Save Me, Santa: A Chirstmas Anthology of Romance & Suspense (5 page)

One brow flickered uncertainly. “And today?”

She nibbled her lip. Tasting him. “This morning, when you were about to leave… you looked so… gruff and conflicted. I thought you were going to give me the brush-off.”

A shadow of comprehension passed through his eyes. “So you did it first.”

She nodded with an inward wince. “Not my finest moment.”

“No.” One corner of his mouth curved upward. “But I get it. Yesterday I was on the same page as you. Just on the flipside.”

She studied him for a moment. “You thought I was flighty? Impulsive, maybe?”

“High maintenance.” He shrugged at her dropped jaw. “Designer suit, expensive heels, and a lap dog?”

She grinned. “Okay. So it worked.”

“What did?”

“My image makeover. Underneath all that, I’m really pretty boring.”

He grinned back. “Hardly. But that’s okay, because I’m pretty damn exciting, too.”

They laughed, and leaned in for another kiss, when the door buzzed.

“Ah. Dinner has arrived,” he said, and got up to buzz in the delivery person.

“Hey, you changed clothes!” she suddenly noticed as he waited by the door. He was wearing black jeans and an olive Henley.

“I had my buddy bring my gym bag when he came for the donation pot,” he explained. “I somehow couldn’t picture trying to seduce you wearing a Santa suit.”

Seduce her?

Oh, yeah. He’d thought she’d given
him
the brush-off, and had planned to change her mind. She smiled.

“Oh, I don’t know,” she said, pleased with the direction of his thoughts. “Nothing says sexy like a man in red velvet.”

“Woman,” he said, “you are seriously twisted.”

“Is that good or bad?” she teased.

The food arrived before he could answer.

“Later,” he promised.

She could hardly wait.

* * *

Good, Emily decided several hours later.

Definitely good.

She and Nick were snuggled together, naked and wrapped in a quilt, in front of the roaring fire, sipping wine. They’d made love, and she felt blissful.

They’d also talked a lot, in-between.

He’d told her about his dangerous work in Vice, and of his desire to slow down and join the K-9 Unit. She’d told him of her restlessness in her small town, and her ambition to come to Manhattan and find a more adventurous life.

Neither of them said it, but it was pretty clear they wanted opposite things out of their lives. And they seemed to come to an unspoken agreement that they would just enjoy the short time they had together, and not worry about a future that didn’t look to include each other in it.

It was freeing, in a big way. Without the pressure of making a relationship work, she didn’t feel the need to guard her thoughts or curb her words. She simply spoke the truth as she saw it. And he did the same. The honesty was refreshing, and a huge relief. It made her wonder why she had always tried to mold herself into what she thought a man wanted. She got the feeling he was having similar thoughts.

After the talk had dwindled and the fire had burned low in the grate, her mind drifted back to his frustrating case with the scummy veterinarian who had somehow managed to keep himself completely separated from his dirty business. She wished she could help Nick find some evidence. But of course there was nothing she could do. She’d never even met the vet.

But Cindy had.

She needed to call her friend in the morning anyway, to let her know about Pogo. So, while she had Cindy on the phone, she’d ask her if she’d noticed anything suspicious about the vet. Emily knew it was a real long shot—impossibly long—especially since she couldn’t reveal any of what Nick had told her in confidence. But she resolved to ask Cindy anyway.

Because… well, you just never knew.

Chapter 8

The next morning, the last thing in the world Nick wanted was to roll out of Emily’s bed and go to work. But he didn’t have a choice. In fact, he had to get up even earlier than usual so he could stop by his apartment first to drop off Zenon and change clothes.

She made him breakfast, and he gave her a lingering kiss goodbye. “See you tonight?” he asked, still a little uncertain of his place in her world. They had a tacit agreement not to talk about the future…

“Absolutely.” She kissed him back, a full-body kiss that made him want to leave even less.

“Baby, you’re killing me,” he murmured, and forced himself to pull away. “Come on, boy,” he called to Zenon, “let’s go home.”

He was so very shocked—
not
—when Zenon refused to budge from his spot next to Pogo’s doggie bed. The mutt obviously had it just as bad as he did.

