“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
“There’s nothing more beautiful than Christmas carols,” he agreed.
Lord, his voice was deep and gravelly, but honesty and kindness rang clearly in his tone. He probably could sing like an angel.
Her face heated. “Oh. I meant… I meant the way these people have a home here, at least for a few hours. A place with joy, food and companionship. That’s beautiful.”
His gaze drifted from the people in front of them to her, and she wondered what he saw. Her wild red hair, her green, cable knit sweater pockmarked with holes, or the torn blue jeans she still had to wear in December along with her scuffed boots.
“Yes, that’s beautiful too,” he said.
His eyes held hers and for an instant something inside of her went very still. That wild, desperate need to run simplystopped. For a moment her life felt as still as a lake, her mind quiet.
Thistoo perfectman made her want to stay right where she was, made her want a home so badly it terrified her. Because that wasn’t her life. Her life was moving from place to place, making acquaintances, never friends. Having apartments, never a home. Staying one step ahead and always looking over her shoulder.
The only solace and peace she’d found in that constantly moving life was that she lived in and visited lots of different places and experienced different things that she might never have seen if she’d lived in just one place. She could never have a home, a happy ending or peace, because her father’s men would always be after her.
She had to get away from him before she did something foolish, like tug him under that bough of mistletoe a few feet away.
“Can you tell Paul that I’m leaving?” she asked Angelo. She couldn’t keep the slight tremor out of her voice. In just a fewminutes, this man had completely undone her composure and made her want to risk things she couldn’t risk.
“Sure.” His brows drew together in obvious concern, but he turned away to call for Paul. She rushed to grab her coat and purse, flying out into the snowy night.
She crossed the street, ducking her head as she walked into the wind, moving quickly.
Just then, a figure lunged out of the nearest alleyway. Kara gasped as a man knocked her to the ground in a vicious tackle. He snatched her purse and adjusted the mask on his face while keeping her pinned to the ground.
“Stop! Help!” Kara tried to hit him with her free hand so she could get her purse back. He avoided falling but stumbled, her purse dropping to the ground as he tried to steady himself on the alley wall.
She grabbed her purse and got to her feet just as the man dove at her again.
“Kara!” Someone shouted at her. The mugger tensed.
Somehow, Angelo was there, throwing a fist in the man’s face. How did he know her name? She had never introduced herself to him.
With a grunt of pain, the mugger moved back, clutching his chin with one hand. In his other, a knife gleamed in the muted streetlight. He slashed it through the air in warning as Angelo moved toward him, unafraid.
“Get out of here!” Angelo growled as he advanced on the mugger. Even though he towered over the man, the mugger lunged at him, then suddenly turned and ran, vanishing into the night. Angelo turned back to Kara, breathing a little harder as he put a hand to his side.
“You okay?” he asked.
She nodded. “Are you?” Her gaze dropped where he held his hand to his abdomen. Bright red blood was oozing from betweenhis fingers and spreading across his white sweater. Kara wanted to throw up.
“Yeah, of course—” he started.
She raised a shaky hand and pointed at him. “But you’re bleeding…”
Angelo glanced down, dropping his hand away from his sweater and swaying on his feet.
“Oh my God!” She rushed to put his arm around her shoulders to keep him upright. His legs buckled, his weight draping over her, and she grunted with the effort to keep him standing.
“Call… 911…” he gasped, sliding off her supportive stance and falling on his back in the snow.
“I don’t have a phone…” she said, her vision blurring with tears. This beautiful, wonderful man was going to die because of her.
“Left pocket…” Angelo nodded at his body, and she realized he meant his jeans. She carefully rolled him onto his side a few inches and gingerly searched his back left pocket, pulling out a cell phone. Thankfully the phone had no screen lock, so she swiped up and dialed 911 immediately.
“911, what’s your emergency?”
