Embarrassment heated my ears. Crap. So much for convincing myself I was a badass. Sighing, I pushed to my feet and tip-toed to the kitchen to grab my phone from the counter. “Albertini,” I answered, acutely aware it was almost three in the morning.
“Anna, it’s Saber. Aiden’s been hurt,” James Saber said, his voice pained. Saber was Aiden’s second in command for their specialty ATF unit.
Everything stopped. Including my heart. “What? How bad?” I started running to my bedroom to get dressed. “Where are you?”
A scuffle sounded and then Aiden’s voice came through. “Angel, calm down. I’m fine.” His slight Irish brogue thickened with pain.
My knees turned to liquid, and I fell onto my bed, relief chasing the panic through my body. “You’re fine? What is going on?”
Another scuffle and then Saber returned. “Tell him he has to go to the hospital and see if we need to get the bullets out. Seriously. If you don’t talk sense into him, I’m knocking his skull in, and that’ll just be one more injury to handle. Tell him. Now.”
I sat up, my heart still pounding. “Aiden?” I whispered.
“I’m here,” he said, sounding exhausted, as apparently Saber relinquished the phone. “It’s only two bullets, and Saber can stop being a jackass. They probably went right on through.”
I shook my head, bile rising in my throat. “Where are you?”
“Portland,” he said. “Bust went wrong, things went to shit. I’ll be home tomorrow. Well, later today.”
“After we go to the hospital,” Saber yelled in the background.
I gripped the phone tighter. “Please see a doctor. Come on, Aiden.” It took another ten minutes, but I finally talked him into seeking medical attention, although he was pissed about both the bust and being shot. Since he kept talking, I figured the bullets hadn’t hit anything important.
Even so, when we ended the call, I just sat on my bed and looked at the picture of a tugboat on my little lake that I’d snapped and blown up to hang on my wall. The nightmares stalked me when I became stressed or even too uncertain about my life, so there was no way I was going to sleep again.
I returned to the living room and practiced my kicks and punches until my arms slowed and my body thumped in exhaustion. Dawn slowly crept across the snowy world outside, and I forced myself to keep practicing until I couldn’t take the pain any longer. Only then did I head for a shower so I could start my day.
I had to figure out who’d killed Santa Claus.
Chapter 5
It was a power red high-heel day, but the snow kept coming, so I wore thick boots beneath my black pantsuit instead. I comforted myself with the fact that I could take out a few ribs with those boots if anybody attacked me. Humming, I strode into my office and past our Christmas tree to find my partner, Clark Bunne, already busy at work in his office beyond the reception area door.
He looked up, his brown eyes focusing. “Morning.”
“Morning.” I deposited his triple honey-thick latte with oat milk onto his desk.
His full lips tipped in a smile, and he pounced on the drink, shoving a series of manila case files out of the way. “All right. What did you do?” He kicked back, looking younger than his twenty-five or so years as he gulped down the drink.
“Nothing yet.” I pulled out a leather guest chair and sank onto it, dropping my laptop bag to the floor. Then I told him about the flowers and the heart painted on my garage.
He lost the smile. “The flowers could be all right, but the graffiti heart in the middle of the night is creepy.” He ran a hand over his dark bald head. Sometimes he grew his black hair out, and sometimes he shaved his head, and either way, Clark Bunne was a good looking man built like a cowboy who herded cattle. Long and lean. His skin was a dusky brown and his features ruggedly angled. His legal mind impressed me, and he had a core of solid honor that was unusual to find these days. I was fortunate he’d taken the leap to start a law firm with me, and I knew it.
I sipped my chai latte. “I agree. It doesn’t feel like Jareth Davey, but I have thought he’d make a move soon.”
Clark straightened his deep purple tie that looked chic and professional with his white shirt and gray suit. He managed to carry off bargain clothing and make it look expensive, which was a skill I’d never learned. “We don’t have any odd cases right now where the opponents would try to scare you.” He glanced at his wristwatch. “I’m meeting a client at Smiley’s Diner in a few minutes to prep for a deposition. It’s that timber trespass case.”
“I think you’re clear on that one,” I said. “Your guy didn’t give his neighbor permission to take down the trees, and it’s easy to get an estimate for damages. Treble damages if you win, baby.”
He nodded. “Yeah, I know. Getting three times the actual damages would be great right now. It’s a hand holding meeting, but we’re used to those.” He stood and stretched his back. “Any idea who killed Santa?”
“No, and I’m letting the police figure it out,” I admitted, having learned my lesson. Mostly, anyway. “I can’t tell how close Pierce is to arresting our client, so I do need to talk to some other witnesses today. Then I have the Fraley deposition for their divorce this afternoon as well as a conference call with Judge Pernacki about the disputed boundary case over in Silverville.”
Clark grimaced. “I wish we were big enough we didn’t have to take on divorces.”
“Ditto,” I said. “However, she’s much better off without him, so I don’t mind this one. The guy is an ass, Clark. So is his lawyer. I might have to make a Motion to Compel for the discovery.”
“You waiting until after the mediation?” He reached for his jacket from the coat tree my Nana O’Shea had insisted he have from her basement. It was oak and well-maintained.
