Nick sighed, his breath warm against her scalp. “Can you do that? Just wait?”
“Yes.”
His fingers in her hair, he tilted her mouth up to his. The kiss was brief and quick, but she felt the concern behind it, as well as the pledge of more. If they lived. “Stay behind me,” he said. “And remember your promise.”
Slowly, he opened the door. Silence and the same red security lights greeted them but nothing else. No Tucker. No crew. Just the lights and a stairway that ended in a hallway that stretched outward and away from the mall.
“Maintenance corridor,” Nick said. “Probably goes to an outlying building of some sort.”
“That explains why they seemed so sure they could escape,” Gwyn said.
“Why Tucker seemed so sure.” Nick cocked his gun and met her eyes. “Wait.”
“A promise is a promise,” she said, still hating it.
Without another word or a backward glance, Nick hurried down the stairs and disappeared.
Gwyn shifted from foot to foot, forcing herself remain behind. After a minute, she counted each foot shift. If he didn’t come back by the time she reached five-hundred, she’d follow him and screw her promise.
At one-hundred fifty, a shot rang out.
Every nerve in Gwyn’s body spiked, and she pelted down the stairs, taking two at a time. Barely breaking stride when she reached the bottom, she ran down the corridor. Lined with electrical conduits and a large pipe, it appeared empty. By the time she reached a junction almost fifty feet away, she had her panic under control.
Slowing, she took a deep breath. Nick needed her alert. In control. Not racing around like a heroine who was too stupid to live.
“I’m coming,” she muttered as she stuck her head around the next corner, prepared for the worst.
Twenty feet away, a body lay in the middle of the corridor. “Nick.” Pulse pounding, she ran to him. “Please, don’t be Nick.”
Her pulse slowed. At her feet lay Stephan—his eyes blank, mouth open and two gunshot wounds that left his chest a study in blood. Marsha was nowhere to be seen, which meant she was with Tucker. She’d thought Marsha was Stephan’s girl.
It seemed both she and Stephan were wrong.
Despite the disturbing scene, Gwyn couldn’t scare up a shred of remorse. He might have been betrayed, but that didn’t make him one of the good guys. Stepping over the body, she continued down the corridor. It ended in an open doorway. Cautiously, Gwyn peered inside.
The room wasn’t huge, but it appeared to contain every electrical conduit and pipe for the water system for the mall. She guessed that if the power were on, it would be one of the loudest rooms in the building. As it was, it was silent. The quiet, combined with the shadows, reminded her of a horror film—the kind where a masked, ax-wielding maniac chased down half-naked teenagers.
“Give yourself up,” she heard Nick shout. “You’re pinned.”
There was no answer. Gwyn followed the voice and spotted her partner on the other side of the room, taking cover behind a large pipe.
“What’s wrong?” Nick continued, “Not feeling chatty now that we’re both armed?”
Gwyn knew what he as doing—trying to goad Tucker into giving up his location. A good idea, and there wasn’t much else Nick could do considering the circumstances, but she sensed Tucker wasn’t the type to fall for such an obvious ploy.
Wherever Tucker hid, he wasn’t within eyesight. “Nick,” she called his name in a stage whisper.
He jumped. “Is this how you keep a promise?” he hissed.
Gwyn shrugged, knowing he was pissed and not caring.
“Stay there,” he said. Firing into the dark, he sprinted across the walkway. Shots rang out in return, but by then, he was at her side.
Nick frowned, the red lighting etching his face in shadow. “Dammit, Gwyn, I’m tempted to shoot you myself.”
He really did care. “I heard shots.”
“I thought it might bring you,” he said, “but I was hoping you’d be sensible.”
“Seriously?”
“It could happen.”
It could and often did, but it all depended on the definition of the word. “So, what do we do now?” Gwyn asked.
“We do nothing. You stay here. At least this way I know where you are.”
Her location wasn’t a great position, but she could watch his back for the most part and guard her own, as well. Plus, it gave her a decent view of the entire room. “Works for me,” she said.
