Risky Christmas: Holiday Secrets / Kidnapped at Christmas

“Half an hour.”

“What do you charge?”

He shrugged. “A plate of leftovers.”

“I was going to offer you that anyway.”

“Then it’s a deal. I’ll get my tools.”

Brian came back five minutes later with a scarred metal toolbox. Setting it on the floor, he opened the sink cabinet and hunkered down. “You have an old towel?”

She had nothing but old towels. Grabbing a couple of different sizes from the bathroom, she brought them to him. He placed one of the large ones over the lip of the cabinet, making a more comfortable spot to lean against. Then he stretched out on his back and got to work, unscrewing bolts and taking the plumbing apart.

With his head under the sink and his long legs sticking out, he should have looked odd. Instead he seemed at ease, even masterful. There was something very manly about this task. As he cranked a wrench, shifting his weight in the cramped space, the hem of his T-shirt rode up, revealing a strip of his taut abdomen. She averted her gaze.

John had never been handy with tools.

Leah concentrated on putting away the leftovers. She packed a hefty portion of ham, potatoes, and green beans into a plastic container for Brian. Then she wrapped a piece of cherry torte in foil and added a tin of cookies to the stash.

“There,” he said, making a final adjustment. “Turn it on.”

She pressed the button to start the dishwasher. Water rushed into the machine, beginning a new cycle. “It works!”

He moved his head out from underneath the sink. “Run it once without any dishes to make sure.”

“Thank you so much,” she said, marveling at his skills. She’d been meaning to get the dishwasher fixed for ages. “You’re a lifesaver.”

“It was nothing.”

“Are you sure I can’t pay you?”

He gathered up his tools, preparing to leave. “I’m sure.”

Leah was both sorry and relieved to see him go. Although she enjoyed his company and appreciated his help, his presence unnerved her in a way she didn’t want to analyze. She also couldn’t afford to let anyone get too close. Intuition told her that Brian Cosgrove had a canny mind, along with deft hands.

To keep her children safe, she had to stay guarded.

Turning back to the counter, she put the food containers in a striped gift bag. “Merry Christmas,” she said, handing it to him.

He accepted the bag with a polite nod and she saw him out, locking the door behind him. As soon as he was gone, the house seemed empty. And too quiet. She went to check on the girls, noting that Alyssa had fallen asleep with Dr. Elmo in her arms. Mandy was still watching 101 Dalmations.

Leah curled up beside her, staring sightlessly at the screen.

Brian wasn’t able to relax when he came home from Leah’s.

The meal had been fantastic. Even after tasting her cookies, he hadn’t expected her to be such a good cook. Maybe because she was on the slender side and had kind of a skittish personality. Sharing a meal with a neighbor seemed out of character for her. Brian imagined that most chefs were round and gregarious.

It wasn’t that she wasn’t friendly. It was more like she wasn’t happy.

She’d lost her husband and was raising two kids on her own, so that was understandable. Most women in her position wouldn’t feel overjoyed.

But there was a deeper issue with her, he suspected. She’d panicked when she saw him this morning. She’d also made sure he didn’t have access to the serving fork. Although his sister had often moved sharp items out of the children’s reach, Leah’s kids weren’t babies. She considered him a threat.

He wasn’t insulted by her attitude. She was a protective mother and he respected that. What unsettled him was the thought of someone traumatizing her so badly that she expected others to do the same.

In a way, she reminded him of himself. He’d been bounced around a lot when he was a kid. So had his little sister. A few of the foster homes they’d lived in were just as dysfunctional as his mother’s house, and it wasn’t unusual for him to get picked on or roughed up. As he got older he’d become less of a target. He’d learned how to defend himself and his sister, but he’d never forgotten how it felt to be small and scared.

During the meal, he’d wondered if Leah’s husband had been abusive. Then her eyes had softened when she spoke of him and he dismissed the idea.

Whatever she’d gone through was none of his business. He was drawn to her and he had the strange feeling that she shared his interest. But he also realized that she didn’t welcome the attraction. He should forget about their impromptu Christmas get-together.

She wouldn’t invite him back.

Brian decided to keep an eye out for her anyway. The remodel would take several more months, and he liked the idea of being her unofficial security guard. No one could approach Leah’s house without him noticing.

He’d had no control over his foster-care childhood or his sister’s untimely death. He had no chance at having a relationship with his nieces, his only relatives. But he could take on the responsibility of watching over Leah and her children.

He could do it from a distance.

Chapter 3

Leanne was driving home from the grocery store, humming along to the radio.

Baby Melissa was fast asleep in her car seat. Leanne parked in the driveway and grabbed several bags of groceries, walking inside. John’s car had been alone in the garage, so she was surprised to hear more than one voice coming from the bedroom. Her husband sounded desperate, the other man, angry.

Frowning, she went down the hall. An intense wave of foreboding washed over her, and she almost turned around to go back to the car. Instinct told her to get Melissa and run. Instead, she moved quietly, softening her steps.

The door was cracked open. As she peered inside, her blood turned to ice. John knelt on the carpet, pleading for mercy. The man standing over him showed none. While she watched, he pulled out a gun and shot her husband in the head.

Leanne was too terrified to scream. But John’s killer looked up and their eyes locked. It was Mariano Felix, one of his “business associates.”

She dropped the groceries in the hall and fled. She ran through the garage, past the driveway, across the yard. She left her car. There was no time to put the keys in the ignition, and she didn’t want to endanger her daughter.

Heart pounding, she sailed over the hedge, into the neighbor’s yard, and ducked down out of sight. Her purse was still hanging off her shoulder. With a shaking hand, she reached for her cell phone, dialing 911.

Heart hammering, she peeked over the hedge. Felix burst from the house, approaching the driver’s-side door of her car.

“No!” she screamed.

He turned his head, catching sight of her behind the hedge.

She straightened, showing him the cell phone. An emergency operator had already responded to her call. “Please,” she said, begging for help. Begging for her life. For her baby’s life.

The neighborhood was quiet, but it wasn’t deserted. There were people in the nearby houses, cars on the street. Felix took off at a brisk pace, choosing not to murder her in front of dozens of possible witnesses.

He rounded the corner and disappeared.

She woke up in a cold sweat, his cruel face etched in her memory. The police had never found the loan shark who’d killed her husband. He was a cold-blooded criminal in a mafia organization and a very real threat to her.