Christmas Confidential Read online

  They deserved to have their cheerful holiday, uninterrupted by his depression. Searching for their baby sister was one way he was trying to pay them back. But what could he do to make this holiday better for them?

  Presents. He hadn’t given family gifts a single thought. Not in years.

  Sucking in enough air to clear his head, he decided this year had to be different. This year he would make the best of it. Bring presents. Eat and drink too much. And maybe even act as Santa Claus for the youngsters in the family.

  Celebrating Christmas could be the trick that finally pushed him over the hump. And afterward, maybe he would begin to live again.

  Glancing into the next window, he was surprised to see a jewelry shop full of exquisite handmade pieces. Just the thing to please his sisters-in-law and the little girls in the family.

  As he stood in the chill night air, smiling at all the beautifully crafted rings, necklaces and earrings, he caught sight of an interesting brooch on display in the back. It looked familiar. In fact, he would swear that...

  Tilting his head and pressing his nose close to the glass, he studied the multicolored stone pattern of the piece. Son of a gun. It couldn’t be.

  But danged if it wasn’t. The more he looked at it the more convinced he was that the design was identical to the traditional brand used on Bar-C cattle. That same pattern appeared everywhere in Chance, Texas. On the ranch’s gates. On stationery. On buildings. He couldn’t be mistaken. He’d been seeing it for the whole of his lifetime.

  How was it possible for it to appear here?

  A feminine hand slipped into the window display as some clerk from inside moved the brooch forward so he could get a better look. But that hand only made his emotions churn higher.

  Something hard and shocking punched him deep in the chest with no warning. Just look at that slender hand. Those short but clean fingernails polished to a clear, high sheen. The long fingers that might be better suited for piano playing than anything else. He would know that hand anywhere. It, and the body attached to it, had appeared in his dreams often enough.

  But that’s all that hand had been for the past five years, just a dream. Not reality. Not like this. Glancing up, his gaze locked with that of a young woman. She’d been smiling as she moved the jewelry around for him to see. But the smile froze on her lips and the blood drained from her face as she stood motionless staring into his eyes.

  What the hell?

  It was her. But not her.

  His Alicia had soft hazel eyes. This stranger’s eyes were green. Still, he immediately thought of his dead wife.

  Stunned, Gage lost his cool. Whoever this person might be, she was almost the spitting image of Alicia. But not quite. Gasping for a ragged breath, he started toward the shop door, determined to talk to her. Was she a relative of Alicia’s? For months he’d searched for any family after his wife’s death.

  She’d always said she was alone in the world. Her parents were gone and she didn’t know of anyone else. His many brothers and big family had intrigued her. She’d cherished finally having a family around to count on.

  This stranger seemed like proof that there had been other relatives.

  After swinging open the glass door and barging into the shop, his gaze took in the small retail space. No one was around. In the next second an old man with a shock of pure white hair came from somewhere in the back of the place. He stepped beside one of the glass cases and narrowed his gaze at Gage.

  “May I help you, Mr. Cowboy?” the man asked with a heavy Irish lilt. “Something for your wife, I’d be guessing?”

  Gage threw a glance at his left hand where the gold band still adorned his ring finger. “Not married. I’m a widower. Besides, I don’t need that kind of help. I want the woman that was just here. Where is she? Where’d she go?”

  “Excuse me?” The man’s cherubic expression became more pronounced. “My English is rusty, then. What is it you require?” He looked like a sweet-faced Irish angel.

  Gage took three quick steps and faced the man squarely. “Don’t give me that.” He wanted to put his hands around the guy’s neck and choke the information out of him. “The woman was here. I saw her in the window. Where is she?”

  “Sorry...”

  The old man barely had the word out when Gage brushed past him and went through a doorway into the back of the store. A cold draft told him there had to be a back way out, but it was too dark to see much. After fumbling around for a moment, he found the door and shoved it open.

  Stepping out into an empty alleyway, he checked to his right and left. Nothing. Not one single soul could be seen all the way to the end of the block.

  Lost her.

  Snow was falling in thick sheets by now. He glanced down and spotted a woman’s shoe print a few feet along the pavement. But the print was quickly covered over in the mass of white powder being dumped from the sky.

  Damn it.

  Gritting his teeth, he stormed back into the store and confronted the old man again. “I want the truth. None of your crap about not understanding me. Who was she and where do I find her?”

  “There was no she. ’Tis only me.”

  Furious, it was all he could do not to shake the old man. “I want to talk to your boss. The manager. Or the owner of the store.”

  “I am the proprietor of this establishment. I sell by way of the finest in handcrafted jewelry. Beads and semiprecious stones. Brendan Keane, at your service, boyo.”

  Oh, man, this conversation was proving impossible. The old guy was a charming snake oil salesman.

  “So you are not going to tell me who she was. The one I clearly saw with long, slender fingers and bewitching green eyes.” Not a question. Gage knew he would get nothing.

  “I canna tell what is not in my power to tell.”

  Fine. He didn’t suppose he would get a straight answer about the design on the brooch, either. But he tried.

