Silent Night Suspect

by Sharee Stover

  “What about justice?”

  Slade watched Gilade’s body language. Was he buying time? Was Gilade privy to something that could help them? Whatever his reasoning, Slade appreciated the delay.

  “Justice is a fantasy.” Donovan gripped Asia’s hair in his hand and tugged her toward him. “Now, tell me where the video is.”

  “She doesn’t have it!” Slade hollered, reaching for Donovan.

  Kramer sent a bullet next to Slade’s boots. “Move another inch and I’ll take out your leg.”

  Slade backed up, his mind racing for a way to end this standoff.

  Asia shook her head and, to her credit, didn’t look at Gilade. “I don’t have it.”

  “Don’t play games with me! Your worthless husband gave you the card, and my incompetent, brainless cohorts—” Kramer glared at Beardly “—failed to retrieve it. My patience is worn paper-thin. One more chance,” he warned.

  “I don’t have it,” Asia repeated.

  “Tell you what.” Kramer lifted his Sig Sauer and pressed it against her arm. “Someone better hand me that card or I’ll shoot each of you several times until I get my answers, starting with her.”

  “No! I’ll hand the card over to you, if you let Asia go,” Slade bargained.

  “Slade, no,” she argued.

  “It’s over.” Slade prayed she understood.

  Kramer lowered his gun. “Smart.”

  “Get Asia out of here first.” Slade sent her a look, hoping she’d comply. Be quiet. Leave and get help.

  “Card first. Then she can leave,” Donovan contended. “Nonnegotiable.”

  “In Gilade’s shirt pocket.” Slade met the agent’s disparaging expression and flattened lips.

  Gilade’s face went from disbelief to anger. “Nice, Jackson.”

  Donovan stormed to his agent and ripped out the SD card, then pocketed it before shoving Gilade. He stumbled backward and, using the force, reached for his gun lying on the table. He aimed, and Donovan shot a round into Gilade’s shoulder, knocking him to the ground. He turned and pointed the barrel at Slade.

  Asia screamed and fought against Kramer’s hold. “Be still, sweetheart, or you’re next.”

  Slade launched at Kramer as a bullet whizzed past his ear, grazing the tip. Slade drove a fist into his gut. He released his hold on Asia and she bolted toward the door, but Beardly got there first.

  “I wouldn’t do that again,” Donovan said from behind. The cold steel of his gun pressed against Slade’s back.

  Gilade groaned, holding his shoulder. Slade stood frozen, chest heaving with exertion and fury.

  Donovan shoved Slade into a chair. “That’s a good boy. Now sit down and shut up.” He addressed Beardly. “Go outside and finish setting up everything.”

  Asia moved out of his way as Beardly scurried out the door.

  “Okay, princess, tie them up,” Kramer ordered Asia, tossing her plastic zip ties.

  Her eyes widened. “But you said—”

  “I said I’d let you go. Of course, you’ll never really be free, will you? What with all that evidence against you.” Kramer’s sardonic laugh filled the room. He withdrew a small black box from his pocket and displayed it for them. “Make any sudden moves, gentlemen, and we’ll all go up in flames.”

  Slade’s stomach knotted. A detonator.

  Asia moved in slow, dragging steps until she reached Gilade. He winced as she bound his wrists behind him. “I’m so sorry.”

  “None of this is on you,” he grunted. Crimson stained his white-and-black-plaid shirt. The man would bleed to death if they didn’t get out of here.

  She knelt before Slade, binding his ankles to the chair’s base. Each reluctant move broke his heart a little more. She glanced up, meeting his gaze, and the realization slammed into him with the force of a rodeo bull.

  He didn’t just care about her. He was in love with Asia.

  Once again, Slade’s timing was terrible, but he refused to deny it—if only to himself—any longer. He opened his mouth to speak, then clamped it shut. Telling her now wouldn’t help. She had to leave this place, and he would die at Beardly’s corrupt hands.

  Kramer yanked her to her feet. “Let’s go!”

  Donovan led the trio out of the cabin. Asia glanced over her shoulder, fear and desperation etched in her worried expression. Would Kramer and Donovan keep their word? Would she be okay?

