A Cavanaugh Christmas by Marie Ferrarella Read Free Book Online Page A

she and the Aurora detective had just reached the back of the squat building where the parking lot full of secondhand vehicles stood waiting to be rented out for the right price. The next she heard Cavelli or whatever his name was loudly proclaiming a single word, “Gun!”
    Just like that, before she could hone in on where the weapon was and which of the thugs was pointing it, Kait felt herself being pushed down to the ground. Not just pushed down to the ground, but, at the same time, instantly having her body covered, as well.
    Covered by a rock-solid, warm body that all but obliterated everything else that existed around her.
    Had the air not already been knocked out of her, the pressure, both physical and otherwise, of the detective’s firm body against hers would have definitely managed to steal it away.
    Wasn’t this guy made out of flesh and bone like the rest of them? So why didn’t he feel that way?
    The thought moved through her startled brain as Kait found herself pinned to the cracked asphalt, unable to draw in a decent breath or proclaim her indignation at being shoved down.
    And then came an almost deafening noise right above her head. Three shots fired in rapid succession, sounding so loud, her ears started ringing.
    It took Kait a couple of seconds to orient herself amid the chaos and realize that the detective on top of her was the one doing all the shooting.
    Opening her mouth to demand that he get off her, she never got the chance to speak.
    Tom simultaneously scrambled to his feet, grabbed her forearm and yanked her to standing before dashing over to the fallen thugs, his revolver ready to fire at the first one who moved.
    All three were down and bleeding. And cursing a blue streak.
    Gun—and eyes—trained on the three men, Tom pulled a handkerchief out of his back pocket and carefully picked up the fallen weapon that was directly in front of the would-be thieves. The weapon that had made him fire his own.
    Never once taking his eyes off the suspects, Tom tucked the gun he’d picked up into his waistband. He moved closer to the thugs quickly kicking aside the “slim Jim” one of the would-be carjackers had dropped. The long, thin metal tool was used by thieves, police and car mechanics alike to open up locked car doors when keys were unavailable.
    On her feet, tension vibrating through her, Kait took out her own weapon. Not that she thought the detective needed her to back him up. He seemed to be very much in control of the situation. And, she thought with grudging admiration, it looked as if she owed him one. He had, quite possibly, saved her life.
    Replaying the scene in her head, Kait realized that she’d heard a crack just as Cavelli had pushed her face down, and the noise hadn’t belonged to a dried twig breaking beneath the weight of her foot. One of the thugs had fired in her direction. If this apparently not-so-laid-back detective hadn’t acted as quickly as he had, she figured she would have been in a world of hurt right now—if not worse.
    Tom turned his head a bare fraction of an inch, just enough for his voice to carry. “Call this in,” he instructed.
    Behind them, the clerk had wandered out to see what was going on and uttered a mesmerized, “Awesome!” followed by a much more fearful, “Whoa.” The latter was accompanied by raised hands as Kait, anticipating more thugs, swung around to aim her weapon at him.
    Seeing who it was, Kait frowned and turned back to the three prisoners on the ground.
    Her frown deepened. She had no idea what the precinct number was and felt frustrated by her lack of knowledge. Her frustration increased because she had to admit to her ignorance. She’d never liked confessing shortcomings, no matter how minor.
    “What do I…?”
    Taking a step back so that his line of vision was level with hers, Tom spared a glance in Kaitlyn’s direction. He saw that she had her weapon out. Good. He liked that she didn’t have to be told to back him