Smartass.
She let Nick take the lead when they opened the door, but the room was empty. Marsha and Stephan were gone. But not long gone though, she realized, hearing their footsteps heading away from the store. Cowards.
“You’re safe,” he said. “Just hurry.”
She hesitated in the doorway, still hating the thought of leaving him alone. “I’ll be right back,” she said.
“We’ll be waiting,” Nick replied.
Gwyn trotted toward the south entrance. Damn, if Nick was hot before this, saving her life and holding a weapon on the bad guy made him hotter.
Her face heated at the memory of his mouth on hers.
Behind her, a thud sounded down the empty, wide corridor.
Gwyn stopped. Were the others coming back to save their friend? If so, they’d kill Nick. Adrenaline surged through her as she sprinted back to the store. Slowing as she grew close, she watched, waiting for movement.
Seconds later, she spotted a shadow emerging, and her breath caught in her chest. Tucker? Had he somehow managed to free himself? And where the hell was Nick? She hadn’t heard gun shots, but that didn’t mean something hadn’t gone wrong.
The dark figure stepped into the red lighting and Gwyn frowned. Not Tucker.
Nick.
Chapter 7
H e was going after the others.
“He’s a dead man,” Gwyn whispered, hurrying after Nick, pissed that she fell for his story.
Odds were Stephan and Marsha were well on their way to freedom, but it was also possible that Nick would catch up to them. Two against one if he did. She didn’t like the odds.
Ahead of her, Nick rounded a corner and disappeared from sight. She moved faster. Luckily, she could lose him for only so long, but not being able to see him—to ensure he was alive and breathing—made her pulse race.
A slamming door echoed through the silent mall, “It’s not my fault.” Marsha’s distinctive whine made Gwyn pause. “You act like I don’t want to get away. He didn’t tell me, either.”
Gwyn smiled. Apparently, Tucker hadn’t told them the escape route. Normally, control freaks made her nuts, but in this case, she appreciated Tucker’s need to run the show.
First, she had to catch up to Nick, but as she rounded the corner, Nick was nowhere in sight, “Dammit,” she muttered under her breath. Where had he gone?
Seconds later, a hand went over her mouth, and someone jerked her into an alcove. Panic and instinct working in tandem, she jammed her elbow into her attacker, connecting with his ribs. His grip loosened, and she went limp so she could slip downward and escape.
But he tightened hold before she could drop more than a few inches and killed the momentum she needed to make another attack.
“Are you insane,” a familiar voice whispered in her ear.
Nick. She bit his hand, getting just enough flesh to pinch. It might be a small bite, but they hurt oh-so-much more, and he deserved at least that for scaring the hell out of her.
He let go.
“You couldn’t just say, ‘Psst! In here,’” she hissed, jerking out of his grasp.
“And you couldn’t just do as I asked? For once,” Nick replied.
“Not when you’re being an idiot.”
“If you’d gone to get help, like I asked, we’d have backup by now,” Nick said with a sigh.
“You could also be dead by now,” Gwyn said.
“Hardly.”
Irritation kept Gwyn’s pulse pounding. “One, you don’t know where the other two are.” She ticked the reasons off on her fingers, even though he couldn’t see her. “Two, there are two of them. Both armed.”
“I’m not sure about Marsha,” Nick said.
Gwyn ignored him. “Three, it only takes a few seconds for you to get shot, which brings us to four.” She held her fingers up, wiggling them. “You are not invincible, and if you died because I left you with no backup…” The thought made her want to both cry and pound Nick for not understanding her fear.
“That’s five,” Nick said, as he traced a tender path up her arm, across her shoulder and stopping to cup her cheek.
He did understand. “Jerk,” Gwyn said, trying to mean it.
“I know,” Nick replied, stroking her skin. “But I feel the same way. If something happened to you, I’d never forgive myself.”
The sweetness of the comment surprised her, but Gwyn pushed the warm-fuzzy feeling aside. They had two more thieves to catch. “We should get moving.”
