Covert Christmas (3 page)

“The entire United States Marshals Service, along with numerous local and state authorities, are looking for me, and you think Davison and Leeves found me?” He shook his head. “I figure they already knew where you were and were just waiting for me to show up. When I did, they crawled out of the gutter.”

“Why would they think you'd show up?”

He gave her a long, dry look. She was a beautiful woman. She'd seduced him, lied to him, set him up and almost gotten him—or, at least, his twin—killed. And he'd been stupid in love with her. Everyone had known he would go looking for her, except, apparently, her.

Her hair gleamed in the overhead light when she shook her head, the color easy and flirty and so not her. “I would have known if someone was following me.”

“You were still working for the Mulroneys when you moved to Copper Lake, and they were watching you then. When you ran, you didn't go far. They were probably right behind you.”

She continued to shake her head. “I would have known.”

Her self-confidence reminded him of himself—and, yeah, he'd been wrong a few times. He was about to point that out—
Like you knew I was there waiting for you?
—when the lights in the corridor came on and a woman's voice sounded from down the hall.

“I left the wine on my desk. I'll just be a minute.” Purposeful footsteps muffled by carpet headed their way.

Josh's gaze darted around the room, locating the only hiding place: a small corner where vending machines stood at right angles to each other. Natalia grabbed her bag and tossed it on top of one machine, then headed for the light switch. He caught her hand as a shadow fell across the frosted glass, shoved her into the narrow opening, then joined her.

The steps stopped an instant before the door swung open. “Sheesh, Anna,” the intruder grumbled. “It's part of your job. Rinse the coffeepot, unplug the machine and turn out the lights. Is it too much to ask that you actually do it?”

As the woman came into sight, Josh pressed back, forcing Natalia against the wall. The woman wore a long black skirt with a sequined top—formal wear for the grandmotherly type. Perfume floated on the air, a heavy floral, and diamond studs, a carat or so, decent cut, nice sparkle, twinkled in her ears.

Still grumbling, she laid a purse next to the fake reindeer, emptied the coffeepot and rinsed it, then unplugged the machine. She swept the room with her gaze, probably looking for anything else she could blame on Anna, then picked up her bag. Only a few steps away, she pivoted and turned back, waving her hand in front of the reindeer. “You turned off Rudolph, too? I guess I'm lucky you didn't throw him in the trash.”

After she fiddled with the reindeer a moment, it burst into song and, smiling with smug satisfaction, she started to the door again. “I'm your Secret Santa, Anna. Forget the present I already bought. I know exactly what you're gonna be getting tomorrow.”

She switched off the light, then closed the door behind her.
Rudolph's nose blinked crazily as it continued to sing, drowning out the sound of her footsteps.

Josh remained motionless, his breathing slow and shallow. Natalia was so still and quiet that if he didn't feel her warmth against his back, he wouldn't even know she was there.

The reindeer reached the end of its tune in time for Josh to pick out the fading sound of footsteps again. An instant later, the hall lights went off and the break room fell into near darkness, the only illumination coming from the vending machines.

Natalia let out a soft sigh and wriggled to one side, putting an inch or two of space between them. He turned, blocking the escape from their hiding place, facing her. She met his scrutiny without blinking, giving him back the same steady look.

The wine woman's fragrance was fading, replaced by Natalia's subtler scent. Within a few weeks of their meeting, that fragrance had permeated everything in his life—his apartment, his clothes, his truck, his bed. He'd fallen asleep to it, awakened to it, come to associate it with the best time of his life.

And it had all been just a job to her.

“Poor Anna.” After a moment, she cleared her throat. “I think it's safe.”

“Aw, Nat, why would I ever trust your opinion on that? The biggest danger in my life—in my brother's life—has come from you.”

Shame crossed her face, and her gaze lowered to somewhere around his throat. “I'm sorry about what happened to Joe.”

“But it would have been okay if they hadn't mistaken him for me.”

“That's not what I meant. I never wanted you dead.”

He wanted to believe that—wanted to believe he couldn't have been so wrong. He was the skeptic, the cynic, the con artist. Reading people was one of the tools of his trade. He knew better than to trust a pretty face. But he
had
been wrong, and Joe had the scars to prove it. His brother had almost died in his place. Twice.

