Mistletoe And Murder

“You two have to leave,” he said. “The building has to be empty.”

“Why?” she asked, drawing out the word. Her subdued manner seemed to be working, judging by the way some of the fear had left Tripp’s voice, and his shoulders had slumped. But then, to her right, she sensed Shamus stepping forward.

“Drop the weapon, Tripp!” he ordered again.

Shamus was definitely getting on her nerves. Mallory took a deep breath to keep herself from saying something not so nice. She was a Christian and needed to show Shamus some understanding. He didn’t know her at all. He had no idea she was capable of handling this on her own.

The first step was to make Shamus see Tripp as a human being. She said a quick prayer under her breath and then turned to him. “Shamus, please,” she said. “Can’t you see he’s scared to death?

“That makes two of us,” Shamus said.

“You?” she asked. “Frightened? I don’t believe it.”

“Yeah, I’m scared he’s going to end up killing you.” Shamus took another step forward. Tripp backed up to where he could see both of them at once, arcing the gun back and forth nervously.

“Please don’t try to stop me!” he said. “This man—he says he took my daughter, and if I don’t do this, he’ll kill her.”

“Somebody took Tara?” Mallory’s heartbeat revved up with her first real flush of fear. Tara Tripp was a sweet teenager who liked to read. She reminded Mallory of herself at that age. And now she was in the clutches of some nut who was sending another victim to do…whatever it was Tripp was supposed to do? Her fear started to turn to anger, and she quickly squashed that down.

Retreating, she stood next to Shamus, whose expression never lost one bit of its fierceness. In the light of the new information about the kidnapping, that fierceness now was comforting.

Not that she would admit it to him.

“Who has Tara, Mr. Tripp?” Mallory asked.

“Just leave so I can get on with it,” Tripp pleaded. “Please?”

“Get on with what?” she asked him, truly perplexed.

“He has a bomb in the backpack,” Shamus said matter-of-factly, as though he’d known it all along and it didn’t terrify him one bit. Her? Her eyes felt like saucers. She blinked, hard, as her gaze shot back to Shamus. He wasn’t joking. His eyes were narrowed and shadowed, his full lips in a thin line. He looked ready to pounce.

And she was almost ready to let him.

No denial sprang from Tripp about the bomb, so Shamus had to be correct. A thin sheen of sweat on her brow joined her thumping heart.

“You need to leave, Mallory,” Shamus said softly, in a different tone than she’d ever heard from him before.

She wanted to. The only thing stopping her was extreme doubt that the caustic Shamus would get any information out of Tripp at all. Her coworker might not like it, but he needed her there.

“Do you have any idea who this kidnapper is or where he might be holding your daughter?” she asked Tripp.

Tripp just stared at her.

She persevered. “Do you have a contact number? Do you know why he’s doing this?”

“No.” Tripp shook his head. “No to everything.”

“The police can help you, Mr. Tripp. We need to call them,” she said. With a trembling hand, she reached for Shamus’s phone, the nearest one.

“He says get away from the phone!” Tripp yelled.

Startled, Mallory dropped the receiver onto its base and took a quick step back, bumping into Shamus. His arm slipped around her waist, steadying her. A few seconds of his touch was reassuring, but it was probably good he withdrew his arm—since they were in the middle of maybe getting blown up and all.

“Who said get away from it, and how would anyone but us know what I was going to do?” she asked.

Shamus spoke. “Tripp sometimes delays answering you. I think he’s wired for sound and possibly has a video cam on his jacket or the backpack strap.” He paused. “Isn’t technology wonderful?” He sounded weary, almost as though none of this was surprising him, and he was sorry that it didn’t.

“We should leave, then,” she said.

“I think I just said that a minute ago.” He indicated the rear exit with a sweep of his head. “Go.”

She should leave. She wanted to. But she felt a strong tie to this man—the first person who had ever tried to protect her from harm. Why wasn’t he budging from his spot to save himself? Probably he wanted to stand guard over Tripp so she could get out of the building safely. No matter what his reason, Shamus was the bravest person she’d ever seen, and she couldn’t abandon him. She just couldn’t let him face this danger alone.

“I’m not leaving without you,” Mallory said. Of course, that made her officially insane.

The look Shamus shot her made her think he’d read her mind and agreed.

“Tell you what,” he said, his hands still holding his weapon. “If you go, you can take that present on my desk with you for safekeeping, and I’ll let you give it to me again later.”

He wanted her gift. The pleasure she felt over that, unfortunately, was curbed by the danger they were in.

She picked up the wrapped box. “Come with me, Shamus, and you can open it outside.” How innocent that sounded. Like they would be going outside for a party instead of escaping a bombing. She swallowed down her terror.

He didn’t move.

“You have to come with me,” she told him, her voice grow ing unsteady. There was no real reason for him to stay…unless he didn’t care about his life. She gazed up at him. That couldn’t be it.

Panic joined her fear. Her heartbeat made her think of the hidden timer that could be on the bomb, and go off anytime. She didn’t fear dying—she just wasn’t ready. There were things she wanted to do first.

Like save Shamus from himself.

“Let’s go, Shamus,” she said, using her authoritative tone.

Shamus shook his head. “I can’t. You heard Tripp. The building is supposed to be empty. As long as there’s someone here, he can’t blow it up. I’ll stick around and save the taxpayers some money.”

“You’re kidding, right?” she asked, her heart falling when he didn’t respond. “Or do you have a death wish?”

For a few long seconds, Shamus met her gaze. Not a death wish. Too much defiance was in the dark depths of his eyes. But she was getting the impression he just didn’t care about his life. She would ask him why, but he couldn’t tell her, not with some madman listening via Tripp.

“They won’t go!” Tripp said, apparently talking to whoever was at the other end of his microphone. “They’re crazy. Neither of them will go.”

“We’re crazy?” Mallory and Shamus asked together, and then glanced at each other, startled at the coincidence. Too quickly, Tripp started moving, a sharp reminder to Mallory to stop focusing so much on the office recluse.

“You both have to leave now,” Tripp ordered, backing up and over to the wall, allowing them plenty of room to leave without getting close to him via the front door. He brandished his weapon. “Now! He said you’d better hurry.”

“Mallory, get out of here,” Shamus said fiercely.

Mallory’s stomach clenched harder. But she couldn’t leave Shamus alone. She didn’t even know why, but she couldn’t.