Christmas Witness Read online

  “The only way I’m sleeping in your bed is if you’re there with me.”

  Praise for Aimée Thurlo

  Title Page

  Dedication

  CAST OF CHARACTERS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Books by Aimée Thurlo

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Author’s Note

  Copyright

  “The only way I’m sleeping in your bed is if you’re there with me.”

  Jake’s voice caressed her, soothing and tempting her all at once. She looked away and tried desperately to concentrate on something else.

  “Go to sleep in your own bed, Annie,” he said at last, his expression gentle. “I’ll be fine out here.”

  “At this stage of my pregnancy, I don’t generally sleep very well. You might as well take the bed,” she insisted.

  “I’d rather be closer to the door.”

  “So you expect trouble?”

  “No, not at all.” He grinned slowly. “It’s a guy thing, that’s all. I’d rather be the protector than the protectee. Male ego and all that.”

  His smile, so purely masculine, tore past her defenses. Everything feminine in her awakened. Aware of the danger, she braced herself to resist his temptation.

  “Annie,” he whispered and reached for her hand....

  Praise for Aimée Thurlo

  “Aimee Thurlo has added an exciting new dimension to Harlequin Intrigue.”

  —Tony Hillerman

  “Aimée Thurlo keeps the plot moving at a fast and furious pace.”

  —Tess Gerritsen

  Praise for FOUR WINDS:

  “The ultra-sexy Blackhorse brothers will have every woman in America fantasizing about a visit to Four Winds, New Mexico.”

  —JoAnn Ross

  “Highly entertaining and highly recommended.”

  —Millie Criswell

  Praise for THE BROTHERS OF ROCK RIDGE:

  “Talented Aimée Thurlo once again thrusts readers into adventure and turns out a wonderful read.”

  —Romantic Times

  “Filled with tension, mystery, passion and fascinating facts about the Navajo, this is one not to be missed.”

  —Rendezvous

  “Readers of contemporary Native American romance have something to cheer about.”

  —Painted Rock

  Christmas Witness

  Aimée Thurlo

  TORONTO • NEW YORK • LONDON

  AMSTERDAM • PARIS • SYDNEY • HAMBURG

  STOCKHOLM • ATHENS • TOKYO • MILAN • MADRID

  PRAGUE • WARSAW • BUDAPEST • AUCKLAND

  To Annelise Robey and Angela Catalano—

  No author could have a better team behind her.

  CAST OF CHARACTERS

  Jake Black Raven–His homecoming was marked by his father’s murder. And his attraction to a beautiful mother-to-be could be his undoing....

  Annie Sandusky–She’d seen enough to make her a threat to the killer. To stay alive, she’d have to prove no enemy was more formidable than a woman protecting her unborn child.

  Nick Black Raven–He was the twin who followed his own code. But had secrets from his past followed him home?

  Paul Black Raven–He had been a man with a shady past. Had his need for control finally pushed his killer over the edge?

  Martin Sanchez–He was determined to protect the Black Ravens. But was it loyalty or another motive that kept him with the family?

  Iris Ortiz–She claimed everything she’d done was out of love. But how dangerous could a woman scorned really be?

  Thomas Ray–He liked taking risks. But how far would he go to get what he wanted?

  Virgil Lowman–The banker always had a smile for everyone. But smiling faces often told lies.

  Soya Black Raven–In life, people had trusted her with their secrets. Now, her diary held the key to a chain of events no one could stop....

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Aimée Thurlo is a nationally bestselling author. She’s written forty novels and is published in at least twenty countries worldwide. She has been nominated for the Reviewers’ Choice Award and the Career Achievement Award by Romantic Times Magazine.

  She also cowrites the Ella Clah mystery series, which debuted with a starred review in Publishers Weekly, and has received quotes from Diana Gabaldon, Carolyn G. Hart, Tess Gerritsen and Tony Hillerman.

  Aimée was born in Havana, Cuba, and lives with her husband of twenty-eight years in Corrales, New Mexico. Her husband, David, was raised on the Navajo Indian Reservation.

  Books by Aimée Thurlo

  HARLEQUIN INTRIGUE

  109—EXPIRATION DATE

  131—BLACK MESA

  141—SUITABLE FOR FRAMING

  162—STRANGERS WHO LINGER

  175—NIGHT WIND

  200—BREACH OF FAITH

  217—SHADOW OF THE WOLF

  246—SPIRIT WARRIOR

  275—TIMEWALKER

  304—BEARING GIFTS

  337—FATAL CHARM

  377—CISCO’S WOMAN

  427—HER DESTINY*

  441—HER HERO*

  457—HER SHADOW*

  506—REDHAWK’S HEART**

  510—REDHAWK’S RETURN**

  544—CHRISTMAS WITNESS

  *Four Winds

  **The Brothers of Rock Ridge

  Don’t miss any of our special offers. Write to us at the following address for information on our newest releases.

