“I watched from the edge of the forest. I saw you fire on your own men with that AK-47 you had staged in my village. I may have sold weapons to the enemy, but I never pulled the trigger on my own people.”
She spat on the floor at Gordon’s feet. “You are the traitor. You should be thankful I will destroy this.” She nodded at the package in her arms. “What would happen to your precious campaign if your part in the arms sales and murder of your soldiers got out, if this memoir gets published? The great war hero isn’t such a hero after all, is he? Is that why you hired the assassin to collect the manuscript and kill everyone who knew anything about what really happened?”
Mary gasped.
“He murdered women and children. He came to kill me and thought he had.” Jasmine smirked. “I escaped, unlike others of my people who were not so fortunate.”
“She’s lying, of course. She’s an expert at it.” Gordon’s grip turned white on the gun. Had Jasmine hit a nerve with the senator? Possibly the truth? How could a man running for president get away with the atrocities listed in Richards’ memoirs?
Mary inched a step away from the two. “But you saved Taylor Rayburn. You were a war hero.”
Jasmine laughed. “He probably didn’t think the man would live. And when he did survive, he’d suffered brain damage. He lost his ability to talk in that attack, along with his memory of his entire tour. He couldn’t tell the truth of what happened.” Jasmine smiled. “Gordon saves a soldier he set out to kill, becomes a hero and all is forgotten about weapons sales to the enemy. Now look at him, running for president. Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me. All I want is to live the rest of my life with Charles.”
“I’m supposed to trust you?” Gordon shook his head. He bent to retrieve Cobra’s fallen weapon. When he straightened, he aimed the nose of the silencer at Jasmine. “This story dies here.”
Mary threw herself over her father’s body and squeezed her eyes shut. Whatever happened, would happen.
“Oh no, you d—” Jasmine’s weapon blasted out a round.
The sound reverberated off Mary’s eardrums. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Gordon duck to the right. Jasmine’s bullet completely missed him. The basement grew silent, the residual echoes receding at once. A soft thud broke the silence.
Jasmine dropped to the floor at Mary’s feet, her chest covered in a red stain, her eyes open, staring into nothingness.
Bracing herself, Mary turned to face Gordon Thomas. Was she next?
Thomas lifted the manuscript from the floor, pulled out a lighter and set the paper on fire. Smoke curled from the corner of the envelope upward. “Richards was a fool.” He tossed the envelope into a pile of old clothing.
“No!” Mary lunged for the burning package. She had to stop the fire before it spread to the pile of old newspapers beside the box of clothing. Her father lay unconscious, unable to help himself, and she didn’t have the strength to carry him up the stairs.
Gordon blocked her path. “Like I said, the truth dies here.” Then with a powerful, double fisted swing, he hit her hard enough to send her flying backward. She landed on her back, her head connecting with the stone floor in a bone-crunching thump.
Chapter 17
Nick pulled up in front of the police station, disheartened and hovering on desperation. After driving every little street, he hadn’t come any closer to finding Mary or her father. The longer she remained missing, the stronger the possibility he wouldn’t find her. Or wouldn’t find her alive. Not with a trigger-happy Cobra on the loose.
“Damn it!” He slammed his palm against the steering wheel and then jumped when someone pounded against the driver’s side window.
With his hand already on his SIG Sauer, he stopped short of pulling it from the holster. Beating on the window of his rental car was Chris Moss.
Nick slung the door open and jumped out.
“Mr. St. Claire, I’ve been looking all over for you. I was just about to go to the police when you drove up.”
Nick grabbed the boy’s shoulders. “Where’s Mary?”
“That’s just it. She sent me to get you. She has the package and is trading it for her father as we speak.”
A cold wash of fear pierced Nick straight through the heart. The fool woman didn’t know who she was up against. Cobra didn’t negotiate. He killed. “Where?”
“At Santa’s house.”
As Nick dove into the driver’s seat, he shouted through the open door, “Get the police over there. Now!” Before he even shut his door, he shifted in reverse, spinning out of the icy parking lot onto Santa Claus Lane.
Please, God, let him be in time to save Mary. She’d managed to crawl under his skin, and he wanted more than anything to get to know her better. He had only begun to scratch the surface of Mary’s magic and that of year-round Christmas Towne. If something happened to Mary, he’d lose all chances of capturing the magic for himself. And for once in his life, he wanted to experience the enchantment of Christmas, a time of year up until now, he’d avoided.
For the first time in his life, Nick prayed.
When Nick reached the cottage, he slammed on his brakes and the car skidded to a halt against a mound of icy snow left by the snowplows.
