A Colby Christmas Rescue (Colby Agency: The Next Generation #1)

Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Los Angeles 8:45 a.m.

Jamie Colby watched the guy dressed as Santa stroll down Hollywood Boulevard. It wasn’t like there was much of anything open. Just a diner or a coffee shop here and there. A tourist trap or three selling tickets for bus tours to the homes of the stars and other popular sites.

Jamie climbed out of her rented car and stepped to the sidewalk. “Santa has a new follower at three o’clock,” she murmured for the microphone disguised as a necklace draped around her throat.

The guy in jeans and a torn T carrying a sign begging for donations had pushed away from the storefront he’d been holding up for about an hour and strolled after Santa. Both looked a little worse for the wear, like they’d slept in their clothes for a few days or a week. Not exactly a top-of-the-line Santa. More a low-rent version. Who wants their kids sitting on the lap of a guy that sleazy looking?

But Jamie wasn’t complaining. Working an op in LA around Christmas was way better than rambling around her apartment in DC. It was cold and wet in DC. Today in LA—Hollywood actually—it was a pleasant sixty-eight degrees with the sun shining. In a couple more hours the streets would be filled with tourists and life would be buzzing like bees in a honeycomb.

She liked the sunshine and the life beat of this place.

The only downside in her opinion was that after an entire month of hanging around the LA area, Jamie still hadn’t stumbled upon any big celebrities. A few unknowns and lots and lots of wannabes. The city was always awash with people who wanted to possess just a little bit of the magic that came from Hollywood. The problem was most would never know what it was like to be a celebrity. Most would work in the service industry or something not exactly legal until they disappeared into obscurity or went back home to Kansas or wherever with their tails tucked between their legs. It was not a journey for the faint of heart.

Jamie had to admit that she’d had the dream once—at fourteen. She’d been in love with the idea of a career on the big screen. What young girl hadn’t flirted with the idea? But her grandmother had known exactly how to change her mind. She brought Jamie for a weeklong stay in LA. They’d seen the sights and they’d also seen the parts that no one wanted to talk about—Victoria Colby had made sure of the latter. The reality of life in a big city that was really like a nation of its own with all the issues and ups and downs that went along with a huge population was not such a fairy tale. Bottom line—not everyone could be a star.

Jamie smiled when she thought of her grandmother. Victoria had a way of clarifying all things. She missed her so much. It was snowing in Chicago right now. Jamie wished she was going home for Christmas, but she was on assignment here and her parents had taken a long overdue vacation to Europe. Luke was staying in Nashville to be a part of a special program between semesters. The guy was always looking for ways to gain extra credit. Jamie didn’t get it. Anything beyond a 4.0 GPA was totally unnecessary in her view. But good grades had always come easy for her. Luke had to work for his.

“Heads up, Colby.”

The words whispered in her earpiece brought her back to full attention. Santa was still making his way along the sidewalk, crossing over Vine. The errant beggar had gained on him to the point of nearly overtaking him.

“It’s going down soon,” came the voice in her ear.

Jamie picked up her pace and made an agreeable sound for those listening, including her partner.

Every move she made—every move her team made—was under close scrutiny. No one wanted this new agency to fail. But the powers that be weren’t interested in throwing money after a new venture that on first look seemed too similar to the ones they already had. In truth there were already far too many government agencies—particularly secretive ones—in the opinion of some. For IOA to survive it had to provide something none of the others did and it had to be better...in every way.

Jamie wanted to be a part of making that happen. Like her grandmother, making a name for herself and a good career just wasn’t enough. She wanted to make her special mark . A mark no one else had made.

Her friend Kendrick Poe would say she was overthinking it, but he’d already made one hell of a mark for himself so he should totally understand even if he pretended his accomplishments were no big deal.

Besides, just being a Colby set the bar damned high.

For a girl, Luke would say.

Jamie bit back a grin. Her little brother was certain he would go far higher than his big sister.

Not if Jamie could help it.

She was all for her brother going as far as possible as long as she went further. They’d been fiercely competitive—especially with each other—forever.

Up ahead, the beggar guy moved in a little closer on Santa.

Time to move.

Jamie added another click to her pace and walked past the beggar. He glanced at her, but considering her too-tight jeans and cropped sweater he didn’t appear to consider her a threat.

Too bad for him.

She had just powered in front of Santa when she turned over her supercool right ankle boot and threw her full body weight into the guy in the red and mostly off-white velvet.

They both went down, landing uncomfortably on the concrete sidewalk.

Beggar guy stared in astonishment for one seemingly endless moment before hurrying away. He’d missed his shot. Too bad. Too sad.

“I’m so sorry!” Jamie cried as she attempted to right herself and Santa. “Are you all right, sir?”