  Harlequin Reader Service

  U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269

  Canadian: PO. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3

  Chapter One

  Annie Sandusky listened to the lively guitar of “A Cowboy Christmas” on the radio as she worked on her latest wood chip carving. She’d promised to deliver the piece and another she hadn’t even started to a Santa Fe gallery by December twenty-second and today was already the twelfth. Her folk art carvings had been steadily gaining in popularity throughout the southwest and with Christmas approaching the demand for her work had more than doubled.

  Leaning back in her chair, she studied the twenty-six-inch-high carving of an angel guarding a man tilling the soil. The lines on the man’s face attested to his struggle as the angel looked on, his protector from harm. The entire scene was depicted in a piece of arched basswood designed to remind the viewer of a stained-glass window.

  This piece was turning out to be one of her best. The joys and sorrows of living were etched in the expressions of both figures, giving them a lifelike quality that transcended the medium.

  Annie shifted in her wide wooden chair, adjusting the small pillow that helped support her lower back. Normally she would have hated a chair as hard as this one, but being eight and a half months’ pregnant had changed almost everything in her life. At least from the chair she didn’t have to struggle to get back on her feet as she did when she sank down onto the sofa.

  Annie placed one hand over her swollen stomach as the baby kicked. “Easy there, kid,” she whispered, rising from the chair.

  As her thoughts shifted to the tiny life within her, worries began to crowd her mind agai
n. Concerns for the future seemed to take up a lot of her time lately. She couldn’t help but worry about giving birth alone, with no one there to offer support, let alone how she’d manage to take care of an infant all by herself. She had no one to count on except Paul Black Raven, the older Pueblo man who’d become her art patron, allowing her to work for him in exchange for living on his property rent-free.

  Feeling tired, Annie stepped away from the low carving table and stretched her back. As she walked around the long, narrow room of the former bunkhouse, her gaze drifted to the photo of her and Bobby, taken just last year. Her hands started shaking and tears came unbidden to her eyes as memories overwhelmed her.

  Bobby had been her constant companion and her most dependable ally in the church-sponsored children’s home where they’d both been raised. The closeness between them had never diminished even after they’d grown up and gone after their own dreams—she, to college and to try to establish herself as a serious artist, Bobby to the army.

  Finally, shortly after her twenty-seventh birthday, they’d married. But in the end, Bobby’s wild streak had taken the ultimate toll on their short life as husband and wife. His motorcycle accident and death, after weeks of hospitalization and surgery, had left her emotionally and financially devastated.

  Then, at what seemed to be the worst possible moment, she’d learned she was carrying his baby. The news had terrified her, but as the months passed, she’d come to see the child within her as Bobby’s final gift. Now, in his absence, the child was just that much more precious to her.

  Hearing a vehicle coming up the lane, Annie parted the white muslin curtains at the window and glanced out. It was Ralph Ortega’s old Ford pickup. He was heading toward the main house, driving much faster than he should have been down the graveled track. She glanced at her watch. Ralph was late, and that explained it. He was to play Santa and the children would be arriving in another half hour or so.

  Paul Black Raven’s annual Christmas party, held here at the ranch, which snugged the eastern border of the pueblo, was a twenty-five-year tradition enjoyed by everyone in the community. Usually held on the night of the Feast Day of Our Lady of Guadalupe, the party marked the beginning of the Christmas season for many New Mexicans.

  Looking toward the main house, Annie noted that the Christmas lights still hadn’t been turned on. Knowing Paul would need help with them, she changed from her work clothes into an emerald-green velvet dress and tied back her light brown hair with a gold and green ribbon. Wrapping her coat around her, she stepped outside and started down the lane.

  Annie slowly picked her way along the road, careful to keep her balance crossing the icy spots. Her gaze shifted to the main house, hoping to see the Christmas lights blink on now that Ralph was there to help Paul. A hundred yards or so away, the house remained a gloomy outline.

  Poor Paul. He was probably going crazy by now, switching plugs and adding extension cords to keep from overloading a circuit and throwing the electrical breakers. She owed him so much she didn’t like to see anything upset him, not even party arrangements. That’s why she’d taken time from her own work to help him get ready. Her benefactor was in his early sixties and, with his wife deceased and his twin sons having left home years ago to make their way, Paul Black Raven was very much alone. Despite the company of the ranch foreman and the few horsemen from the pueblo who came daily to help with the work, Annie suspected that Paul Black Raven was a very lonely man.

  Stepping through the low gate of the courtyard, she walked up to the front porch and felt a flush of pride as she viewed the decorations she’d set out earlier today. Garlands adorned with bright red ribbons framed the massive wooden entrance doors, each holding a large pine bough wreath. The scent of piñon filled her nostrils.

  Annie was looking forward to this party. She had helped pick out the gifts for the children, decorated most of the tree, and prepared refreshments that were safely in the kitchen on trays. All she had to do was set them out on the dining room table.

