"So who was Santa last year at Christmas?" she asked.
He blinked at the off-the-wall question. "What?"
"Christmas. You know, Santa?"
He frowned and tried to shake off the shadow that fell over his heart. "Last Christmas wasn't that great, baby. I doubt anyone was. I spent it alone. Here."
Her features fell, and she reached over with her good hand to squeeze his. "I'm sorry. That was thoughtless of me."
He smiled. "No, you had forgotten what happened, and that's a good thing. We thought we'd lost you, but we haven't, so we never have to go back to that place again. Why do you ask about Santa?"
She regained her smile, and her eyes sparkled like twin diamonds. "Well, if no one was Santa last year, that means it's Garrett's turn."
Ethan threw back his head and laughed. "We've already reminded him, actually. I don't think he was too thrilled, but for you and Ma, he'll do it."
"We could make Rusty his helper. Between the two of them, they'd do a great rendition of the Grinch Who Stole Christmas."
Ethan winced. "Ouch. It's probably not a good idea to put those two together and expect merriment. Besides, you're assuming that Rusty will still be around at Christmas."
A thoughtful look entered Rachel's eyes. "Oh, I think she'll be here. She loves Marlene and Frank. It's the rest of you she isn't so sold on yet."
"Yeah, well, the feeling is mutual," Ethan said. "The girl is a pain."
"Just like little sisters should be," Rachel said softly.
Ethan groaned. "You're worse than Ma."
"Give her a chance, Ethan. She's young and mixed up and she's had a hard life. We all deserve second chances."
She had him there. Boy, did she have him there. He of all people should know the value of second chances. Gripped by emotion-gratitude for just such a second chance-he pulled her across the chair to sit in his lap.
She snuggled into his chest and laid her clunky cast on the table out of the way.
"I love you," she said as she kissed his neck.
"I love you too, baby. We're a study in second chances, you know?"
She turned her head up to stare into his eyes. Her bottom lip pouted invitingly, and he couldn't resist the temptation to nibble on it.
"Sometimes second chances are the very best chances," she whispered. "Because this time we'll get it right."
TURN THE PAGE FOR A SPECIAL PREVIEW OF
MAYA BANKS'S NEXT KGI NOVEL
NO PLACE TO RUN
COMING DECEMBER 2010
FROM BERKLEY SENSATION!
SOPHIE throttled back and the boat slowed, coming to a near standstill in Kentucky Lake. Darkness shrouded her. The sky was overcast. New moon. Only one or two stars poked through the cloud cover. She was running with no lights and keeping to the middle of the lake until she was sure she was close enough to her destination to move quickly to shore.
She studied the small handheld GPS and then lifted her gaze up the shoreline to the north. According to her coordinates, her destination was another mile down the lake.
She swallowed her fear and nervousness and automatically put her hand on her belly in a soothing motion. Would Sam even be there? How would he react to seeing her again? What would he say when he knew the truth about her?
She glanced nervously over her shoulder into the darkness. The lake was a slosh of midnight ink. The only sound she could hear was the low chop against the hull of her boat.
Her nerves were shot. She knew she was taking a risk, but she was out of options. Her uncle's cronies were closing in on her. She could smell them. She could feel them in every part of her body. There'd been too many close calls in the last weeks.
A smart woman recognized when she could no longer do things on her own. She considered herself a smart woman, which was why she was here. In a damn boat on a damn lake trying to find the father of her baby so hopefully he could protect them both.
After five months of running, the idea of being in such a vulnerable place scared her witless. True, it wasn't as if she drove boldly into Dover, asked where to find Sam Kelly and then parked in front of his house. She had that much sense. Sam would be the first place her uncle expected her to run. Which was why she stayed away for so long.
And then there was the fact that neither she nor Sam had been honest with the other. Both had been other people. The only real thing between them had been the intense desire. She'd fallen fast and she'd fallen hard.
For a man who'd despise her once he learned the truth.
She eased the boat forward, following the line on her GPS. With any luck, she'd dock right in Sam's backyard and hope to hell she didn't get shot for trespassing.
A noise ahead and to the left alerted her. Her head rose and she stared, her nostrils flaring as she sucked in the chilly night air.
A sudden blast of light blinded her. She threw up her arm to shield her face, but it was no use.
The roar of an engine accelerating kicked her self-preservation into gear. Without hesitation, she dove overboard. She smacked into the cold water and felt the shock to her toes.
The larger boat hit hers with a resounding crack. Debris flew into the air and pelted the water all around her. A huge chunk hit the surface in front of her and blew water over her head.
Her mouth filled with water, and she pushed it out before rolling to swim toward shore. She hadn't gotten a full breath, and already her lungs were tight with the need for air.
She surfaced and sucked in a huge breath. Pain exploded in her arm, and she inhaled another mouthful of water. Shock splintered with needle-like awareness. She touched her arm and felt warmth. Liquid warmth.
Blood.
Son of a bitch had shot her! Terror hit her like a sledgehammer. She fought to keep her panic at bay. She had to hold it together. Why the hell had he shot her?
Her hair went straight upward, and her neck popped back as a hand yanked her out of the water. She banged over the side of a boat, and she had the presence of mind to wrap her arms protectively around her middle.
Her baby. She had to protect her baby.
She landed with a crash on the deck of the boat and squinched her eyes shut against the beam of light shining into her face.
"Get up."
She cracked open one eye and stared up at the man looming over her. She glanced around and saw no one else.
"Go fuck yourself."
He kicked her in the arm and agony ricocheted through her body. Then he reached down, curled his hand in her hair and hauled her upright.
If he hadn't still been holding her, she would have went down. Her legs refused to cooperate. Her arm was on fire and hung loosely at her side.
"Where is the key, Sophie?"
"Look, I don't even know you," she spit out. "You don't get to call me by my first name. Or at all. Do you think I'm stupid enough to carry it around with me?"
A flash of silver caught her gaze. Her eyes widened when she saw the wicked curve of a very sharp blade. Then she raised her gaze higher and saw cold determination in the face of the assassin.
Forcing bravado into her voice, she said, "If you kill me, you get squat."
"A fact you're counting on, I'm sure," he said in a flat tone. "My orders are to make you talk. Any way that has to happen. Trust me, you'll talk."
She swallowed and sucked in air through her nostrils. God, what was she going to do? She'd been so close to Sam. So damn close.
All these months, all this time, she'd stayed to the shadows, always one step ahead of her father's grasp. Even dead, he held her by the throat. Her uncle would carry on his legacy of selling death. There was always someone willing to take up the reins.
But without access to her father's wealth and resources, Tomas was crippled. She planned to keep him that way.
The man hauled her close, his breath blowing hot across her face. She felt the edge of the knife against her belly and bile rose sharp in her throat.
"You won't die. Not at first. But your baby will. Tell me what I want to know or I'll slice you open and let your child spill out of your belly."
Her stomach revolted and she gagged, the knot so big that she choked. Tears stung her eyes, and then rage blew hot like the first wave of a blast.
"You son of a bitch," she bit out.
She'd had enough. The fact that she was constantly underestimated usually worked in her favor, but this guy seemed smarter than the other assholes her father employed. Indeed, he was smarter than her father, who hadn't believed she'd shoot her own flesh and blood.
This bastard wasn't going to give her any easy passes because she was cute and blond and innocent looking. Which meant she had to rely on sheer grit and determination if she was going to keep her baby alive.
"All right, I'll tell you," she gasped out. "Put the knife away."
"I like it just where it is."
He wasn't going to make this easy.