He should be all right, but he smelled way wrong. Inside, she shuddered. Santa needed a serious shower and a freshly laundered suit. He smelled a little like sweat and a lot like alcohol. Jamie really hoped the stain on the front of his jolly jacket wasn’t dried vomit.

The man scrambled for his red hat and tugged it back on before allowing Jamie to help him to his feet.

“I’m fine,” he insisted, looking around exactly like a criminal would.

When would people learn? If you wanted to do a job well—even an illegal one—you had to get your act together and leave the booze at home.

“Oh no.” Jamie dusted at his coat, noting how the right sleeve had come loose from the body of the jacket at the seam. “You tore your jacket. I hope you weren’t on the way to a scheduled Santa visit.”

“No.” He shook his head, then backed away just enough to look her up and down. “You okay, little girl?”

She smiled and resisted the initial response that shot to the tip of her tongue. She was no little girl. The term was probably just the way he referred to all females younger than him, which would include most of the population in the LA area.

“I think I twisted my ankle.” She winced. “I should have been paying better attention to where I was going.”

“Probably on your phone,” he grumbled, testing his own weight on first his left foot, then his right.

Apparently, he actually had twisted an ankle. Could make her job easier.

“I’m so sorry. Really.” She offered her arm. “I insist on seeing you to your destination.”

She noted the way he stared beyond her. “Beggar guy is coming back around,” the voice whispered in her earpiece. No wonder Santa was staring.

When the collision had occurred the other guy apparently crossed the street and now he was retracing his steps. He had a mission. Good for him. Too bad he’d failed already.

“Well...er...” Santa nodded. “I could use the help.”

He was old enough, maybe even close to her grandmother’s age. No one would be surprised at him asking for help after a spill at his age. Beggar guy would just have to back off for a bit.

“How long have you been playing Santa?” Jamie asked as they walked slowly forward. She purposely set the pace slow to buy time and to wear on beggar guy’s patience.

“Off and on since I hit sixty-five. The cost of living in LA is difficult on a fixed income.”

“I’m sure.” LA living wasn’t easy on a great income. “So, you’re a lifer?”

“Born and raised,” he said with a glance over his shoulder.

She chuckled. “I’m surprised you’re not an actor or a former one.” He actually looked like the type.

“Who says I’m not.” He glanced at her this time. “Never judge a book by its cover, little girl.”

How ironic. She’d just been thinking the same thing.

“We have a newcomer to the party.”

The warning echoed in her earpiece. Time to wrap up the chitchat.

Jamie reached to her left hip pocket as if she were reaching for her cell and slipped out the lightweight handcuffs. She’d slapped the first cuff on Santa’s wrist before he realized what she was doing. Simultaneously, she tugged him toward the No Parking sign and snapped the other cuff to the metal post.

Then she whirled and confronted beggar guy who had stopped to stare in shock at what she’d done.

Didn’t see that one coming, did you?

There were a few pedestrians on the street. No one wanted to whip out a gun. Well, at least not Jamie. She hoped to do this the old-fashioned way by kicking beggar guy’s butt. And then he reached into his jacket and came out with a weapon.

Damn it.

She kicked the beggar’s gun out of his hand before he had it fully leveled on her. Santa was shouting and attempting to tug himself free. Good luck with that.

“The newcomer is coming at you,” she heard from her earpiece.

“Great,” she muttered as beggar guy dove at her. She rolled him into a hold with one arm locked around his throat and her legs locked around his, prying them apart to prevent him from gaining purchase on the ground. Good thing her tight jeans were made of spandex. When he continued to resist, she pounded his head into the concrete a couple of times, and he relaxed.

Newcomer was suddenly on top of her then.

This one was dressed like Batman and wasn’t going down quite so easily.

He flipped Jamie onto her back and had both hands around her throat. She clawed at his face. Before she could get in a good dig, his head suddenly jerked to the right and then his body flew off her.

“I thought you might need a hand.” A long-fingered hand reached out to her.

She looked from the hand she recognized to the guy in the Wolverine costume.

Poe.

“Really? Wolverine?” Jamie took his hand and allowed him to pull her to her feet. “I had this, you know.”

“I’m sure you did,” Poe agreed, “but Santa was causing a scene and we don’t need that.”

The old guy was shouting at the top of his lungs and people were stopping to stare and point. Cell phones were coming out.

Time to go.

“Where’s the car?” she asked as she freed Santa.

“Half a block up on the right.”

“Let’s go, Santa.” She secured the newly freed cuff to her wrist. She wasn’t letting this guy out of her sight and certainly not out of her reach.

