Santa Under Cover Page 2

  “I don’t know,” Gwyn replied, as calm and controlled as if nothing had happened.

  Impressive. Most women would be hysterical by now.

  She continued, “Santa here is working with the police to find him.”

  And despite her own desperate shouting she noticed details, such as his orders and the fact he was a cop. Not many people were that level-headed in a crisis.

  “What do you mean, you don’t know?” the woman asked, her voice shooting up an octave.

  Not as calm as her sister. Too bad. It would make this easier, but it wasn’t the first time he’d worked with a person on the edge of panic.

  Nick placed a firm hand on the woman’s shoulder. “What’s your name?”

  “Glory.” Her jaw trembled, and while a twinge of sympathy moved him, there wasn’t time for pity or niceties.

  “Glory, we’re heading toward the south exit,” Nick said, motioning her to move. “Watch for any sign of Connor as we walk. If someone took him, he might have a hat on. A different jacket. Anything to disguise him. I have men waiting at the doors. We don’t want anyone to slip by without going past you.”

  For a moment, the group stared at him, the children’s mouths hanging open. There was no doubt they’d never see Santa the same way again, but it couldn’t be helped.

  “You heard Santa,” Gwyn said, her voice remained level but carried an urgent undertone that snapped the group to attention. She turned her blue-eyed stare toward Nick. “This will go faster if you help carry a kid or two.” She handed Allie to her sister.

  “And what do you think you’re doing?” Nick asked, following the movement.

  She leaned in toward him, pushing aside the cotton beard just enough to whisper, “I don’t want to get Glory’s hopes up, but I don’t think he was abducted.” Her breath was warm against his ear. “If you’d seen Connor’s face…the panic. I think he ran and hid. I’ll stay to search for him while you take Glory to the south entrance.”

  She spoke as if they were partners, and Nick bit back a retort and focused on her words. Hiding? Possible. He wouldn’t discount the option, but leaving a layperson behind to do the job of a cop was not an option. There were too many uncontrolled variables in her suggestion. What if she was wrong and stumbled on the abductor? Or even the Bandits. Of course, it was more likely they’d abandon any robbery plans under the surprising circumstances, but he wasn’t willing to risk anyone’s safety on that bet.

  He shook his head. “You go with us.”

  She grabbed his bicep. “You’re not listening, and I’m not going. I’m staying here. Connor was my responsibility, and I am not leaving until I find him.”

  Ah, guilt and honor—the true crux of the problem—and much like sympathy, emotions he couldn’t indulge in either himself or someone else. He peeled her fingers away. “This is not a request.”

  Even in the dim lighting, fury flashed in her eyes as she glared at him. For a moment, he thought she might argue. He tensed, ready to call for backup and have her hauled away if needed.

  Then behind the pale blue depths, the fury shifted. “Of course.”

  She didn’t break his gaze. Didn’t fidget. She even sounded agreeable. Almost contrite. And totally truthful. He didn’t believe any of it. He may have only known her a few minutes, but it was enough to know that she wasn’t the kind of person who gave in that easily, which meant she was a great liar with good intentions.

  A cop’s worst nightmare.

  Liar or not, he didn’t have time to argue or question. Seconds wasted could mean the difference between finding Connor today or seeing his name on the front of a billboard for the next ten years.

  Taking a kid in each arm, he nodded toward the south entrance. “Stay close.”

  They reached the south entrance, and Gwyn whistled in appreciation. Cops manned the doors, allowing singles and couples to leave on the left and middle, while people with children waited on the right. Luckily, the line wasn’t even twenty families deep as of yet.

  Nick and his men had done well, but that didn’t surprise her. He was a take-charge man, and it made sense that his men were the same. But why were they staking out the mall on Christmas Eve? And it was a stakeout, she was sure of that much.

  “I want one of you on each side,” Nick said. She glanced at him, curiosity about his mission overwhelmed by the more urgent need to ditch the policeman and return to the Snowman Village. Still in his Santa suit, he handed off his two kids to the boys in blue and motioned for her and Glory to do the same.

