by Rita Herron
A crime wave has paralyzed the city of Atlanta, Georgia, and destroyed the holiday spirit. Only three hard-edged cops are tough enough to protect the citizens from danger—and save Christmas.
“I need to be near you. I have to be close enough to hear any trouble that comes your way before it reaches you.”
—Detective Trey Murphy, from Undercover Santa
“I’ll do everything possible to find your sister’s killer.”
—Detective Max Malone, from An Angel for Christmas
“Merry, you’re going to be fine. I’m here to protect you.”
—Detective Trevor Adkins, from Merry’s Christmas
EPIPHANY
RITA HERRON
DEBRA WEBB
MALLORY KANE
TORONTO • NEW YORK • LONDON • AMSTERDAM • PARIS • SYDNEY • HAMBURG • STOCKHOLM • ATHENS • TOKYO • MILAN • MADRID • PRAGUE • WARSAW • BUDAPEST • AUCKLAND
ISBN 1-55254-373-0
EPIPHANY
Copyright © 2005 by Harlequin Books S.A.
The publisher acknowledges the copyright holders of the individual works as follows:
AN ANGEL FOR CHRISTMAS
Copyright © 2005 by Rita B. Herron
UNDERCOVER SANTA
Copyright © 2005 by Debra Webb
MERRY’S CHRISTMAS
Copyright © 2005 by Rickey R. Mallory
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario M3B 3K9, Canada.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
® and TM are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.
www.eHarlequin.com
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
Award-winning author Rita Herron wrote her first book when she was twelve, but didn’t think real people grew up to be writers. Now she writes so she doesn’t have to get a real job. A former kindergarten teacher and workshop leader, she lives in Georgia with her own romance hero and three kids. She loves to hear from readers, so please write her at P.O. Box 921225, Norcross, GA 30092-1225, or visit her Web site at www.ritaherron.com.
Debra Webb was born in Scottsboro, Alabama, to parents who taught her that anything is possible if you want it bad enough. She began writing at age nine. Eventually she met and married the man of her dreams. When her husband joined the military, they moved to Berlin, Germany, and Debra became a secretary in the commanding general’s office. By 1985 they moved to Tennessee, to a small town where everyone knows everyone else. With the support of her husband and two beautiful daughters, Debra took up writing again. In 1998, her dream of writing for Harlequin came true. You can write to Debra with your comments at P.O. Box 64, Huntland, Tennessee 37345 or visit her Web site at http://www.debrawebb.com to find out exciting news about her next book.
Mallory Kane took early retirement from her position as Assistant Chief of Pharmacy at a large metropolitan medical center to pursue her other loves: writing and art. She has published and won awards for science fiction and fantasy as well as romance. Mallory credits her love of books to her mother, who taught her that books are a precious resource and should be treated with loving respect. Her grandfather and her father were both steeped in the Southern tradition of oral history, and could hold an audience spellbound with their storytelling skills. Mallory aspires to be as good a storyteller as her father.
Mallory lives in Mississippi with her husband and their cat. She would be delighted to hear from readers. You can write to her c/o Harlequin Books, 233 Broadway, Suite 1001, New York, NY 10279.
CAST OF CHARACTERS
Detective Trey Murphy—The best detective in Atlanta’s Homicide Division. He’ll do anything to get the job done…except dress up as Santa Claus.
Rebecca Saxon—Owner of the family jewelry business. Rebecca knows how to protect herself—don’t let anyone too close and stay focused on business. She isn’t about to let down her guard for anything or anyone.
Detective Max Malone—An embittered cop determined to save lives. He walked away from Angelica North once because he wanted no ties. But once he’s forced to protect her and her nephew, can he walk away a second time?
Angelica North—She will do anything to find her sister’s killer and protect her nephew—even if it means trusting Max Malone, the one man who’d broken her heart.
Stevie North—All this five-year-old wanted for Christmas was a happy family. But a week before Christmas, he witnessed his mother’s murder. Now the killer is after him.
