4:20 A.M.
She hadn’t come to him.
It was starting to make him angry.
What else did he have to do to get her to notice him?
He had tried to scare her into coming running straight into his waiting arms. Twice. And he had left her gifts that laid his heart bare.
Yet still, nothing.
He had even allowed himself to be shot for her, and still, she didn't come to him.
Jeff Shields had had enough.
Hannah was going to be his.
Surely, he had proved his love to her already. She had to have seen what she meant to him. He stayed after work every single day to help her clean up so that she could get home a little earlier. He took on extra responsibilities to lighten her load a little. He filled in for her whenever she was sick. She paid him well, and extra for every additional thing he did to help her, but he didn't do it for the money. He did it for her. Because he loved to see her smile, and he loved her laugh even more, and he loved the gratitude that shone from her eyes whenever he did something for her.
He had thought that would be enough, that he did those things for her because he loved her.
For a while, he thought it might be working. Hannah didn't have a lot of friends. She mostly kept to herself, and her main focus was her business, which worked out perfectly for him. They spent so much time together, and he seemed to make her happy and relaxed. He thought she enjoyed his company. Jeff had even considered confessing his feelings to her and asking her out.
But Hannah kept rebuffing his attempts.
Whenever he hinted at the two of them possibly doing something outside of work, she always had an excuse. When she had been having her house repainted, he had offered to come and help. When she had taken a rare weekend away in the summer, he had offered to stop by her house and pick up her mail. When her car broke down and she had to take a taxi or the bus home and to the homeless shelter for her shift, he had offered to drive her.
All those times she had said no.
It was then that he had realized it wasn't because she didn't appreciate him or enjoy spending time with him. It was because she was so strong—so independent—that she just couldn’t bring herself to accept help, from anyone. Even him.
That was when he had known for sure that she just needed a little push to make her realize that when she needed someone he would be there for her, and that she could accept help from him and still be her strong, independent self. The robbery had seemed like the perfect idea because of the string of robberies in the area. He’d thought if he took advantage of that, then everyone would just assume the one at Hannah’s store was committed by the same people that committed the others. It might have worked, too, if he’d been able to find a third man to participate.
Allowing himself to get shot had been a scary prospect, but he’d thought it was a nice added touch. He knew Hannah had a phobia of guns, and that if the armed men demanded the code to the safe she wouldn’t be able to give it to them. It had all run smoothly, like clockwork, and he had been able to come running in and be the hero who saved her from being hurt.
That act of heroism was supposed to send her right to him.
And it might have if that stupid ex-husband of hers hadn’t come back into her life. How unlucky was he that of all the FBI agents in the country, the one who was working the robbery heists was Hannah’s ex-husband?
The man was ruining everything.
He had chosen to toss Hannah away. He couldn’t just waltz back into her life and try to take her back.
Hannah hadn’t even mentioned the man in the years they had known each other, so he couldn’t mean all that much to her.
Why did that man have to come back now?
Because of her ex, Hannah wasn't even thinking about him. She was too busy with the FBI agent to even come and visit him again.
She should be here.
With him.
It wasn't fair.
Didn't she get his gifts? Didn't she understand how much he loved her? Didn't she see what he was trying to say to her?
Maybe she didn't.
He had never just come right out and said that he loved her. And Hannah was scared to let people get too close to her because of what had happened to her. He was going to have to be more understanding. He was also going to have to be more transparent. If he loved Hannah, then he had to tell her. He couldn’t just expect her to figure it out herself.
Which was exactly why he had come here.
Carefully, he opened Hannah’s back door and snuck inside. When Jeff stepped into her kitchen, he immediately felt the familiar sense of peace wash over him. This was where he belonged—here with the woman he loved by his side.
Quietly, he tiptoed through the kitchen and dining room, heading for the stairs, intending to go up to Hannah’s bedroom. But in the hall, he paused. There was a Christmas tree in her living room.
That could mean only one thing.
Special Agent Tom Drake had been here.
Or maybe he still was. He could be upstairs sharing Hannah’s bed.
Rage flashed through him, like he had been struck by lightning. He balled his hands into fists and screamed a silent scream. He didn't want that man anywhere near his Hannah. Just because he was an FBI agent, he thought he was so much better than everyone else. Jeff hadn’t liked him from the moment the man and his partner had walked into his hospital room to interview him about the robbery.
He hated him.
Hated him.
He wanted to grab the man and rip him to shreds with his bare hands. He didn't care that he was fifty-four and Tom Drake was only thirty. Fury would strengthen him; righteousness was on his side.
