Santa's Subpoena Page 27

  This time, I didn’t fight the pull of unconsciousness.

  I came to laying in a hospital bed with Santa at my side, stitching up Aiden’s face. “Santa?” I whispered.

  Doc Springfield looked over his shoulder. “You’re awake.” He pressed a bandage over Aiden’s eyebrow and handed the tray off to a young nurse before moving toward me. While he wore a red shirt beneath his white lab coat, he wasn’t in his Santa uniform. “How are you feeling?”

  “Great,” I said, the room all fuzzy and sparkly.

  “That’s the morphine.” He checked my pupils with a bright light. “You’re looking better.”

  I blinked as the night came back to me. “What time is it?”

  “Around nine in the morning. You had a calm night. Well, after you were brought into the hospital.”

  Morning? Already? I tried to concentrate and remember the night before. “I was shot?”

  “Yeah. The bullet scraped your side,” the doctor said. “You needed fifteen stitches, but there was no other damage from the bullet. You do have a dislocated shoulder that is now back in place but will be sore, and I’m fairly certain you have a concussion.” He patted my good shoulder and walked out of the room, his Santa boots squeaking on the sparkling clean floor.

  Aiden pushed his chair closer and flopped back down. “How are you?”

  “I like morphine,” I said, looking him over. “How are you? You got blown up.”

  “Just bruised with no internal damage.” He took my hand, his feeling warm and solid around mine. “I didn’t expect him to make a move until Christmas, and I really didn’t expect him to hire an accomplice or set explosions.”

  I gulped and searched for the terror inside me, but all I found were warm fuzzies from the morphine. “Me either,” I slurred. “What happened to his accomplice? I think I remember you shooting him?” The night was a bit of a blur.

  “Yeah. He made it through surgery and will be fine to give a statement, tell us everything, and then go to prison.” Aiden’s jaw hardened.

  I lifted my arm, and it fell flat back onto the bed. “I had Jareth in my sights and didn’t pull the trigger.” Might as well confess all.

  “Okay.” Aiden’s neck was mottled with a purple bruise.

  “He got the gun back, we struggled, and he actually fired,” I murmured.

  Aiden didn’t twitch, but his eyes darkened to a just-after-midnight color. “He could’ve killed you.”

  “He killed himself instead,” I said softly.

  Detective Pierce rounded the corner, his hair ruffled and his clothing wrinkled. “Doc said you were awake.”

  “Yep,” I said, glad I wasn’t feeling much at the moment. “Here’s what happened.” I gave him the entire night from my perspective, not leaving anything out. By the end, he was staring at me, and Aiden was too still. I sighed. “I’m sorry. I just couldn’t, or rather didn’t want to kill him in cold blood.” There was a reason people said if you aimed a gun, you should be prepared to fire that gun. But I hadn’t done it. This time, anyway.

  Pierce snapped his notebook closed. “That’s all I need for now. The press is in the waiting area, and I gave orders for hospital security to keep them, or rather her, out of your way.”

  I smiled my thanks. “Do you have plans for the holidays?”

  “I’m headed out tomorrow to see my sister and her family,” Pierce said. “You take it easy until I get back.” He shook Aiden’s hand and then disappeared from view.

  I smiled at Aiden. “Let’s have that talk now that we’ve been avoiding.” The morphine made me brave, and if it dulled the pain, then why not?

  Violet ran into the room, panic on her face. “Are you okay? Tell me you’re okay.” She clutched the other side of the bed from Aiden, her eyes wide.

  “I’m fine,” I said.

  Aunt Yara followed at a more leisurely pace. “Doc Springfield said you’re going to be all right.” She looked slightly calmer than Violet but her gaze still raked me head to toe.

  I nodded. “What are you two doing?”

  “We were driving in from Silverville to get breakfast and then do some Christmas shopping.” Violet patted my good shoulder awkwardly. “The family text came through the line that you’d been shot, so we came right here instead.”

  “Family text?” Aiden asked, eyeing the door.