“I didn't know who the Mulroneys were,” she whispered. “I didn't know they intended to kill you. I trusted Patrick. I didn't have a clue.”

“How could you not know? Everyone knows.” But that wasn't true. A lot of people in Chicago believed the brothers were exactly what they appeared to be: honest, hardworking, churchgoing businessmen. The Feds had tried a long time to build a case against them and had spent a lot of money and effort gaining the cooperation of insiders like Josh—and keeping them alive long enough to testify.

Natalia had been new to Chicago, an easy mark for someone like Patrick. She wouldn't have known the truth to start, and by the time she might have begun hearing rumors, she was already in his debt. She'd liked him, been grateful to him. Hadn't wanted to believe anything bad about him.

Aw, hell, don't start making excuses for her. You were a job to her, nothing more.

Even if she'd been so much more to him.

N
atalia's voice was unsteady when she spoke again. “We should leave.”

“And go where?”

She shrugged, her arm bumping Josh's. It was a mere brush, lasting a second or two, but it warmed her in ways neither her coat nor the building's heating system had managed. For her own safety, she pressed herself harder against the wall. “There are all-night restaurants.”

“Yeah, and Davison and Leeves will be checking every one of them.”

“We can go back to my apartment.” Even as she made the suggestion, she knew it wasn't possible. They may have seen only Davison and Leeves, but no doubt now that Josh had actually been sighted other people were involved, either new hires or newly-arrived from elsewhere. At least one of them would be watching her apartment.

Josh's expression was chiding, as if he expected better from her. “Don't you think your landlady called the police when she heard that gunshot?”

Unexpectedly, a tiny smile slipped free. “Probably not. Mrs. Johnstone takes her hearing aids out before the evening news so she doesn't accidentally catch any headlines.”

His mouth relaxed, too, not quite forming a smile but close. He was handsome enough when scowling, but when he smiled, dear God, he was devastating. In their months together, he'd smiled a lot. She'd never known anyone as perpetually good-natured as him; it had been part of his attraction. No matter what was going on, he'd always found a reason to laugh…until she'd taken that from him.

Forcing her attention back to the subject, she said, “We could leave town.”

“Yeah? And how would we do that? Steal a car? You learn how to hot-wire an engine the same time you learned to pick locks?”

His sarcasm stung, but she forced it away. Picking locks had saved her life—had saved their lives tonight. She wouldn't apologize for that.

“We could call J—”

Josh had started to move out of the corner, but he swung back, his face hard, his eyes icy. “No. We don't call Joe or Liz or anyone else. This is our problem. No one else's.”

But Joe would come. So would Liz. Hell, deputy marshal that she was, Liz would know better than anyone how to get them safely out of Augusta, so they could disappear again. Separately. Hiding and never seeing each other again as long as they lived.

Though Natalia had been living alone, hiding from someone or another, for ten years, now the prospect sounded incredibly bleak.

“We'll stay here until morning,” Josh decided, stepping through the opening. “We'll get out before the employees start showing up.”

Once he'd put some distance between them, she was able to breathe again, though each breath smelled of him. She followed him into the room, deliberately sitting by the overpowering
cinnamon- and fir-scented candles, giving her olfactory senses a break from his tantalizing scent.

“I'm beat.” He dragged his fingers through his hair, then so quickly she couldn't react, he reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out the pistol. He tucked it into his own pocket, then extended his hand. “Give me the money.”

Slowly she blinked. “Excuse me?”

“The money. I've got the gun. I want the cash.”

Did he plan to ditch her? To take her weapon and her stash and run off, leaving her to deal with Davison and Leeves? Would he do that to her—this man who'd told her he loved her? This liar, this con artist, this thief?

This man whom she'd betrayed?

She stared at him, and he stared back, his expression inscrutable, his hand stone-cold steady as he waited for her to obey. “I thought you relied on charm to rob your victims blind,” she said quietly as she pulled the stack of bills from her right jeans pocket.

He laughed. “You? My victim? Yeah, right. Besides, I know you. Charm's a waste of my time and yours.” He gestured. “The rest of it.”

