Cole in My Stocking (33 page)

“Then get access. You have a day to figure it out.” He tipped his head and strode for the door.

As he pulled it open, I heard the faraway wail of a siren.

Cole.

He’d either broken the sound barrier to get here in just over ten minutes or he’d sent another unit ahead. That meant he must have heard everything Brock said.

Brock glared at me. “What. The. Fuck.”

“Had Cole on the line,” I told him, pulling the phone from my pocket. A quick glance showed the call to Cole’s phone was live and had been for the last six minutes and some change. “Look at my face. Tell me, am I bluffing?”

His face turned red. “Fucking bitch,” he spat and ran down the stairs.

I stepped onto the landing outside and saw him turn right at the bottom to head for the woods instead of toward his car in the driveway. He tore into the trees, angling along the alley Dad had clear-cut into the woods when he’d built the berm.

The siren grew deafening. Gravel sprayed the front of the garage as the cruiser must have skidded to a stop. I heard a door open but not close.

Cole ran around the edge of the garage with his pistol drawn, coming toward the stairs like a freight train. In two strides, he made it halfway up the flight.

I pointed. “He went that way. He has a gun.”

With a curse, he leapt over the railing. The second his boots made contact with the frozen ground, he took off into the woods, yelling over his shoulder, “Get inside. Call nine-one-one. Didn’t call it in since he mentioned the scanner.”

I obeyed, ending the call to his phone and dialing the emergency number. But I wasn’t about to cower in a corner while my boyfriend faced down an armed criminal.

While I waited for an answer, I went to the window where Dad used to stand to fire repaired weapons into targets on the berm. I threw it open, and a burst of chilly air rolled over me.

Holding the phone to my shoulder, I gave Dad’s address to the operator. At the same time, I drew Cole’s .45 and clicked off the safety—Brock knew Cole was onto him, which meant he’d be desperate to get away. I wasn’t going to let that happen.

Squinting into the woods, I looked for movement while I summarized the situation for the operator. There! Forest green body, tan hat. Cole, sliding through the winter-bare growth of trees, head swiveling for any sign of Brock.

Movement to my right caught my eye. I tore my gaze from Cole and spotted Brock. He had circled around the two-hundred-foot berm and was scrambling up the side. At the top, he settled on his stomach and drew his weapon. Oh God, he was taking aim at Cole.

The phone fell from my shoulder and tumbled out the window. Without thinking, I raised the .45, lined up the sights, exhaled, and squeezed the trigger.

Bang!

The recoil sent a shock up my arms into my shoulders. I absorbed it with my stance and lowered the gun just enough to see Brock roll out of sight over the back of the berm. I couldn’t tell if I’d hit him. He might have just heard my shot and rolled for cover.

“Cole, he’s behind the berm! That was my fire. He was taking aim at you.” I was probably shouting louder than I needed to, but my voice was muffled in my ears, which were ringing from the blast.

I kept my weapon aimed at the berm, prepared to take another shot if Brock reappeared.

Through the cotton feel in my ears, I couldn’t hear Cole’s footsteps as he entered my peripheral vision. I refused to look his way and miss another shot at Brock if I got one. It was enough to know Cole was still moving.

“Shut that window, honey. Get down and stay down.” Cole’s voice made it through the cotton.

“Not a chance.” A bullet-proof mound of dirt was the perfect place for a person to get the drop on someone. I wasn’t going to let Brock get Cole in his sights again. “You said you didn’t call this in. I’m your only cover until the operator gets someone else over here.”

He didn’t argue. He was busy keeping his piece aimed at the berm while he brought his radio to his mouth. I couldn’t make out what he was saying.

My heart lunged into my throat when he stalked past the outline of the berm and out of sight.

Please don’t get shot. Please don’t get shot.

“Drop your weapon!” Cole’s shout came from behind the berm. “Don’t make me shoot you, Brock.”

I heard a muffled reply. My arms shook. The weight of the .45 was too much to hold my stance any longer. I lowered the weapon but kept my eyes glued to the side of the berm where Cole had disappeared.

I prayed I wouldn’t hear shots.

“All clear!” Cole called. I became aware of multiple sirens, but my attention was all for Cole. He reappeared around the edge of the berm with a wave toward me. “You hit him, but he’ll live. He’s cuffed and unarmed. Stay put while the cavalry does their thing. I’ll be up soon as I can.”