“Not yet.” Nick pressed one of the guns into her hands. “And take this. It has a full clip. One in the chamber.”
“Thanks.” She tucked the gun into the back of her jeans. “What are we waiting for?”
“For them to make more noise and give us some indication of their location,” Nick said. “I want to catch them, but I don’t want either of us shot. So, we wait. Once we know where they are, you head back.”
As if. But Gwyn knew better than to argue. With fingers crossed, she nodded and leaned against the wall, knowing he was too preoccupied to catch the lie.
“There’s more to the shelter kids than you said,” Nick said after a few minutes.
Gwyn’s brows shot up, not startled by his voice so close to her ear but at the unexpected, out-of-the-blue comment. “Why do you keep doing that?”
“Doing what?”
“Blurting out random questions at the most inappropriate times,” she whispered.
“They’re not random,” Nick replied.
She waved this off. She should have known as much, but she wasn’t going to offer her life story because his cop instincts told her there was something in her past worth knowing.
“I’ve seen social workers who work with the shelters,” he said, obviously ignoring her discomfort. “They’re good, don’t get me wrong. But taking kids to see Santa? That’s above the call of duty.”
Gwyn shifted from one foot to another. “My sister is a goodhearted person. Nothing more.”
“I don’t doubt it, but still.” Nick grew closer in the darkness. “Most people donate toys or clothes. Not time.”
Gwyn crossed her arms over her chest, trying to keep both Nick and her memories at bay. “What does it matter? Why do you care?”
Running his hand over her arm, Nick uncrossed her arms and wound his fingers with hers. “I just do. So talk.”
Talk about one of the worst times in her life? Now? “I can’t,” she replied, struggling to get the words out of her throat.
“Talk to me,” Nick insisted. “We have nothing else to do. Not yet.”
“Shouldn’t we be listening?”
“I can do both.”
Gwyn squeezed her eyes shut, the past playing across her eyelids like an old movie. “When I was ten, my mother left my father on Christmas Eve. We spent the next six months living in shelters while my mother tried to find work so she could take care of us.”
Silence. Had she said too much? Was he freaked out by her past?
“Did she?” Nick asked after a few moments, his tone hopeful.
Gwyn shook her head, wishing the ending was a happy one. Something one watched on Lifetime. “No. She found another husband.”
Allen. A lawyer who was just as bad as their father. Granted, he didn’t beat them with belts. Words were his whips. He called them names. Cheated on their mother and then denied it, calling her crazy and irrational.
Gwyn stayed until Glory was old enough to leave. Then they both moved out one weekend, begging their mother to go with them. She refused, and Glory almost stayed behind, as well—only Gwyn’s plea that she couldn’t afford the apartment by herself forced her sister to follow.
“He sucked, too, didn’t he?” Nick asked, reading her silence.
“Yes.”
“It happens, you know,” Nick said, kissing the knuckles. “People get beat down long enough and it begins to feel ‘normal.’ It’s what they know. So it’s what they look for in their next relationship.”
“I know. Glory said the same thing.”
“Smart woman, your sister,” Nick said.
“Straight A’s,” Gwyn said.
“How about you? Any college?”
“Tried it,” she said. “It wasn’t for me.” After she’d left school, here had been an endless parade of administrative assistant jobs that bored her to tears. Then five years ago, she’d found her calling as a P.I., and had been content—until just a few months ago.
“And I liked being a P.I…. for a while,” she confessed.
“Burnout happens,” Nick said.
Burnout or something more. Something deeper. She wasn’t sure but she knew that now wasn’t the time for a therapy session. “Yeah. Burnout.” She leaned her forehead against his chest.
Murmuring made her straighten and adrenaline surged through her, transforming warmth into heat. “Is it them?”
“Who else,” Nick said. He poked his head into the main walkway. She followed.
The voices were faint and far away and the couple was out of sight. “I heard Marsha say that Tucker hadn’t told them the escape route,” Gwyn whispered.
