They met Summer and Mirabella in the hallway, stunned and clinging to each other. Jimmy Joe was emerging from another room where he’d been supervising the children’s Christmas preparations. Riley, drawn from his study by the commotion, fortunately just late enough to avoid a confrontation with the fleeing suspects, was charging up the stairs two at a time.

“Stay here,” Jake said tersely as he brushed past them all, “we’ve got it under control.”

Behind him Birdie muttered, “Look after them,” as the arriving menfolk prepared to gather their respective spouses into their arms and head off the curious children.

From outside the house came the muted roar of a powerful engine, followed by the shriek of abused tires. Jake burst through the mudroom and out the back door just in time to see the rear end of the white limousine disappearing down the curving drive, its taillights a red glow in the freezing mist.

Right behind him came Birdie, breathing hard. Jake dashed out onto the wet walk. The next thing he knew, he was gyrating wildly, flapping his arms and grabbing at air, anything to stay upright. He figured it had to be only the grace of God that kept him from going down hard, flat on his butt.

Behind him, he could hear Birdie cussing and muttering. Jake’s heart and his hopes both plummeted, as he groaned from the depths of his despair, “Ice.”


Eve huddled in the limo with Sonny’s arm like a steel band around her shoulders, while a dark world flashed by outside the windows. She felt nothing. No-she felt cold. Colder than she’d ever been in her life. Cold to the very depths of her being.

It was strangely quiet. What sounds there were came from a great distance: the squeal of tires…Sonny yelling at someone to “Be careful, you’ll get us all killed”…the wail of sirens.

Even her mind was silent. She didn’t think about being afraid, or about the fact that she was going to die. She didn’t think about Jake and the life they weren’t going to have together after all, or the sisters she’d just found again after so many years, or the parents she loved, or her children that now would never be born. But though silent, her mind was not still. It flashed random images and impressions from her life-thousands of them, each one there for an instant and then gone, too quickly to think about at all. Her life, over it seemed, in the blink of an eye.

From a vast distance she heard shouts. And suddenly forces were being exerted on her body that wrenched it from her control. The burden of Sonny’s arm disappeared from her shoulders, and for one strange and magical moment she felt buoyant… weightless… free.

Then she was flying through the air, arms and legs all going in different directions, like a rag doll, and her head was filled with sounds… a cacophony of sounds, hideous sounds. Sounds from the depths of hell itself. Ear-splitting cra-acks and sickening crunches, screams and groans-not of human agony, but of tearing metal and twisting steel.

And then there was silence…


“Ah, Jeez,” said Birdie. “Ah…Jeez.”

“Sonuvabitch.” Jake went on saying it, over and over as he braked carefully and pulled onto the grassy verge.

They were in Riley’s Mercedes. Riley had offered it, since the keys were handy, it was equipped with all-weather tires, and Jake’s vehicle had been parked too far away to be accessible. He pulled it to a stop just short of where the turf had been torn and slashed by the tires of the careening limousine, wrenched open the door and dove into the fine, spitting sleet. He left Birdie talking to his wire, calling for an ambulance, while he plunged heedlessly over the side of the embankment.

In the faint light of the Mercedes’ headlights reflected in the freezing drizzle, he could just make out the wreckage of the limo, upside down among the trees. Slipping and sliding, he made his way to it, his heart cold and hard as iron in his chest. He could not-would not-allow himself to think about what he might find when he got there.

She would not be dead. She couldn’t be dead. Please God, he prayed, don’t let her be dead. Anything you want me to do, I’ll do, just…don’t let her be dead.

He was down on his knees in the ice and brambles and broken glass trying to get his head and shoulders through a window opening when Birdie came crashing down the slope to join him. He’d found a flashlight somewhere. “Driver’s DOA,” Jake told him tersely. “Eve’s in here. I’ve got a pulse.”

“Thank God…” Birdie was picking his way around to the other side of the wreckage.

Up on the icy road, backup was arriving. Sirens bleeped and went silent, brakes chirped, doors slammed. Jake heard the muffled thump of at least one fender-bender.

“This guy’s breathing,” Birdie called from the front passenger side. The flashlight stabbed through the windows of the wreck, randomly searching. “Where the hell’s Cisneros? Hey-we got a door punched out over here. You don’t suppose that rat-bastard got away?”

“To hell with Cisneros,” Jake grated through Jaws rigid with fear and hope and steadfast resolve. His hand was clasped firmly around Eve’s wrist, and her pulse was slow and steady against his fingers. That was all that mattered.


“Anyway,” said Mirabella, “the doctors say it was probably the neck collar that saved her life. Isn’t that incredible?”

She was sitting on the edge of Charly’s hospital bed, with Summer beside her. On the other side of the bed, Troy sat with his arms around his wife. Riley and Jimmy Joe had been there earlier, but just moments ago had gone off on some mysterious errand, leaving the children in the competent hands of Troy’s mama, Betty, who had driven down from northeast Georgia as soon as the roads were clear that morning to see her new granddaughter. Mary Christine, seven pounds, two ounces and all of twelve hours old, slept soundly in her mother’s arms, swaddled in a red Christmas stocking.

Mirabella said, “Isn’t it weird, the way things turn out?”

Too exhausted for speech, Charly could only smile as she gazed in bemusement at her daughter’s head. It was Troy who murmured softly, “Yeah, it sure is. Looks like we’ve all got a lot to be thankful for, this Christmas.”

Mirabella, suddenly beyond words herself, reached over to touch with a wondering finger a wisp of the silky black hair just showing beneath the edges of the baby’s stocking cap. She was thinking about another baby girl, another Christmas…

“Poor little thing,” she said, laughing shakily. “Another Christmas birthday. For the rest of her life she’s going to have to share her big day with the Baby Jesus.”

