Santa's Subpoena Page 11

  “But you’re okay with my leaving periodically for undercover ops?” he asked, his expression intense.

  “Yeah.” I played with the sharp edge of his clavicle. “As long as you’re coming back to me.” I watched my fingers on his skin. “I’m not good at this.”

  He kissed my nose. “You really aren’t.”

  His words caught me off-guard and a chuckle burst out of my chest. “I think you’re supposed to lie about that.”

  “No lies between us.” He kicked his legs out to the coffee table, holding me securely. “Did you have panic attacks while I was gone?”

  “No.”

  “Anna?” His voice went Aiden firm.

  I looked him in the eye. “I haven’t had one in months. The shooting tonight triggered one.” It was the truth.

  He relaxed around me. “Don’t hide this from me again.”

  I barely kept from rolling my eyes, feeling like myself again. “Bossy Aiden is back.”

  “You like me bossy.” His gaze moved to the silent and sparkling tree.

  Was that a public fact, or what?

  Chapter 16

  As darkness took over outside, I finished rapidly loading my fridge with goodies my mother had shoved in my hands when we’d escaped the Sunday family barbecue over in Silverville. “You’re a rat-fink bastard, Aiden Devlin,” I said, slamming my fridge for emphasis and turning to face him.

  He paused in hanging up his jacket. “Try again.”

  “No.” I put both hands on my hips, more than ready to go a round or two. “How could you tell my mother that I had a panic attack earlier today?” It was unthinkable. A betrayal of the highest order. I’d already kicked off my boots, but my jeans were loose and my sweater roomy. I could take him if I had to, and apparently I did. He had a lesson to learn. “Devlin?”

  He shut the closet door and turned around, leaning against it. “I didn’t tell her about you being shot at.”

  It was a good thing the stitches could be lost in my hairline with a lot of careful styling because we’d managed the entire barbecue without anybody noticing I’d been hurt. Well, except for the black eye and bruised cheekbone. But makeup had hidden most of that damage. “Yet you’re still a Judas.”

  He crossed his arms. “Anna.” His reasonable tone was going to get him smacked.

  I lowered my chin. “You waited. You waited until after our nice dinner and after everyone finished focusing on Quint and Heather.” Cousin Quint was pretty much in serious love. “You waited until my mom was packaging up leftovers. You waited until you had her alone and her attention.”

  “Yep.”

  I blinked and threw up my hands. “You b—”

  “Call me a bastard again, and we’re going to have a problem,” he said mildly.

  “We already have a problem,” I said, not mildly. Not quietly, either. “Because of you, do you know what I have to do this coming week?” Now I gestured wildly. “See Cousin Wanda.”

  He didn’t so much as blink.

  “You did this on purpose,” I said slowly, finally catching up.

  Again, no movement.

  “You bas—”

  “I wouldn’t.” His arms uncrossed. Why that was threatening and a little sexy, I’ll never understand. “You like seeing Cousin Wanda. She’s your shrink.”

  I glowered. “You don’t get to dictate when I see her.”

  Then he moved. Right at me, steady pace, firm gait. When I took two steps back, putting my butt against the counter, he kept coming. Right until we stood toe-to-toe. Then he planted both hands on either side of me and leaned down. “When you awaken having nightmares, stop breathing, and nearly give me a heart attack until you start breathing again, I do dictate when you see your shrink. Especially if you’re not smart enough to make your own appointment.”

  His body was against mine. He had me slightly leaned back, and I couldn’t move. Not an inch.

  I swallowed.

  He lowered his head, his nose nearly touching mine. “Got it?”

  “Got it,” I agreed quickly. Instinctively. I hadn’t realized I’d scared him. He’d been so calm and reassuring. “You’re being bossy again.”

  “You like me bossy.” He placed a hard kiss on my lips and stepped back, giving me room.

  I really had to do something about that rumor.

  He glanced at the fridge. “Did your mom give us some of the pecan pie?”