By the time she ushered him forward that half a block or so, Poe had hopped behind the wheel. Jamie opened the rear passenger door and she and Santa climbed into the back seat.

“What’s going on here?” Santa demanded.

When Poe had peeled away from the curb, she glanced back to ensure the two followers were still dragging themselves off the ground.

“Not to worry, Santa,” she assured him. “We’re not sending you back to the North Pole yet.”

“Am I under arrest?” Santa demanded. “I need to see a badge. And aren’t you supposed to read me my rights?”

“What’s wrong with Wolverine?” Poe demanded from the front seat as he took a right on Sunset Boulevard.

Jamie checked behind them to ensure they weren’t being followed. “I had you figured for a Deadpool guy.”

“Where are we going?” Santa demanded.

“Don’t worry,” Jamie assured him. “We’re going to take very good care of you, Santa.”

Poe took Sunset all the way to where it transitioned into West Cesar Estrada Chavez Avenue and then a left on North Main to Our Lady Queen of Angels Catholic Church. This was the drop point. If they were lucky, they would get in and get out without a confrontation.

No one wanted to cause turmoil in a house of God just days before Christmas.

They parked across the street and surveyed the area.

“If they’re in the church already...” Poe said without completing the thought.

Jamie understood. If the others were in the church already, they were in trouble. In truth, they had no way of confirming how many of the others were on this.

“Let’s assume we got here first,” Jamie offered.

“Whatever you say.” Her partner wasn’t so optimistic.

Poe got out and leaned against the closed driver’s side door to keep an eye on their destination.

While he got the lay of the land, Jamie needed to convince Santa to cooperate. “Look, I don’t know why you needed an exit strategy today, Santa,” she began, “but I would prefer to keep breathing so don’t give me any trouble. Got it?”

His face wrinkled with confusion. “What in God’s name is an exit strategy?”

Clearly the man had not watched enough James Bond. “Someone wants you dead and we’re here to make sure that doesn’t happen. We extracted you before you reached the location where you were supposed to die, on the corner of Hollywood Boulevard and McFadden Place.”

“I was meeting my nephew for lunch.”

“I’m sorry to tell you this, but your nephew or someone close to him set you up.” She unlocked the handcuffs and tossed them onto the floorboard. “I need you to stay close to me, Santa.”

He nodded, the movement unsteady as if the news had knocked him for a loop. Probably had.

The rear driver’s side door opened. “We seem to be clear to proceed,” Poe said.

Which meant he actually couldn’t be certain. Evidently the communication link had dropped. The voices in Jamie’s ear had disappeared.

They were on their own without the assist of handy electronics.

Santa eased out and Poe stepped closer, shielding the older man’s body with his own.

Jamie emerged on the opposite side and surveyed the sidewalk and the strip mall beyond it on the passenger side, then she crossed around to the other side of the car with Poe and their Christmas package.

“Going in the front door.” Poe glanced at her.

Jamie nodded.

They hurried across the street and to the double entry front doors of the church, Santa in tow between them.

The doors were locked.

What the hell?

“Side door,” Jamie urged.

They moved around the front right corner of the church, going for the side entrance. Their destination was the door beneath the portico that allowed for dropping off parishioners under the cover of an awning. All they had to do was reach it before they encountered trouble.

Jamie kept a close watch on their surroundings. No one behind them.

No one in front.

No running or shouting.

So far, so good.

Her pulse kept a rapid staccato while they hustled along the side of the building until they reached the secondary entrance. They entered without hesitation.

Inside was dark.

The side door opened into a quiet corridor. Taking a left led to the main sanctuary. Right went toward restrooms and a family room for breastfeeding mothers. Jamie had studied the layout.

“Why are we here?” Santa asked in a too-loud whisper.

“You’ll be picked up here,” Jamie assured him. At least as long as things went according to plan. She kept that part to herself. No need to get the guy riled up again.

Santa stalled, tugging to free his arm from her grip. “I don’t understand.”

This was not the time. “As soon as we ensure your pickup detail is here, I’ll explain as best I can.”

The sound of the door they had entered only moments ago opening had Jamie and Poe parting ways. He went toward the main sanctuary, while she ushered Santa into a coat closet near the restrooms.

The coat closet was actually a room with plenty of hanging space for coats, shelves for hats and hooks for umbrellas. It had once been the only restroom and had housed several stalls, so it was fairly large for the purpose it now served.

“I think there must have been a mistake,” Santa whispered.

Jamie pressed a hand to his mouth in hopes of getting the message across without having to say the words out loud.

Under her sweater, in the band that kept her cell pressed against her abdomen, her cell vibrated with an incoming call. Control, the people in charge of this operation, would not contact her via her private cell phone. If the comms link was down, someone would contact her or Poe in person.