Charly looked up at her. “And her cousin Amy Jo.”

“Yeah,” said Troy, “let’s don’t forget who started this whole thing.”

They all laughed. Then Summer, who had been strangely quiet up to now, frowned and said, “Where are the guys, anyway? I thought they’d be back by now.”

Mirabella opened her mouth, then looked at Troy. He shrugged and said, “Aw, hell, I don’t think it’s any big secret.”

“Right,” said Mirabella firmly. “No more secrets in this family. Right Sumz?”

“They’re playin’ Santa Claus,” Troy said, grinning. “They went to get the presents. They’re bringing everything back here so we can all have Christmas together, right here. I think the nurses are going to make an exception and let the little ones in, as long as the baby’s in the nursery.”

But Mirabella wasn’t listening. She was gazing at Summer, who was glowing a bright rosy pink, and for some reason looking guilty as sin. “Sumz…?” she said on a rising note of accusation. “You do-you have a secret, I can tell. Come on-what are you keeping from us now?”

Her flush deepening, Summer threw up her hands. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, I was just going to wait for Riley. We were going to tell everybody today anyway…”

“Summer!” cried Mirabella, her hand going to her own burgeoning belly. “Are you going to tell us you’re pregnant?”

“Oh, Lordy,” said Troy, “here we go again.”

In the midst of the laughter and hugs and congratulations, a nurse came in and had to knock on the door to get their attention. “I thought you’d want to know,” she said with a smile. “I just got a call from upstairs. Your sister’s awake. You can go see her now, if you want to.”

Mirabella was heading for the door before the nurse had even finished, but Summer stopped her with a firm but gentle hand on her arm. “Jake’s been waiting all night-he wouldn’t even leave her to go get something to eat. I think we should let him have some time with her first. Don’t you?”

“Yeah, okay, you’re right.” Mirabella sighed. But it was a happy sigh, and after a moment she turned and put her arms around her tall, slender sister, and hugged her.


Eve opened her eyes in the hospital’s perpetual twilight and knew at once that she wasn’t alone…

“We have to stop meeting like this,” she said in a slurred voice to the man who sat beside her on the bed, with her hand gently sandwiched in his. His answering chuckle was like music, the sweetest she’d ever heard.

“How are you feeling?” His voice was cracked and guttural, and in a way, that was sweet music, too.

She drew a careful breath. “I don’t know. How am I feeling? Glad to be alive, I guess. Glad you’re here. Otherwise I feel bloody awful, if you wanna know the truth.” She licked her lips. “This was a whole lot more fun when it was make-believe.”

Jake leaned over to pick up a plastic water cup from the bedside stand. “That make-believe probably saved your life,” he said gruffly as he guided the straw-and it was the bendy kind-to her lips. “I guess if you’re going to be in a car wreck, it doesn’t hurt to be wearing a cervical collar.”

She started to laugh, then winced. “Ooh! Is that ironic, or what?”

“Ironic…” said Jake. “Yeah.” He shifted his gaze to the heavy blue contraption that encased her right leg from her hip to her toes. “Broken legs mend.”

“Broken leg…is that what I have?”

“Uh-huh…and some bruised ribs, a few scrapes. Oh-and a concussion-a real one, this time. But not too bad.”

“What about…?” Her voice was soft, and not too steady.

And it was Jake’s turn to draw a careful breath. “Rick’s dead. Sergei wasn’t hurt too badly. They patched him up, and he’s in jail where he belongs.”

“And… Sonny? Did you get him?”

His laugh was the old kind, a breathy snort. “Talk about irony-the guy crawled out of the wreck and walked away without a scratch. They found him this morning, about a mile from the crash. He’d ditched the disk…”

“Oh, no!”

He reached for her hand and gathered it once more into both of his. Above them his eyes were obsidian, bright and hard. “Don’t worry, we’ll find it. And even if we don’t, Sergei’s decided he’d like to avoid his friends in the Russian Mafia, if at all possible. He’s singing like a bird. Probably end up in Witness Protection. Cisneros will die in prison-guaranteed.”

“So,” Eve whispered after a moment, “it really is…over?”

“Yeah, it’s really over.”

“I mean, is it over…for you?”

He leaned over and gently, carefully kissed her lips. His breath warmed them as he said in a shaken growl, “I’m on my way to being whole and healthy… if you still want me.”

“I want you.” She sounded fragile, almost childlike. “Any way.”

“Are you sure? God knows, I’m no saint.”

“Who in the world wants a saint?” And the rasp of his whiskers on her cheek was the sweetest caress she’d ever known.

After a few minutes, though, she drew back from him, wiping her eyes. “It’s Christmas, isn’t it? Is everyone-”

“They’re all here. Oh, Lord-” and he snapped his fingers and closed his eyes in chagrin “-I forgot to tell you. Charly had her baby-a little girl. Your sisters are probably with her right now, but they’ll be in here as soon as they know you’re awake. Your family’s bringing Christmas here, to you and Charly. Riley and Jimmy Joe were heading back to get all the presents.”

Eve closed her eyes and gave a prolonged sniff. “Your present…” she whispered after a pause. “I guess I’m not going to get to give it to you. I was working on it when…everything happened. I didn’t get a chance to finish it.”

“Oh, hell…”

“No, it was kind of special, actually. I’d had my boss send copies of the master tapes to Summer-you know, of that piece on blues musicians? I was making a special cut for you…”

“You can give it to me later,” he whispered, both touched and stricken. Because he had nothing at all to give her.

He’d thought about it-what to give Eve for Christmas. Thought about it so hard, it had kept him awake nights. First, he’d think about that pearl choker Cisneros had given her, and then he’d think about what Birdie had told him about the gift not being important as long as it came from the right person. Then he’d wonder what in the world made him think he was the right person…for her?