  “You know she did.” It was his favorite, so she always pretty much baked him his own when she made one. She had always liked Aiden, considering he’d saved my life, and he was Irish to boot. She didn’t like that his job was dangerous, but since mine kept turning out to be a little dangerous as well, she appreciated that he carried a gun and could take care of bad guys. “You know she has a secret dream that you’ll knock me up so I quit my job and raise little Irish babies without being shot at once in a while.”

  “It’s not a secret dream,” he murmured, reaching to open the fridge.

  Probably not. My mom wasn’t exactly discreet. “I’m not ready for little Irish babies.” I also probably wouldn’t be quitting my job.

  “Amen to that.” He snatched the pie out of the fridge and opened the door to the side of my hip, grasping two spoons. “Hungry?”

  “No.” I’d eaten plenty at the barbecue, and I hadn’t gone running in a while. It was too cold outside, and I didn’t have funds for a gym membership. Yeah, I was making excuses. Even so, I wasn’t hungry. “You can’t be hungry.”

  “It’s pie.” He shut the door and crossed to the table, setting down the pie pan.

  “Use a plate.”

  “It’s my pie.”

  I exhaled slowly, unable to find an argument for that.

  He took a big bite, his eyes closing in appreciation. When they opened again, the blue struck me like it always did. “Why don’t you want to see your shrink?”

  I wasn’t in the mood for philosophical Aiden. Nor did I want to delve into my complicated psyche right then. My phone buzzed, and I snatched for it like a lifeline. “Anna Albertini.”

  “Hey. It’s Pierce. I have a hit on a florist on the South Hill over in Spokane. Guy called in the order, used a prepaid credit card, and paid double for the delivery all the way to Idaho.” Papers rustled over the phone line. “The woman who took the call didn’t remember anything special about the voice, except that he was calm and insistent and an adult. No cracking voice or anything like that. He was careful, and I’ll dump the line, but my guess is he used a burner.”

  I watched Aiden keep eating the pie, while he watched me on the phone. “I hope you get fat,” I lip-synced to him.

  He grinned, the shadows not quite leaving his eyes.

  Pierce continued, “No hit on the paint for the heart on your garage. We canvassed most of Timber City, but he could’ve bought that anywhere.”

  “Thanks for trying,” I said. “Anything on the red truck or the shooter?”

  “Nothing. I have techs going through traffic cam footage right now, and I’m pulling Hoyt Forrest in tomorrow morning. Is Devlin with you tonight, or do you want a uniform at your door?” Pierce was a good guy, and he didn’t want me dead. It was nice of him to offer.

  “Devlin is here, and I’m armed.” I had fired back, after all.

  More papers crinkled. “All right. Call me if you recall anything else.”

  I tried to remember if the guy had looked like Hoyt’s size, but I just couldn’t tell. “Thanks, Pierce. I appreciate it.”

  “Just doing my job. Try not to get fired upon or stalked tonight. I need a night off.” He ended the call.

  I wandered into my office on Monday morning after an early appointment with Cousin Wanda, whose office was just down the hall from ours. It had been a rough morning of delving deep and working on my trust and abandonment issues, which were crazy because my life was great, and my family always present. But the danger, being shot at, did bring back childhood fears of being vulnerable.

  As did f
alling for Aiden Devlin.

  Oliver Duck sat behind the reception desk with his business card holder proudly in front of him. I definitely shouldn’t have let the kids order their own business cards, but I guess being a czar or a king made up for the meager pay we could afford right now. “Hi, Oliver.”

  He looked up from an appointment book, his red hair growing out to his ears. He smiled, his freckles popping. Then he cocked his head. “You look like you went ten rounds with a Rottweiler.”

  “I feel like it,” I admitted, toeing off my snow boots to place on a rubber mat in the corner. I dug my pumps out of my bag and slipped them on my feet. “It was a rough morning.” Next time I saw Cousin Wanda, I wanted it to be after hours so I could at least enjoy a beer, or five, while we talked. She was usually okay with that.

  Oliver winced. “You might not be finished with your rough morning.”

  I straightened in my black slacks and red sweater. “I’m not in court until this afternoon.” Or was I due this morning? Had I missed something on my calendar?