  Yara patted his arm. “Too late. We saw cars arriving. You’re stuck.”

  He leaned back and shut his eyes. His sigh was long-suffering. But he didn’t let go of my hand. I took comfort in that, although I was holding his pretty tightly.

  I grinned. “So, Violet. You settling in okay?”

  She all but hopped in place. “Yes! In fact, I drew your name in the family lottery.” She leaned in and smoothed my hair off my face. “To be honest, there was some shuffling around since I just joined the family, and I requested you during the trading process. I hope that’s okay.” Her brow wrinkled.

  “That’s great,” I said, meaning it. “Seeing you happy and safe is the best gift ever.”

  Donna barreled through the doorway with Tessa on her heels.

  I waved to my sisters. “Hey. I’m on morphine.”

  “Can I have some?” Aiden asked.

  I chuckled. He might be a badass of a hottie, but he was funny, too.

  Chapter 40

  The manufactured Christmas tree had burned edges on every bough, and several of my ornaments were singed, but it still looked cheerful with the new sparkling lights in the corner of Aiden’s cabin. He’d salvaged it for me, as much as possible, when he’d brought me to his home after I was discharged from the hospital.

  It had been almost a week, and we’d moved in my furniture that had survived the explosion. The fire had taken out most of the living room and kitchen, but my piano and bedroom had been spared, as had my jewelry and the photographs in my bedroom. It looked like the owners of the estate weren’t going to rebuild any time soon, and I kind of figured they wanted me out of there.

  Trouble did seem to follow me.

  I sighed, sitting on a thick rug by the tree. My shoulder ached but didn’t require a sling, so I kept careful not to bump it.

  Aiden didn’t have any other living room furniture yet, so there wasn’t another place to sit. I didn’t mind. The tree was lovely, even if a little damaged. Kind of like all of us, really.

  He finished in the kitchen and brought out two steaming mugs of Tom and Jerry’s, and I hoped he’d spiked mine big time. “Merry Christmas, Angel,” he said, looking even tougher than usual with the bandage and bruises on his face. Even in his dark sweats and T-shirt, he seemed something more.

  “Merry Christmas.” I accepted the mug and took a deep drink, wondering about the present I had next to me. I’d just put it in a gift bag, and maybe I should’ve bought him a shirt instead. Or given him one of the many presents I’d purchased and then decided to give to somebody else. “Thank you for letting me stay and for housing my furniture for now. Well, the stuff that survived the fire, anyway.” I should probably start looking for an apartment but would miss my view of the lake.

  I could always visit Aiden and see his. He’d bought the sprawling cabin to fix up, and maybe I could help a little bit.

  He sat on the rug next to me. “How much time do we have?”

  I jolted and then realized he meant for the day. “We don’t have to be at my parent’s house until three.” Then I patted his thigh. “You did a great job at the Albertini Christmas party and the O’Shea dinner last night for Christmas Eve. We just have dinner with my folks and sisters tonight, although it seems the whole family shows up again around dessert time.” It was only fair to warn him.

  “I’ve had fun,” he said, sipping his drink. “It was cool to see Sean’s reaction to the gift from Clark, and it was nice of him to call. What did Clark get you, anyway?”

  “A stun gun,” I said, grinning. “It’s in my desk drawer at work.”

  Aiden smiled. “Smart guy.” He drank mo
re of the sweet concoction. “It was kind of you to invite Thelma and Georgiana to the dinners, although I’m not sure they weren’t kidding about including your Nonna Albertini in their new detective agency.”

  Amusement tinged with fear bubbled through me, but my chuckle pulled the stitches in my side. “Let’s worry about that another day.”

  “Fair enough,” he agreed.

  “Florence called earlier, and she and Bernie are getting remarried,” I murmured. “She’s still mad at Hoyt for not letting her go to the funeral, although I’m not sure she would’ve gone, so I don’t know what she’ll do with all that money.”

  Aiden shrugged. “I’m sure she’ll find something good to do with it.”