“Oh, let him stay,” Emily said with an affectionate smile for the furry traitor. “He’ll be fine here with us today. It’s not like I’m going anywhere.”

After a few moments of conscience-wrestling, he agreed. “Be good,” he admonished the airehead, and tamped down a spurt of envy.
So
not fair.

Half an hour later he got to his desk at the precinct. There was the usual pile of messages after two days off, and the same stack of case files waited for him in his locked drawer. With a weary sigh, he tossed his GoPro on top of them. Running yesterday’s photos through facial recognition would have to wait until his lunch hour.

The morning was interminable. He couldn’t concentrate. All he could think about was Emily. About how much he liked her. About how messed up he was going to be when she left to go back home.

When his cell phone rang just after eleven, and the caller ID showed her name, he practically pounced on it. “Hey, baby,” he said in a voice that drew the amused attention of every guy in the squadroom. He flipped them all the bird and beat a hasty retreat to one of the interrogation rooms. What. Ever.

“Hi, yourself,” she returned in warm tones, apologizing for disturbing him at work.

“Are you okay?” he asked, concerned by the unexpected call.

“Yeah. I just talked to Cindy, and she told me a couple of things I thought you might like to know.”

“Okay.” Now he was curious. “Shoot.”

“First, she thinks Dr. Kraznov is creepy.”

He blinked. “Uh. Okay.” Interesting, but not exactly urgent news. “That’s um—”

“I know. Irrelevant.” He could imagine her waving her hand in the air dismissively. “But get this. Pogo’s name was never Ajax. And her birthday is
not
today.”

He blinked again. “Um… “ Either he was being really dense, or—

“So I got to thinking. About the whole communication problem we talked about. What if Kraznov’s using the dog microchips to send his trafficking messages? What if ‘Ajax’ is one of his contacts, and today is some kind of meeting or something?”

Nick was so completely stunned, he wasn’t able to move or utter a sound for a good half minute.

Holy crap. Holy, holy crap!

Definitely dense
.

“Nick?”

He finally jolted out of his paralysis. “Emily! You are a goddamn fucking genius! I’ve got to go.”

He hung up and charged out of the interrogation room, his brain going into hyperspeed. He stalled in front of his desk, and slapped a hand over his eyes, thinking furiously.

Ajax
. Who the hell was named Ajax?

Not a person, he’d bet a year’s salary. Not in this century or in this country.

So,
what
the hell was called Ajax?

A restaurant, maybe?

He launched himself at his computer and did a quick Google search.

Nope. Not a restaurant. Or any other business in Manhattan that made any sense in the context.

Then it hit him. What an idiot! Of course!

A ship
.

Kraznov was using the dog microchips to communicate where and when the shipments of abducted women would dock. It would then be merely a matter of the recipient using a hand-held scanner to read the info, and sending a pulse to erase it. The whole process would only take a few seconds and could be done standing next to the dog at a street corner.

Brilliant
.

He attacked Google again.

And quickly learned that every ship the entire freaking British Royal Navy was named Ajax. He kept scrolling.

Yes! But there were also five other, private vessels that carried the name: a tug, a dredger, two cargo ships, and an oil tanker. Currently located in Finland, Latvia, Uruguay, and the Netherlands.

The fifth ship was within striking distance of the US coast. Steaming straight for New York harbor, and… due to dock in three hours.

Yes!

Excitement hurtled through him. He pumped his fist in the air and shouted an undignified whoop. Once again, every eye in the squadroom was on him.

This time, he made a beeline for the lieutenant’s office.

Chapter 9

Two weeks later…

Christmas Eve

“Perfect score,” the K-9 Unit examiner muttered, shaking her head in wonderment. “Impressive. Never seen an Airedale do that before.”

Neither had Nick. It truly was a Christmas miracle.

He figured it was because Pogo was in the stands watching.

“He’s definitely special,” he said proudly, giving Zenon a good scratch behind the ears. The terrier preened.

Big showoff.

“Well,” the examiner, Sergeant Pinckney, said, “looks like you both passed with flying colors. I’ll sign the paperwork, and your transfer to the Unit should come through in a few weeks.”