“Not a surprise,” Nick said. “Now, go.” He stepped into the walkway. Gwyn followed, a few steps behind.
He stopped midstep and hunkered low. “Dammit, Gwyn. This is not the time.”
Frustration and worry darkened his eyes, and while it tugged at her heart, it didn’t sway her one iota. “This is exactly the time,” she whispered. “Either I go or neither of us goes.”
Nick hesitated, turmoil replacing worry and then morphing into acceptance. “For now,” he finally said.
Not what she wanted but it was better than fighting while the crooks escaped. “For now,” she agreed.
Stepping around the red beams of the emergency lights, they made their way forward, using kiosks as cover when possible and keeping low.
Gwyn’s heart pounded in her ears, and she was sure Stephan and Marsha could hear the thudding. Ahead of her, Nick motioned for her to wait.
Did he see them? There were no voices now for her to follow, and he had the better vantage. He gestured for her to move again.
The familiar squeal of a metal gate rising made Gwyn freeze. Nick dropped to the ground.
Fear threaded her spine.
It was Tucker. He’d escaped.
Nick frowned. “I should have shot him,” he said under his breath.
“You’re not that kind of cop,” Gwyn said.
She was right, but at times like this—when her body trembled and he knew it had nothing to do with being cold—he wished he were.
He had no doubt that Tucker would search for his cohorts since they had the diamonds. So he and Gwyn didn’t have long before the thief would spot them, and he wanted to remain unseen. As long as Tucker was free, he could use the gunman to lead him to the other two thieves.
But there was no kiosk to duck into, no hallway in sight and nothing to hide behind. The only cover was a wooden bench back by a giant planter full of ferns a few feet away.
“Under here,” he said, dragging Gwyn down beside him. Lying on his back, he slid under the bench, keeping his arms above his head and as free as possible.
“This is going to be tight,” Gwyn whispered, but she squeezed in on top of him.
Tight was an understatement, and he was glad she wasn’t an Amazon. She shifted against him, an unintentional full-body rub that under any other circumstances would demand reciprocation.
“Lumpy but cozy,” she whispered. “And for the record, I usually at least demand dinner and a movie before we get to this.”
“I might be able to scare up a Wetzel’s Pretzel.”
“You won’t even get to second base with a pretzel,” Gwyn whispered.
Nick shifted his hips. “I think I might already be at third.”
Her cheek pressed against his, he felt her smile. Footsteps sounded, and they both froze. The quips died.
Tucker’s tall frame came into view, his hands still bound behind his back.
Nick’s hand tightened around his weapon, ready to open fire if necessary. Gwyn’s chest stilled as she held her breath, waiting. He saw her hand tense, her finger resting alongside the trigger.
Then the thief was past them. Between the dim lighting and his obvious desire to catch up with his companions, he hadn’t even glanced in their direction. With the sound of Tucker’s footfalls diminishing, Gwyn wiggled free of their shelter. She rolled to her knees, gun at the ready and covering him as he slid out from under the bench. “We should hurry,” she said. “Once he tells them the exit, we’ll never catch them.”
Nick took in her stance—the way she held her weapon, her calm eagerness and the controlled hyperalertness.
Still female but of the more lethal variety.
She was right. If needed, she could be backup.
Even as the thought flickered through his mind, he pushed it away. He’d been an idiot for her already. Let her convince him to let her tag along. He wasn’t going to walk that path again.
She was a civilian. And not even the thought of catching Christmas Bandits could make him put her in danger again.
He shook his head. “I can see you’re good, but it’s time for you to go back. There is no we. Not here. Not now.”
Chapter 8
“N o we?” Gwyn asked. For the past hour or so, there had been nothing but the “we.” Nothing but them—working together and fighting at each other’s side.
We.
One side of Nick’s mouth curved in a small half smile. “Well, at least not when it comes to taking on the bad guys.”