  I nodded, my throat suddenly dry. “So. I guess, hmm.” I handed him the bag. “Merry Christmas.”

  His smile was sweet. One I’d rarely seen on him. He set his mug aside and took the bag, opening it and drawing out the jewelry box. His eyebrows rose. “Interesting.”

  “I wasn’t sure what to get you, and this just felt right,” I said in a rush.

  He drew out the box and then opened it to look. Realization dawned across his chiseled face as he pulled out the necklace. “Is this…”

  “Yeah.” I looked at the perfectly smooth river rock. “The day you saved me, I was skipping rocks with Lacey. That one was shaped just right, so I’d put it in my pocket to save for the championship toss. It was there when I was kidnapped, and it was there when I was safely home.”

  He looked at me, his eyes an unfathomable blue. “Aingeal.”

  I swallowed. “I’ve kept it all these years for good luck. For a reminder that everyone has a hero, and you’re mine.” Duke had done a great job cutting a hole in the top of the dark green rock, and I’d chosen a strong black cord as the chain. “You can wear it during your undercover ops for good luck and to think of me. Maybe it’ll keep you safe, too.” My chest hurt it was so full.

  He slid the necklace over his head, and the rock settled right over his heart. He planted a hand above it. “It’s perfect. Thank you.” His voice deepened, and that Irish brogue emerged full force.

  Relief buzzed through me. He liked it. Good.

  The sweet smile stayed on his angled face. “I have two presents for you.”

  Joy filtered through me. I freaking loved presents.

  He reached under the tree and drew out one box, handing it over. “Here’s the first.”

  I ripped the green wrapping paper off and opened a box to see a key. An old, weathered, scratched key. “This is, um, pretty?”

  He laughed. “It’s a key to this place—for now. I’m going to install a top of the line security system next week. I thought you might want to live here. I mean, with me.”

  My jaw almost dropped open, but I held my composure. Mostly. “You want to live together?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “What do you say?”

  I bit my lip around a smile, happiness bursting through every nerve in my body. Living with Aiden? “I say yes.” Then I looked around. Oh, the things I could do with this place.

  He dug under the tree again and tugged out another box, this one with light pink wrapping paper. He handed it over.

  I slowly took off the paper this time, wanting to savor the moment. The box was green felt, and I opened it to see a sparkling white-gold Claddagh ring, the two hands holding an intricate heart-shaped Celtic knot beneath a crown. The knot protected a stunning dark emerald. My part-Irish heart swelled and I gasped. “Aiden, it’s beautiful.”

  He took the ring and slipped it onto my right ring finger with the bottom of the heart pointing up toward mine, showing I was taken.

  Had I ever been this happy? I wasn’t sure. I looked closer. “That emerald looks real. I mean, natural.” It was darker than a man-made emerald, although you usually couldn’t tell the difference.

  “It is real.” He bent to kiss the ring over my finger. “It’s the closest I could come to your eye color with the green and gray. Sometimes, in the moonlight, this is exactly the color of your eyes.”

  Tears gathered in my eyes. “Aiden,” I whispered, overcome. “Thank you.”

  He lifted his head and gently tugged me onto his lap, careful of all my hurts, his other hand over the necklace I’d given him. “Guess we’re going to give this thing a real shot, huh?”

  I turned and kissed him, pouring everything into it. Whether we were ready for this or not, it was here. “Yeah, a real shot, just you and me,” I whispered against his mouth, finally feeling settled.

  He grinned, his lips perfect against mine. “Merry Christmas, Angel.”

  The Albertini Family Novellas

  Pre-order the next Albertini family holiday romance now!

  Holiday Rogue preorder links!

  Tessa’s Trust

  The Anna Albertini Files # 5

  Coming Soon: Watch for preorder links for the next Albertini story, this one featuring Tessa! (Anna and Aiden will be back with more stories soon.) Approximate release: October 11, 2022.

  You Can Run

  Read the First Chapter of the upcoming Laurel Snow Thriller, You Can Run!

