Covert Christmas Twin (Twins Separated At Birth Book 2) Read online

  “You’ve just described the mission I’ve planned. I will end up wherever you’re assigned and make that a reality because I love you completely. My intention is to spend the rest of our lives together, if you’ll have me. Kendra, will you marry me?”

  She sucked in a sharp breath. “Yes,” she whispered. She leaned forward and kissed him gently, her hands on either side of his face, until the sound of a DJ announcing that dinner would be served soon reached her ears.

  She blinked back the moisture from her eyes. She spotted Audrey’s father exiting the reception to wave down a waiter. She gestured for Joe to get up before anyone could see him. “But I want to keep it a secret...just for today.” She leaned over and whispered in his ear. “Will you accept this one last covert operation with me?”

  He kissed her cheek and beamed. “I wouldn’t dream of starting off on the wrong foot with my future sister-in-law. It’s Audrey and Lee’s day. That’s why the ring is still back at my hotel.” His face flushed. “I had another proposal planned for the Rose Parade, but I thought my heart was going to burst if I had to wait any longer to ask you.”

  She kissed him again, overwhelmed yet wanting to jump up and down. Yet, she kept her composure. They walked, hand-in-hand, into the reception area. Audrey caught her eye and practically dragged Lee with her to the back of the room. He narrowly avoided tripping over Audrey’s white dress. “I can’t believe we’re married,” Audrey almost shouted, beaming.

  Kendra laughed. She realized she couldn’t wait to say the same, but her eyes rested on her mom, Audrey’s mom and Beverly laughing together at the table behind them. Audrey followed her gaze. “I couldn’t have planned a better family reunion.” Tears glistened in her eyes, and she reached over to squeeze Kendra’s hand. “Thank you for putting up with so much Christmas for me this past week. I know it’s not your favorite holiday.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. It’s grown on me.” Her eyes met Joe’s and they shared a knowing look. “A wise man—” Kendra caught herself, realizing it sounded like part of the Christmas story. She reached for her fiancé’s hand—she loved thinking of him like that—and leaned into him. “I’m talking about Joe actually. He reminded me that Christmas is really about celebrating the beginning of a successful rescue mission. I can appreciate a holiday that reminds me of that.”

  Lee chuckled. “Never thought of it that way, but it’s a perfect description.”

  Audrey grinned. “You’re beginning to love Christmas.”

  “I didn’t say love—”

  Audrey shook her head. “No, I can tell, and it’s the best gift you could’ve given me. We are going to have so much fun next year with all the prep and traditions.” Audrey leaned over and embraced Kendra. “By the way, when’s the wedding?” she whispered before she straightened.

  Kendra gaped, fighting back a laugh. “How did you—”

  Audrey rolled her eyes. “Please. I knew it the minute you walked in.” Lee grabbed Audrey’s hand and began to lead her toward the head table. Audrey looked over her shoulder with a shrug and a wink. “It’s a twin thing.”

  * * *

  If you enjoyed this story, look for these other books by Heather Woodhaven:

  Undercover Twin

  Protected Secrets

  Tracking Secrets

  Keep reading for an excerpt from Killer Amnesia by Sherri Shackelford.

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  Dear Reader,

  I loved writing Audrey and Kendra so much it’s going to be hard to say goodbye. I hope you enjoyed their happy endings as much as I did.

  Joe’s spiritual realization wasn’t planned. I had a different moment in mind for him, but I think it’s what we both needed to hear at the time. There is so much freedom that goes with acknowledging and trusting God with every area of your life. The reminder has brought an extra spring to my step.

  I may not love all the traditions and preparation for the holidays as much as Audrey, but I do enjoy thinking of Christmas as a time to celebrate a successful rescue mission.

  And I’m really craving one of Audrey’s gingerbread cookies right about now.

  Merry Christmas,

  Heather Woodhaven

  We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin Love Inspired Suspense story.

  You enjoy a dash of danger. Love Inspired Suspense stories feature strong heroes and heroines whose faith is central in solving mysteries and saving lives.

  Enjoy six new stories from Love Inspired Suspense every month!

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  Killer Amnesia

  by Sherri Shackelford

  ONE

  Deputy Liam McCallister was a dead man.

  At least that’s what everyone back in Dallas thought. Until six months ago, he was working undercover in the Gang Unit of the Dallas Police Department. Now he was stuck in a small town directing traffic under the name Deputy McCourt. At least the US Marshals had assigned him a job in law enforcement while the district attorney wrapped up the case. They figured he was safe as long as he kept a low profile. No one from the Serpent Brotherhood would be caught dead in Redbird, Texas.

  The irony wasn’t lost on him.

  If the Serpent Brotherhood knew they’d been infiltrated, they’d shut down their operations. This was better. Except one month had turned into six without a break in the case, and the wait was starting to get to him.

  Fighting his way through the pelting downpour, Liam adjusted the flashing yellow barricades and ducked into his state-issue Chevy Tahoe. Heavy rains had washed out the road. There was no escaping Redbird, Texas, tonight.