“If you see anything, call out.” Nick slid between two pipes and disappeared into the maze of conduits. Gwyn watched and waited for either Marsha or Tucker to make a mistake so she could do some damage.
Once again, Gwyn shifted from one foot to another. Normally, she didn’t mind waiting, in fact, her job required amazing amounts of patience. But taking photos of people committing insurance fraud was rarely a matter of life and death.
“I’m coming out.” Marsha’s words rang out in the silence. Gwyn tensed in response. What the hell was going on? Seconds later, the woman emerged on the walkway, hands over her head and walking toward Gwyn. There was no word from either Nick or Tucker, and still, Marsha advanced. Oil smudged her right cheek, and her dark hair was damp with sweat.
Despite her disheveled appearance, Gwyn didn’t trust either her or her motives. “Stop right there,” Gwyn called out.
Ten feet away, Marsha dropped to her knees.
Gwyn aimed her gun at the woman’s chest. “What do you want?”
“He killed Stephan,” Marsha sobbed. “This was just supposed to be a robbery. Just money. Not murder.”
The tears didn’t touch Gwyn—she remembered how cold the woman had been just an hour or so ago and ever so eager to do whatever it took to make sure she got what she wanted.
At least until she lost something. Or someone.
Then Marsha looked past Gwyn’s shoulder, and her mouth curved up in a smile that made the hairs on the back of Gwyn’s neck prickle to life. Tucker. Somehow, he was behind her. Seconds later, cool metal pressed against the side of her head, and the click of a gun cocking made her freeze even as she turned to verify what she knew to be true.
“Hi, Gwyn,” Tucker said.
Normally Gwyn liked being right, but not this time. The heat of shame and fear washed over her. She couldn’t believe she’d fallen for such an obvious ploy. If they got out of this alive, Nick would never let her live it down.
She raised her hands, holding the butt of the gun between thumb and forefinger. “How?” she asked. There was no way he could sneak past her, even in the dim lighting.
“I’ve worked here for the past six months,” he said. “I know every door. Every hallway. And every maintenance tunnel.” He took her weapon.
“And thank you,” he said to Marsha. “You’re a good actress.”
She clamored to her feet, dusting off her wrinkled skirt. “You’re welcome.”
Tucker made a tsking sound. “Marsha, Marsha, Marsha. The fact of the matter is you’re too good an actress.”
Marsha froze, her eyes widening. “What do you mean?”
“I can’t trust someone who lies that well.” And before she could protest, he raised Gwyn’s weapon and fired.
The shot was deafening, and Gwyn winced, but not before she saw Marsha fall back to her knees, a shocked expression on her face.
Her ears ringing, Gwyn’s stomach did a slow roll. “You’re a monster.”
“No, I’m selfish, and I don’t play well with others,” Tucker said. Wrapping his arm across Gwyn’s neck, he pulled her to him, forcing her to act as his shield.
“You wanted to talk?” Tucker called out, “I have your partner. Let’s talk about that.”
“She’s not my partner.” Nick’s reply boomed in the dark.
Tucker shrugged. “So? You want to save her? Then I think a little sacrifice is in order.”
He was going to kill Nick and let her go? Surely, Nick wasn’t dumb enou
gh to believe that. They were both dead if he gave himself up.
There was movement in the shadows. “Don’t do it,” Gwyn shouted.
Tucker squeezed, pressing her windpipe shut. Gwyn tried to breathe, to force any air into her lungs, but there was none. Just Tucker’s grip, killing her. She pounded at his arms, but he only increased the pressure.
Nick stepped into view, arms over his head.
Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw Tucker raise her gun again. The world flickered around her, black-and-white spots that were descending into gray. A few more seconds and she’d black out, and when that happened, she’d never waken. Never see Nick. Never know if there really was a chance for a “we” between them—because neither one of them had been able to walk away. Instead, they played the hero. And sometimes, heroes died.
But not this time.
Wrenching her head sideways, her mouth found flesh, and she bit down until she tasted blood in her mouth. Tucker screamed as he fired, and his shot went wide.