  * * *

  Laurel Snow swiped through the calendar on her phone while waiting for the flight to DC to board. The worn airport chairs at LAX were as uncomfortable as ever, and she tried to keep her posture straight to prevent the inevitable backache. Christmas music played through the speakers, and an oddly shaped tree took up a corner, its sad-looking branches decorated with what might’ve been strung popcorn. The upcoming week was already busy, and Laurel hoped there wouldn’t be a new case. She stuck in her wireless earbuds to allow an upbeat rock playlist to pound through her ears as she rearranged a couple of meetings.

  The phone dinged and she answered while continuing to organize the week. “Snow.”

  “Hi, Agent Snow. How did the symposium go?” asked her boss, George McCromby.

  “As expected,” she said, swiping a lunch meeting from Thursday to Friday. “I’m not a teacher, and half the time, the audience looked confused. A young woman in the front row had serious daddy issues, and a young man behind her was facing a nervous breakdown. Other than that, one guy in the last row exhibited narcissistic tendencies.”

  “For Pete’s sake. We just wanted you to talk about the FBI and help with recruitment. You’re a good face,” George muttered.

  Laurel tapped her phone when the Wi-Fi struggled. “My face has nothing to do with my job. I’m not skilled at recruitment or teaching.”

  George sighed. “How many people have you seen today who wore red shoes?”

  Yeah, she should change the computer update meeting from Tuesday to Wednesday. “Six,” she said absently. “Ten if you include maroon-colored shoes.”

  George laughed. “How many people in the last month have worn yellow hats around you?”

  “Just eight,” she said.

  George warmed to the subject. “Right now, where you are in the airport and without looking, who’s the biggest threat?”

  If she changed one more meeting, she could fit in a manicure on Friday. “Guy waiting in the adjacent area for a plane to Dallas. He’s five nine, wiry, and has cauliflower ears. Moves with grace.” Yes. She could fit in a manicure. “Another man to the north by the magazine rack in the bookstore is built like a logger and could throw a decent punch.” Would there be time for a pedicure? Probably not.

  “Why aren’t you the biggest threat?” George asked.

  She paused. “Because I’m currently performing parlor tricks for the deputy director of the FBI.” She looked up to check her boarding time.

  “I have a call on the other line. We’ll talk about this when you get back.” George clicked off.

  Laurel didn’t have anything else to say on the matter. Her phone buzzed and she glanced at the screen before answering the call. “Hi, Mom. Yes, I’m still returning home for Christmas.” It had been three years, and her mother’s patience had ended. “I promise. In two weeks, I’ll be the
re.”

  “Laurel, I need you now,” Deidre said, her voice pitched high.

  Laurel froze. “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s your uncle Carl. The sheriff wants to arrest him for murder.” Panic lifted Deidre’s voice even higher. “You’re in the FBI. They’re saying he’s a serial killer. You have to come help.”

  Uncle Carl was odd but not a killer. “Serial killer? How many bodies have been found?”

  “I don’t know,” Deidre cried out.

  Okay. Her mother never became this flustered. “Is the Seattle FBI involved?” Laurel asked.

  “I don’t know. The local sheriff is the one who’s harassing Carl. Please come help. Please.” Her mother never asked for anything.

  Laurel would have to change flights—and ask for a favor. “I’ll text you my flight information, and I can rent a car at Sea-Tac.” Murderers existed everywhere but Uncle Carl wasn’t one of them.

  “No. I’ll make sure you’re picked up. Just text me what time you land.” Her mother didn’t drive or like to be inside vehicles.

  “Okay. I have to run.” Laurel clicked off and dialed George’s private number with her left hand while reaching in her bag for a printout of her schedule. Being ambidextrous came in handy sometimes. Though she didn’t have many friends at the FBI, for some reason, George had become a mentor and was usually patient. Sometimes. Plus, she had just closed a serial killer case in Texas, and she had some juice, as George would say. For now. In her experience, juice dried up quickly.

  The phone rang several times before George picked up. “I said we’d talk about it in DC.”