  She handed Michael to a uniformed man, giving him a squeeze first. “It’ll be okay.”

  “What about the kids?” Glory asked, setting Allie down. “They can’t just stand here.”

  The young officer raised his hand in response then kneeled down. “Who wants to see a real police car? I’ll even run the siren.”

  Small cheers erupted in response. Gwyn’s throat tightened, remembering how they’d done the same when she said she’d get the chocolate. How Connor had cheered. And then the fear that overwhelmed him when the lights went out.

  “Move it.” Nick placed his hand on the small of Gwyn’s back, directing her to the door as the children left while Glory hurried to take position and watch for Connor.

  She hesitated. Perhaps Nick was right. Perhaps Connor was kidnapped. But her gut insisted otherwise, drowning out everything else and leaving her no choice.

  She had to get back to the scene. Now.

  Not that she planned to tell Nick. Been there, tried that. “I need to use the ladies’ room first,” Gwyn said. “I’ve been holding it since I got to the mall.”

  “Now is not the time,” Nick said. Even the white, cotton beard couldn’t hide his anger.

  Gwyn swallowed the urge to tell him the truth.

  “Just hurry,” Glory broke in.

  Good enough. Let Nick keep his disappointment. If she found Connor, it wouldn’t matter. Turning on her heel, she rushed down the wide hallway, past the departing shoppers and past the ladies’ room.

  Breaking into a jog, she headed back toward the Snowman Village. If Connor were anywhere, it was in that area. Perhaps in a corner. Maybe under the yards of cotton fluff that served as snow and resembled a blanket that would offer a hiding spot. Wherever he was, she’d find him.

  As long as she did it before Nick figured out she was gone. Still jogging, she glanced backward. People flowed toward the south exit, and there was no sign of Nick.

  Hot Santa.

  She kicked the phrase from her mind. It figured that he was a cop. Not that she disliked cops. She respected them more than most. She knew how hard they worked, and the fact they got anything done under the legal constraints that hemmed them in was amazing.

  But right now, they were the enemy. Or Nick was.

  Ahead of her, Santa’s chair glittered in the dim, red-tinted lights.

  I’m coming, Connor. Her heart slammed hard against the walls of her chest as she ran faster.

  She stopped at the edge of the Snowman Village. “Be here,” she whispered, leaning over, hands on her thighs to catch her breath. “Please be here.” Standing, she cupped her hands around her mouth. “Connor!”

  “This isn’t the ladies’ room.”

  Nick. Gwyn exhaled with a sigh. “And you’re not Connor.”

  “You’re supposed to be watching the doors.”

  Thank you, Captain Obvious. “I got lost.”

  Hands on her hips, she faced her opponent. He still wore the Santa pants held up by suspenders but gone was the red hat, the beard, the coat and the grin. Replacing them were a black T-shirt, a deep frown and confirmation that he was as hot as she imagined.

  No, hotter.

  “Is that the story you want to go with?” he asked, with no visible sense of humor.

  Hot cop. The thought popped into her head, forcing its way past the panic and the fear and the dread. Goose bumps swept up her arms. “I didn’t see you following me.”

  “You were
n’t supposed to.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest, rubbing the goose bumps away. Hot or not, skilled or not, she wasn’t going back. Not without Connor.

  Nick stepped closer, breaking her invisible personal space barrier. She held her ground. “Short of carrying me out of here, I’m not leaving,” Gwyn said.

  Nick didn’t say a word.

  And the urge to break the silence and say something, anything, overwhelmed her. “Ten minutes,” she blurted. “Give me that.”

  Still, he offered nothing. No words to show she’d swayed him in either direction.

  A wave of frustration washed through Gwyn. They covered a number of situations in P.I. training—computer searches, basic law and she’d taken a Krav Maga course so she could fight off an assailant if necessary.

  But they’d never covered facing down a cop in a missing-child situation.

  Taking a deep breath, she knew what she had to do. The only thing she could do that might break through his tough, law-abiding cop exterior.