Gray turned to black as the flickering behind her eyes lengthened, and in the growing dark, she saw Nick reach behind him, taking a gun from the back of his jeans.
Then world the disappeared, and Gwyn felt herself falling. She gasped.
Air.
Then hit the cement hard and fell into a heap. Was she still alive? Was Nick? With a groan, she touched her throat. It was going to be bruised as hell, but better bruised and breathing than bruised and not breathing.
Warm hands moved across her body, checking her for injury. She knew the touch. Knew the tenderness.
“Gwyn, are you okay?”
Nick. She nodded and a wave of relief washed over her. She opened her eyes. “You got him?”
“Yes,” Nick said, helping her to her feet.
Just behind him Tucker lay dead on the cement.
She sighed in relief, and for a moment, she thought her knees might give. She grabbed Nick’s arm until the dizziness dissipated.
“Steady there, Vampira,” Nick said, putting his arm around her waist.
“I am a biter,” she said, smiling.
Shaking his head, he pulled her close, his tight grip the only indication of the fear that had rocked him, as well. “You won’t have a need again,” he whispered. “I’ll keep you safe.”
He squeezed her harder. Safe. It was a warm thought.
“Back at you,” she said.
Chapter 9
G wyn wove her arm through Nick’s as he walked her up the snow-covered Seattle hill and toward the women’s shelter where Glory worked. Between the blackout and the fact it was three in the morning the roads were covered with snow untouched by either cars or humans.
Her sister was going to be pissed. She’d barely had time to speak to Glory before she and Nick were whisked away by the Bellevue police. After that, it was hours of giving statements and answering questions.
Glory did not do well with waiting.
“Are you sure your sister will be awake?” Nick asked, steadying her as her right foot slid on a patch of ice.
“I’m sure,” Gwyn replied, regaining her balance and turning her attention to the slippery ground beneath her feet. “She won’t sleep until she knows this is over and I’m okay.”
“We should have called,” Nick said.
“I would but I don’t know her phone number. That’s why I had a cell phone, so I wouldn’t have to memorize things like that.”
“Good point,” Nick said. “But the kids will be asleep.”
“And I won’t sleep until I know they’re not traumatized for the rest of their lives.”
“Especially Connor,” Nick said, getting to the heart of her anxiety.
She nodded. “Yes, especially Connor.”
They walked in silence until they stood in front of the shelter. Gwyn held a finger to her mouth and tapped on the door.
Glory opened it, her blond hair in a ponytail, and her face devoid of makeup. “Oh my God, are you all right?” She threw her arms around Gwyn.
“I’m fine.”
Behind her, the door closed with a slight squeal of old hinges.
Glory let Gwyn go then pushed past her. “And you,” she poked Nick in the chest. “What were you thinking? Letting her help you? You’re a cop. You should know better. I hope to hell they take disciplinary action against you for putting a citizen in danger.”
Gwyn put a hand to her forehead. Just when she thought the drama was over for the night, it wasn’t. Clamping a hand on Glory’s shoulder, she pulled her sister away before the poke became a punch. “Back off,” she said. “It’s not his fault.”
“Not true,” Nick said.
“Damn straight,” Glory said.
Gwyn shot Nick the dirtiest look she could manage. She knew he felt guilty, but giving Glory more ammunition would get her worked up, and then they’d never get her to calm down. “You are not helping.”
Nick ran a hand over his dark hair, once again making the ends stand up. “But she has a point. I could have tied you up. Let the bad guys go. It’s not as if there weren’t options.”
“And still you chose to put my sister in danger,” Glory said, before Gwyn could make her own retort.
Crossing her arms over her chest, Glory fixed her anger on Gwyn. “And you. You just couldn’t let him do his job, could you?”
Gwyn took a step back. Hell, she should have kept her mouth shut and let Nick take the fall. “He didn’t have backup.”
Glory shook her head. “Not good enough. You’re always taking chances. Testing your limits. What the hell is wrong with you?”
Gwyn bit her lip and reminded herself that Glory wasn’t angry. Not really. She was scared, and fear made her mean. She looked to Nick. “A little help?”
