A Forever Christmas - By Marie Ferrarella Page 0,62

then I’m going to go upstairs, wash up and change,” he told her.

A nervous anticipation danced through him. It had been like this for most of the day. His uniform shirt hanging open, he shoved his hands into his pockets and did his best to appear as if he hadn’t a care in the world.

Gabe curled his right hand around the item he’d tucked in there earlier. As his fingers made contact, his heart sped up, launching into double time.

He was still trying to decide whether to give it to her tonight, or tomorrow morning. Tomorrow was Christmas but the day was all but bursting at the seams with the activities planned into the framework of that special day. Alma and Cash had invited everyone in the family to come spend it at their house, and of course, there was the celebration in the town square.

But he wanted to snag a private moment with Angel because this was a private gift. He wanted it to be their secret for a few moments before they wound up sharing it with everyone else.

Tonight, after dinner. He’d give it to her after dinner, he decided, wavering again.

Moving toward the living room, Gabe caught sight of his reflection in the mirror. Angel was going to turn him down if he didn’t do something about the way he looked, he thought. He looked one step removed from a saddle tramp.

“Right now, I wouldn’t even say yes to me,” he muttered under his breath. He needed to wash up—fast.

Whistling, he hurried up the stairs and into his bedroom to get a fresh set of clothes.

He didn’t notice the shadow along the floor in front of him until it was too late.

* * *

ANGEL DID HER BEST to bank it down, but the tightness in her chest insisted on coming back the moment Gabe left her, quickly growing until it struck her as being almost too large to manage.

Certainly too large to ignore.

Relax, you have to relax, she silently ordered herself. There’s no reason to feel like a cornered rabbit. There’s—

Turning around, she barely stifled the scream that leaped to her throat.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded of the man who seemed to materialize out of nowhere. The very hair on her head began to tingle.

“Taking what’s mine,” Wynters snarled at her, abandoning any pretext of friendliness. Initially ready to forgive her when he’d arrived in town this morning, he was now furious with her for what she’d put him through. “Did you think you fooled me with that wide-eyed act of yours in the diner?” he demanded. Rolling his eyes and affecting a singsong voice, he mimicked what she’d said to the deputy this morning. “‘No, I don’t know him.’ Like I was nobody,” he snapped, reverting to his own voice. There was pure hatred in his dark eyes. “Well, it’s not working. You know damn well who I am and you’re coming with me, Dorothy.”

He tried to grab her wrist in order to drag her away, but she pulled back. Fear clutched at her but she struggled to rise above it. “Don’t call me that,” she ordered, desperately trying to sound as if he wasn’t really frightening her. “That’s not my name.”

“The hell it isn’t,” he spat out. “You’re Dorothy, all right. Too bad your boyfriend had that poster circulated. Up to that point, I really thought you were dead.” His smile was cold, deadly.

Where was Gabe? What had he done with Gabe? Angel thought frantically.

“I guess I didn’t do as good a job on those brakes as I thought. You’ve got a charmed life, Dorothy.” He saw her looking toward the stairs. “Oh, your boyfriend?” he guessed, taking great pleasure in what he was about to say next. “Save your effort. He’s not coming.”

Fear for herself turned to anger and outrage, infusing her with strength. “What did you do to him?” she demanded.

He laughed contemptuously. “Don’t worry, I didn’t kill him. He’s just going to have a killer headache when he wakes up. And an empty house. Now let’s go!” Wynters ordered. This time, he produced a gun to back up his command.

She had no doubts that the man with the cold eyes could use the weapon on her without blinking. Still, she backed away until she felt the stove against her back. “He’ll find you,” she warned him defiantly. “He’ll come looking for me and he’ll find you.”

“Doubtful.” He taunted her. “That hayseed deputy’ll be looking for a San Antonio detective and