Gwyn froze as a band of butterflies broke out in her stomach, and for a moment, she didn’t know how to respond. Did he mean it or was he just saying anything in hopes that she’d cooperate and remain behind while he took on three armed gunmen alone?
She pressed a hand against her stomach, willing the butterflies to go away. The other corner of his mouth curved upward, as well.
The butterflies multiplied.
Damn, it was tempting. We. Could there be a we for them?
Maybe. Perhaps.
Even if it were true, that was in the future—if they both lived. She sighed. Butterflies or no, she wasn’t wavering in her decision. If he wanted Tucker and his crew, he was taking her. He needed someone to guard his back and there was no one else. “You can argue if you want, but you’re just losing time and letting them get away.”
Nick’s flash of smile disappeared, taking her butterflies with it.
“Then we both stay,” he said. “I won’t put you in danger.”
Gwyn rolled her eyes. Noble as hell and what she expected. As if that would work.
“I’m going. You can do what you want,” she said, heading in the direction Tucker had run. She prayed Nick followed her. If she thought it was nuts for him to take on the thieves, it was a suicide mission for her. She was trained to watch. To take pictures and not get caught. To act as a backup. Not point.
That was Nick’s forte.
She didn’t slow as she squinted into red-lit darkness to find Tucker. Already a number of stores away, Tucker was moving faster than she’d thought, especially considering his hands were still bound.
Nick paced her, not saying a word.
Was he going to call her bluff? “Stay behind me and do everything I tell you to,” he whispered, taking the lead. “Unless you want to challenge me on that, as well.”
Gwyn snickered. “I’m good.”
Two flashlight beams appeared, followed by angry tones and the occasional swear. Tucker had found his cohorts and wasn’t too pleased they’d left him behind.
Gwyn tightened her grip on the gun. He’d be even less pleased with jail.
Nick pulled her behind a planter.
Kneeling on the floor, Gwyn strained to hear the three, but now that they were past the bickering, it was impossible to make out the conversation. She peered around the foliage and watched as the thieves walked across
the corridor, skirted a kiosk and disappeared into a hallway a few stores down. “They’re on the move,” she whispered.
Nick motioned for her to follow but when they reached the side corridor, the three were gone. “Where the hell did they go?” Gwyn muttered, the gun held barrel up and close to her chest.
Nick edged his way into the darkness. “There’s got to be a doorway. Feel along the wall. Be careful and be quiet.”
As if she needed to be told. Taking the opposite side, Gwyn walked through the dark, dragging her hand along the wall. Within seconds, she hit the frame of a door. “Got it,” she whispered, her body shaking with adrenaline.
Two shots rang out from the other side of the door, and Nick dragged her to the floor.
Flattened on the cold tile, Gwyn waited for shouting. Gunshots. The door to open. Something. But there was no more noise.
“You okay?” Nick whispered.
“I’m fine. What was that about?”
“One less person to share with.”
“No honor among thieves,” Gwyn said.
“Not when you have hundreds of thousands in diamonds involved,” Nick said, helping her to her feet. “Wait here.”
She sighed. He just couldn’t let it go. “No.”
A dark shadow in the almost pitch-black hallway, he pulled her close. Gwyn didn’t struggle. She knew it was a tactic to soften her, but she didn’t care. Not that it would work, but she could at least enjoy the moment of silence and safety.
“I’ve humored the hell out of you,” he said, and kissed the top of her head. “But someone just died, Gwyn. This is as real as it gets. If you go, I’ll be focused on keeping you safe, not doing my job.”
“You need backup,” she argued, hating his logic.
“There are only two now. Maybe even one. They don’t know I’m coming. I can handle that. I don’t need you there. I need you here. Safe.”
For the first time since they’d begun their argument over her role, she heard finality in his tone. He meant it. He wasn’t going to let her go. Not now.
But she couldn’t let it go. Not that easily. Not when it felt like fear was winning. “How about I wait at the doorway,” she offered, galled by the compromise that came from her mouth.
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