the so-called simple case I was working on was actually linked to the biggest, meanest, nastiest gang I knew and their leader, Uncle. It’s like an onion that keeps having layer after layer and each one is worse the deeper it goes. Then the Wolfspiders drove us off the road and you saved my life, called my brother and brought me home.”

  Chloe stopped walking. He stopped, too, and she turned toward him. And for the first time since the moment they’d met, he saw an emotion in the depths of her eyes he’d never seen directed at him before. She was angry and something about that knocked him back further than a physical blow ever could. “Why are you angry?”

  “I never said I was angry—”

  “You didn’t have to. Chloe, it’s me. I can usually read your face. Just like you can usually read mine.”

  She shook her head, like she was trying and failing to shake the raw emotion from her gaze. “This is probably going to sound pretty petty. But spending time with your family makes me feel even worse about mine. Yes, I have Olivia and I love her more than anything. But you have no idea how much I’d have given for what you have.”

  Her hands swung out as if painting the farmhouse and scenery around her. “This is perfect. This is ideal. You have a home, Trent. You have two parents who still love each other. You have three brothers, all of whom have dedicated their lives to taking care of others. The six of you are actually able to sit around a table and enjoy a meal together without bragging, competing, guilt-tripping or resentful silences. It’s like something out of a fairy tale. Yet you spent your teen years rebelling like a brat and hanging out with people like Savannah?”

  “I never dated Savannah!” His voice rose. “I know that probably doesn’t seem important right now, but I need you to understand that. In her mind, we had a relationship. But my heart doesn’t work like that. It doesn’t connect with people. It can’t. I can’t explain it.”

  She stared at him. Wind tossed her hair around her face. “Try.”

  She really wanted to hear it? Fine.

  “You think my family is perfect and ideal? Well, it’s not. It’s broken. And I’m the one who broke it. I’m really good at pretending to fit in. I’m good at talking to people, making superficial connections, getting people to like me and then moving on. But I don’t do real relationships and I sure don’t do vulnerability or romance. It’s like the part of me that knows how to give and receive love is broken.”

  At least, it had been until he’d met her. Something about being with Chloe had kicked the dust off his heart, pulled on its chain and tried to get it running again. Chloe had made his heart feel like it was capable of love. Until he’d gone and ruined everything with her, too.

  “You’ve done and said a lot of foolish things since I’ve met you, Trent, but that lie you’ve somehow convinced yourself of is the worst!” Raw fire filled her gaze, burning a hole through his rusted chest. “Your heart isn’t broken. You shut it off. You’re like a kid who put himself in time-out, when nobody asked him to, and now has forgotten that all he has to do to get out of the corner is turn himself around. Don’t forget, I was there when you passed out in the snow. I was there when your brothers brought you home. I was there when your mother and father saw them carry you in. I saw the looks on all their faces. More than that, I know you, Trent. And I know you have the biggest, strongest heart of anyone I’ve ever met—”

  “Just a few hours ago, at Pit 11,” he said, “you were shouting that I was so determined to shut people out, that I hurt everyone who cares about me and that I wreck everything I touch—”

  “That was my cover talking!”

  “Every good cover is based on a hint of truth!” He had to tell her. His mother was right to tell him to take her to the barn. He had to show her. It was the only way she’d understand. He stretched out his hand. “Come with me, please. There’s something I need to show you.”

  She took his hand. They broke into a jog as he led her to the barn and they burst through the door, out of the snow. The warm, welcoming smell of hay filled his senses. They stood there in the darkness for a moment, panting, their eyes on each other as they waited for their vision to adjust to the lack of light. Then he slowly pulled his hand from hers, slid it onto her shoulder and turned her toward the side wall.

  There, painted on the wood, was the outline of a girl, willowy and tall, carrying an old-fashioned torch in one hand and a schoolbag in another. A dark maze of lines spiraled down around her protectively like branches, joining more branches and flowers that grew up from the base.

  Underneath read one word. Faith.

  “Mom painted this,” he said. “I used to have a sister. Her name was Faith. She was so unbelievably smart. She was always reading, and teachers loved her. We were in the same grade, even though she was over a year younger than me, because she was so quick at learning stuff, and I was so slow that school was like painful gibberish half the time.

  “She’d make these supersmart jokes that I didn’t understand. Then she’d laugh really, really loudly at them, even if nobody else was laughing. She had the loudest laugh of anyone I’d ever met and she never cared if she was the only one laughing.

  “She died when she was twelve and I was thirteen. I was full of anger and full of pain. Uncle and the Wolfspiders took advantage of that. Because it was my...because I’d...”

  He couldn’t say the words. He couldn’t tell the rest of the story. He’d never told it to anyone before and now the words wouldn’t cross his lips. The old familiar sting of pain, anger and shame filled his core.