He wanted what was best for Hannah. Tom Drake only cared about himself. He had obviously brought a Christmas tree here to try and trick Hannah. To squirm his way into her good graces. Tom had probably pressured Hannah into going to bed with him.
It was unacceptable.
Jeff would not allow Tom to hurt Hannah all over again.
He had to save her, protect her, declare his undying love for her.
He was going to make Hannah understand.
Whatever it took.
She loved Christmas. Even though she tried to hide it, he knew. So, this seemed like the perfect time to sit her down and explain to her how much she meant to him and how everything that he had done was for her.
All he had to do was get rid of Tom Drake first. Killing him might not be smart, although it would certainly be satisfying. The man was a Special Agent in the FBI, and they were bound to want to hunt down whoever had killed one of their own.
In the end, Jeff really didn't care about the man. He just wanted him away from Hannah. Far away.
Maybe the safer option would be to wait here for Hannah to be alone, then to take her someplace where it was just the two of them. Where he could tell her everything without fear of being interrupted or of anyone trying to get between them.
Yes.
That was what he would do.
Soon.
Soon he would have her.
She would understand.
She would.
She had to.
He would rather die than not have Hannah for his very own.
* * * * *
6:41 A.M.
Hannah woke slowly.
The first thing to cross her consciousness was the arms that she was wrapped up in.
Although Tom was still fast asleep, his grip on her wasn’t loose. It was like even in sleep he took protecting her seriously.
Something had changed yesterday. She no longer resented his protective streak. She no longer took it as an indication that he thought she was weak and helpless and fragile. Now she knew he didn't see her as a victim, but as a survivor. Knowing that made accepting his need to protect her and keep her safe so much easier.
Last night had been so amazing. Tom knew her body so well. He knew just where to touch her and how to drive her wild. She needn’t have worried about freaking out, or being unable to perform, or having flashbacks. Once she and Tom started, it became all about the two of them. The home invasion and the rape had been the farthest things from her mind.
As amazing as last night was, this was better.
Waking up in her bed, having spent the entire night in it without a single nightmare, with Tom’s warm body at her side was the best way to wake up. She had draped herself over him while they'd been asleep. When they’d finished their lovemaking and laid down, she had been spooned against Tom with her back to his front and his arm locked around her waist. But now, he was on his back and her head was on his chest, her leg hooked around his. His breath tickled her forehead as it whooshed in and out, and the thump of his heart beneath her ear had apparently been the reassurance her brain needed to let go of the nightmares.
She could get used to this.
Her stomach rumbled. She and Tom had been so busy last night decorating the tree that she hadn’t eaten any dinner. She should go and make Tom breakfast. He loved her Belgium waffles as much as she loved his French toast.
As carefully as she could, so as not to disturb him, Hannah slid out from underneath Tom’s arm and climbed out of her huge, king-size sleigh bed. Their clothes were strewn on the floor around the bed, lying right where they had tossed them last night. Although they were in her bedroom and her closet was right here, Hannah picked up Tom’s discarded shirt and shrugged into it. She loved wearing Tom’s clothes around the house. It had always made her feel closer to him.
The hardwood floors were cold beneath her bare feet as she crept out of the bedroom and down the hall. Usually she wore socks around the house in the wintertime because her feet always got cold, but she had forgotten to grab a pair. Oh well, once she got busy she wouldn’t notice the cold so much.
In the hall, she stopped.
The Christmas tree was breathtaking.
She couldn’t take her eyes off it.
She had been so surprised when Tom brought it over, she hadn’t even been thinking about decorating for Christmas, but she was so glad he had thought of it. He could be so thoughtful sometimes. Well, most of the time, really.
It had felt just like old times. Her obsessing over the placement of each decoration, Tom watching her and then patiently moving them from place to place on the tree until she was happy with the result.
She wanted that again.
She and Tom had been so happy together, and now they had a chance to have that back. To let go of the pain of the last three years and rebuild their lives. Maybe one day they’d even have a family of their own, and their kids would be right there beside them, excitedly decorating the house and waiting for Santa Claus to come. Hannah couldn’t help but smile at the thought. She couldn’t wait to have Tom’s baby growing inside of her. Once things had settled between them, then they could start trying, but not until then. Hannah didn't want to bring a baby into the picture until things between Tom and her were stable.
Maybe they should decorate the rest of the house today. There was the wreath for the front door and garlands for the banisters and more fairy lights than any home needed. There was the Christmas village with shops and houses and Santa’s village. Plus, there was an assortment of various figurines and other decorations. She had so many things that every available spare inch of space was covered with them.
And her snow globe collection.