  “No, but you have a visitor back in the smaller conference room. She was making me nervous out here, so I took her there. I’m sorry.” He flushed a deep claret and his ears looked almost purple.

  “It’s all right,” I said, not wanting his lobes to explode. “Whoever is here, I can handle it.”

  He nearly chewed through his bottom lip. “It’s Jolene O’Sullivan.”

  Time and matter screeched to a sudden and complete stop. “Nope.” I tiptoed over to the corner, removed my shoes, and slipped into my boots. I still was wearing my coat, so that was convenient. “Give it five minutes and tell her I called you, saying I had a meeting with a client and won’t be in until much later.” I had no compunction about lying. If I had a nemesis, it was Jolene O’Sullivan. “I’ll see you later.” Totally ignoring his panicked expression, I hightailed it out of there.

  Oliver could handle her. She didn’t have any questions for him, and he didn’t know anything about my current cases, anyway.

  I ran into Clark at the stairwell. “Hey.”

  “Hey,” he said, pausing at the top. Snow covered the shoulders of his leather jacket and melted on his dark bald head. “Where are you going?”

  “Meeting with a client,” I said breezily, walking down several steps.

  He partially turned. “We usually have our office meeting Monday morning. I wanted the scoop on the Santa case.” He rubbed a bruise he’d gotten at the family barbecue on his bicep. He and Uncle Sean had been playing pool, and a ball had skipped. Uncle Sean was a mountain of a man, played great golf, and was a menace at the pool table. Clark kept trying to teach him. I admired that, but he was bruised every week. I’m sure he was looking forward to golf season even more than was Uncle Sean. “Anything new?”

  I couldn’t set him up. “No, and Jolene O’Sullivan is in our small conference room.”

  Clark reared back. “Why?”

  “I don’t know. Probably the Santa case? Or my getting shot at?” Although I hadn’t told my family, I had fully informed Clark, just in case.

  He pivoted on his hiking boot and strode down the stairs to reach me. “I don’t have anything pressing right now in the office. How about we have our meeting over coffee?” Taking my arm, he hustled us down the stairs to the sparkling, snowy, and unshoveled sidewalk outside of our office building.

  My heart soared. I loved that I wasn’t the only coward in our firm. “I would be delighted, Clark Bunne.”

  We shuffled down the street toward Smiley’s Diner, which was only one building down beyond Duke’s Jewelry store. I glanced in Duke’s window past the painted snowy scene. “Any idea what I could get Aiden for Christmas?”

  “What did you get me?” Clark asked, following my gaze.

  I kept my arm in his, considering his balance was excellent and the tread on his boots top-notch. One thing about Clark, he believed in good footwear. “I’m not going to tell you. Speaking of which, are you coming to the family Christmas party next Thursday?”

  “Yes to the family party and no to Christmas morning. I’m headed over to Seattle to see my sister.” He opened the door to Smiley’s Diner, and heat and the smell of cinnamon rolls wafted out. “Any idea what Sean got me? I’m worried it’s the first year’s tuition for welding school or something like that.”

  I stepped inside and inhaled deeply. My stomach growled. “That’s a good worry.” Uncle Sean had pretty much taken Clark into the family, and Sean didn’t like lawyers. Oh, he thought I was going through a phase, but he wanted to set Clark on the right path, any path but law, as soon as possible. “What did you get him?”

  “A golf laser rangefinder with flag acquisition, pulse vibration, and fast focus system,” Clark said easily. “He says he can eyeball distance, and he’s way too stubborn to buy a rangefinder, but if I give him one, he’ll feel obligated to use it. Let me tell you, he needs it, and I’d like to win the Miner’s Tournament next spring.”

  Now that was an excellent gift. I’d gotten Clark a new putter that he’d been eyeing at the golf course. Uncle Sean told me about it. “What did you get me?”

  “A bulletproof vest,” Clark said dryly, sliding into a booth.

  I wasn’t entirely sure he was joking.