  A shock of static sounded from his police radio, and a familiar voice filled the cab.

  “Unit 120,” Rose Johnson, the dispatcher, called.

  Soaking wind slapped against his windshield in pounding bursts. Lightning streaked across the black sky, temporarily illuminating a bank of angry clouds.

  Liam grasped the microphone and depressed the Call button. “Unit 120.”

  “Single car accident on Highway 214,” the dispatcher relayed. “Personal injury. Mile-marker 37. Just beyond Brown Cattle feeders. Unit 130 is on scene. Requesting assistance. Fire and rescue en route.”

  “Ten-four. Responding from County Road 12.”

  Exhaustion rippled through him. He was working a double shift that had started before six this morning. Only the county sheriff along with two deputies were assigned to this area, and the three of them were spread thin.

  He flipped on his flashing red lights and pulled a U-turn. A canine whimper sounded from the backseat, and Liam glanced over his shoulder. “Sorry, Duchess, looks like you’re stuck with me.”

  He’d discovered the animal earlier in the day wandering around the town square. The tag listed her name but no phone number. A nuisance call and a traffic stop had prevented him from reaching the county shelter before closing. Though bedr
aggled from being caught in the rain, the dog was well fed—too well fed. Someone must be worried about her.

  He handed over a bone-shaped biscuit from the box he’d purchased earlier. “Why are you complaining? You’ll be home before me at this rate.”

  Soon the flashing lights of Deputy Jim Bishop’s identical Chevy Tahoe appeared, and Liam eased his vehicle to the side of the road.

  His radio popped to life. “Unit 120.” Rose’s voice was solemn. “Deputy Bishop called in a code four.”

  A frisson went through him.

  All the years he’d been in law enforcement, he’d yet to overcome his latent dread of fatality calls. “Ten-four.”

  He adjusted the collar of his slicker, tugged his hat lower over his forehead and stepped into the pouring rain. Splashing through ankle-deep puddles, he jogged the distance to where Deputy Bishop stood vigil.

  Tall and gaunt with thinning sand-colored hair, Bishop was openly gunning for the sheriff’s job in the next election. Given what Liam had seen of the deputy’s job performance, the guy had a better chance of getting kicked by a snake.

  The man pointed a slender arm. “Down there. Got a brief look at her before the rising water drove me back.”

  A beige Fiat 500 rested upright in water from the culvert, rain streaming through the shattered sunroof. Liam recognized the car—the model was distinctive—but he didn’t know the driver.

  “Single fatality,” Deputy Bishop shouted over the storm. “Female.”

  Judging by the crumpled exterior, the car had rolled at least once before landing at the bottom of the ditch. The headlights cast a weak, shimmering beam through the rising water, and Liam caught a glimpse of the motionless driver.

  “Any identification?” Liam asked.

  “Rose is running the license plates.”

  Liam always trusted that God had a plan. Sometimes that plan was human intervention. “I’ll check it out.”

  “You can’t. You’ll be washed away by the current.”

  “Turn on your searchlights,” Liam called over his shoulder.

  He shucked his utility belt but kept his police two-way radio clipped to his shirt collar. Rummaging through the rear compartment of his vehicle, he retrieved a rope, then slammed the hatch shut. He paused a moment before deciding to forgo the backboard. Fire and rescue were better equipped to retrieve the body.

  Bishop’s truck was parked with the nose angled toward the ditch. After securing the rope to the bumper, Liam tied off and backed toward the vertical grade.

  “Take up the slack,” he called.

  Bishop nodded.

  The drop wasn’t far, but it was steep. Liam’s boots sank into the muddy embankment, and his arms strained against holding the bulk of his weight. Moisture had already soaked through his collar and saturated his uniform. Though it was early spring, the rain was just shy of sleet. He could have left his slicker behind for all the good it was doing him.

  His gloved hands slipped, and he lost his grip. The slack broke free. He plunged the last few feet into icy, calf-deep water, his hip bumping painfully into the car’s rear fender. Stumbling and slipping, he managed to fight the current.

  “Thanks for keeping the slack, Bishop,” he mumbled darkly.

  His feet went numb almost immediately. The rain was coming down too fast, turning runoff from the culvert into a shallow, raging river. The water reached his knees and wrenched at his balance. Gripping the car roof for purchase, he squinted through the dim glow of Bishop’s searchlights and wrestled his way to the shattered driver’s window.

  Submerged to the waist, the woman’s lifeless body was slumped over the deployed airbag. Her right arm bobbed near the gearshift, palm up, the fingers curled, and her dark hair hung limply around her downturned face. Papers drifted in the current, escaping through the broken passenger window.

  Liam’s throat tightened. Even without seeing her face, he sensed she was about his age.

  He offered a brief prayer for her and the family she left behind.

  Taking a deep, steadying breath, he grasped her shoulder and pulled her upright. Her head lolled backward, and her dark hair plastered wetly across her ashen cheeks. He aimed the beam of his flashlight toward her face. Blood oozed from a gash near her temple, and a purple bruise darkened one eye.