She’d been obsessed with them ever since she could remember, and every single year, her parents had given her one as a Christmas gift. At her and Tom’s old house, she had set them all out along the fireplace mantles in the living room, dining room, and master bedroom. She could do that here, too. Her house had four fireplaces. In her mind, fireplaces went with Christmas, so she always lived in a house that had at least one of them.
With a big grin on her face, she rolled up her sleeves and was about to turn around to head to the kitchen and get started on breakfast when someone suddenly grabbed her from behind.
For a moment, her mind tried to convince her that it was just Tom.
But he would have announced himself. Or, if he was trying to surprise her, he would have lifted her off her feet and swung her up into the air.
This wasn't Tom.
He felt different.
He smelled different.
“Hannah.”
The voice.
She knew who it was.
It was Jeff Shields.
It wasn't Vincent who had been stalking her, who had set up the robbery, and broken in here to leave her gifts. It was Jeff.
And he’d come back.
“Don’t make a sound. You call him and I’ll shoot him on the spot,” his voice spoke in her ear.
She believed him.
Completely.
Because his voice wasn't angry, it wasn't agitated, it wasn't anxious. It was absolutely, perfectly calm.
She had to stay composed. Tom was right upstairs. He was bound to come down here sooner or later; she just had to hold it together until then.
Something cold touched her temple, right over the bruise she’d received the night of the robbery.
Jeff had a gun.
A gun.
She almost fainted on the spot.
Deciding to work on her phobia was one thing. Knowing that her ex-husband who would never lay a hand on her had his weapon holstered at his side was one thing. But knowing that someone who meant her harm, who had gotten her hurt twice already, was holding a gun to her head was more than she could bear.
No.
She had to bear it.
She couldn’t give up. She couldn’t let him kill her because that would kill Tom.
“Wh-what do you w-want, J-Jeff?”
“You. I want you. I love you, Hannah.”
He didn't love her. If he loved her, he would never hurt her. He was obsessed with her. That was a completely different thing. A terrifying thing.
“Th-then let me go. Please. You know I hate guns.”
“I don’t want to hurt you, Hannah. I just need to make sure you understand. I love you. I love you so much.”
One of his hands held the gun to her temple, and the other he had on her shoulder, keeping her pinned against his chest. But he let it drop down to the hem of her shirt—beneath which she was completely naked—and slowly lifted it.
His hand splayed on her stomach. Hannah wanted to squirm away from him, but she was afraid to move. There was a chance she could talk her way out of this, but not if she made him angry.
“You’re so beautiful.” His hot breath was repugnant against her ear. When Tom called her beautiful, it made her feel like a goddess. When Jeff said it, it made her want to curl up in a ball and die.
His hand moved up her stomach to cover her breast. His hand was rough against her skin, and he squeezed her injured breast, making her suck in a pained breath.
“I can make you happy. So happy. If only you’d let me.”
He was insane.
Jeff really and truly thought not only that he loved her but that she could love him back.
His hand left her breast, and she let out a sigh of relief.
Her relief wasn't long lived.
His hand didn't leave her body.
Instead, it dipped between her legs.
She couldn’t go through this again.
She couldn’t.
Her entire body clenched and she whimpered.
Her mews of distress must have upset Jeff, because he withdrew his hand. “I love you, Hannah. If you just give me a chance, I can show you. I can make you happy. I want to make you happy, and I want to be with you, always. Forever.”
* * * * *
7:11 A.M.
Tom was cold.
The feeling ripped him out of sleep.
Hannah was gone.
He rolled over and stretched, the kind of long contented stretch that a cat gave. Last night had been amazing. He knew Hannah had been afraid that she couldn’t cope with sex after her assault, but once she let go of that fear, it had been just like old times.
Then afterward, they had fallen asleep in each other’s arms. Hannah had slept peacefully through the night. When he’d awakened at six, hot, he’d found her draped across him. The feel of her body lying on his was something he could never get enough of, and being completely content, he had gone straight back to sleep.
Hannah must have woken up shortly after and decided to get up. If he knew her, and he did, she probably went to make breakfast. Maybe once they’d had breakfast he could convince her to come back to bed with him, although knowing Hannah, she was probably going to want to finish decorating the house for Christmas. He couldn’t help but smile, and he couldn’t wait to celebrate another Christmas with her.
She must have put on his shirt, because it wasn't on the floor where he’d tossed it last night. For some reason, she liked wearing his clothes around the house. Pulling on his pants, he padded down the hall, anxious to find Hannah. He didn't like not having her in his line of sight. The last few days had taken a toll on both of them, and it would take them both a while to recover.