  Annie knocked as she opened the door, then stepped inside onto the worn brick floor. Houses were rarely locked on the pueblo. Such security simply wasn’t needed. Even so, she knew that Paul had started to lock the place up whenever he was going to be away. He’d noticed signs such as partially opened drawers and items out of place, that suggested someone had been disturbing his privacy, so he’d had locks put on the doors. He’d laughed, however, when she’d suggested a burglar alarm. Those were for Anglo homes, he’d joked.

  As she looked around she noted that the curtains were drawn, and it was darker inside than out. She could barely see into the next room. Myriad shiny glass Christmas ornaments, a few obviously locally handcrafted, captured the brightness of the flames dancing in the beehive-shaped fireplace and revealed the presence of the tree. But none of the hundreds of bulbs on the string of lights was aglow. Obviously Paul’s problem with the wiring was a major one or he would at least have had the tree lights on by now.

  She moved past the living room and into the darkened hallway carefully, not wanting to trip over any unseen obstacle. “Paul? Ralph? Where are you?”

  Suddenly she heard the thud of footsteps on the wooden stairs. A familiar-looking shape in a red-and-white suit was in a hurry, taking the steps two at a time. He came down so fast that, before she could jump back, the Santa Clausclad figure collided with her, knocking her completely off her feet. She landed on her behind, the brick floor hard and cold. “Ralph, what on earth—”

  Instead of helping her back up and apologizing, the man whirled and waved a large, bloody knife, forcing her to scramble back in panic to avoid the swinging blade. Then, spinning around, “Santa” ran out the door without saying a word.

  This was no stunt or practical joke. Her heart at her throat, Annie struggled to her feet, and called Paul’s name. The eerie silence and darkness around her made her blood turn to ice. More afraid than she’d ever been in her life, she made her way upstairs as fast as she could.

  Annie stepped into the first room to her right, Paul’s bedroom. The door was wide open. Bright moonlight filtering through the curtains cast sinister shadows on the wall. The small safe was open and empty. She looked around frantically.

  “Paul?” It was impossible to mistake the sickening odor of blood. She reached for the wall switch and clicked it back and forth. The power was off here, too.

  Fear left a bitter taste in her mouth. In the silence she could hear rapid, shallow breathing somewhere in front of her. Then she heard a man’s agonized moan. “Paul?” she called again, terror gripping her.

  Reluctantly she inched forward, toward a large figure lying on the carpet beside the dresser. In the semi-darkness she could barely see his face, but instinct and logic told her it had to be Paul even before she dropped to her knees beside him.

  As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, and she could make him out more clearly, horror filled her. His features were distorted with pain and his chest was covered with a dark stain. When he reached out to her, blood flowed from the wounds on his hands and arms.

  Her heart breaking, she gently wrapped her hand around his. “What happened? Why did Ralph do this to you?”

  “Not...” He dragged in a shuddering breath. “No time...listen.” He struggled to speak. “My boys...” He tried to reach for a photo on the dresser, but couldn’t manage it.

  Annie brought it down for him and followed his gaze as he looked at the high school photo of Jake, with his hard features, and Nick with his easy smile.

  “Help Jake when he comes...trust no one but him and Nick. Evidence...still hidden here. Help them,” he managed to choke out, his voice growing fainter. He squeezed her hand, but his grip weakened. “Tell my boys...I loved them.”

  Anguish filled her. Paul’s two sons had all but abandoned him, yet his last thoughts were still of them. “Don’t go, Paul,” she pleaded, even as his hand grew limp. “We need you here!”

  She stumbled to the telephone on the nightstand, desp
eration driving her. Fate had taken Bobby from her. Surely she wouldn’t be expected to give up her friend, too. Her hands were trembling as she grabbed the receiver and punched in the 9-1-1 emergency number.

  She spoke quickly, her words rushing out as fast as her tears. By the time she put the receiver down, her entire body was shaking. Suddenly Annie felt her stomach harden and she braced herself. It wasn’t labor, she assured herself. It was one of the Braxton-Hicks contractions she’d been having these past few months. More a dress rehearsal as her body got ready for the actual birth, hopefully several weeks away.

  She took a deep, unsteady breath, trying to calm herself down. She’d stay with Paul until help came. If there was a spark of life left in him, she didn’t want him to be alone. He deserved better than that.

  Annie started back to Paul’s side when she heard footsteps behind her. With a gasp. she spun around just as a man walked into the bedroom.

  The stranger stopped in midstride. “Who are you and what are you doing here?” he demanded. His voice was cold and held a deadly edge.

  Her eyes wide, she tried to make out his features, but shadows hid his face. The only thing she could tell for sure was that he was tall and well-built. As he moved closer to the window, moonlight flashed in his eyes, making them blaze as if fueled by an inner fire.