  “Would you like to buy the piece?” the old guy asked when Gage inquired who made it. “It’s a one of a kind.”

  That wasn’t an answer to the question, but he knew getting decent answers was hopeless.

  “Never mind,” he told Brendan Keane as he turned his back and headed out the front door.

  Feeling raw and on the verge of desperation, Gage checked the nearby stores. Maybe someone would know the woman. But the stores all seemed closed up tight. Everything had gone dark while he’d been in the jewelry store. Carefully he strode down the slippery sidewalk in the other direction, determined to make it back to his hotel room in record time. He had the whole night to track her down on the internet.

  And by God, that was just what he intended to do. For years, he’d honed the craft of finding people until he was the best in the business. If anyone could uncover the woman whose hands and eyes belonged to Alicia, it was him.

  * * *

  It was him. Of all the people in the world that she’d hoped never to see again, Gage Chance was number one on the list.

  As Elana Kelly ran through the back streets, her heart pounded erratically—for more reasons than just the quickened pace. How had he found her? For five years she’d worked hard at weaving an intricate cloak of invisibility around herself. It seemed impossible that even someone as good at tracking as Gage could have found her.

  But if he’d found her, then her father and Andrei could not be far behind. Oh, God. She would have to run again. Tonight. It would be much harder to begin again now than it had been all those years ago. Still, she had no choice.

  Keeping to the back streets, she took extra time in the hopes that he would not be able to follow her in the heavy snowfall. He must not track her to the little house where she’d been starting to feel at home.

  As she ran, she thought about Gage. And hungered for more time with him. To touch and be touched. To share a moment out of her life with someone who cared. With just that first quick glance into his face, she knew her love for him had not dimmed one iota in the past five years.
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  She rubbed a fist against her chest and dragged more cold air into her lungs.

  In so many ways, he hadn’t changed in five years. His hair might be a little longer. And his jawline sported a five-o’clock shadow he’d never been known for in the past. But as she’d swum in his beloved gaze, her heart recognized in that instant the same man she’d fallen madly in love with years before.

  The only man she’d ever loved. And the only man she was ever likely to love in this lifetime—or the next.

  Not good. So not good.

  But his physical presence had always pulled on her in a powerful way. Overwhelming and intense. It was the reason they’d both succumbed so fast to the startling lust, leaving her good sense and fear in the dust of their lovemaking.

  For five years she’d blamed herself for giving in to the attraction—for falling hard and fast when her life had not been her own. She had not been free to take a lover, let alone a husband. Now, after a single glimpse into his eyes, she remembered how impossible it had been to resist him. One look and she was cooked.

  Out of breath, she reached the back stairs that took her to the second-floor apartment above the small house belonging to the Keanes. Taking them two at a time, she dug her key out of her pocket and let herself in the front door.

  “Maeve!” she rasped as she entered the foyer, her tone an octave too high. “It’s me. I need help.”

  “Shush,” the familiar voice called out, sight unseen. “Keep your voice down. I just put the darlin’ one to bed.”

  Elana dashed around the corner into the front room. “Good. I hope she sleeps through this.”

  Maeve Keane looked up from her book, blinking across the rim of her glasses. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’ve been found out. He’s here.”

  “Who’s here?” A look of pure panic crossed the older woman’s face. “Not your father?”

  “Thankfully, no. But he won’t be too far behind.” Elana stood in the center of the room, wringing her hands. “It’s my husband. The private investigator. I don’t know how this happened. He’s good, but so are we.”

  Maeve set down her book and came to her side. “No sense crying over what’s done, dearie. You need to pack, and we need a plan.”

  Elana drew in a shaky breath. “I want to talk to Brendan first. He was...”

  As if on cue, the man himself came through the front door and quickly locked it again.

  “The stranger gave up and went off in the other direction,” Brendan said as he entered the front room. “I locked up the store, and I’m sure he didn’t follow. Who was he?”

  “The man I was married to. In Texas.” Elana fought the sudden tears. She didn’t have time to feel sorry for herself.

  “Ah, yes,” Brendan said as if that explained it all. “But he wouldn’t be a danger to you.”

  With her hands and knees shaking badly, Elana plopped down in an overstuffed chair. “No. Not him. And I didn’t think my father knew about our marriage. Still, you know Andrei’s father and my own both have devious ways of finding things out. It was fear for my husband’s life that sent me into hiding in the first place. And now...”

  “Does he know about the child?” Maeve’s eyes were full of sadness.

  “No. And he can’t.” And that knowledge was killing her—slowly but surely. “He’s such a decent man. Not like us. He would want to be in his child’s life. He would demand a chance to protect her. I can’t let him do that.”

  “He thinks you’re dead, Elana.” Brendan stood nodding his head and watching for her reaction.

  “What? How do you know that?”

  “He told me he was a widower.”

  “Then how...?” Her mind was a jumble. “He found me by coincidence? That’s impossible. Isn’t it?”

  Brendan rubbed at his chin. “Seems like a million to one long shot. But who knows?” He came to stand beside her chair. “Pack and leave tonight. We’ve taken precautions, but the faster you leave the better.”