Trevor Adkins—Homicide detective Joseph Trevor Adkins has good reason to hate Christmas. It was at a Christmas Eve party four years ago that his pregnant, inebriated wife fell and lost the baby he’d wanted so badly. Now divorced, Trevor avoids Christmas like the plague. But a kind gesture plunges him into his worst nightmare—Christmas, a pregnant widow and no way to escape.
Merry Randolph—She was born on Christmas Day, but she’s never experienced an old-fashioned traditional Christmas. Now the very pregnant young widow is the target of a killer, but she’s determined to give her baby a real Christmas.
CONTENTS
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
CAST OF CHARACTERS
AN ANGEL FOR CHRISTMAS
Rita Herron
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Epilogue
UNDERCOVER SANTA
Debra Webb
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
MERRY’S CHRISTMAS
Mallory Kane
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
COMING NEXT MONTH
Thanks to Debra Webb and
Denise O’Sullivan for allowing me
to participate in this anthology.
AN ANGEL FOR
CHRISTMAS
RITA HERRON
Prologue
Five Days Before Christmas
Dear Santa:
All I wants fur Christmas is my 2 fwront teeth.
Burrowing beneath the covers of his bed, five-year-old Stevie North shone the flashlight on his sketch pad as the words of the silly song played in his head. He needed to finish his Christmas list so he could mail it to Santa. But he had to be careful not to turn on a light. It was late, and his mama would be mad that he was still awake. Especially since she had one of her man friends over again.
He didn’t like it when they came. Then she didn’t have time for him. And some of them…they
didn’t like Stevie.
He finished the picture he’d drawn of himself for Santa, coloring in the two holes in the front of his mouth, then giggled and drew his mommy.
He wanted her to smile for Christmas. To play with him and to tease him like his aunt Angelica. Aunt Angel treated him like he was a big man. Important. Not like he was in the way.
Oh, and he wanted a daddy, too. One like Timmy’s father. One who played ball with him, and would teach him to ride a bike so he wouldn’t need those baby training wheels.
But someone at kindergarten told him there wasn’t any Santa. And his mama probably wouldn’t be getting him a daddy. At least not the kind he wanted.
Or maybe she was doing that now.
Curious, he pushed aside the covers, crawled from his bed, then tiptoed down the stairs.
Chapter One
The shrill sound of the telephone cut into the night. Angelica North jerked awake, her heart pounding as she glanced at the clock.
Two a.m.
A bad premonition engulfed her as she checked the Caller ID. Her sister Gina. Again.
Dear heavens, what now? Was she all right? In trouble? And what about her sweet little boy, Stevie?
The trilling split the darkness again and Angelica braced herself to be understanding but firm. It was only a week until Christmas. Time her sister got her act together and gave her five-year-old son the loving, secure home he needed for the holidays.
Anger and fear knotted her stomach as she reached for the handset. Outside, an icy rain pinged against the roof, adding to her frayed nerves. The cold wave the weatherman had predicted had set in, the snowmen wind chimes outside her window whipping in the gusty wind. The high-pitched melody sounded almost eerie as the chimes slapped against the frosted glass pane.
“Gina?”
A loud keening sound pierced the line.
Angelica’s heart leaped to her throat. “Gina, what’s wrong?”
The terrible scream continued, and she jumped off the bed, her heart pounding. It was a child’s voice. “Stevie? Talk to me, honey. What’s going on?”
“H…elp!” Her nephew gulped between another fit of cries.
Angelica shoved the tangled hair from her face. “Stevie, honey, are you all right? Where’s your mommy?”
He cried out again, this time the sound like a ghost howling in the night. Tears clogging her throat, Angelica snapped on the lamp, started throwing on clothes and searching for her purse at the same time. She had to get to Stevie and her sister.
Find her keys. Get her cell phone. Call 9-1-1. Keep Stevie on the line.
“Stay with me, baby,” Angelica said frantically. “I’ll be right there! I’m on my way!”
She shucked into a pair of faded tennis shoes, grabbed her coat and gloves, and ran for the door, the sound of the little boy’s scream echoing in her ears as she raced outside into the cold, dark night.