The call was more likely a distraction.

She hated the idea that someone might have gotten her private cell number, but it happened. If that proved to be the case, she’d need a new number after this. Always a pain in the butt.

Footsteps in the corridor outside the coat closet had her bracing. She scanned the room and then ushered Santa into the farthest corner from the door. She grabbed the two big coats that someone had left behind and camouflaged him as best she could.

She was about to leave it at that when she noticed the open lid on the built-in wood bench that ran the length of the wall. She tapped Santa on the shoulder and pointed to the big bench. It was at least two feet from front to back. Slightly taller than that and several feet long.

He shrugged and then climbed in. Jamie poked all signs of red velvet into the bench and closed the lid. She placed an umbrella atop it and quickly moved toward the door. She flattened against the wall next to it.

Perfect timing. The door opened. She stepped back, keeping the door between her and whoever was coming in.

As soon as the door started to close, and she spotted the back of the head now swiveling on a pair of broad shoulders, she knew it was not a friend. Definitely a foe.

She reached up, boring the muzzle of her weapon into the back of his skull. “Stop right there.”

Surprisingly, he did as she asked.

“Put your weapon on the floor and kick it aside,” she ordered.

Rather than bend over to do as she asked, he did what she would have done, he began to lower in the knees.

Oh well, if that was the way he wanted to play it.

Just when he would have twisted to put one between her eyes, she squeezed her own trigger, sending a bullet into his right wrist and sending the weapon he’d been holding flying toward the floor.

He swore. Grabbed for her.

She pressed the muzzle between his eyes. “Don’t make me shoot you again. I won’t be so nice about it this time.”

He glared at her, but his hands went up, blood running down from the right wrist.

The door flew inward again, but this time it was Poe.

“Well, hello,” he said to the guy with the bullet wound. “I see you met my partner.”

Five minutes later, their pickup crew had arrived, and Santa was on his way to safety.

Jamie had no idea why the man had needed assistance or even who he was. She had no need to know, any more than Poe did. Their mission was to provide him with an exit strategy from his planned engagement and to get him to this church.

They might never know what value he represented, but they had accomplished their mission and that was all that mattered.

Once they were in the rented car, headed away from Our Lady Queen of Angels, Poe said, “You hungry? I’m starving.”

Completing a mission was a big rush and it always left her hungry. “How about we get out of LA before we stop.”

He hitched his head in acknowledgment. “How about we drive down to the Santa Monica Pier and find something to eat and listen to the ocean roar.”

“Somewhere in Malibu will be quieter,” she argued. “Too many tourists on the pier.”

“Works for me.”

Like her, her partner wore jeans and a pullover. His was a UCLA sweatshirt. He was a year older than Jamie and had darker features—brown hair, brown eyes—that sharply contrasted her blond hair. They had been friends for almost two years now. He was a good friend. They teetered on the edge of something more, but work always got in the way. Probably for the best. Who had time for romance?

Her cell started vibrating again, and Jamie reached beneath her sweatshirt and pulled it free of its hiding place.

G flashed on her screen.

She smiled. Her grandmother. “Hey, Grandmother,” she said. “Is it still snowing in Chicago?”

“Jamie, we have a problem.”

Fear trickled into her blood. “What kind of problem?”

“It’s Luke. Someone has taken him, and he needs our help.” Victoria’s voice trembled on the last word.

There were things she should say. Like how terrible it was to hear this news and why would anyone target Luke? But her throat had closed, and she couldn’t seem to make her jaw work.

“Jamie.” The male voice she knew as well as her own underscored just how serious the situation was. If her grandmother was so upset...

No jumping to conclusions. Her heart stuttered again, and she managed a breath. She had to listen carefully. “Yes, Grandpa.” She swallowed at the lingering tightness in her throat. “What’s going on?” Calling Lucas Camp “Grandpa” was like calling a grizzly bear a kitten.

“Colby One will pick you up at the Van Nuys Airport at one. We’ll meet you in Nashville.”

Poe was splitting his attention between her and the road. He couldn’t hear the conversation, but he obviously saw the terror on her face. “What’s going on?” he urged.

Jamie made a decision then and there. They had completed their mission. Time off was a given. It was only a matter of how much. “Inform the pilot I’m bringing a friend. I’ll see you in Nashville, Grandpa.”

She ended the call, and Poe’s gaze locked with hers. She explained the situation, the need to scream crawling up her throat. She had to stay calm. Focused. “We have to find him. I...can’t...” Big breath. “I can’t let him down.”

“Don’t worry,” Poe said softly. “We won’t fail... We never have before.”

He was right...but this time was different. This was not just another mission... This was her little brother.