Page 66 of Wintertime Heat (Holiday 1)

“It was Aaron. They would have had to pry him from my dead fingers.” My voice was fierce, and I could physically feel the fear leaking from him.

“There was so much blood, Abby. I didn’t know how to fix you. You just lay there, your skin so pale that I thought it was over.”

He straightens up, his hand clenched around mine, and I ask, “Who were those men?”

Steven’s jaw tightens, “A business that I just took over; I had fired their previous CEO. He sent those men. They had been following me and Aaron for a few weeks and decided it was easier to take him from you.”

“For ransom?” I was horrified.

When he gave me a grim look, my blood ran cold and I suddenly wished Aaron was here with me, in the room, safe.

He must have understood what I was thinking because he says, “The police got to him and traced everything back to him. Killing you would have been a bonus to him. He’s going away for a very long time.”

My head swam with all these details, and my vision started blurring, my abdomen starting to hurt.

I reach out with my hand, and he grabs the other one, his words a soft whisper, “The nurse is on her way. I won’t leave you. I promise.”

And slowly, his face starts to blur till I let the darkness swallow me whole.

The next time I wake up, I am lying on soft satin sheets.

This time when I wake up, I feel more alert as the effects of the drugs all but gone. There is a dull throbbing in my abdomen and arm, but as I move my arm experimentally, I felt that it didn’t hurt more than a twinge.

I slowly move myself into a sitting position and look around the room.

No wonder my surroundings felt so familiar.

I was in Steven’s bedroom.

The lights were dim, and the firelight danced along the walls.

The room was warm and cosy and if it hadn’t been for my growling stomach, I would have buried my face in the pillow again and gone to sleep.

I swing my legs to the floor and feel the soft fur of the carpet under my feet. I stand staring at my state of dress in the mirror. I was wearing one of his button-up shirts and a pair of panties.

I wondered why he put me in those when my clothes were lying in the bag I had brought with me, for when he had talked me into spending the whole three weeks of holidays with them.

Getting up, I feel a wave of vertigo before I settled myself.

The clock tells me it’s mid-morning. I can’t find my phone, so I have no idea how long I had been out for.

Making my way to the kitchen, I hear soft murmurs and peek in.

Aaron was sitting at the table drawing on a piece of paper, his small forehead furrowed in a frown, as he concentrated. Steven wore an angry look on his face as he growled at somebody on the phone, “Get me their names. I don’t care what your boss says! He went after my girlfriend and my son. I’m not done with him yet.”

Aaron was scowling now, his scribbling growing more furious, so I decided to intervene before the poor child broke his pencil.

“Hi,” I say, quietly, and both heads turn toward me.

“Abby!”

The pencil dropped from Aaron’s hand as he climbed off his seat and rushed toward me, his face crumpling with tears. I absorb the impact as he buries his face in my stomach and started bawling.

My right abdomen aches with the sudden force and I carefully lift my left-hand and run it through his hair, saying lightly, “What are you crying for? I’m fine.”

He sniffles, refusing to let go, “They hurt you!”

“Really?” I flex my left arm. “I feel as fit as an ox.”

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