DETECTIVE MAX MALONE mumbled a scroogelike comment of disapproval at his partner’s Santa cap as she climbed into the car. Detective Sheila Simmons was all cheer and smiles, while the mere thought of the holidays irritated him.
“Come on, Malone, can’t you at least try to get into the spirit?” She extended a cup of coffee to him, her new diamond engagement ring glittering as she gripped her own cup. He was sure hers held apple cider or something equally as nauseating and holiday-spirited as her hat. “Christmas is supposed to be a happy time,” she chirped. “The time for good will.”
“My job isn’t to spread good will,” Max muttered, ignoring her attempt to make him get sappy over a holiday that he hated more and more every year. He gestured toward the activity on the crowded Atlanta street lit by white lights and adorned with red bows. Last-minute shoppers flooded the sidewalks and stores. Traffic was clogged, impatient people fought for parking spaces, and Christmas music floated through speakers enticing bustling buyers to spend money they didn’t have.
“My job is to protect the citizens,” Max muttered. “In case you haven’t noticed, crime escalates during the holidays.” One reason he’d offered to pull double duty. Let the family men and women take off time for their kids. He had no one to answer to. “We’ve already had a group of teenagers ripping off iPod devices at the mall, a shooting at a Christmas party at a high-rise hotel, some nut disguised as an elf exposing himself to women on the street, and we’re still in the countdown.”
Static cut into the air before his partner could reply. “Nine-one-one call at Vinings,” the dispatch officer announced, “from a woman named Angelica North. She just received an emergency phone call from her nephew at his home.” The officer recited the address, and Max froze, his hand going automatically to the radio. He and Simmons were close by. Besides, if Angelica North was in trouble, he had to be there.
“Detective Malone. Simmons and I are on our way.” Misty sludge spewed from his tires as he spun away from the curb. His mind already ticking off different scenarios pertaining to the possible crime scene, he ignored the hot coffee sloshing on his hand as he stored the cardboard cup, and flipped on the siren. “Any more details?”
“Miss North is on her way to the residence now,” the dispatch officer continued. “Apparently the boy was hysterical, but she couldn’t get him to say anything else. She thinks her sister may be hurt, or that there might be an intruder inside. Approach with caution.”
Max stole a quick glance at his partner, her cheery smile evaporating. “Hey, Max, didn’t you date a girl named Angelica?”
Max frowned but nodded curtly, wishing he’d never revealed that tidbit to his partner.
But Angelica North’s gorgeous face flashed in his mind, the memory of their last encounter still burning through him. He’d met the speech pathologist at a charity event last spring, dated her a few times, then finally bedded her.
It had been the best damn sex of his life.
But keeping to character, he’d walked out the next morning without a backward glance or a goodbye. He’d had to. Angelica wanted the whole nine yards.
He wanted no ties.
No sense in leading the woman on, or offering her false promises that he couldn’t fulfill. He just didn’t have it in him.
But during the long, lonely nights since, he still thought of her. Craved the feel of her sexy, lush body. The glide of her slender legs entwining with his own. The way she whispered his name in that purrlike voice in the dark heat of the night. The way she’d curled up next to him, naked and loving, until dawn.
Something he’d never allowed another woman to do.
The very reason he’d had to walk away from her.
Sex was one thing. Needing someone another. Just like alcohol. The very reason he didn’t drink.
That and his old man…
Shoving all emotion and lusty thoughts that might interfere with his concentration aside, he peeled around a curve, then sped through the rain toward the address. Sheila sighed shakily, clutching the dashboard as he approached the house.
As she had said, it was supposed to be the time for happiness. Good will toward men and all that crap. At least for women like Angelica. Women with the eyes and heart of an angel.
But Max sensed that this miserable winter night had something different in store for them.
And if Angelica was right, and there was an intruder, she and the boy might both be in danger.
ANGELICA HEAVED a deep breath and braked, tires squealing on black ice as she tore into her sister’s driveway. Throwing the car into park, she stared at the rental house, tears pooling in her eyes as she contemplated what to do. The Christmas lights she’d helped Gina hang on the bushes blinked intermittently, signaling that Gina had forgotten to turn them off. Why? She’d cautioned Gina about fire hazards.