  The door slammed shut.

  Slade struggled to breathe against the tsunami of panic rising in his chest. “Please, Lord, help Asia. She needs You now.”

  “Pray for us! They’re going to blow up the cabin!” Gilade screeched.

  Slade jerked against his restraints. He hadn’t even realized he’d spoken the prayer aloud.

  He heard raised voices outside.

  A series of gunshots permeated the air, followed by a woman’s scream.

  “Asia!” Slade tried to jump up but succeeded only in thrusting himself forward. He landed face-first on the wooden floor. The shock of the impact radiated through his nose.

  The bindings dug into his skin, but the face flop broke his ankles free from the zip ties. He rolled to the side and, in an awkward caterpillar maneuver, stood with the chair still attached like a turtle shell. Slade ran backward, prepared for impact.

  An explosion rocked the cabin. Fire swarmed the room as Slade hit the wall with an oomph, splintering the chair. He yanked his wrists apart, breaking the restraints. His ears rang, and the room disintegrated in smoke and heat.

  Slade stumbled to his feet and moved to where Gilade lay unconscious under a pile of debris. He hefted Gilade over his shoulder, then burst from the cabin, praying freedom and safety lay beyond the smoke.

  Outside the inferno, Slade dropped to his knees, pain radiating up his side as he set down Gilade. He pushed up, wavering on shaky legs, and rested his hands on his knees.

  Gilade grabbed his leg, startling him, and mouthed something, but Slade couldn’t hear him over the pronounced ringing in his ears.

  Slade turned as a man jogged toward them, his features obscured by the sunlight. He blinked. Trey? Was he hallucinating?

  “Nice James Bond move!” Trey hollered.

  “You’re alive!” Slade embraced his brother in a bear hug. “What about Asia?”

  “She’s fine.” Trey cut off Gilade’s restraints and helped him stand.

  Slade and Trey worked together assisting Gilade in walking.

  They took a wide berth around the burning cabin.

  “How did you get here so fast?” Slade took in the chaotic scene.

  Gilade grinned. “Perfect timing!”

  “I finished enhancing the video soon after we hung up and wham! That’s when I saw it!” Trey’s gestures grew more animated with each word. “Beardly’s reflection in the window beside Quenten. At that point, Kramer and Donovan were distinguishable. I immediately called Oliver, he ordered backup and we raced here. I tried to call you—”

  Gilade winced. “Sorry, my bad. I shouldn’t have demanded you leave your phone. Not the smartest thinking on my part.”

  Slade shook his head. “Irrelevant. We had no reception.”

  “How did Beardly find our location?” Gilade asked.

  Trey frowned. “Donovan’s tech accessed your call log and saw the message.”

  Gilade worked his jaw. “Unbelievable.”

  Garnet lights strobed against the dark evergreens, giving the atmosphere a holiday ambience—except for the plethora of law enforcement and fire department vehicles surrounding the property. Firefighters tamed the flames while Oliver shouted orders, Asia by his side.

  Streaks trailed from her eyes where tears had mixed with dirt and soot. She spotted Slade and sprinted to him, throwing her arms around his neck. “Thank God!”

  Slade wrapped her in an em
brace. To his delight, Asia melted against him. He didn’t want to spend a single second away from her. Ever. “I thought you were...that they’d...” His throat tightened with emotion.

  She leaned back and met his gaze. “When we walked out, troopers were waiting.”

  He pressed her close again, ignoring the pain and relishing the embrace.

  “But the gunshots—” Gilade interjected.

  Slade had almost forgotten the man was there.

  “Donovan threatened to shoot me, and the troopers fired. That’s when Kramer hit the detonator.”

  “Donovan took a hit to the knee.” Trey pointed to a parked ambulance. “He’ll live.”

  Slade turned and suppressed a grin. Donovan lay restrained and strapped to the stretcher, screaming obscenities at everyone around him.

  “Where’s Kramer?” He scanned the property, spotting the man kneeling in the snow, hands cuffed behind him.

