CRIMINAL CHRISTMAS: A Set of 8 Holiday Suspense Stories, page 15
He grinned wide. “You rode me like a rodeo queen. I’m going to need a repeat of that. I’m thinking chaps and a thong, maybe some tassels and spurs.”
“Okay,” I licked my dry lips. “But what am I gonna wear?”
He laughed, leaning down to kiss my nose. “What else do you remember, sweetheart?”
“Hitting my head.”
“You nearly cracked the bar with your thick skull when you fell. The lump blossomed into a pretty purple bruise.”
“How long have I been out?”
“Two days after the ambulance ride here. At first they kept you out in order to get you all patched up. Then you went in and out of consciousness thanks to the pain meds, but mostly out.”
“Where’s here?”
“The regional hospital in Cottontop Flats.”
“My dad?”
“He’s resting at a hotel nearby.”
I closed my eyes for a moment, something niggling at my memory of it all. “I remember you telling someone to freeze.”
“Your ex wasn’t alone. His girlfriend snuck in the back door. She took off when I drew on her. Rick tracked her down, found her hiding in the boarded up old high school, and locked her up. She’s going to go away for a long time.”
I reached up and touched the left side of my head, grimacing as I brushed over the staples and shaved hair. “I tripped over that damned dog.”
“That ‘damned dog’ probably saved your life. You should have seen all of the bullet holes in the bar.”
“Buffalo will probably want to have a parade for his heroic mutt.”
Joel’s smile flat-lined. “You scared me on the ride here, Shooter. With all of that blood you lost, I was afraid you wouldn’t come back to me.”
Come back to me, Montana.
That explained why he kept saying that in my dreams. My throat tightened. Careful not to jar my shoulder, I scooted over, patting the bed next to me.
He glanced at the door then climbed in next to me, mindful of the needle in my arm. He brushed his beard stubble over my forehead as he held me close. “You missed Christmas.”
“You’ll have to make it up to me at New Year’s.”
“It’s a deal. Do you remember saying you’d marry me?” he asked.
It was my turn to laugh. “Good try, Andersen.”
“Laugh it up, Montana, but Santa left you a little package under the tree.”
“Isn’t that sweet,” I said, still smiling. “But Santa knows I like my packages big.” I reached down and squeezed him through his fly. “This will do me just fine.”
His surprised cough morphed into a raspy chuckle. “I can’t believe I’m in love with such a salty wench.” The tender brush of his lips over my temple smoothed away the last burrs of my resistance.
“Okay,” I said, staring up at the television as Clint Eastwood rode off into the horizon.
“Okay what?”
“I’ll wear your ring.”
He sat up, gaping down at me. “No shit?”
“No shit.” I reached up and ran my knuckles over his scruff. “But I’m keeping The Ugly Rooster.”
He grinned. “You’ll have to make moving back worth my while.” He bent down, his lips feathering over my face. His hand traced my contours through the cotton pig-covered gown. “Let’s start with those tassels and spurs.”
I caught his roving hand and held it over my heart. “Don’t forget the chaps and thong.”
“Trust me, Shooter, I won’t. I think I’ll include them in my wedding vow.”
The End … for now.*
*(Stay tuned for an all-new full-length novel about Montana and Joel—the first in the Goldwash, Nevada mystery series—coming in early 2014.)
Also by Ann Charles
The Deadwood Mystery Series
Nearly Departed in Deadwood (Book 1)
WINNER of the 2010 Daphne du Maurier Award for Excellence in Mystery/Suspense
WINNER of the 2011 Romance Writers of America® Golden Heart Award for Best Novel with Strong Romantic Elements
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~Deborah Schneider, RWA Librarian of the Year 2009 & Author of Beneath a Silver Moon
Overview…
“The first time I came to Deadwood, I got shot in the ass.”
~Violet Parker
Little girls are vanishing from Deadwood, South Dakota, and Violet Parker’s daughter could be next. She’s desperate to find the monster behind the abductions. But if she’s not careful, Violet just might end up as one of Deadwood’s dearly departed.
Seeing Trouble
(From the Deadwood Shorts Collection)
From the Multiple Award-winning, #1 Bestselling Ghost Horror and Women Sleuth Author of the DEADWOOD MYSTERY SERIES!
A short 39-page collection to entertain and add background story for more Deadwood fun!
Overview…
What do you get when you combine a chicken named Elvis, a locked diary, and a secret Violet Parker does not want share with her daughter?
