Noel Secrets (Do You Hear What I Hear #2)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Jayda Simone always carried her pink bedazzled stun gun—she just never thought she would have to use it in Yale’s law library.

Lately, coffee was her weapon of choice, and after three years of law school, she’d come armed with a tumbler full to tackle a night of studying for her last final—criminal law—the test that had the potential to kill her more than the guy she zapped.

Her stun gun wasn’t supposed to come out, but the guy in the stacks dressed in black was stealing the file she needed.

He gave her no choice. She wouldn’t let anyone stand in her way of passing this exam.

Even if he had a gun.

It had been a typical wintry December day.

Jayda had trudged through the snow that covered the courtyard and made her way up the steps to Yale’s Sterling Memorial Library—a towering gothic castle.

Inside, her boots clicked along the marble floor like war drums. Anyone looking at her saw only a polished law student with a chic hair twist that commandeered her black curls.

They saw a young woman with her head held high and sporting a smart winter coat.

But the truth?

Jayda was an impostor.

She never understood why Yale had said yes to a girl from the New Haven streets and figured eventually someone would find her out.

She hadn’t grown up in libraries, hadn’t had winter coats that weren’t three sizes too big until she was fourteen, and only started drinking coffee when she realized it helped her stay awake in foster homes where locks on bedroom doors were optional.

Hence the stun gun—you can take the girl off the streets, but the street smarts never die.

Unbeknownst to the man awaiting her, she had rubbed her weary eyes and tried not to stumble into the elevator to head up to the quiet law stacks.

The lights were dimmed when she’d entered the deeper shelves—only making her sleepier for the task ahead—and she had muttered, “Here lies Jayda Simone. Survived the New Haven gangs but slain by criminal procedure.”

Jayda never wanted to be a criminal lawyer.

Definitely not. She’d seen enough criminals up close.

What she wanted was family law, a nice safe courtroom where she could help kids find better outcomes than hers.

But Criminal Law was a required class for her degree, and this final exam would determine whether she’d graduate with honors.

It would determine her future at a reputable law firm.

She had to ace this test.

Jayda downed another swig of her fuel and had headed to the old case files where Professor Dandridge said they’d be—buried in the annex behind the dusty Federal Reporter volumes.

He had told the class this case was back in the headlines because the convict was due to be released from prison after thirty years.

One of Dandridge’s earliest cases, People v.

Langston, was about a woman who’d vanished after turning state’s evidence and was rumored to have entered witness protection.

It had nothing to do with family law, but Jayda had always wondered what it would be like to disappear and start over.

The thought had made her smile…still completely unaware of what awaited her right around the corner.

She took the turn and froze.

The thief was dressed in black. Tall, broad, and in an expensive leather coat.

She had caught him rifling through the locked filing cabinet—the one she needed.

At the sight of his hurried movements, Jayda had known he didn’t belong.

This section was for students only, and she had never seen him before.

Jayda’s instincts had flared. She knew a bad vibe when she felt one. The scar on his cheek looked like it had come from a run-in with a knife.

“Hey,” she had said, voice firm. “You’re not supposed to be in here.”

The man had stiffened but didn’t turn. Instead, he slid a thick file into the inside of his coat like it was his birthright. Jayda had stepped closer.

“Those don’t leave the library. I’m calling security.”

That’s when he’d turned.

His face—pale, sharp, and carved from stone—held the look Jayda had seen once before in a man who beat his foster kids and got away with it for years. Cold. Calculating. Dangerous.

“I said,” Jayda had repeated, louder now, “put it back.”

He’d moved toward her. Fast. So fast that his coat opened, sending the file to the floor, papers flying like the squalling snow outside.

That’s when she’d seen the gun.

And him reach for it.

Jayda had dropped her tumbler on the floor. Her fingers dove into her coat. Not for her phone. She wasn’t that dumb. Phones didn’t stop guns.

But her pink stun gun would…and did. It had stopped him cold.

Or more like a heated bolt of lightning Jayda hadn’t thought.

With one hand she’d pressed the button, the other, she’d used to slam the stun gun against his side.

The click-click-zap filled the air, and so did his scream.

A terrifying howl of pain and rage as his body jerked violently before her.

She stunned someone.

And now all she could do was wonder how this had happened.

Jayda stood face to face with the man, trembling in shock as she watched him drop to the floor and writhe…all because of her.