  He turned away from Chloe and toward the wall that had born the brunt of his anger so many times as a teenager. His hand rose. His fingers balled into a fist. But he stayed his hand and wouldn’t let the blow fly. He wasn’t a young man anymore. He wasn’t the person he’d been.

  There was a dent in the wall in front of him, inches from where his fist would’ve landed. There was another dent, a few inches to the right and another a few inches to his left. He saw more dents, above him, below him, spreading out on all sides, and realized with a start that his father had never asked him to repair them or done it himself, but had left them there as a testament to the grief Trent had felt.

  Emotion choked his throat, but not like the blind pain of the young man he’d been, more like the grief of a grown man who’d seen countless families torn apart by similar pain, violence and evil, and who knew he’d given every breath in his lung
s to fight it.

  His fingers unclenched. He braced his open palm against the wall.

  “I’ve blamed myself for my sister’s death,” he said. “Because I wasn’t there for her. She was murdered by a monster, because I let her down when she needed me the most.”

  * * *

  Pain pierced Chloe’s heart. Her hand slid over his back and up to his uninjured shoulder. He didn’t flinch, but he also didn’t turn. He stood there, his palm against the wall.

  “I was supposed to meet up with her after school so we could walk home together,” he said. “It was one of those rules that meant a lot to my parents, but from my perspective as an arrogant kid it seemed like nothing but a hassle. So I gave her the slip because I wanted to hang out with the cool kids behind the gym and bum a smoke without getting caught. I hid from Faith and made her walk home alone. Then I sauntered home an hour late, feeling cocky and like I’d pulled something off. Only, when I got here, Jacob was waiting outside for me, there were cop cars everywhere and my mom was...crying, howling, like I’d never heard anyone sob before.

  “I didn’t know that adults had been worried because some car had been seen cruising back roads, like a predator hunting for someone to hurt, or that two girls from another school had already been harassed by him but had gotten away. I never imagined that when Faith was walking home, alone, some predator would stop his car, grab her and try to...take...her...” Unshed tears choked the words from his throat.

  “I’m so sorry,” Chloe whispered.

  She’d known so many girls and women like Faith. She’d dedicated her life to saving them, seeking justice for them and punishing those who’d hurt them. She’d hugged countless survivors and relatives as they’d grieved. She’d cried for them in the privacy of her own room and then come back, stronger, ready to fight another day. Now here she was, seeing the strongest and most amazing man she’d ever known being broken down by that same pain.

  Lord, what a horrible weight and burden he’s carried all these years. Help him to forgive himself. Help me to help him bear it. Help him to know he doesn’t have to carry it alone.

  She slipped into the space between his body and the wall and stood there, her back to the slats that had borne the brunt of his pain. Her arms slid around him. He bent down, until his forehead brushed hers. Her eyes closed. Tears slid down her face and onto his. They stood there, their foreheads touching and their chests beating into each other.

  “The monster didn’t succeed in abducting her,” Trent whispered, his voice hoarse. “She fought back hard. She fought for her life and refused to let him take her. Police said she died quickly. That he choked her out in seconds and left her there. They said she died fighting.”

  “Sounds like she was very strong and very smart,” Chloe said.

  “Yeah, she was pretty tough.” He chuckled, sadly. “Typical Henry.”

  His palm slid off the wall and around her waist. He held her there for a moment and she leaned up against the gentle rise and fall of his chest.

  “They never found the guy,” Trent added. “They found his skin under her fingernails and his blood on her hands. Police think it was because of her that he disappeared after that and left the area. His car was never seen again. They did DNA tests and compared him to everyone who could possibly be connected with her life. Nothing was a match. Jacob hasn’t given up on finding the guy, though. That’s part of what led him into Criminal Investigations.”

  “You realize that Jacob probably blames himself, too, as do your parents.” She opened her eyes. Her hand brushed his jaw. “Look at me. You can’t live your life punishing yourself for this. It’s not what your smart, strong sister who loved to laugh would’ve wanted. You were just a kid. You had no way of knowing anything like that would happen. A predator like that was probably watching the area for weeks or months. If it hadn’t been her, it would’ve been someone else or he might have targeted her another day in another place. You’re a cop. You know this. We do our best, but sometimes we can’t stop all evil from ever happening.”

  “I know.” Blue eyes looked deeply into hers. “But in a way, knowing that makes it worse.”

  “I don’t understand,” she said. How was blaming himself better than accepting some things were out of his hands?