“No hurry,” Nick said. “I’ll be taking some time off before reporting.” He smiled. “My honeymoon.”

“Yeah? Congratulations. That your bride?” she asked, tipping her chin at Emily, who sat with Pogo in the bleachers next to the field, cheering him on.

“Yep,” he said with a grin and a wave at her. “She just doesn’t know it yet.”

Sergeant Pinckney snickered as she ripped off his copy of the exam results and handed it to him. “Well, good luck with that, Detective.”

“Thanks. But I think I’ve got this one covered.”

He sure as hell hoped so, anyway.

He thanked her, and they parted. As soon as he turned toward Emily, Zenon broke formation and took off like a curly brown bullet. Pogo leapt from Emily’s arms, raced toward him, and they met in the middle, veering off in tandem to head for the nearest patch of greenery.

He rolled his eyes and kept walking. The pair was absolutely incorrigible.

Kind of like him and Emily.

Ever since the day she’d solved the case for him, they’d been inseparable.

At first it had been for safety reasons. At least, that’s what he’d told himself.

He and his partner, along with the Coast Guard, had boarded the cargo ship Ajax and found a dozen young women being held prisoner. They’d arrested their captors. One of them had flipped, and Nick was finally able to get a warrant to seize Kraznov’s files and expose the whole scheme. Kraznov had, indeed, implanted standard microchips in his patients with information about the shipments of kidnapped women coded to resemble the animals’ usual ID data.

The method had worked perfectly until Pogo had attacked the guy who was supposed to read her chip, when he’d stupidly tried to kick her. Desperate, because the guy knew the shipment was imminent, he’d been in luck when Emily’s door had been left unlocked and he could sneak in to scan the chip. But that luck had run out when Pogo escaped before he could purge the data, and then she had been injured, leading to the discovery of the false information by the other vet.

Thank God
.

Now, at last, that scumbag bastard Kraznov was behind bars where he belonged.

But Nick had been afraid of reprisals against Emily by any of the gangsters who might have escaped arrest.

“I don’t want you staying on your own,” he’d told her. “Move in with me. Just until the danger’s over.”

She hadn’t been too hard to convince.

That had been two weeks ago. And naturally, he kept insisting she was still in danger.

In danger of breaking his heart if she left
.

A month ago Nick would never have believed it possible. But there you go. He was hopelessly in love with the woman.

And no way was he ever letting her go.

He stuck his hand in his pocket, checking for the dozenth time that the velvet box was still there.

Yep.

All righty, then.

Time to make the arrangement permanent…

Chapter 10

Emily was worried. Nick had been acting so strange ever since he and Zenon had aced the K-9 test this afternoon.

Jumpy. Distracted.

They’d shared a delicious seafood Christmas Eve supper, and he’d just excused himself to change into sweats before they relaxed in front of the fire with a glass of egg nog. He hadn’t even kissed her after dinner.

She glanced over at Pogo and Zenon, curled up contentedly together on his doggie bed at the far end of the sofa. She pursed her lips.

Obviously, she needed to bring out the big guns earlier than expected.

Thankfully, she’d come to dinner armed.

She peeled off her slacks and turtleneck, smoothed the Santa’s Baby nightie over her body, fluffed her hair, and arranged herself artfully on the rug in front of the fire.

Let him try and ignore
that
.

He walked back in wearing his Santa outfit. No beard, just the suit.

For a moment, they stared at each other in astonishment.

Then he slowly grinned. “Ho ho ho. What do we have here? I believe someone’s left a naughty little girl by the chimney with care.”

Her lips twitched. “And I see something stirring, but I’ll wager it’s no sugarplum.”

His grin turned wicked and he crooked a finger. “Come to Santa, baby, and he’ll give you a nice present you’ll never forget.”

She drew her mouth up like a bow. “Promise?”

“Oh, yeah.”

She got up on her knees in front of him and reached for his big black belt buckle.

He grasped her hands and laid a finger beside his nose. “Uh, uh, uh,” he admonished. “Try my pocket first.” He guided her hands to his hip.

He was serious!

Vaguely surprised, she felt for his pocket. There was something in it. And not what she expected.