Heart thudding, she turned with a pivot to retreat, wondering if her life would always be a fight to survive.

Jayda couldn’t wait to find out.

But before she ran, a glossy photo caught her eye mid-stride. There, among the mess from the spilled file, was a picture of a woman. Pretty. Late twenties. Boarding a train.

Something about her face struck Jayda. Not just her expression—but the fear in her eyes.

Was this the woman the man had come for?

Without thinking, Jayda grabbed the photo and a few scattered documents. Another photo of the woman was beneath the papers, and Jayda took it too and ran again for the stairs.

Her phone buzzed in her purse. She yanked it out, hoping to call the police, but the screen showed the caller: Ginny Blair.

Jayda groaned.

Foster mom #4. Christmas-crazy. Holiday obsessed. And the closest thing Jayda ever had to a mom after her birth mom died.

Not now, Ginny.

Jayda ignored the call, heart pounding. She barreled down the stairs. First floor in sight. She swung the door wide and burst out just as the elevator dinged ten feet away.

The elevator opened. The man stepped out. Limping. Gun now in his hand.

He didn’t see her but scanned the crowd.

Jayda took cover and ducked behind a pillar, then sprinted for the exit.

Where was security? She passed the check-in desk—empty. The security guard was probably in the breakroom having a snack. Figures when they are needed most.

She reached the front doors. Daylight. Almost safe. She looked back—he’d spotted her, limping her way.

“Gun!” she yelled and raced outside and down the steps.

Jayda ran harder, away from the chaos she stirred up behind her, needing to put distance between her and the man. She could only hope he’d been stopped or derailed from chasing her.

Her phone rang. Ginny again. Anyone but Ginny, but that’s all Jayda had to work with. At least if the man caught up with her, Ginny would be on the phone.

Jayda answered purely out of selfishness. “Ginny!” she panted as she ran and looked over her shoulder across the snow-laden courtyard. At any other time, the sight would be postcard-worthy.

“Jayda? Are you all right?” Ginny’s chipper voice rang in her ear. “Are you crying? Oh, honey, you sound so upset—”

“I’m not,”—she panted— “not crying—running.”

“Running? Where? Oh, never mind. Listen. I just wanted to tell you about the twins we started fostering last month—four years old, both of them, and I swear I’m going gray. Oh, what a handful! And—”

“Ginny. Not a good time.”

“Well, when is it a good time with you, huh? You never come home anymore. Which is why I called. We’re having a holiday reunion.

The whole family is getting together for the entire week.

They would love to see you. And so would I.

We’re all so proud of you and all you’ve accomplished. Will you come?”

Jayda skidded around a corner and slipped into the alley behind the next building. No sign of the man. Had she lost him?

She leaned against a brick wall, catching her breath.

Ginny kept talking. “It’ll be magical! We’ll bake cookies and decorate gingerbread houses. And of course there’ll be presents. I think I still have your gifts from last year, so you’ll get double.”

Jayda looked down at the photos still in her hand. The woman stood on the famous crooked street in San Francisco. In the second picture, she stepped onto a train.

Jayda made a snap decision.

“Sorry, Ginny. I can’t come. I’m going on a cross-country trip. San Francisco.” Maybe even out of the country if that’s not far enough.

“San Fran! Maybe we can join you!”

A glance at the second picture gave Jayda the perfect out. “I’m traveling by train,” she added. How long was the cross-country train ride? A week? Two? Too long for Ginny and four-year-old twins, that was for sure.

“What? Oh, that’s perfect! We’ll all go with you! What fun! I’ve always wanted to see the Rockies by train.”

Jayda peered around the corner of the building. “No, Ginny, you—”

“Don’t worry. I’ll plan it all. The whole family—Michael too.”

“Michael?” Her voice squeaked. “That isn’t—”

“He’ll get the time off. I’m calling him right now.”

“Ginny, please don’t—”

The line went dead.

“Ginny?” Jayda blinked at her phone. What had just happened? In running from a killer, Jayda had instead been ambushed by Ginny. Jayda groaned, slid down the alley wall, and let her head clunk gently against the bricks.

“I should’ve let the killer shoot me.”

I can’t go to San Francisco.

I can’t be stuck on a train with the Blair family and their new foster kids. With Michael!

What have I done?