Seeing Trouble is the first of many short stories involving the characters of the Deadwood Mystery series. (Bonus character interview, illustrations, and short story included.)
Haven’t read any of the Deadwood Mystery Series books yet? Don’t worry, there aren’t any spoilers in this short story.
The Jackrabbit Junction Mystery Series
Dance of the Winnebagos (Book 1)
Bestseller in Women Sleuth Mystery and Romantic Suspense!
“Ann Charles delivers laugh-out-loud dialogue, unforgettable characters, and pulse-pounding suspense.”
~Vicki Lewis Thompson, New York Times Bestselling Author
“…two thumbs up and a standing ovation for laughs, sighs, thrills, and an excellently crafted mystery.”
~Maxwell Cynn, Thrillers Rock Twitter Reviews and Author of The Collective
Overview…
When Claire’s grandfather and his army buddies converge in the Arizona desert to find new wives, it’s her thankless job to keep them out of trouble with the opposite sex.
But when she finds a human leg bone and partners with a reluctant geotechnician to dig up secrets from the past, trouble finds her. If she doesn’t stop digging, she could end up dead.
About Ann
Ann Charles is an award-winning author who writes romantic mysteries that are splashed with humor and whatever else she feels like throwing into the mix. When she is not dabbling in fiction, arm-wrestling with her children, attempting to seduce her husband, or arguing with her sassy cat, she is daydreaming of lounging poolside at a fancy resort with a blended margarita in one hand and a great book in the other.
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Copyright
The Old Man’s Back in Town
Copyright © 2013 by Ann Charles
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means now known or hereafter invented, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is coincidental.
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Illustrations by C.S.Kunkle
First Edition
E-book ISBN: 978-1-62528-993-3
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www.anncharles.com
Email: ann@anncharles.com
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Book
3 - Holiday Justice
Misty Evans and Adrienne Giordano
Holiday Justice
A Justice Team Novella
By
Misty Evans
&
Adrienne Giordano
Holiday Justice
Copyright © 2014 Misty Evans and Adrienne Giordano
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Editing by Valerie Hayward
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Chapter One
December in D.C. was not Grey’s favorite. In fact, he hated it. The holidays were never happy or peaceful for him, and the dirty snow and freezing temps of the nation’s capital made him grumble like a bear in need of hibernation.
What he did like was the sexy red number Syd was wearing tonight. Her festive dress, as she called it.
Festive was right. Low-cut and wrapped around her luscious curves, it made him drool.
They were standing in front of the entrance to McCann’s, the hot, new restaurant Grey had tried making reservations for since the place had opened. Each time he was told they were booked clear into spring of next year. So what they were doing here, he wasn’t sure, but this was Syd’s deal and as long as she had that red dress on, he’d pretty much agree to anything.
“What are we doing here, Syd?”
Her mittened hand grabbed his as she opened the door. “You’ll see.”
The smell of searing meat and grilled vegetables hit his nose as he followed her in. She was into the holidays, as evidenced by the dress, and he had a feeling this was one of his Christmas gifts. If so, he’d make her a happy woman—in every way he could think of—when they got home.
Sydney spoke to the hostess and a minute later, she led them through the throng of people, past the bar and crowded tables. A waiter cruised by them carrying two plates and the porterhouse made his mouth water. Every table they passed had at least one unbelievable looking steak on it. If this was Syd’s gift to him, he was going to feel very festive indeed.
But then the hostess led them through the swinging metal door and right into the kitchen. Heat hit him like a wall and once again he sucked in the aroma of grilling meat. All around, men and women with aprons on and knives in hand cut, carved, peeled and cooked, white plates sliding this way and that.
God, he hoped he didn’t have to cook his own steak. He sort of sucked at cooking.
“Here we are,” the hostess said with a smile, stopping at a table for four crammed into a corner in the far back. “Will you be ordering right away or are you waiting for the rest of your party?”
What the?
Syd shrugged out of her coat, handing it off to the hostess. “We’ll wait. They should be here any minute.”
“How about drinks for the two of you?”
Syd ordered her usual Dirty Martini as the hostess took Grey’s coat. “I’ll stick to water. Thanks.”
“You will not,” Syd said as he held her chair out for her. “We’re celebrating tonight. Which is the good news. The bad news is Monroe, being Monroe, is crashing our dinner. As his punishment, he’ll be our designated driver after we feed him. So, you see, my love, by drinking we’re killing two birds with one stone. Belly up, Fed Boy. It’s Christmas.”
