Texas K-9 Unit Christmas. Shirlee McCoy

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      Not possible.

      Maybe she was feverish from the attack.

      She touched her forehead, realized what she was doing and let her hand drop away.

      “That bad, huh?” He settled onto the bed beside her, his long muscular legs encased in dark blue uniform slacks.

      “It could be worse. I could be dead,” she murmured, looking at the wall, the floor, anything but his firm, muscular thighs.

      “I’m glad you realize that, Emma.”

      “What do you mean?” She met his eyes, felt something shiver to life inside of her. Memories of all they’d shared, maybe—long summer days spent hiking, biking, fishing. Long evenings spent on his parents’ front porch discussing life and goals and dreams.

      “Henry and I lost his trail near a bus stop downtown. We were able to find his ski mask, but we couldn’t find him. Until we do, you’re going to have to take extra precautions.”

      “He wanted money, Lucas. He didn’t find it. I’m sure he’s already looking for another victim.” That was what she’d told herself while the doctor stitched up the back of her head.

      “He left your purse and wallet behind when he ran. Would someone who just wanted money do that?”

      “Someone was banging on the door. It freaked him out.”

      “I was the one banging, and he had plenty of time to pick up the purse when he ran past it.”

      “He was probably too scared to stop.”

      “I’ve been a police officer for a long time, Emma. I’ve worked hundreds of robberies, and I can tell you for sure, robbers don’t leave cash and wallets behind. Not if they can snag them during their escape.”

      He was trying to make a point. The problem was, Emma’s head was pounding too hard for her to figure out what it was. “My brain isn’t functioning at full capacity, Lucas. What are you trying to get at?”

      “He beat you up pretty badly, Em, for someone who was only after money.” He touched her cheek, his fingers trailing down a bruise that she knew was there.

      “He kept insisting that I tell him where the money was. He hit me when I tried to run.” She eased to her feet, wanting to put some distance between them. She needed to think, needed to figure out exactly where he was going with his questions. “If money wasn’t his goal, then what was?”

      “You?” He followed her across the room and stood so close that she could feel his warmth through the flannel pajamas Bea had brought for her. “I heard you broke up with your boyfriend a week before you left town.”

      “Heard from who?” It certainly hadn’t been Emma. She preferred to keep the details of her breakup with Camden to herself.

      “My grandmother. She and Bea sing in the church choir together. Bea wasn’t happy with the way your boyfriend treated you, and she let everyone in the choir know it.”

      “That’s...embarrassing, but I don’t see what it has to do with what happened tonight.”

      “Is it possible your ex is upset? That maybe he wants revenge? Or wants to drive you back into his arms?”

      She laughed, her breath catching as pain shot through her ribs. “Please! Camden is way too busy to chase me down.”

      “He’s a lawyer, right? A very successful one, according to Bea. He could have hired someone to do his dirty work.”

      “No way. He’s not an idiot. He’d know that he’d get caught.”

      “Smart criminals often make the biggest mistakes,” Bea said suddenly.

      “You’re awake!” Emma turned to her aunt. Aside from the curlers, she looked the way she had when Emma was a kid. Pretty and plump and lively.

      “How could a person sleep with all the noise the two of you were making?” she responded, brushing wrinkles from her skirt and using her walker to stand.

      Two months after she’d fallen and broken her hip, Bea still didn’t have all of her mobility back. Emma wasn’t sure if she’d ever regain it, but she brought her aunt to physical therapy twice a week anyway. “I’d say that I’m sorry we woke you, but I’m glad you’re up. It’s three in the morning. You need to be home in bed.”

      “I’ll sleep in my own bed when you’re able to sleep in yours.” She patted her hair, frowned. “What in the world?”

      “You have your rollers in,” Emma explained.

      “Why didn’t someone tell me?” She shot a hard look in Lucas’s direction.

      “You just woke up. Besides,” he said, “I thought it might be the newest fashion trend.”

      Bea responded with a quiet humph.

      “I need to make myself presentable.” She shuffled across the room, her walker tapping on the tile floor. Her shoulders were more stooped than they’d been when she’d visited Emma in Boston the year before. Age had carved deep grooves in her face, but she was still the woman who’d walked Emma through the rough teenage years, who’d cheered her on when she’d gone to culinary school, who’d believed in her even when she hadn’t believed in herself.

      She disappeared into the bathroom and closed the door.

      Emma sat on the bed, refusing to give in to the urge to follow her aunt.

      Bea might be slowly fading, but she’d told Emma that she didn’t plan to go down without a fight.

      And, boy, had she been fighting lately.

      “What’s wrong?” Lucas asked as he settled into a chair. He looked as if he planned to stay there awhile, his legs crossed at the ankles, his hands clasped behind his neck. He’d always been handsome, but time had refined him. He wasn’t a good-looking kid anymore. He was a very attractive man.

      Too bad she was out of the dating market.

      Not that she’d have looked in Lucas’s direction if she hadn’t been. He wasn’t her type. She preferred the more academic kind of guy. College professors. Lawyers.

      Losers.

      “Em?” He raised a dark brow, and she realized that he’d asked a question and that she hadn’t answered it. “You’re worried about Bea, aren’t you? Want me to get her a ride home?”

      “I can call a cab for her.”

      “Or you could let me call Slade McNeal. He’s on duty, and he’s your neighbor. I’m sure he’d be happy to give her a lift.” He pulled out his cell phone and made the call.

      She let him because she didn’t have the energy to fight and because the only other way to get Bea home was to call her a taxi. She doubted a taxi driver would help her aunt up the porch steps or make sure she actually went inside the house.

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