The Spy Who Saved Christmas. Dana Marton

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      Some dark emotion passed across his face, but it was gone before she could identify it. He waited a beat, measuring her up, then pushing away. “Okay. Cease fire.”

      She nodded because he was stronger than her and she had no other choice. He’d always been tough and rough, had bad boy written all over him, the very thing that had drawn her to him in the first place. He was the hottest-looking guy she’d ever known, opening up shop right next to hers the week after she had. She was a goner the first time she’d laid eyes on him—six feet four inches of muscle and attitude.

      She swallowed hard, pushing those memories away as she sat up. “Are you sure those men will track me down?”

      “They’ll follow any lead they think might lead to me. Your kids are at your house?”

      “Yes.” She buried her face in her hands. Her heart beat out of control. “With a babysitter.” God, she’d known that going on a date as far away as New York City was a huge mistake. But Allen had asked, not for the first time, and everyone she knew was on her case, telling her that she needed to get a life and move on. So she’d said yes.

      The guilt was going to kill her. If worry didn’t kill her first. She rose to her feet and glanced at the door, weighing her chances of getting by Reid.

      He was dialing his phone. “Hey. I’m fine. I’m heading out. I’ll call you back when I’m on the road. One thing right now. I need protection in Hopeville, P.A.” He gave her address.

      Strange that he would remember. He hadn’t bothered coming back to tell her that he was okay. She couldn’t have been that important to him.

      “Whoever you have closest. Local cops, fine. Outside surveillance, not to go in unless needed. Anyone approaching but me should be considered armed and dangerous. There are kids inside,” he added, then hung up and walked to a wall panel that opened to reveal a frightening cache of weapons. He tossed boxes of ammunition and guns into his bag, along with hand grenades and other things she didn’t recognize.

      And the guns weren’t the scariest by far. The measured way he moved, his cold method as he assessed each weapon before selecting it spoke of a man who wore danger and violence like a second skin. How could he have hidden it so well two years ago when it was obvious now?

      She inched toward the door. She really, really needed to leave. “Where do you think you’re going?” he asked without looking her way, keeping up with his preparations.

      He could have been the hero of some action movie. Or the villain. Two years ago, with his tattoos, the fact that he rode a bike, with those bedroom eyes of his that awakened her body for the first time to the fact that she was a woman, he was the most dangerous man she’d ever met. Just talking to him had always been a thrill. But he was so much more than she’d ever known.

      “Please let me leave.” To think that despite her stunned reaction at the sight of him in the restaurant, she’d been so incredibly happy to see him. Sitting there, alive, he was the answer to all her prayers. She used to have dreams like that. His coming back, telling her it was all a big mistake. The two of them making a real family. His promising that he would love her forever, would never leave her again.

      And now her fondest dreams were turning into a nightmare in front of her eyes. She pressed her jaw together for a second until the pain passed. “Please let me go home,” she entreated once she could breathe.

      He barely looked up. “I can get you there faster than anyone else. Guaranteed.”

      He was going to take her? “No offense, but I’m not sure I want you anywhere near my babies.” She thought of the gunfight at the restaurant. The way he’d left his date there, lying in a pool of blood. Okay, she was sure she didn’t want him anywhere near Zak and Nate. And she kind of wished she’d never told him about the twins. She’d been still too shaken up. Hadn’t been in her right mind. Hadn’t been able to think.

      He closed the panel. “I’m one of the good guys.”

      She kind of figured that from the phone conversation, and would have been lying if she said that wasn’t a great relief. But… “Good guy and dangerous aren’t mutually exclusive,” she pointed out. “Whatever you’re involved in, I want no part of it.”

      “Too late.”

      Was that regret in his voice?

      He took the few steps necessary to reach her, and she had to look up at him. He was a good couple of inches taller and almost twice as wide in the shoulders—and she wasn’t a small woman.

      He hesitated for a second, then huffed some air out through narrowed lips. “I was working undercover tonight.”

      A couple of things clicked into place. Her mind raced. “And back in Hopeville when we met?”

      He tossed her a coat, then once she’d put it on, grabbed her by the wrist, heading out to the garage. “Yes.”

      Of course. He’d been new to town. But then again, she’d been new, too. They had bonded over being outsiders who were trying to get their small side-by-side shops going, trying to fit in.

      “Is Reid Graham your real name?”

      “Yes. I was hoping to find a way into the cell through an old army acquaintance who knew me back then. He’d gone the wrong way after he quit the army. He has a cousin on the fringes of the cell. My record was doctored to make it look like I quit, too, shortly after him. I ran into him ‘accidentally’ and was trying to get into his confidence. Anyway, I had to use my real name.”

      “Who was the blonde at the restaurant?”

      “An asset. She had information I needed.”

      A disposable asset, apparently. Obviously, his business involved using people and casting them aside if necessary. Then she thought of something else, and her throat constricted.

      “Was seducing me part of your cover?”

      “You came to me.” His voice was low, tightly controlled. “But regardless—” He paused while he let his car quietly roll out of the garage. He was scanning their surroundings. “What I allowed to happen…plain bad judgment on my part.”

      Tears burned the back of her eyes as they reached the street and he stepped on the gas. She looked away from him, blinking rapidly, staring out the side window at the houses that zoomed by.

      “I have a situation here.” He was talking on his phone again. “Personal. I need a safe house somewhere near Hopeville, P.A.” He listened. “Not much. I have the tag numbers of the SUV the shooters drove.” He rattled that off, then looked at her. “What’s your husband’s name?”

      Husband? Oh, Allen. “Allen Birmingham.”

      “Anybody by the name of Allen Birmingham at the restaurant?” His face darkened as he listened to the response. “I figured,” he said before ending the call.

      She gripped the seat belt. “What? What happened to Allen?”

      “The cops talked to him when they showed up. They asked him to wait in the manager’s office because they needed to talk to him again about your kidnapping, after they secured the scene and got what they could СКАЧАТЬ