Agent Matt Christensen could save her life this Christmas.
If he didn’t kill her first, that is. After all, she’d broken into the home of a federal agent. Not the safest thing she had ever done.
Outside, she could hear the icy December wind assaulting the trees and Agent Christensen entering through his mudroom. Cass listened as he made his way to the bedroom, and turned on some music loud enough to muffle her footsteps on the hardwood floors.
She crept towards his bedroom. The only sound was the pulsing rhythm of a bluesy saxophonist whining out a familiar Christmas carol. Sax music and Dean Koontz paperbacks scattered everywhere. Under different circumstances, she might have wondered what else they had in common.
She eased the door open just a fraction.
And met Matt Christensen.
Or rather she met the barrel of his gun.
CAST OF CHARACTERS
Special Agent Matt Christensen – He had no idea that his late estranged lover had given birth to his child, or that the child had been illegally adopted by a notorious crime lord. But once Matt learns he’s a father, he joins forces with Cass Harrison to risk everything to rescue his baby.
Cass Harrison – The Texas heiress has been on the run for a year. She’s counting on Matt to help her find the evidence to clear her name.
Molly Christensen – Matt’s six-month-old daughter. She’s too young to know that Cass and her daddy are risking their lives to rescue her.
Ronald McKenzie – Matt’s friend and fellow agent who agrees to help rescue Molly.
Dominic Cordova – In addition to having Matt’s daughter, the crime lord also framed Cass for murder.
Annette Cordova – Dominic’s wheelchair-bound sister, who would do anything to keep Molly, the child she and her brother illegally adopted.
Libby Rayburn – A federal agent who claims she wants to help Matt and Cass.
Hollis Beckman – The secretive groundskeeper at Dominic’s estate.
Gideon Tate – Matt’s boss. He’s following departmental orders, which prevent him from arresting Dominic.
Collena Drake – The troubled former cop who now devotes her life to finding dozens of illegally adopted babies.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Imagine a family tree that includes Texas cowboys, Choctaw and Cherokee Indians, a Louisiana pirate and a Scottish rebel who battled side by side with William Wallace. With ancestors like that, it’s easy to understand why Texas author and former air force captain Delores Fossen feels as if she was genetically predisposed to writing romances. Along the way to fulfilling her DNA destiny, Delores married an air force top gun who just happens to be of Viking descent. With all those romantic bases covered, she doesn’t have to look too far for inspiration.
The Christmas Clue
DELORES FOSSEN
To Beth.
Thank you for just being you.
Chapter One
Cibolo, Texas
Cass Harrison tightened her grip on the tranquilizer gun and waited.
Her heartbeat pounded in her ears, and she could feel every nerve in her body. She wanted to get out of there fast. But she couldn’t. Because this confrontation was the first step.
And because Agent Matt Christensen could save her life.
If he didn’t kill her first, that is.
After all, she’d broken into the home of a federal agent. Not the safest thing she had ever done. Hopefully, it would be worth the risk.
Standing at the window of his dining room, Cass made another check of the massive backyard so she could reassure herself one more time that she hadn’t been followed. It seemed clear. She prayed it would stay that way.
Outside, she could hear the icy December wind assault the trees. No traffic noise, though. Agent Christensen’s house was only twenty minutes from San Antonio, but there were no signs of the city here. His white limestone lodge-style house was nestled in the center of five heavily wooded acres, a location that had been a blessing and a curse. The seclusion had allowed her to leave her car a mile away on a nearly deserted side street and sneak into the house sight unseen. But the semi-isolation meant there’d be no one to help if something went wrong.
She was literally on her own.
Of course, it’d been that way for months now.
“Thank you,” Cass mumbled when she finally heard the cue that she’d been waiting for—the metallic grind of the garage door opening, then the sound of Agent Christensen entering through his mudroom.
There was a rustle of movement, and Cass listened as he made his way to the other side of the house. To his bedroom, where he would hopefully take off his standard-issue semiautomatic so it wouldn’t be readily available for him to try to use on her. He turned on some music. Not loud. But maybe loud enough to muffle her footsteps on the hardwood floors.
Before she could change her mind, Cass slipped out of the dining room and into the tiny kitchen. Keeping close to the wall, she went into the hall and toward his bedroom. She tried not to think of what might happen once she confronted him.
Maybe he would listen to her. Maybe.
And if he didn’t…well, Cass had studied what she could access of his official records, and at six-foot-two and one-hundred-and-ninety pounds, Agent Matt Christensen could easily pulverize her.
Forcing that unsettling thought aside, Cass inched toward his bedroom. The only sounds were the steady pulsing rhythm of a bluesy saxophonist whining a familiar Christmas carol. Sax music and Dean Koontz paperbacks scattered all over the house. Under different circumstances, she might have wondered what else Matt Christensen and she had in common.
After a mumbled prayer, she eased open the door. Just a fraction.
And came face-to-face with Matt Christensen.
Or rather with the gun he stuck right in her face.
Cass nearly screamed from the surprise, but she tamped down any startled response and kept a firm grip on her own weapon, such that it was. Not easy to manage with her suddenly trembling hands. And, mercy, her knees were shaking.
Despite all her trembling and shaking, she had no trouble seeing the man behind that gun. Matt Christensen wore black pants and a white shirt that he’d unbuttoned.
He looked one hundred percent lethal.
His bio had been dead-on. He was formidable, and his pretty-boy looks didn’t diminish that. He was blond-haired, blue-eyed, toned and naturally tanned. And because his shirt was open, she could also see that he had muscled pecs and abs.
Even though he was a prime specimen of a man, Cass didn’t dare let that distract her. Not a chance. This situation could easily get out of hand even more than it already was.
“Well?” he said.
Definitely not a greeting but more like a challenge. It also had a tinge of a Texas drawl and more than a bit of dismissal to it. If he were even remotely concerned about having an armed intruder walk in on him, he didn’t show it.
“I need to talk to you,” Cass