  Chapter 17

  After sharing a cinnamon roll with Clark, then having coffee, then sharing another cinnamon roll, I pulled out a notebook and started to scratch some thoughts on paper. Clark rearranged his morning meetings to visit the offices of clients and left me, while I hoped the coffee in our conference room had gone ice-cold for Jolene.

  Tessa finished serving a table of retired guys all arguing about the next election and popped my way, topping off my coffee. “Who are you hiding from?”

  I looked up, my eyes focusing. “Jolene.”

  Tess nodded. “Good choice. I’m meeting Bosco for lunch later if you want to meet up.” Bosco was the youngest brother to Quint and Rory, and he worked in the Navy but got to come home sometimes. He was stationed out of Fairchild Air Force Base, which was east of Spokane.

  “I’ll try.” I pushed my notes away. “Could I borrow your car again this morning?”

  She tucked a tip into her holiday-themed apron. “What’s wrong with your car?”

  “It’s in the shop,” I said easily. It was. Getting bullet holes taken out and the carburetor fixed. “Aiden dropped me off at work earlier.”

  “Why don’t you two just move in together?”

  I shrugged. “We’re still finding our way, and I like having my own place. He dominates whatever space he’s in, and right now, I like my cottage to still be mine.” Was that the next step? I wasn’t ready for a next step. I was still tripping over this one.

  “Huh. Any ideas for Christmas?” she asked.

  “Maybe a golf laser rangefinder?” I pondered. There was nothing wrong with copying presents, but I didn’t think Aiden liked to golf as much as did Uncle Sean.

  “No. Too impersonal for a first Christmas present,” Tessa mused, tapping her finger on her bottom lip.

  I sighed. She was correct. “Are you getting Nick anything?”

  Her neck straightened. “No. We’re not dating.”

  Yeah, I needed to get on that. As a potential matchmaker, I was really falling down on the job. I glanced at my watch. An earlier call to the hospital had confirmed that Bernie would be released at ten, and I’d already called Florence, Thelma, and Georgiana and told them all that I’d pick him up. A worse storm was supposedly coming in, and I thought it would have arrived by now, but only light flakes wafted down outside. “When do you need your car back?”

  “When you’re done with it,” Tessa said breezily. “I’ll have Bosco pick me up here. We’re going to Margo’s Thai at noon if you want to join us. I think Donna is going to try to finish with her showings by then and meet us. I guess she’s seeing Aiden about a new lease first? That’s exciting.”

  “I know.” I grinned. “It’s the old spa.” Good memorie
s. I’d talked Tessa into getting a treatment that had turned out to be a Brazilian, and she was probably still planning her revenge. Still, it had been hilarious. And we’d taken down a drug operation, so there was that.

  I scooted from the booth, handed her money for the bill, and accepted her keys. “Thanks, T.”

  She’d already bustled down to take care of a mom trying to manage three toddlers in one booth.

  I watched the smallest one try to shove part of a napkin up his nose. Nope. Definitely not ready for little Irish babies, even if they did all look like Aiden. Walking outside, I took stock of my surroundings, looking for any threats. My guess was that the red truck shooter had been aiming for Bernie, considering there was something definitely up with that Kringle Club, but it never hurt to be careful.

  The snow gently fell, and I dodged around to the back of the building to find Tessa’s Rogue. After scraping off the windows with the ultra-scraper from her back seat, I plopped my butt into the driver’s seat and pulled out, heading toward the hospital. Her snow tires gripped the streets perfectly, and I arrived in time to find Bernie waiting in a wheelchair, arguing with the nurse pushing him. His face cleared when he saw me.

  I took his bag of clothes. “You ready?”

  “Yes.” He tried to stand and the nurse shook her head. “I can walk.”

  “Policy.” She was around fifty with braided gray hair and no-nonsense efficiency. She rolled him out to the car, which I’d parked right by the entrance. She helped load him, and then we were off.

  He sighed. “The bullet ruined my Santa suit. Do you know how to sew?”

  “Not really,” I admitted, turning left toward his area of town. “Would it be possible to buy a new Santa suit?”