At the top of the steps, he froze.
Jeff Shields was standing in the hall, holding a gun to Hannah’s head.
His anger flared at the sight of the woman he loved in danger once again, but he took his anger and stowed it, it wasn't going to be productive right now.
Yesterday, he’d put his gun in one of Hannah’s spare bedrooms. He hadn’t wanted the sight of it to upset her, but he’d wanted to keep it close by. Why? He hadn’t been sure. Intuition, maybe. Whatever the reason, he didn't have time to analyze it.
Grabbing his weapon, he placed a quick call to Chloe. His partner answered on the second ring. “Hostage situation at Hannah’s house. It wasn't Charles Zimmerman; it was Jeff Shields. He has a gun on Hannah.”
Not bothering to waste time listening to Chloe’s reply, he hung up and headed back to the stairs. Jeff and Hannah’s backs were toward him, so they didn't see him quietly make his way down the steps.
Jeff was whispering in Hannah’s ear. “I love you, Hannah. If you just give me a chance, I can show you. I can make you happy, and I want to make you happy. I want to be with you, always. Forever.”
“Let her go, Jeff,” Tom said.
The older man spun around, bringing Hannah with him, his gun never dipping from where it was shoved against her temple.
Hannah’s eyes met his, panicked and full of fear, but also full of trust. She believed that he would get her out of this alive.
He prayed her trust was well-founded.
“I love her.” Jeff’s brown eyes were fierce.
“Then let her go; you know she’s afraid of guns.”
“Because of you,” the man spat. The arm he held across Hannah’s chest tightened, and her eyes bulged as it pressed against her neck, hampering her ability to breathe. “You let her get hurt. Then you just threw her away. I want to take care of her. I want to make her happy. I want her to know that I love her.”
He kept his gaze fixed firmly on Jeff. If he looked at Hannah, saw the fear on her face, he would feed off that fear, and that would prevent him from doing his job. “I love Hannah, too. I don’t want to see her hurt or scared.”
“You don’t love her,” Jeff growled. “You. Don’t. Love. Her.”
Hannah cried out as he ground the gun into her temple. She was forced to stand on her tippy-toes, her hands clawing at Jeff’s arm, so she could breathe. She was shaking; he guessed from a mixture of cold and shock.
“You lost someone,” Tom went with his hunch because it was the only thing he could think of to keep Jeff talking until help arrived.
Jeff froze.
Shock filled his face.
The gun wavered for a moment, and Tom thought he was going to lower it, but then Jeff rammed it into Hannah’s head, making her cry out again. “How did you know that?” Jeff demanded.
“Who was she?” He’d started down this road, and he had no choice but to follow it through and continue to trust his gut.
“She is none of your business.”
“You cared about her. You loved her. You want to save Hannah because you love her, too. Hannah reminds you of her. Did someone hurt her?”
“I'm not talking about her. I'm here for Hannah. You didn't want her. You threw her away, but I was there. I helped her. I supported her. When she needed someone, I was there.”
“And I'm sure she appreciated it. I'm sure it meant a lot to her to have someone like you in her life.”
“If you hadn’t come back, she would have been mine. You ruined everything.”
Tom was starting to wonder if Jeff’s end game was killing him and then abducting Hannah, taking her someplace and trying to make her reciprocate his feelings. When that didn't happen, Jeff would kill Hannah, too. He prayed help arrived soon. He was going to have to push harder and hope that he didn't go too far. “Was she raped, Jeff? The woman you loved?”
Jeff began to vibrate with emotion. His eyes grew moist. “Penny.”
“Did someone hurt Penny?” He gentled his voice. Jeff already didn't like him, and he didn't want to give the older man another reason to shoot him.
“She was walking home from school. He grabbed her. Dragged her into an alley. Assaulted her.”
“How old was she?”
“Sixteen. Only sixteen.”
“She was your girlfriend?”
Jeff nodded.
“What happened to her?”
“Suicide,” the man mumbled.
He would never have thought that an-almost-four-decade-old crime could have had such long lasting and far reaching consequences. “I'm sorry.”
It didn't appear that Jeff heard him. The older man was lost in thought. “I walked away from her. I turned my back on her. I was sixteen and scared. I didn't know how to help a girl deal with rape. I was just a kid. I didn't know what to say. I didn't know what to do. She would cry. She was so lost. I broke up with her. When she needed someone the most, I wasn't there. She overdosed on her anti-depressants a month after I dumped her.”
“Penny’s suicide wasn't your fault, Jeff. Trauma like that messes with your head. It makes you see things—the world and yourself—differently.”