  Her eyes locked with his, she placed a hand on his chest, willing him to feel her fear, and her almost-painful need to set things right. “Please,” she begged. “Please help me.”

  Chapter 3

  G wyn held her breath, watching as Nick ran a hand through his hair making the short, black strands stick up.

  He shook his head.

  Her eyes flooded with angry tears, but she blinked them away, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry. Not that he cared, but she sure as hell did.

  “I am going to catch more crap for this…” He shook his head again. “Don’t make me regret saying yes.”

  She realized that he wasn’t denying her help. He was chastising himself for agreeing to assist her. She took a step back in surprise at the unexpected answer. “I won’t let you down.” She smiled up at him. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me yet,” Nick said, anger giving him an edge that made her want to back away even farther. “You get ten minutes. If we don’t find him by then, we go back to the south entrance. Agreed?”

  Gwyn sensed that if she didn’t agree, there would be no search, and he’d take her back to Glory, willing or not. “Agreed,” she replied, not caring about the fury that roiled beneath his skin. Let him rant. Let him fume. She had ten minutes to locate Connor before the little kid had a nervous breakdown, and that was where her focus would remain.

  “We start here,” Nick said, gesturing at the Snowman Village.

  “Shouldn’t we split up?” Gwyn asked, peering into the shadows that surrounded them. Between the kiosks that lined the wide walkways and the Village, there were a lot of places for a small child to hide and little time to search. “We’ll cover a lot more ground that way.”

  Despite the dim, emergency lighting, Gwyn didn’t miss the unexpected expression of alarm that flickered across Nick’s strong features, obliterating the irritation that seemed to be a pervasive part of his personality. “We stick together.”

  “Not a problem,” she said, not wanting to push his grudging goodwill too far.

  Slowly, they walked through Snowman Village, Gwyn calling Connor’s name as they lifted up yards of cotton snow, hoping with each yard to find Connor and fighting disappointment when he wasn’t there.

  A long shot, she knew, but an option that couldn’t be ignored.

  “I take it you’re the aunt,” Nick said as they worked their way to the back half of the Village with still no sign of Connor.

  “What?” Gwyn glanced at him, surprised at the sudden comment.

  “The aunt. Connor is Glory’s kid, isn’t he?”

  He was wrong on both counts, but it was still an interesting observation. Was her lack of maternal instincts that obvious or was it something else? She rolled up a large piece of fleecy cotton and set it aside. “Why would you think I’m the aunt?”

  “She panicked. You didn’t.”

  Made sense but it still didn’t make him right. Nice to know that super cop made a few errors, even if they were minor ones. “Actually, he doesn’t belong to either of us,” Gwyn said glancing to watch his reaction to a scenario that hadn’t passed through his logical, cop brain.

  “Oh?” He dropped a large piece of fluff, his expression one of interest but nothing more.

  So much for trying to tweak a cop.

  “He’s a kid from the shelter. Glory’s a social worker,” she said. “We were taking the kids out for the day. Something fun to get their minds off of their crappy accommodations.”

  Admiration flickered through his green-eyed gaze, and he gave her a slow nod of support. “Very Christmassy.”

  An odd, almost silly phrase from a decidedly non-silly man, but there was no sarcasm in his tone. No quiet malice.

  He meant it.

  Unexpected warmth flooded Gwyn at the praise, working its way to her toes, the tips of her fingers and touched her cheeks, leaving her flushed and more vulnerable than she cared to feel. She ducked her head and lifted back the last piece of cotton to reveal nothing but empty space.

  “Perhaps,” Gwyn said, making a slow circle as the chill of failure replaced the warmth of Nick’s praise. “But this was not what we planned.”

  “No one ever plans on losing a kid,” Nick said. He took her hand in his, and with a surprising tenderness, he guided her toward the south entrance. “It’s not your fault.”

  Gwyn didn’t miss the gesture. He might sympathize, but he wanted to leave and thought he could get her to go without a fight.

