Risky Christmas. Jill Sorenson

asleep in her car seat. Leanne parked in the driveway and grabbed several bags of groceries, walking inside. John’s car had been alone in the garage, so she was surprised to hear more than one voice coming from the bedroom. Her husband sounded desperate, the other man, angry.

      Frowning, she went down the hall. An intense wave of foreboding washed over her, and she almost turned around to go back to the car. Instinct told her to get Melissa and run. Instead, she moved quietly, softening her steps.

      The door was cracked open. As she peered inside, her blood turned to ice. John knelt on the carpet, pleading for mercy. The man standing over him showed none. While she watched, he pulled out a gun and shot her husband in the head.

      Leanne was too terrified to scream. But John’s killer looked up and their eyes locked. It was Mariano Felix, one of his “business associates.”

      She dropped the groceries in the hall and fled. She ran through the garage, past the driveway, across the yard. She left her car. There was no time to put the keys in the ignition, and she didn’t want to endanger her daughter.

      Heart pounding, she sailed over the hedge, into the neighbor’s yard, and ducked down out of sight. Her purse was still hanging off her shoulder. With a shaking hand, she reached for her cell phone, dialing 911.

      Heart hammering, she peeked over the hedge. Felix burst from the house, approaching the driver’s-side door of her car.

      “No!” she screamed.

      He turned his head, catching sight of her behind the hedge.

      She straightened, showing him the cell phone. An emergency operator had already responded to her call. “Please,” she said, begging for help. Begging for her life. For her baby’s life.

      The neighborhood was quiet, but it wasn’t deserted. There were people in the nearby houses, cars on the street. Felix took off at a brisk pace, choosing not to murder her in front of dozens of possible witnesses.

      He rounded the corner and disappeared.

      She woke up in a cold sweat, his cruel face etched in her memory. The police had never found the loan shark who’d killed her husband. He was a cold-blooded criminal in a mafia organization and a very real threat to her.

      The nightmare came less frequently now, over a year later. But it still had the power to set her nerves on edge.

      Rising from the bed, she changed clothes, donning a pair of jean shorts and a white tank top. Judging by the bright sunshine and absent marine layer, it was going to be another unseasonably warm day.

      The girls were on winter break for another week, and she’d promised them a trip to the beach. In her old life, she’d have gone shopping on the day after Christmas. Her world had changed so much that she didn’t miss spending money. And she certainly didn’t miss the credit card bills or the arguments with John.

      When they first met, his success had impressed her. She’d grown up in a financially unstable household, so it was comforting to date someone rich. He’d spoiled her with expensive gifts and told her to never worry about a thing.

      A few years after they got married, his career took a nosedive and their relationship followed suit. He hid his gambling addiction from her and lied about his whereabouts. Soon the facade came tumbling down.

      If he hadn’t been murdered, she’d have filed for divorce. He’d refused to face their problems and never acknowledged that he needed help.

      He wouldn’t let her in.

      John’s death hadn’t been easier to deal with because she’d fallen out of love with him. Failing marriage or not, Leah had depended on him. He’d abandoned them and left her to pick up the pieces, and she still resented him for it.

      Leah made breakfast for the girls, who couldn’t wait to walk down to the shore. They’d been in this house for several months, and although the beach was only two blocks away, they hadn’t spent much time there.

      “Can we wear our suits?” Mandy asked.

      “I suppose,” Leah said, smothering a surge of anxiety. Both girls had taken swimming lessons, but they were small, and the Pacific Ocean was dangerous. “We’re just going to get our feet wet.”

      That was good enough for them. While they ran to their room to don their bathing suits, Leah packed a bag with snacks, drinks and towels. She didn’t have any beach toys, so she grabbed her gardening tools and put them in a small plastic bucket.

      When they were ready, she ushered the kids outside, locked the door and set the alarm behind her. Brian was in his driveway, scrubbing down his work truck with a long brush. He was wearing gray cargo shorts and a faded red T-shirt.

      She couldn’t ignore him like she used to, so she waved hello.

      “What are you girls up to?” he asked with an easy smile, turning off the water faucet.

      “We’re going to the beach!” Alyssa said.

      His eyes traveled along Leah’s legs, which hadn’t seen the light of day, or felt the heat of a man’s gaze, in a long time. “My favorite place,” he said, clearing his throat. He winked at Mandy. “Have fun.”

      She expected one of her daughters to invite him along. When they didn’t, Leah urged them forward, feeling like she’d dodged a bullet. But every step she took away from him made her insides twist with guilt.

      “Wait,” she said, tugging on Alyssa’s hand.

      Mandy stopped her forward march. “What?”

      She turned to look at Brian again. He was wiping down the interior of his truck, studiously ignoring her. “Would you like to come with us?”

      His hands stilled and he glanced over his shoulder.

      Leah wasn’t surprised when Mandy and Alyssa started jumping up and down in agreement. They lived an isolated existence. The prospect of hanging out with anyone besides their mother was wildly exciting.

      “Okay,” he said, tossing aside a dust cloth. Just like that, he slammed the driver’s side door of his truck and followed them to the beach.

      They lived a few blocks from a long, narrow stretch of coastline known as The Strand. Several miles of road ran parallel to the beach, offering drivers a scenic view of girls in bikinis. Teenagers and rubberneckers drove up and down the strip every day of the week, checking out the hotties. Between the street and the beach there was a barrier of large, slate-colored rocks, mixed with heavy chunks of concrete. During high tide, the waves met these rocks and the beach all but disappeared.

      Leah knew that because last time they’d had to walk all the way to the pier to find enough space to lay down a towel.

      Today there was a nice amount of sand and it wasn’t too crowded. Leah pointed to a spot near the lifeguard tower and they headed toward it.

      “Is the tide coming in?” she asked Brian.

      “Going out,” he said.

      There were some advantages to bringing a surfer along, she supposed. If one of her children got knocked down by a wave, he could save them.

      Fortunately, the ocean looked peaceful at the moment. There were no powerful breakers churning up the sand. Soft waves lapped at the shore, barely causing a stir. “Did you go surfing this morning?”

      He shook his head. “Nothing to ride.”

      She glanced out at the gentle water. “Oh, of course. Silly question.”

      “Not at all.”

      “Well, I obviously don’t know anything about the ocean.”

      “You didn’t grow up here.”

      “Right.” And this was why she avoided people. Pretty soon he’d ask where she was from. “Did you?”

      “Yes. Born and raised. Although raised is too kind a word to describe