“Not Hannah,” Jeff protested. “She survived. Her assault made her grow stronger.”
Tom couldn’t argue with that. Hannah was amazing. Jeff had taken his misplaced guilt over his teenage girlfriend’s suicide and put it on Hannah. She was what he believed that Penny should have been—strong and independent, accepting what had happened and working on overcoming it. He had both admired Hannah’s strength but also seen it as an obstacle to overcome in getting to her. He had needed to break Hannah to get her to come to him. Only that would never happen. Hannah was unbreakable. She would never love Jeff. She would never give him what he wanted.
“I wasn't there for Penny, but I’ve been here for Hannah. I’ve admired her strength, and I want to make her stronger by loving her. I would never throw her away like you did. I won't ever turn my back on her. I won't ever let her go.”
Tom believed that.
He was going to have to make his move, or this was not going to end well. Although he wanted to wait for Chloe and backup to arrive, he didn't think he was going to have that much time. He wasn't a trained hostage negotiator, but he knew the basics—active listening, empathy, rapport, influence, change behavior. He just didn't think they were going to work in this situation. In Jeff’s mind, Tom was the problem. He was the obstacle to getting what he wanted; it was personal. Jeff hated him for hurting Hannah by walking away and for coming back into her life and getting between him and Hannah.
Hannah was still on her tippy-toes and her legs were beginning to tremble from being forced to remain in that position, but if she didn't, then Jeff’s arm would be crushing her throat and preventing her from breathing. She was wearing out. Right now, Jeff’s attention was focused on him, but when Hannah’s legs gave out, she would draw his attention back to her. Tom wanted to keep Jeff’s focus. As long as he did, Hannah was marginally safer. If he could get Jeff angry enough to fire a shot at him, then Hannah could get free and get to safety.
“I believe that you love Hannah, Jeff. I believe that everything that you’ve done is because you wanted to show her just how much you loved her. But this isn’t the way. Scaring her and paying people to hurt her doesn’t show her your love. When you love someone, you have to set aside your own needs and wants and desires to do what's best for them. And what’s best for Hannah right now is for you to let her go. She understands that you love her. You don’t need to hold a gun to her head and scare her anymore. Let her go. Show her how much you love her. Show her that you want to put her before yourself.”
* * * * *
7:29 A.M.
“Are you questioning my love for Hannah?” Jeff’s anger exploded.
His grip on her tightened once again, and he ground his gun harder into her temple. Hannah tried not to cry out because she knew it would distract Tom, and she didn't want to do that. Her life was in his hands, and she trusted him to get her out of this alive.
She was trying to do her part. She kept herself balanced on her tiptoes, but her legs were beginning to shake. She was using her grip on Jeff’s forearm to help steady herself. She was shivering, and cold air was seeping up under the shirt she wore, curling around her naked flesh and reminding her of the feel of Jeff’s hand on her skin. At least he hadn’t done anything more than touch her breast and move his hand between her legs. When he’d realized he was upsetting her, he’d stopped before he put anything inside her.
Her mind wanted to keep throwing her back into the past, but this wasn't three years ago. She and Tom weren’t helpless at the hands of six evil men who had come to their home with the sole purpose of torturing and killing them.
This was Jeff.
And whether she had seen who he truly was or not, she knew him.
Right now, Tom was making him so angry. Pushing him by making him recount the story of his teenage girlfriend who had been raped and committed suicide. Hannah had had no idea that Jeff had been through that. She wished he’d told her. She might have been able to give him some insight into some of the things that might have been going through Penny’s head. Particularly, since Jeff had broken up with Penny shortly following her assault, and she and Tom had gotten divorced shortly after hers. That was obviously the reason he had developed this obsession with her.
She was afraid that if Tom kept antagonizing Jeff, then Jeff was going to shoot him. She was even more afraid that that was exactly what Tom was hoping would happen. That if he kept Jeff’s focus and got him angry enough to fire off a shot at him then the gun would no longer be at her head, and she might be able to get away.
But she had no intention of letting that happen. She didn't want Tom to sacrifice himself for her, and she didn't want to risk him being hurt. He had had time to get his gun, so she assumed that he had also called for help, but they had no idea when that help would arrive, and Jeff was growing more agitated by the second.
The two men continued to talk, but she had tuned out their words. All her energy was focused on keeping herself balanced and trying to figure out a way where all three of them walked out of this alive. And if that couldn’t happen, then at least she and Tom walked out of this alive. She didn't want Jeff to die, but she had obviously never really known him, and he wasn't the man that she thought he was. If killing him was the only way she and Tom survived, then she would be okay with that.
