By Heather Graham
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Additional info for An Angel for Christmas
Shayne, stop. ” “Morwenna, let’s see what it is,” Bobby said. “It’s a man—I can hear human groans,” Shayne said. Bobby rushed past Morwenna and grabbed her hand. ” “It could be a criminal,” Morwenna warned. “Up here? A criminal came all the way up here to groan by our shack? ” Bobby said. Shayne was in the lead, striding through the snow, with Bobby—dragging Morwenna along—following. Right at the copse that bordered the snowdriven path, there was a man half buried in the drifts. As Shayne hunkered down by him, reaching for a pulse, Bobby studied him.
He didn’t want them to see his hope, or, his disappointment if he didn’t make it. Even though it meant they were sure to lecture him through the holiday, he was sticking with the story that he’d gotten a job working in New York City for the coming semester, until he figured out just what he did want. It wasn’t a lie; he did have a job offer working with a group of musical waiters at a place called Napoli. They waited on tables, stopped, picked up their instruments and did quick numbers in between.
They didn’t deter their father at all. He turned on Gabe Lange. “I have a shotgun in this house, and I know how to use it. I’m a district attorney in Philadelphia, young man, and I know my way around crooks. And if you’re a cop, where’s your gun? Eh? ” “My gun was lost quickly—I try never to use firearms. Innocent people get hurt as often as the bad guys, so it seems. But, yeah, I carry a weapon. Now it’s gone, somewhere in a bush halfway up the mountainside,” Gabe said. ” Mike muttered, and walked away.
An Angel for Christmas by Heather Graham