He held up his hands, palms out.
Great, he could take on a gunman but caved when it came to a pissed-off, pocket-size blonde.
“Glory.” She placed a gentle hand on Glory’s woven arms. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
Glory didn’t move. Didn’t soften. “Well, you did.”
“I know.”
“Just promise me it won’t happen again.”
Gwyn wished she could. “You know I can’t do that.”
She might not want to be a P.I. anymore but she also knew she’d never live the safe life Glory wanted for her. The one that involved kids, a husband and no gunfire.
It wasn’t in her. They both knew it.
Glory’s eyes narrowed. “You always do this. You always—”
“It’s Christmas Eve,” Gwyn interrupted. Now was not the time, and not in front of Nick. “I just want to be happy we’re all okay. Can we talk about this tomorrow?”
Glory hesitated. “Okay.” Scrubbing her face, she took a deep breath. “Merry Christmas,” she said, hugging Gwyn again. “I’m glad you’re okay. That’s the best present you could give me.”
Warmth replaced the irritation, and Gwyn hugged her back. “Good. Then I can keep the necklace.”
“You wish,” Glory said. Letting her go, her sister gave Nick an enthusiastic hug. “Thank you for saving her life. I don’t know what I’d do if she were gone.”
Nick looked over Glory’s shoulder at Gwyn, his expression one of confusion.
She shrugged. It took most people years to get used to her sister’s mercurial mood changes. He’d deal.
Nick hugged her back. “Uh, you’re welcome.”
Glory let the policeman go. “The other kids are asleep, but Connor is still awake. He refused to go to sleep until he was sure you were both okay.”
“Will his mother mind if we visit?” Nick asked.
“Not at all,” she said, motioning them to follow.
Making sure to keep their footsteps light, they followed Glory down a hallway lit by the occasional halogen lantern. “He’s in here.” Glory showed them a doorway with a long curtain for a door and ushered them inside.
The room was small, furnished with two cots—one for Conno
r and one for his mother. The young mother was asleep, her breathing even and deep. Connor lay in bed with a flashlight, surrounded by miniature, plastic army men, his eyes shut.
Gwyn sat on the bed while Nick knelt down on the floor. Connor’s eyes fluttered open and then widened when he recognized his visitors. “Hey,” Gwyn whispered.
“Hey,” he whispered back. His attention shot to Nick. “Santa’s number one!”
Gwyn cringed at the half shout, but it seemed Connor’s mother was a sound sleeper.
“Hey, buddy,” Nick said, stroking Connor’s blond hair. “How are you doing?”
Connor sat up. “I’m okay.” He twisted his hands together. “Uh…is Santa still mad?”
Nick’s brows shot upward. “What?”
“Is Santa still mad at me for running away?” Connor’s eyes filled. “I was bad, but I’m sorry.”
Gwyn’s chest tightened. “Oh, honey, he was never mad.”
But Connor waited for Nick’s answer, and she couldn’t blame him. After all, the policeman was Santa’s number one, and you couldn’t get any closer to the Big Guy.
Rising, Nick sat next to Connor. “Santa was never mad at you, Connor. You’re on the Good List.”
Gwyn’s heart thudded harder inside her chest.
“Are you sure?” Connor asked.
“Positive,” Nick replied. “I’m Santa’s number one helper. Would I lie?”
“No?” he said. Gwyn didn’t miss the questioning behind the small word.
Nick ruffled the top of his head. “Darned right. You are at the top of the Good List.
“And those bad guys are on the Naughty List,” Gwyn said. “Forever.”
Connor grinned at her, and the tension in Gwyn’s chest eased. A yawn snuck out before she could cover her mouth.
“Are you going to make it?” Nick asked, one brow arched. “That was a huge yawn.” He leaned in to Connor, pointing at Gwyn. “Didn’t that make her look like a Pez dispenser?”
Connor giggled, and Nick smiled. “It’s time for us to go, buddy.”
“Do you have to leave?”
“Santa has a busy night, and he needs me at the North Pole.”
Santa Under Cover Page 6