Tom obviously said something that angered Jeff again because he squeezed her so tightly she couldn’t stop an agonized cry from escaping her lips. The gun was pressed so tightly against her head that she could feel it cutting into her flesh. A small trickle of blood dribbled down her face.
Blood.
That gave her an idea.
Jeff was injured. He had gotten himself shot in the robbery, and she assumed it was because he wanted her to see him as the hero who came running in to save her when the robbers threatened to shoot her. From the way he squeezed her, the wound didn't appear to be giving him too much trouble but it still had to be causing him pain.
Maybe she could take advantage of that.
If she waited until the gun dropped a little, then she could gouge her hand into the wound, which might be enough to make him let her go. Her hands were already wrapped around his left arm, using it for leverage to keep enough space between it and her neck so that she could breathe. His right hand held the gun at her head, and the distance between her hands and his injured right shoulder wasn't far. She thought she could make it.
It would be risky, though.
If she mistimed it, he could shoot her.
Kill her.
But she was going to have to take that risk. What other choices did she have? She could do nothing and let Jeff shoot both her and Tom. Or just Tom. And she was pretty sure that if Jeff killed or seriously wounded Tom, he would drag her out of here and away somewhere where he thought he could keep her and make her fall in love with him. That was never going to happen, and sooner or later Jeff would realize that and kill her, too.
She had to do this.
It might be the only way. Hannah didn't think that Tom could talk Jeff into releasing them and giving himself up.
“Cops are going to be here any minute, Jeff,” Tom was saying. “You made a mistake with Penny by putting your needs ahead of hers. Don’t make the same mistake with Hannah.”
“Everything I've done has been for her,” Jeff screamed in her ear. “I tried to help her, to make her see that having someone there for her wasn't a bad thing. It’s you. You failed her. I saved her.”
“You hurt her. You’re hurting her right now. Don’t make this worse, Jeff. Please. If you love Hannah as much as you say you do, then let her go. Do the right thing, prove that love.”
“Prove my love? I’ve proved it over and over and over again,” Jeff raged. As he spoke, the gun moved away from her head. Not a lot, but it was no longer pressed against her temple.
This was it.
It was now or never.
She might not get another chance.
She had to make her move.
She was only going to have one shot at this.
If she missed her target, then both she and Tom could wind up dead.
Before she could overthink things and talk herself out of it, Hannah darted her hand toward Jeff’s wound. She connected and dug her fingers in.
Jeff howled and released her.
She spun out of his grip.
He whirled on her.
His gun was pointed directly at her.
His brown eyes, which at one time she had considered to be those of a friend she trusted and cared about, were now wild with fury and doused in obsession.
He would rather kill her than let her go.
Hannah could see it in his face.
He was going to fire.
She could see it in his eyes.
Hannah braced herself for the onslaught of pain that would come when the bullet hit her.
She readied herself to die.
Mentally, she said her goodbyes to Tom and thanked him for giving her one last joyful, special, magical night.
The gun went off.
The sound seemed amplified inside her head.
Blood splattered everywhere.
Jeff fell.
Tom grabbed her hand, yanking her hard up against his chest.
Keeping her close, he kicked Jeff’s gun away from him.
It took Hannah’s brain a moment to process what had happened.
Jeff hadn’t shot her; Tom had shot Jeff.
She had been right beside Jeff when Tom shot him. She had his blood and brains all over her.
She started to shake in earnest as it began to sink in just how close she and Tom had come to dying.
Tom yelled something, but the words didn't penetrate the haze that was settling on her.
The room descended into chaos as people flooded in.
Cops, she supposed.
Hannah didn't care who was here; all she cared about was that they were alive. She pressed herself closer to Tom and clung to him. What would she have done if anything had happened to him?
“Shh. It’s all right, baby, it’s over now. You're safe, sweetheart. You’re safe.” Tom was stroking her hair, and she suddenly remembered that she was covered in Jeff’s blood.
“I'm sorry, I'm getting it all over you.” She tried to step out of Tom’s embrace.
He tightened his hold on her, pulling her closer, cocooning her in safety and warmth. Not just warmth that heated her cold body, but warmth that seeped down inside her, heating her heart that had been so badly damaged by everything that had happened three years ago.
“Thank you,” she whispered against his chest. “You saved my life.”
“Actually, I think you saved yourself,” Tom said. “And me.”
“I think we saved each other,” she said.
“We’re a pretty good team.”
“We are,” she agreed. “But maybe no more talk about saving.”