  “Because as long as I keep blaming myself and telling myself that it was my fault, I can fool myself into thinking I had the power to stop it.” His thumb brushed the trail of tears from her cheeks. “What’s the worst option? Believing I failed? Or accepting that no matter how hard I fight and how hard I try, there are some villains I’m never going to catch and sometimes there’s no way to prevent those I care about from getting hurt? How do I let myself care about anyone knowing I’m incapable of protecting them?”

  He closed his eyes again and she felt his breath on her lips. She closed her eyes, too, and Trent let out a long sigh that bordered on a groan. “How do I let myself love someone knowing I might lose them?”

  “I don’t know,” Chloe whispered. “All I know is I can’t control when I fall. I can only control where I land.”

  “Well, it feels like I’m falling,” Trent said, “and all I know is that with you is where I want to land.”

  Trent’s mouth brushed over hers, soft and deep. He kissed her in a way that felt like a request for forgiveness and a desire to be known. He kissed her like he’d meant it, and he always had, but had been too afraid to say so. She kissed him back, her hands in his hair and her body in his arms, like they were both falling and holding on to each other as they fell.

  Her phone buzzed in her pocket. Then it buzzed a second time, a third and a fourth. She pulled away from the kiss. He stepped back and let her out of the embrace. She took out her phone. It kept buzzing. Message after message arriving. “Nick must’ve gotten the Wi-Fi working.”

  She had twenty-seven texts. From at least six different numbers.

  Hey. I think I know who has payara. Hodge.

  Hi, it’s Aidan. Can we meet up and talk? I know who had the drugs. I didn’t tell because he said they weren’t his and I believe him. Also, have you seen Coach? They rescheduled the Haliburton game for tonight because of the fight and everything yesterday.

  Hello, Detective. It’s Brandon. If I talk to you, will you promise not to tell my grandfather?

  ’Sup. It’s Johnny. Wanna talk? Want coffee?

  Hi. It’s Poppy. I think Johnny does steroids. I don’t know about other drugs, though. Also, I’m really not dating him. He dates a lot of girls. He’s kind of a player.

  Hi. Can we talk? It’s Lucy.

  Hi, miss. I think I saw some pills in Brandon’s bag one time and he tossed them in the garbage can. He said he thought someone had been messing in his bag. I didn’t tell the police because I didn’t know for sure and his grandfather is a jerk who’d stop paying his tuition and throw him in jail. Also I’m Milo.

  “It’s Third Line!” She laughed in a mixture of relief and amazement. Her thumb scrolled through the messages. Then she held up the phone and let him read. “I gave them this big speech last night after Royd was arrested about responsibility and stepping up. I told them it was up to them to stop the flow of payara and save their community. I told them all to text me whatever they knew about payara and they are!”

  Trent stepped back and ran his hand over his jaw. “The third-line players are texting you about payara?”

  “Yes.” She watched as he read the messages. “See? They want to talk. They want to help. We have to question them again. If it’s true that Brandon threw the drugs in the garbage can, that’s a major breakthrough to finding out who’s selling them. We have to go back to Bobcaygeon.”

  “No, we don’t.” Trent shook his head. “We have to follow the investigation and the investigation has moved so far beyond mere college students using pills at this point. It’s not about Third Line
anymore.

  “It’s about whoever Royd is working with and whatever he and the Wolfspiders are planning. We have other leads now. Like I told you, Coach Henri is gone. Eli has taken over the team and I sent in my resignation to Trillium.”

  “But the third-line players—” Chloe started.

  “Were a means to an end,” he interrupted softly. “You know that. I wasn’t ever really their coach. I was there to get information out of them when we thought they were the best lead we had. Now we have better leads. This case isn’t about four mediocre hockey players from a small-town community college anymore. Now we know the Gulos and the Wolfspiders are both somehow involved. The Wolfspiders ran us off the road last night. Not to mention, I’m injured. I’m not going back to Bobcaygeon.”

  “Well, I am.” Chloe’s chin rose. “You might be used to walking out of people’s lives without saying goodbye and dropping your mask at the door. But I’m not, and that’s not how I do my job. I made them a promise that if they were honest with me, I’d help them.”

  Cold wind rushed in through the door, sending it flying back on its hinges.

  Trent was still shaking his head. He didn’t get it. He probably never would. But she still had to try to explain.

  “The story of my life is littered with people who just disappeared,” she said. “People who promised to write letters I never heard from again. Friends who stopped talking to me because of some argument my father had with their father. Relationships that vanished overnight.

  “We talked about broken parts of ourselves? Well, my father’s shenanigans broke the part of me that knew how to trust. I asked these students to trust me. They are. I’m not letting them down. I’m going to listen to them. Maybe it won’t help solve the payara case. But I can still put them in touch with lawyers, social workers, therapists, churches, support groups, Victim Services or whatever else they need. I’m going to show them that cops are worth trusting.”