  She wasn’t that gullible, and she didn’t give up that easily. Couldn’t give up when she thought of Connor lost in the dark. She yanked her hand from his. “We should search the kiosks.”

  The corners of his mouth turned downward, and she knew what he thought because it was the same thought that ran through her head—long shot.

  Too long.

  “The kiosks were still open when the lights went out,” he said, confirming her assumption. “If he went into one, he’d have been found.”

  “Maybe he snuck into one afterward.” Yes, the argument was weak, but anything was better than the alternative—that Nick was right, and a stranger had Connor.

  Nick pushed a strand of hair away from her cheek, his eyes deep with sympathy. “I know you want to believe he’s here, but we’re wasting time.”

  “Maybe he snuck in one when he saw us leave.” His touch left her lightheaded, and she wished the proffered tenderness wasn’t based on sympathy and logic. “Connor wouldn’t know we’d come back.”

  “You’ve been calling his name. He hasn’t responded.”

  “You said you’d give me ten minutes,” Gwyn interrupted. Nick’s hand fell to his side.

  Gwyn swallowed hard, determined to finish what she’d started. “I have two minutes left if you count the fact we’ve been standing here talking when we should be searching.”

  She headed to the right. “I’ll take this side. You take the other.”

  “We need to stick together.”

  “Two minutes.” She paused, beating back the vulnerability and fear. “Don’t make me beg. Not again.”

  Slowly, he turned her around to face him. His eyes darted across her face and drank her in, making her feel more naked than if she were stripped down to her red satin panties.

  A few seconds later, he nodded. “Two minutes,” he said, and headed in the opposite direction.

  She wasn’t sure what he’d seen, her desperation perhaps, but she was glad it worked. Hurrying over to the closest kiosk, she stuck her head under the heavy plastic and shone her flashlight inside. Cheap sunglasses lined the wire racks. More expensive brands were locked in glass cases. But no Connor.

  Four more kiosks later and her frustration was reaching an almost unbearable level.

  “Where are you, kiddo,” she muttered, rubbing her eyes. “Why don’t you answer?”

  As much as she hated to admit it, searching the kiosks had been the wrong way to go. She knew it. Nick knew it. T
he plastic kiosk covers were heavier than they appeared. If Connor had run into one of the booths, it would have been before they closed.

  Which meant he was in one of the shops.

  Or abducted.

  She pushed aside the horror that the word produced and glanced at her watch. Thirty seconds left. Maybe.

  Walking fast, she headed to the perimeter and past the shops, shining her flashlight through the metal gratings, watching for movement and listening for a sigh or crying—any sign that might indicate Connor was there.

  The stores were as silent as the rest of the mall. Then a glimmer caught her eye. She read the sign over the frontage, Elite Jewelry.

  She flicked off her flashlight.

  A white glow shone from beneath a crack in the door. It was faint, a flashlight like hers, but it was a light. It flickered again, as if someone walked in front of it then away.

  Then she heard something. Like a kitten crying.

  Or a child. The heavy door muffled it, but she knew the sound of tears and terror.

  Connor.

  Her pulse skipped into overdrive, her world narrowed to a fine point until there was nothing and no one left but her, Connor and the fact she had to get to him. “Nick, I found him,” she called out.

  She grabbed the metal gate, determined to break the lock with sheer strength if needed, but it shot upward, unlocked.

  “Gwyn, wait!” Nick called out, but she was already moving past glass cases full of engagement rings, necklaces and bracelets made for the über-wealthy of the east side.

  “Connor!” she called his name again as she pushed open the door, flashlight raised and ready to take him into her arms.

  Two steps into the room, she froze. “Oh, hell.”

  A tall man dressed in black waited on the other side. One gloved hand covered Connor’s mouth. The other held a Sig Sauer 9mm, the open end pointed at her.

  And she knew why Nick and his men were at the mall.

  Chapter 4

  N ick watched from the shadow of the door as one of the Christmas Bandits pointed a gun at Gwyn, using Connor as cover. Well, as much cover as a six-year-old boy could provide for a man that cleared six feet.