She shrugged as she sorted through a table of fluffy knitted scarves. “This is my hood. I’m a regular.” Twisting a hot pink scarf around her neck, she pirouetted in front of him. “What do you think?”

He turned up his nose. “Not your color, babe.”

“My niece Brooke firmly believes that no one over the age of four should wear pink.”

“That’s funny. How old is she?”

“Fifteen going on thirty. You’ll meet her later.” Returning the scarf to the table, she glanced over at the next kiosk and spotted a beautifully framed painting of the Capitol that she had to have for him. Dying to get a closer look at it, she rubbed her hands together and blew into them. “Do you feel like some hot chocolate?”

“Sure.”

“They’re selling it right over there.”

Eyeing her suspiciously, he looked over to where she pointed. “All right.”

Flashing a brilliant smile, she went up on tiptoes to kiss him. “Thank you, honey.”

“What’re you up to?”

“Nothing.” She gave him a little push. “Go.”

The moment he crossed the street, she spun around and pounced on the unsuspecting artist in the neighboring booth. “That one. Right there. How much?”

“Three-fifty.”

“Sold. Will you take a check?”

“With a license.”

“Be quick.”

They completed the transaction in record time, and Sam accepted the package wrapped in brown paper moments before Nick returned with two steaming cups of hot chocolate.

“What did you buy?”

“Something for my dad.”

“You’re a terrible liar, Samantha. Does this mean I have to buy something for you, too?”

“Only if you plan to get lucky in the New Year,” she said with a saucy smile.

“In that case, what looks good to you? Sky’s the limit.”

Laughing and teasing, they were navigating the crowd on their way to the indoor food market when a flash of metal caught Sam’s eye. Everything shifted into slow motion as she realized it was a gun. In the span of a second, she shoved Nick out of the way, dropped the painting and her hot chocolate, drew her own weapon and lunged at the shooter.

“Baby killer!” the woman shrieked as she fired an erratic shot.

People screamed and dove for cover as Sam wrestled the heavy-set woman to the ground and struggled to disarm her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Nick’s black shoe.

“Get back!” she cried as the woman’s elbow connected with her cheekbone.

Nick stomped on the woman’s hand, and the gun clanked to the cobblestone street.

“Don’t touch it!” Sam said to him as she cuffed the crying woman.

“You killed Quentin! You killed our baby!”

Something about the voice was familiar. “Marquis killed Quentin,” Sam growled into the woman’s ear as she tightened the cuffs. Flipping her over, she wasn’t surprised to find Destiny Johnson’s sister Dawn under her. “Was anyone hit?” Sam asked Nick.