“Agreed.” He gently eased her off his chest and held her at arm’s length, “Now let’s go get you checked out and cleaned up.”
Then they could celebrate Christmas.
Together.
* * * * *
10:07 P.M.
“How are you doing?” Tom perched on the edge of the sofa where Hannah was sitting under a pile of blankets. She had been sitting there most of the day.
After he shot Jeff Shields to stop him from shooting Hannah, Chloe and the cops who had just arrived had come bursting in. They had confirmed that Jeff was dead. Paramedics had also turned up and Hannah had allowed herself to be checked out without much protest. After ERT had taken some photos of the blood and brain matter that was splattered all over her, the paramedics had taped a white square bandage over the small wound on her temple from where Jeff had dug the gun into her flesh.
While ERT processed the scene, agents took his and Hannah’s statements. The shooting would be deemed justified. Chloe and six other agents and officers had been just outside the door and had seen that Jeff was about to shoot Hannah. He hadn’t had a choice. It was Jeff or Hannah, and there was no way he was letting Hannah die.
When they’d given their statements and ERT was finished with Hannah, he had taken her upstairs and put her in a steaming hot bath. She’d still been shaking, and he couldn’t stand seeing blood on her for a single second longer. After she was cleaned up, she had settled herself on one of the sofas in the living room, and since she was still shivering, he had collected several of the blankets in the house and bundled her up in them.
Chloe had organized getting the floor in Hannah’s hall cleaned, and now the house was back to normal and empty of all but the two of them, for the first time since they’d gotten up this morning.
“I’m all right.” She smiled at him. Her face was still a little haunted, and her eyes still held a glint of shock, but he knew she would make it through this just like she had worked her way through everything else that had been thrown her way.
“I was so scared,” he admitted, cupping her cheek in his hand, his thumb absently stroking along her cheekbone. “I thought he was going to kill you.”
“I thought he was going to kill you.” Hannah lifted her hand to cover his.
“When you jabbed his wound and then twisted out of his grip, I was simultaneously terrified and impressed.”
“I knew I just had to get away from the gun and you would take care of him.”
Her complete and utter faith in him warmed him. He was glad it had worked out because it could just have easily ended with his and Hannah’s dead bodies left lying on the floor for his partner to discover rather than Jeff’s.
But it had worked out.
And he had Hannah back in his life.
This time, he wasn't going to let her go.
“I have something for you, an early Christmas gift,” he told her.
Hannah’s eyes brightened. “Yeah?”
He pulled a small black velvet box out of his pocket and dropped down onto one knee, reaching inside the blankets swaddling Hannah to pull out her left hand. “Hannah, will you marry me?”
Her eyes were as wide as saucers now. “Marry you? Now? We only just reconnected, maybe we should wait and see how things go.”
“Do you love me?”
“Yes, of course. Always.”
“I love you, too. I always have and I always will. We’re stronger together, and we love each other. Why should we wait?”
“Okay.” Hannah’s face broke into a giant smile.
“Okay?” he repeated cautiously.
“Yes, I want to marry you again. I missed you so much.”
Grinning, Tom leaned forward and kissed her, then took the ring from the box and slid it on to her finger.
“Oh, Tom.” Hannah’s eyes grew watery when she saw the ring. “You kept it.”
“I did.” When he and Hannah had divorced, she had given him back the engagement ring. He had kept it in a drawer in his bedroom, unable to part with it. It was as if his heart knew something his brain didn't. That one day he and Hannah would be thrown back together and given a second chance. A chance to fix what they’d let break and wind up together again.
“It’s perfect,” she gushed.
“I always loved you, Hannah. Always. I never wanted us to break up. I walked away because I thought it was what you wanted, that it was what you needed, that it was what was best for you. It tore me up inside, but I will always put your needs before my own.”
“I’ve always loved you, too, Tom. I let you walk away because I thought it was what was best for you. I thought it was what you needed to heal from what happened. I hated letting you go. I wanted you to stay. I wanted you. But I couldn’t let you be hurt by staying with me.”
Tom curled his hands around the back of her neck and rested his forehead against hers. If only they had talked. “In the future, we communicate so we don’t have another disastrous misunderstanding like that.”
“We both shut each other out, and we won't do that again. We took a bad situation and made it so much worse because we were both too stubborn to sit down and talk to each other. But now we know better. We won't make that mistake again.”
Keeping hold of her, he lifted his head so he could look her in the eye. “Let’s get married tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? Tomorrow is Christmas Day.”
“What better day to get married? You love Christmas, and it’s a day of hope—of peace, reconciliation, and love. And I don’t want to wait to make you my wife again. We lost three years. I don’t want to lose another second.”