“Seriously? He’s crashing?”
Syd rolled her eyes. “Of course. This place is impossible to get into. He’s a pain in the ass but he’s no fool. He heard me making the reservation and was all over me to let him and Caroline come too.” She smiled. “I was feeling generous. It is Christmas, after all.”
“You’re always generous, especially with my friends.” Grey leaned over and kissed her forehead. He copped a look down her cleavage at the same time. “And I’m hoping that generosity extends to me later, after we’re home.”
Her smile turned wicked. “Ho, ho, ho, Grey.”
Okay, so maybe the holidays wouldn’t be so bad after all. He had Syd this year, and with her by his side, he might even feel the slightest, smallest bit festive.
Grey picked up the menu but Syd snatched it out of his hands. “You won’t need this. I’ve already spoken to Chef Paul. He’s going to fix you up with the best rib-eye in all of Washington. Possibly the entire east coast.”
Behind them, pots banged and people shouted back and forth over the food prep stations. Grey grabbed Syd’s chair and pulled her closer to him. Her long, dark hair fell over her shoulder and he pushed it away so he could nuzzle her neck. He loved when she wore her hair down. “You in that dress and a rib-eye are the perfect cocktail for me, Sydney Banfield.”
The door that led to the alley on Grey’s right blew open and Mitch Monroe and Caroline Foster stood with their shoulders hunched and rubbing their hands together. Mitch gave Grey a lazy smile. “What did we miss?”
“You’re late,” Syd said.
Caroline laughed. “As if Mitch could be on time?”
She came over and gave Grey a quick hug. “Merry Christmas, boss.”
Grey hated the words, but in the spirit of what Syd was trying to do here, he said them anyway. “Merry Christmas.”
In typical Mitch fashion, he slid out of his coat, grabbed Caroline’s and handed them both to a passing waitress. As if it was her job to play coat check.
“What?” he said as Grey gave him the eye. “I’ll tip her extra later.”
Mitch and Caroline sat and Mitch flipped open his menu, perusing the choices. “By the way, are we doing an office Secret Santa for the holidays?”
“What office?” Caroline said. “It’s just the three of us and Teeg, and I don’t think our current squatting place qualifies as a true office. And really? What kind of gift would we buy Teeg? A gift card to Hackers Unlimited? That kid is a total enigma.”
Grey sighed. The two of them never stopped squabbling. When they were all special agents at the Bureau together, it was fun to get the two of them started and listen to the zingers they off-loaded on each other. Now that he was their boss, it sucked. Big time. “We are not exchanging gifts. Period. Besides, we have cases coming out of our ears. We can’t handle our current workload and the last thing we need to be doing is slacking off.”
“We need more help.” Mitch closed the menu. “I say we hire Brice.”
Caroline shook her head. “I don’t know. He’s great, don’t get me wrong, but can you imagine him and Teeg working together? They’d probably take down the internet or something. The conspiracy theories alone would scare the hell out of me.”
Syd stroked Grey’s leg under the table. “Can we not talk shop tonight? All I want for Christmas is one quiet dinner that does not involve conspiracies, murderers, or politicians. Or you lunatics planning world domination. It’s not a lot to ask.”
Grey coughed. “Mitch is here. A quiet dinner is not in the cards.”
Their waitress arrived, bearing Grey and Syd’s drinks. She took orders from Caroline and Mitch and Syd told her the chef knew what she and Grey would be having. The young woman winked at Syd and disappeared.
Minutes later, the back door, one of those banging metal deals, slapped open once more and a busboy hustled through.
“Hey,” he hollered into the chaos of the kitchen. “Santa just walked down the alley. There’s something you don’t see every day.”
Mitch went on alert. “Santa in the alley? What’s that about?”
“Down, Mitch,” Caroline said, grabbing onto his arm. “We talked about this, remember? It’s nothing. You do not have to get involved with everything you see or hear.”
“I’m no longer a fugitive,” he countered. “I want to get involved.”
“Yes, but not everyone is a criminal. Santa is probably coming home from his gig at the mall. There are apartments over some of the nearby buildings. He’s probably short-cutting through the alley.”
The waitress returned with two plates and set them down in front of Grey and Syd. The steak on Grey’s plate sizzled, the aroma nearly knocking him out of his seat. “Leave it be, Mitch. It’s just one of the hundreds of fake Santas running around the city lying to kids about Christmas.”