Two cops in Newburgh PD blue jogged around the garage and headed for the berm. A few minutes later, two medics wheeled a gurney down the clear-cut alley. When I saw the medics place a groaning Brock on the gurney, I put the safety back on and holstered the .45.

Then I sank to the floor, shaking. I don’t know how much time passed, but Cole’s voice broke through the fading ringing.

“I’ve got you, baby.” He crouched in front of me and pulled me between his legs so he could wrap his arms around me.

I closed my eyes and inhaled his scent, like a beach in winter. His uniform was chilled, as was the skin of his neck. I clung to him while he stood up. Someone put a blanket around my shoulders. A bottle of water appeared in front of me. I drank.

“You did good, honey. So proud of you. You probably saved my life. Had no idea where he was ’til you told me.”

I stared at his handsome face. The fear of losing him had made me shoot a man. “You said Brock will live?” I prompted.

“You got him in the shoulder. He’ll be out of commission a while, but yeah, he’ll live.”

“He’ll live to see the inside of a jail cell,” said a gravelly voice I recognized as Chief Glenmore’s. He clapped Cole on the shoulder and looked at each of my eyes in turn. “Think you’re in shock, Ms. Holcomb. Should probably let your guy here take you to the hospital to get checked out.”

“I’ll take her over to Exeter,” Cole said, and he walked me toward the door. “That was good thinking with the phone, honey. When you’re feeling better, you’ll have to tell me how you managed that. Easy does it.”

We stepped down the stairs side by side. He took most of my weight.

“What about that video? Your house?” I asked as he loaded me into his cruiser.

“Don’t worry about that. Hear me?” Leaning through the open door, he fastened my seatbelt. “You did the right thing. He was probably bluffing. He didn’t know what would work to convince you he was serious, so he went with the shotgun approach. Soon as I get you checked out, we’ll change the password on your email account. Glenmore’s crew will search his place and confiscate any computers. No worries, yeah? We got him. He can’t hurt you now.”

He pecked my cheek and walked around to get in the car. As he threw on the siren and sped us to Exeter Hospital, I stared out the window and tried to figure out whether it was relief I felt or anger at Brock or worry about his threats. In the end, I decided to just be thankful. Cole was alive. Nothing was more important than that.

Chapter 24

“That’s it, honey,” I encouraged Cole. “You’re doing great. Just keep your eyes on me.”

“This feels so frigging awkward. I can’t believe I let you talk me into this. My body wasn’t designed for this.” He shuffled forward on his ice skates, big hands clutching mine with a grip just this side of bone crushing. “Guess that’ll teach me to admit I suck at something. From now on, I feign competence in all things.”

I laughed, but his glare silenced me. He’d had more than his fair share of falls at the indoor skating rink I’d taken him to this afternoon. Tall and solid as he was, I knew he had to be feeling bruised in body as well as ego.

“You’ve done so much for me since I’ve been back, I had to do something for you. Teaching you a skill you lacked seemed the perfect way to thank you.” I gave him a cheeky grin.

“You’re lucky I love you.”

“Yes,” I agreed. “I am.”

Surprising me, he scooped me close, plastering me to his stomach.

“You better not be planning to fall in a second.”

“Honey, I never plan to fall.” He wobbled but recovered when I made my stance strong and curled my fists in his sweatshirt to steady him. “But when I do, I get back up.”

“Small comfort that will be if you squish me.”

“Mmm,” he purred. “You didn’t mind being pinned under me this morning.”

No, I hadn’t minded. A shiver passed over my skin as I remembered the way he’d held me as we’d woken together today. Yesterday had been Cole’s first day off after three twelve-hour days, but he’d spent most of it with me at Newburgh PD, making statements and discussing the arson and theft case with Chief Glenmore and Detective Vance. I’d had to postpone my meeting with Harold Glasby that was supposed to have happened that day. I’d cancelled another commitment too, one I didn’t know for sure whether I would reschedule or not.

After a quiet dinner, he’d thrown in a movie and lain down with me on his sectional. I’d been too exhausted to contemplate pushing any more of my physical boundaries. Cole had known. He simply held me through the movie and then through the night as we’d curled up together in his bed.