  “But where will I go? And what about Gay?” A gray panic was edging in around the corners of her mind. “I can’t drag her out in the middle of the night.”

  Maeve took her by the hand. “My Brendan will make new arrangements for all of us. Get new papers. It should only take a few days. In the meantime, we’ll keep the darlin’ with us. Or take her over to the Boswells if we spot danger.”

  Elana almost couldn’t bear the thought of starting all over again. But she knew she must do whatever necessary to keep everyone safe.

  “You hide yourself at that cabin up on the ridge—just for a day or two until everything is ready.”

  “Gay...” How could she leave her daughter behind? It would be much too difficult.

  “It will be better to split you two up until we’re ready to travel. You have to stay out of sight. The little one would never understand that.” Brendan bent to help her to her feet. “Go pack a bag now, dearie. You must be on your way to the cabin before daylight.”

  Standing on knees that felt like mush, Elana tried to steel herself for the coming days. The temptation to go to Gage and confess, to let him help her and their child, was so strong it nearly bent her in two.

  But she couldn’t. She’d understood long ago that the biggest danger was to him. So she’d better not. She would stick with the Keanes. Take their protection. And pray that Gage would think he’d been seeing things and let it go.

  Let her stay dead.

  Chapter 2

  Soft footsteps on the frozen alleyway alerted Gage that someone was coming. He crouched lower, losing himself in shadows between the Dumpster and the brick wall at his back.

  The snow had stopped falling right after midnight, but temperatures dropped precipitously over the past few hours. Daybreak’s lavender light diffused his view of the back door to the jewelry shop. He could see well enough, though. If the person coming down the alley was the half owner of the store, the one he’d been waiting hours to see, she’d be within his view in a few seconds.

  Flexing his fingers against the cold, Gage held his breath. A master at waiting under difficult circumstances, surveillance was his middle name.

  Investigation was another one of his better talents. It hadn’t taken more than a few hours last night to come up with verification that a woman named Elana Kelly owned half interest in the jewelry store. That fact had been noted as part of the tax record. But there didn’t seem to be any address listed for her.

  He’d also found a recent photo from an article in the local weekly featuring the artists and craftsmen around Piñon Lake. However, her photo was not of her face like those of the other artists. Her picture showed only her hands holding the brooch, the one designed like the Bar-C brand, and a necklace she’d made to go with it. Those hands, still the ones he’d dreamed of, gave her away without him seeing her face. This was the woman he sought.

  The article went on to say she’d come to the town of Piñon Lake four years ago with her infant daughter and they’d been welcomed into the artistic community here. The idea of a baby threw him, so he spent the next few hours trying to find records on the birth of a child with that last name anywhere in California during that time frame. And came up with nada. Then he expanded the search to look for any trace of Elana Kelly anywhere in the world before she came here. He found a few by that name but none close in age.

  Finding nothing threw big red flags up in his mind. He was good at internet research. Real good. If he couldn’t find anything, it was because there was nothing there to find. Whoever this woman was, she had not come into this world as Elana Kelly.

  So who was she? Part of a witness protection program? The feds excelled at making up new backgrounds; he knew because his eldest brother had been an agent in the program at one time. But no background info at all seemed odd. Made him wonder if she was running from something—or someone.

  At that fleeting thought, the figure of a woman slowly crept down the alley and stopped at the jewelry store’s door. Her back
was to him as she fumbled to put a key in the lock and let herself in. He didn’t get a good look at her face, but she seemed the right size and height.

  He waited for her to go inside and close the door before he dashed across the alley to see if she’d locked it. She hadn’t. Not too smart, lady. Good thing he wasn’t a robber or ready to assault her. This was not the time of day to be leaving yourself or your store vulnerable.

  Turning the knob, he prayed that the old door’s hinges wouldn’t squeak in the cold. Unfortunately, the door didn’t oblige.

  “Stop!” The lights came on and the woman he sought stood three feet away next to a safe.

  And she had a gun pointed straight in his direction. “Don’t make another move, boyo, or I’ll be shooting you with this Taser.”

  Not a gun, then. Still, he didn’t care for the idea of hitting the deck, laid out in the kind of pain he knew those defensive weapons could cause.

  “Easy, darlin’.” He slowly raised his hands above his head. “I’m not here to hurt you. I just want to talk. You left the door open.”

  “And it’s 5:30 a.m., I’m thinking.” The heavy Irish lilt in her voice captured his attention. She narrowed her eyes at him. “Stalking me, are you? I should call the police.”

  He held his breath and waited, pretty sure the cops were the last thing she’d want. For some reason this woman wanted to hide her real identity.

  The next words out of her mouth told him he’d been right. “You said talk? Are you lost, then?”

  She lowered the Taser, which wasn’t particularly bright. But Gage filled his lungs and grinned, trying to make her feel more at ease. Before he could answer, she hastily stuffed her coat pocket with a wad of bills she must’ve taken from the safe, then shut the safe door and set her mouth as if waiting for an explanation.

  Her eyes flared at him and for the moment, it didn’t matter one bit that they were green and not brown.

  “Alicia?”