  “Let’s get your shoulder taken care of.” Trey led Gilade to the closest ambulance, giving Slade and Asia privacy.

  Asia’s dark eyes enveloped him, and Slade struggled to speak.

  She ducked her head into his chest. “Thank you, for everything.”

  Adrenaline still rushing, Slade rallied his courage and said, “You amaze me. You’ve been through so much and—”

  Someone cleared his throat. “Bro.”

  Slade turned. Trey. Proof his brother also bore the worst-timing-ever gene that was apparently ingrained in Jackson men.

  “Oliver wants to see you,” Trey said.

  Slade reluctantly retreated from Asia’s touch. “Stay with Trey.” He walked over to where Kramer and Oliver stood.

  “Confession time. Since no one’s above the law, according to your zero-tolerance policy.” Slade yanked the SD card from the DA’s shirt pocket, ripping the fabric.

  Kramer looked up, squinting against the sunlight. “Spare me.”

  “Okay, maybe your partner will have more to say. Whoever speaks up first has the best chance of reducing their sentence.” Slade paused, allowing his words to sink in.

  “Doesn’t matter, Jackson,” Oliver said.

  “This isn’t finished until he admits Asia didn’t kill Quenten.”

  “Your girlfriend’s the least of my worries,” Kramer barked. “Besides, why would I help anyone but myself?”

  “Because you’re looking at a lifetime in prison. Speak up, starting with the truth. Who murdered Quenten?” Slade probed.

  Kramer laughed. “Save your breath, Trooper.”

  Slade’s frustration rose to new levels. He glanced to where Donovan sat hollering. “You’re right. Let’s see what your cronies or Donovan have to say instead.” He stepped forward.

  “Wait,” Kramer called. “Cut me a deal. Then I’ll talk.”

  Asia closed the distance between them and moved to Kramer’s side.

  Trey shrugged and mouthed “I tried.”

  Slade gave a jerk of his head. She wasn’t easy to corral, especially when she was determined. “He won’t talk to you,” he warned.

  She ignored him and knelt beside Kramer. “I can’t speak to Zander’s choices.” Asia’s voice was soft. “You don’t owe me anything, but I’m asking you to tell me the truth about Quenten.”

  Kramer shook his head, adjusting his arms. “Get me a lawyer or make me a deal.”

  Slade stormed away, needing distance before he punched the hypocritical DA. He walked to the ambulance where Gilade sat with a female paramedic dressing his bullet wound.

  “Sorry for what I said earlier,” Gilade said.

  Slade took a second to recall what the agent referred to. “Just stress talking.”

  “I thought you’d double-crossed me.”

  “In this crazy turn of events, that’s not unreasonable to assume, but I only wanted to help Asia. If I died, at least she’d have the evidence to clear her name.”

  Asia and Kramer exchanged words—not heated—while Oliver hovered, holding his cell phone near Kramer’s head. Was he recording? Did Kramer realize Oliver was there? After a few moments, Asia said something to Oliver, then walked toward Slade, wearing a smile that emphasized her beauty.

  He met her halfway. “What was that about?”

  “Kramer confessed Beardly shot Quenten just as you described, with his hands wrapped around mine.”

  “You got him to confess?”

  “I suggested he tell the truth,” Asia said, a twinkle in her eye. “And Sergeant Oliver recorded it.”

  She’d done more than that, but whatever worked.

  Slade pulled her into his arms, catching a glimpse of Oliver over his shoulder. His supervisor gave a knowing nod and grinned, then tugged Kramer to his feet.

  “Thank you,” Asia whispered, inching closer. Her lips were so close he could feel the warmth of her breath. The sunlight brought out flecks of green in her chocolate-brown eyes.

  He swallowed. “For what?”

  “For not giving up on me.”

  Slade hugged her, absorbing her touch that consumed his heart and affirmed his resolve to never let Asia go. Before he talked himself out of it again, he said, “I’m sure romantic feelings are the furthest thing from your mind. It’s just...we’ve dodged death too many times together in the past two days, and I wouldn’t want anything to happen.” His throat tightened around the desert in his mouth. “Um, without you knowing. That I love you.”