He'd charmed total strangers for far less than he was taking from her, but
she
wasn't worth the effort. She swallowed the hurt and dug out the second stash of cash.

He shoved the money into his jeans pocket, then stuck his hand out once more. “Now the knife.”

Grudgingly she removed the sheath from her ankle and offered it. He slid it into an inside jacket pocket before circling to the broken-down couch against the wall. “I'm gonna take a nap. Don't make me come looking for you when I wake up.” He lay down, turned on his right side so the money and weapons would be impossible to reclaim without disturbing him, closed his eyes and went to sleep.
Like turning off a switch,
she used to tease.

Surprise made her slump back in the chair. He wasn't abandoning her. He was taking the best steps he could to keep
her
from abandoning
him.
Sure, she could make her escape
with nothing more than the clothes she wore—she'd done it before—but money made it easier and, under the circumstances, weapons were vital.

But she wouldn't leave him, not like this. Not when he was in danger. Not when he needed her, no matter how much he didn't want her.

After three hours, the chair grew uncomfortable, causing an ache in the small of her back and another in her butt. She stood, stretched and set off the singing reindeer before hastily shutting it down. She would bet every dime of her twenty-eight hundred that opening the door would bring him instantly alert, but he didn't even twitch at the burst of song.

“Hey. Josh.” She went to the door, her fingers wrapped around the knob, pulling it open just an inch or two.

His voice was a low, husky murmur from the shadows. “Where you going?”

“To find a bathroom. Want to come?”

What little light there was gleamed on his hair as he rolled over, then slid to his feet. He was scowling, not an angry, can't-stand-the-sight-of-her look but more a cranky-tired scowl. “Yeah. Hell, why not?” He picked up the flashlight she'd left on the table, pushed past her into the hall and shined the light in both directions. The best bet seemed a recessed area to the left, wide enough for two doors and a drinking fountain.

They walked there in silence, Natalia going into the ladies' room, Josh turning into the men's. She took care of business, washed her hands and face, then replaced her glasses to stare at her reflection in the mirror. She was too thin, too pale, and the hair color and style were too much. Her eyes were too big, too shadowed.

She was too tired.

There was a sound in the hall—an off-key whistling—and she straightened, finger-combed her hair and went out to find Josh leaning against the opposite wall. He pushed away. “Want to have a look around before we return to the cave?”

With a nod, she turned to the right. “Always like to know where the exits are. Don't you?”

“It comes in handy.” After a few steps, he said, “No way for a grown man to live, huh?”

“No,” she murmured, though the comment surprised her. He'd never held an honest job in his life. Jobs were for suckers, he'd said. He'd often tried to talk her into quitting her own job, never understanding why it was important to her to earn her way.

When the corridor ended, they turned left and followed a shorter hall to the front, then turned again into a lobby, glassed in on three sides. A lone light above the reception desk cast shadows across industrial carpet and overstuffed chairs.

“Joe and Liz got married in September.” Josh stopped well back from the windows and stared out at the street. Natalia did the same. There was little traffic, and the stoplight at the nearby intersection blinked a slow, steady yellow.

“He owes you for that. If you hadn't taken off, she wouldn't have come looking for you and they wouldn't have fallen in love.”

“I don't know. If they were meant to be together, they would have met somehow.”

Meant to be together.
She'd let herself pretend that sometimes: that Patrick Mulroney and lies and threats had brought them together, but only because that had been fate's intent. She'd pretended that all her problems would magically disappear, that he would never know about her deceit and they would live Happily Ever After.

But real life had always intruded on her fantasies. A relationship based on lies could never succeed; instead of going away, her problems would bury her alive; if he managed to survive, Josh would never forgive her; there would be no Happily Ever After. Hadn't her mother told her that from the time she was five?

“She's pregnant,” Josh said, still staring at the street.

A sharp ache struck Natalia. Jealousy? Odd, since she'd really never thought about having children. Not even Josh's. “Really. I can't imagine a better father than Joe.”

He looked sharply at her. “You know he loves Liz more than anything.”

“Uh-huh.” She watched a police car pass and wondered if the officer preferred quiet nights or a nice little shoot-out to liven up the long hours, then realized that Josh was still staring at her. She met his gaze. “I knew they were in love before they did.” She'd helped save their lives, only a small part of the debt she owed the entire Saldana family. “Is Liz still with the marshals service?”