“What would I wear? And who would marry us at such short notice? And what are we going to do about a reception?”
“You can wear the same dress you wore for our first wedding. You still have it, right?”
“I do.”
“We don’t need to worry about a wedding reception. We’re going to be celebrating Christmas with our families tomorrow, anyway. It can be a Christmas and wedding celebration.”
“Our families are going to think we’re crazy,” Hannah said. He could see in her face he almost had her convinced.
“We were going to go to church in the morning, anyway. I spoke with the minister at my parents’ church. He said he’ll perform the ceremony. We can do this, baby. We can get married tomorrow. We can rebuild the marriage that we had before. After the attack, we gave up on each other. We were both broken and we had a lot to work through, but we’re stronger now, and we’re ready to work on things, to make our marriage stronger than it ever was before. We’re not going to let those men win. We’re not going to let them destroy our love. I have something else for you.”
“Another gift?”
“Yep.” Tom pulled out an envelope from his pocket and handed it to Hannah.
She opened the envelope and took out what was inside. When she saw what it was, she grew teary again, “Oh, Tom. Does this mean what I think it means?”
“It does.”
“It’s perfect. The best gift you could have ever given me.”
“You were right. I was a victim, too. And it’s time to admit it and do something about it. That’s the name of one of the trauma counselors the FBI refers victims to. I know you were going to look for a new therapist after learning what you did about Bryce McCracken, so I thought we could both go. Together and separately.”
“I love you so much.” She pulled his face closer so she could whisper her lips across his. “I was going to give this to you tomorrow, but I want you to have it now.” Hannah unwrapped the blankets from around herself and went to the Christmas tree, retrieving a gift that was sitting underneath. Tom sat on the couch and Hannah returned and settled herself in his lap, handing him a green and red striped box, tied with glittery gold ribbon with a large bow on top. “I was going to give this to you the next Christmas we would have celebrated together. I kept it. For some reason, I couldn’t get rid of it. It was like I somehow knew that we would find our way back to each other.”
Intrigued, he opened the box, and his heart melted when he saw what was inside. “It’s beautiful, Hannah.” Carefully, he lifted the snow globe out. She’d gotten it specially made for him. Inside the glass dome was them. Him and Hannah. They were building a snowman, and the little model Tom had his arm around little model Hannah. They were in the yard of a house that looked just like the one they had always talked about buying. The little house had been decorated for Christmas with little lights around its eaves and a wreath on the door.
“Do you like it?” she asked.
“Sweetheart, I love it. Every time I look at it, I'm going to think of you.” He pressed a kiss to her cheek. He had never loved a gift as much in his life as the one he held in his hands.
“Shake it.” She beamed at him.
He did and snow filled the little world as it began to play a song, “Joy to the World.” It was his favorite Christmas carol, because it reminded him of Hannah and her childish joy at Christmas time. He hugged her tightly. “You are the most amazing, beautiful, sweet, caring, kind, loving person on the planet.”
Hannah giggled. “You just think that because you love me.”
“I think it because it’s true,” he corrected. He kissed her, long and slow, relishing the feeling of the woman he loved in his arms, her arms around his neck, her lips on his. This was what life was all about, and right about now, he didn't think it could get any better than this.
When he finished kissing her, Hannah yawned. She’d held up amazingly well throughout the day, but now she needed rest.
“Bedtime.” He scooped her up and deposited her on her feet.
“Wait, we can't, we have to get the milk and cookies first,” she protested.
Tom chuckled. “You are too cute.”
“Cute?” She made a face at him. “Thirty-year-old people are not cute.”
“If you say so, babe.” He grinned.
She rolled her eyes at him and hurried off to the kitchen, returning a moment later with a glass of milk, a chocolate chip cookie on a Santa plate, and a couple of carrots. “Here we go, snacks for Santa and his reindeer,” she announced, setting them on a small table next to the Christmas tree.
He just laughed. He loved that Hannah still wanted to leave milk and cookies for Santa, even though she was an adult now and knew he didn't exist. He loved that spark of childish joy that still lived inside her, and he was so grateful that what she’d been through hadn’t extinguished it.
“Go to bed.” He swatted at her behind. “I’ll be right up.”
“Okay, don’t be long. I’ll be waiting.”
The look she shot him before she sauntered out of the room was enough to have him quickly gobbling up the cookie, chewing on the carrots, and gulping down the milk so he could join his fiancée in bed. Making love to the woman who owned his heart, falling asleep with her in his arms, then waking up to tomorrow morning and making her his wife.
This was the best Christmas ever.