  He brushed her hair aside. There was something familiar about her, but he couldn’t place where he’d seen her before. Maybe he’d stood behind her in line at the supermarket. A likely occurrence in a town the size of Redbird.

  Her eyes flew open.

  Adrenaline spiked through his veins, and the flashlight slipped from his fingers. She gulped for air, her chest heaving, then feebly groped the front of his coat, her expression panicked.

  “H-help me.”

  He’d caught a brief glimpse of her eyes. A unique shade of amber topaz.

  Catching the woman’s hands, he pressed them between his gloves. She wasn’t dead, but she was going to be if they didn’t get her out of this water soon.

  “It’s all right,” he soothed. “Fire and rescue are on the way.”

  “Wh-who are you?” Her teeth chattered.

  The question caught him off guard for a moment. That was the problem with being a dead man—remembering his cover name didn’t always come easy.

  He sluiced the moisture from his face. “I’m Deputy Liam McCourt with the county sheriff’s department. What’s your name, ma’am?”

  “My name is...” An expression of abject terror descended over her features. “I don’t know. I d-don’t know what my name is! Wh-what’s happening to me?”

  A fresh sense of urgency filled him. Injuries from car accidents were notoriously deceptive.

  “It’s all right.” He cupped his hand behind her head, and she turned her face into his palm. “Don’t be afraid.”

  He caught sight of Bishop’s silhouette outlined by the searchlights and depressed the button on his two-way. “Check on fire and rescue. They’re late.”

  “I’m c-cold,” she managed to say between chattering teeth.

  Something wasn’t right. People sometimes forgot the events leading up to an accident, as though the trauma bleached their memories, but he’d never encountered someone who’d forgotten their own name.

  “Don’t worry,” he said. “We’ll get you out of here.”

  “Promise?” She clutched the lapel of his jacket. “Please don’t lie to me.”

  Don’t lie to me.

  The past six months melted away, and he was no longer standing in the freezing rain. He was suffocating in the sweltering Dallas heat. His memory had taken him to when he was working undercover in the Serpent Brotherhood, playing the same game he’d perfected in foster care. He was pretending to fit in. Pretending to be something he wasn’t. Not even Jenny had seen through his act, and they’d briefly attended grade school together.

  For once Liam had been grateful the foster system had bounced him from family to family. Jenny hadn’t known he’d gone to college before joining the Dallas PD. The few people who remembered him from those days believed he was just another kid from the old neighborhood—all grown up and going nowhere.

  Are you a cop? Don’t lie to me. Jenny’s words echoed in his mind. Her boyfriend, Swerve, was the lead fixer in the gang and took care of problems by making them disappear. Swerve was responsible for more than one missing person in the Dallas area. He’d gotten agitated during the exchange, and he’d accidentally pulled the trigger. The bullet had carved a path through Liam’s left shoulder, shattering his clavicle before slicing into Jenny’s neck. She’d bled out before the paramedics had arrived.

  The scene was a mess, and Swerve thought he’d killed them both. The US Marshals had done the rest. They’d given Liam a new last name and tucked him away while the case wove its slow path through the court system.

  A bro
ken tree limb slammed into Liam’s shin, ripping his feet from beneath him, forcing him back to the present. He caught hold of the door handle and dragged himself upright, then wrapped his arm through the open window, bracing his body. A sharp metal edge dug painfully through his sleeve.

  “Are you hurt anywhere else?” Keeping her head supported with one hand, he gently touched the lump on her forehead. “Can you tell if anything is broken?”

  “I d-don’t k-know. I don’t th-think so.” She frantically beat against the water swirling around her waist. “I have to get out of here.”

  “Soon.” He depressed the Call button on his radio and leaned his ear to his shoulder. “Where’s that fire truck?”

  A grating voice sounded from the microphone attached to Liam’s collar. “Delayed. Driver didn’t know the road was washed out.”

  “Tell ’em it’s urgent.”

  “Hold your horses. Not gonna change things for the victim.”

  “She’s alive, Bishop.”

  The momentary shock of silence was deafening. “That can’t be. I checked. I didn’t feel a pulse.”

  No use arguing about the details when there was a life hanging in the balance. Who knew what other injuries she might have sustained, and she was at risk for hypothermia.

  “There’s a backboard in my truck. Send it down,” Liam ordered.

  “Ten-four,” came the quiet reply.

  The car lurched against the tide of rainwater, and his heart slammed against his ribs.

  She didn’t have time to wait for fire and rescue. “We’re getting you out of here, ma’am, but you’ll have to work with me. Can you do that?”

  He risked exacerbating her injuries by moving her, but she was going to drown otherwise.

  She gave a hesitant nod. The car shifted again, and she bolted upright, grasping his arm.

  “Yes,” she gasped. “H-help me.”

  His shoulder protested the abuse, and he grimaced.

  The woman stilled. “What’s wrong? Are y-you all right?”