Cole’s guest room was back to being a guest room. His bed was now our bed. At least for now. Thankfully, after hearing about everything that had happened, my boss was fine with me taking whatever time I needed in New Hampshire. Content I had a good job waiting for me when I felt ready to return, I could focus on dealing with the mountain of estate and insurance paperwork that had piled up. Fortunately, I didn’t have to deal with it alone.

By this morning, the shock of Brock’s betrayal and of shooting a man I’d known all my life had faded to a manageable level. Upon waking, my libido became fully aware of the large, docile male lying beside me. I’d pretty much tackled Cole with kisses, and we’d ended up in a position that would have been rated R if we hadn’t had clothes on.

Cole had been the one to bring things to a stop. “Slow,” he’d reminded me, and I’d handed him the reins, like the night I’d let him get to second base.

There was remarkable freedom in trusting this man with my body. Didn’t mean I wasn’t going to push for a little more speed eventually, but I needed time to process Dad’s final message to me and all that had happened with Brock. At the moment, slow was okay. Better than okay. It was nice, safe, special.

“You’re trying to distract me,” I said with a swat to his arm. “I want to see you skate through a turn before we go. Get up to speed, then foot over foot.”

“Slave driver,” he muttered, but he did as I asked and managed not to wipe out as he did a halting half lap, including two turns.

I whooped and applauded, drawing some gazes from the other ice rink patrons. “Way to go, babe! I think you deserve a coffee or a hot cocoa. My treat.”

I towed him to the waist-high door, and heard him sigh with relief when his blades met the rubber mat. “
My
treat,” he insisted as we switched into our street shoes.

I’d learned not to argue with him. I was his girl, he kept reminding me. That meant he paid when we went out. Maybe it was unfashionable of me, but I liked the chivalry behind the gesture. Plus, I never got tired of him calling me his girl.

We drove a few miles into downtown Nashua and went inside a small café where Cole claimed the coffee was some of the best around. He ordered for us and met me at the table I’d picked out. We had a nice view of the bustling street with its early-afternoon shoppers and snack-seekers weaving down sidewalks lined with leafless trees. He scooted his chair around so it was next to mine, sat down and slung an arm around me.

“Okay,” he said. “I let you teach me how to skate. Know what that means?” At my blank look, he informed me, “I get to teach you how to cook. Tonight, you’re my sous chef.”

Gulp. Now that was terrifying.

He chuckled and kissed me, a sweet peck on my lips. Still leaning into me, his shoulders went rigid.

I followed his laser-beam gaze to the door. Randall Tooley had just walked in, and he’d spotted us. He wore a navy blue baseball cap with a Security Specialists, Inc. logo. Hands in the pockets of a navy blue windbreaker with the same logo, he came our way.

Cole groaned. He kept his arm around me. Leaning back in his chair with his legs spread, his posture read: insolent.

“Cole. Mandy.” Tooley greeted. He wasn’t smiling. Neither were we.

“Tooley,” Cole said. He sounded more resigned than surprised to run into his former chief here.

I said nothing.

“Heard about Brock.” He took off his hat and shifted his gaze to me. He twisted the bill in his hands. “Want you to know I’m real sorry about the fire. I swear I didn’t know he was capable of anything like that.”

Cole squeezed my shoulder and released, a subtle reminder, perhaps, not to say anything about the investigation. Newburgh PD and the state police were keeping the four-hundred thousand dollars Cole had handed over to the FBI yesterday under wraps. As far as the public knew, Brock had been arrested for the arson and theft of Dad’s collectable guns. His threats against me in order to get his hands on the money weren’t public knowledge. Nor had anything come of them so far. Cole’s house was safe and sound, and Newburgh PD was driving by frequently to make sure it stayed that way. Brock hadn’t lied about having that awful video on his computer, but Vance hadn’t found any sign that Brock had access to my email contacts. Looked like Mr. I-Never-Bluff had been bluffing after all.

Cole needn’t have worried about my saying anything about the investigation to Tooley. I didn’t have anything I wanted to say to him. I muttered, “Thanks, I guess,” then pretended interest in the view of the sidewalk, hoping Tooley would take a hint and move along.

“So, is it true you shot him?”

My throat went dry. I’d been too worried about Cole that afternoon to think about maiming versus killing. I’d just pulled the trigger. I could have killed Brock. Knowing I was capable of killing someone didn’t sit well with me.