  * * *

  Asia searched Slade’s eyes. Had she heard him correctly? The surrounding chaos was loud; perhaps she’d misunderstood. His confession didn’t feel misplaced. Rather, his words were the period at the end of a sentence she’d longed to finish. How was that possible?

  Her thoughts faded as he placed a finger under her chin and tilted her head up. She sucked in air as he leaned in.

  They hovered so close, exhaling steam into the cold air. Slade brushed his lips against hers. Their connection zinged, awakening her heart and electrifying her senses from eyelashes to toenails. The shattered barriers forced Asia to face what she’d denied far too long. She met his kiss, enjoying the deliciousness.

  Too soon, they separated, breathless. “Asia Stratton, you’re a brave woman.”

  She smiled. “Love has a way of making you brave.”

  Slade’s mouth dropped open. “Wait. Did you...? When did you...?”

  Asia chuckled. “I think it happened while I was stuffed in my kidnapper’s trunk. I realized I had isolated myself by justifying that it was safer being alone than hurting again. I’d blamed you, God, anybody who’d take my hits for my misery. When I released my anger, a peace I’ve never known before opened my heart. And there you were.”

  He pulled her into a hug, embracing her in the strength and tenderness of his arms. “We must discuss a few things. Like a future.”

  Asia’s heart thudded with excitement against her rib cage. “Absolutely.” She studied him, the firmness of his jaw and the smile lines around his eyes, drinking Slade in, every inch of his handsome, dirt-stained face. Before she could reason herself out of the moment, Asia initiated a kiss, gentle at first then deepening as Slade pressed her closer. The sweetness of his lips combined with tears—whether hers or his, she wasn’t sure—tasted amazing, and she thanked God for giving them a second chance.

  The morning stretched into evening, and at last, Slade and Asia escaped the craziness of reports, confessions and charges. They sat in the Meadow Hills bakery, at Asia’s behest, for dinner and a redo on the cinnamon rolls.

  Instrumental carols played on the speakers above, and lights decorating the store’s windows softly faded from one color to the next.

  Asia swiped a dollop of cream-cheese frosting from the corner of Slade’s lip. “You’re making a mess.”

  The anticipation of Christmas hung in the atmosphere, and for the first time in ye
ars, Asia welcomed the holiday, ready to share the wonder of Christ’s birth with Slade. Their adventure had been an eye-opening experience in so many ways, and she indulged in her new freedom with an appreciation for relationships and the closeness of family.

  She soaked in the shop’s ambience, then gazed at Slade’s handsome, clean-shaven face. He was gorgeous, dressed meticulously in a starched white cotton shirt. When had she fallen head over heels for him?

  “Cinnamon rolls were your idea,” he said in defense.

  She shrugged. “We had to celebrate my exoneration.”

  “Technically, you were never charged,” Slade teased. “I was impressed that Beardly confessed to whacking you on the head, shooting you when he caught you texting me and setting the timed ignition device at the safe house. The creep sang like the chicken he is.”

  “Chickens don’t sing.” She laughed.

  Slade’s cheeks reddened. “Ugh, I’m picking up Sergeant Oliver’s annoying habit of confusing clichés.”

  Asia chuckled. “It’s adorable.”

  “You have a beautiful laugh.” He swiped a stray hair from her face. “Oh, and Trey insisted you travel to Iowa with us tomorrow to celebrate Christmas with the Jackson clan.”

  The idea of being with a real family for the holidays both terrified and excited her. “First, you’d best clear that with your folks.”

  “Done. Pops said they’d be hurt if you refused.”

  Asia’s eyes filled and she blinked away the moisture. “I wouldn’t dream of missing out, then.”

  “Outstanding!” Slade’s grin was so wide it brought out the dimple she’d forgotten he had.

  She touched his cheek, savoring every second with him. “Have I said thank you?”

  “You have.” He kissed her hand.

  “With Donovan, Beardly and Kramer arrested and charged for all their crimes, and their full confession about Quenten’s murder, I’m free in a way I never thought possible. And what better way to celebrate than enjoying cinnamon rolls again?” She forked a large piece of the dessert.