“No. She's working with Joe at the coffee shop until the baby's born. Then…” He shrugged.

Those last few weeks in Chicago, after he'd made the secret deal with the U.S. Attorney's office, Natalia had known something was up. Suddenly he'd had little time for her, making excuses about seeing a brother she hadn't known existed. At first she'd convinced herself that he was just working a particularly complex scam, but then she'd seen him with the woman she'd later learned was Liz. It had been a scam, all right. Just not the kind she'd expected—but exactly the kind Patrick had expected.

Sticking to the shadows, they crossed the lobby and followed the hallway to its end. In a few moments, they were back at the break room after identifying the front doors, one side door and the rear door they'd entered. Josh gestured toward the couch. “You want to sleep?”

“I'm fine.” She stopped in front of the pop machine, shoved her hand into her jacket pocket, then grimaced. “Twenty-eight hundred dollars in cash, and I don't have seventy-five cents for a Coke.”

He reached into his own pocket and pulled out a handful of change. She carefully picked out three quarters, doing her best not to touch the warm, callused skin of his palm, but her best wasn't enough. In search of an elusive coin, her nail scraped across his hand, and his skin twitched a tiny bit.

“You want anything?” She croaked like a frog, and immediately cleared her throat.

“Yeah, a Coke.” He picked out three more quarters, dropped
them in her hand, then went to sit at one end of the couch. He waited until the machine spit out two cans and she'd brought one to him, then taken a seat at the opposite end to speak.

“When did you know you were setting me up for your buddy Patrick to kill?”

 

Josh watched her deliberate movements as she slid a rounded nail under the ring and popped it. Fizz escaped into the air, but she didn't take a drink right away. Instead she looked at him.

“When I heard about the shooting on the news. They didn't give Joe's name at first, but they had footage from the scene. I recognized your apartment building, your truck, and I couldn't find you. I kept calling your cell, your friends, the places where you hung out and Patrick. It was the next night when he and his brother came to see me. They were furious because I hadn't told them you had a twin brother.”

He'd never told anyone about Joe. It was easy enough to hide; they didn't live in the same part of the city, frequent the same restaurants or clubs or run with the same people. The only times their lives had intersected had been at their parents' house in the 'burbs or when they got together for occasional—private—catch-up dinners.

Mostly it had been a lack of common interests. Twins or not, he and Joe hadn't been close since they were kids. Partly it had been for Joe's sake. His brother had been a hotshot investment guy who made fortunes for his clients and himself. Who would have trusted him with their money if they'd known his brother was a con artist?

And there had been one more reason for keeping Joe's existence from Natalia: jealousy. She'd been so damn beautiful and sexy and sweet. Why in hell would she have wanted him if she could have had his law-abiding, respectable, rich brother?

“I didn't believe Patrick,” she went on, her voice barely audible. “I went to the hospital and I saw you leaving with Liz. Patrick filled me in on all the details then—what he did, what you'd done, what I'd done.”

Josh fixed his gaze on a somewhat demonic-looking Santa, its glass eyes glowing in the dark. “Why didn't you leave?”

“I tried. But I had nowhere to go, and Sean said…well, it made sense to stay and continue working for them.”

What had the bastard threatened her with? No doubt, her involvement in Joe's shooting. The Mulroneys knew who'd pulled the trigger; they'd had access to the gun. They would have had no qualms about sacrificing the shooter to punish Natalia.

He hoped the threat of being framed for attempted murder was the only lesson she'd needed.

“Patrick decided I needed closer supervision, so he put me to work in his office, and he kept me paired with people who taught me the ins and outs of working for them.”

“You become an enforcer,” Josh said, a laugh choking free. “Goody Two-shoes working as muscle for organized crime.”

“I wasn't—”

Was she going to protest the Goody Two-shoes or the muscle comment? It didn't matter. Both were true, just like the
worthless
label Joe had hung on Josh when they were kids was true.

“My job was watching people, sometimes finding them, occasionally intimidating them.” Pink tinged her cheeks as she talked. “I wasn't a Goody Two-shoes.”