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FBI Special Agent Stella Knox had been hoping for a quiet weekend. But work had turned into a scramble during dinner a couple nights ago, after a call from Supervisory Special Agent Jack McHenry of New York—a far cry from her home base, the resident agency in Nashville.

“I’m reaching out because there seems to be a string of copycats to your most recent case…”

For two days now, she and their team had been sharing field reports, comparing crime scene photos, and making what felt like a million phone calls to field offices around the country in an effort to determine what cases might be connected to theirs.

Over the past few weeks, Stella’s focus had been on serial cases where victims were exsanguinated. Cuneiform characters had been carved into the victims’ backs in a strange ritual. So far, she and her partner, in law and life, Special Agent Hagen Yates had caught two different perpetrators.

It appeared there were more out there .

She rubbed her eyes, as if she could scrub away the images she’d seen recently.

“Let it go for a couple hours.” Hagen stroked her back as they stepped onto the porch. He was one to talk. She knew his brain was going at a million miles an hour too.

“But—”

“Ander invited us here so we could all have a peaceful moment together.”

Stella gave it up. “You’re right.” She knocked in the middle of the Christmas wreath that hung on her colleague and friend’s front door.

Behind her, a plastic snowman waved at the street from the middle of the lawn.

She hadn’t pegged Special Agent Ander Bennett as an outdoor-decorations kind of guy.

She rocked on her heels, waiting for him to answer, as her boyfriend, Special Agent Hagen Yates, rubbed the small of her back with long, loving strokes.

Ander had invited them over on this Sunday evening for warm drinks and friendly conversation, a way for Stella and Hagen to get to know his girlfriend, explosives expert Alessandra Lagarde, a bit better.

The couple had moved in with each other after dating for only a month.

So Stella and Hagen were playing catch-up.

On the car ride over, Stella told Hagen that they needed to start thinking about the flights to Florida, as her mother had been pestering her about when they’d arrive for Christmas. Hagen said he’d thought they were spending the holiday with his family at his sister Amanda’s ranch outside of town.

Stella had sworn silently as she stared out the window at the streetlights passing by.

They hadn’t talked this through. She’d just assumed they’d see her mom and stepfather in Florida for the holiday.

Stella liked Hagen’s sisters, Amanda and Brianna, and his mom, but her mom had no one except her second husband.

Cancer had taken Stella’s brother years ago.

She always felt it her duty to see her mom during the holidays.

“ We need to talk about this ,” was the last thing she’d said on the topic as she opened the passenger-side door outside Ander’s house.

The only thing they had agreed on was that they’d try to avoid talking shop so they could get to know Alessandra. Well, they’d also agreed they’d probably fail miserably at that, as FBI agents always did when they got together.

Ander finally opened the door in a Santa hat, with a steaming mug of mulled wine in his hand. “Ho ho ho!” He beamed a big smile.

Not exactly filled with the yuletide spirit, Stella raised her eyebrows and didn’t smile back. “Too soon. We’ve got eight more days before Christmas.”

“I like to get all my ho ho hos in early. You don’t want to wait until Christmas Eve to find you haven’t handed out nearly enough, and now the stores are closed, and you can’t get a ho ho ho anywhere.”

Shaking her head, Stella squeezed past him into the living room. “Pretty sure you can get those things everywhere. They come in packs of three.”

Ander laughed. “That’s what you think. I heard Slade is setting up a special unit to investigate people who haven’t ho ho ho’d enough at Christmas. Wouldn’t want to get on the wrong side of that.” He turned back to Hagen. “How’re you doing?”

Stella heard Ander and Hagen slap hands behind her as she walked into the living room.

Wreaths hung around the walls and above the fireplace.

A Christmas tree stood in the corner of the room.

Tinsel trailed evenly around its branches.

The baubles hung in tidy rows and were even color coordinated, rising from blue and red to silver and gold before meeting the golden star balanced delicately at the top of the perfectly dressed tree.

Alessandra came in from the kitchen, holding a bowl of guacamole and another of chips.

Stella smiled and pointed at the tree. “Your work?”

Alessandra placed the bowls on the table and gave Stella a hug. The tall, thin redhead wore a fuzzy white sweater with a long green-and-blue plaid skirt. As Alessandra pulled away, she pushed her chunky glasses up her nose. A move she’d no doubt be doing all night.

“Ander helped.” Alessandra placed her hands on her hips and admired the decorations. “He stayed in the kitchen, mulled the wine, and left me to it, per my orders.”

“It’s beautiful.”

“Isn’t it?” Ander draped an arm over Alessandra’s shoulder. “I haven’t put up Christmas decorations in years.”

“Still haven’t.” Hagen nudged him. “Alessandra put them all up.”

“No. I mean, yes, she did. Murphy usually stays with his mom for Christmas, and it’s always felt weird to do it just for myself.” He pressed his lips to his girlfriend’s temple. “This is better. This is what a home is supposed to look like this time of year.”

Alessandra dipped a tortilla chip into the guac. “Demetri’s dad is out of town for a couple of weeks, and we have Murphy. One big happy family for a few days. It’s perfect.”

She bit into her tortilla chip, and Ander kissed her, smearing a tiny bit of guacamole on her lip. “Ugh. Worst timing!” But Alessandra was laughing.

Stella smiled. The lights and the tree and the tinsel did make the place feel like a home. Warm and cozy.

“Where’s Murphy anyway?”

“He’s in his bedroom. With Demetri.” Ander dropped his arm from Alessandra’s shoulder and shouted for his son. “Hey, Murphy. Come and say hello.”

The ten-year-old popped around an open door. He had a head full of curls just like his father, and there was something in the casual way he stood, one hand on the doorframe, that reminded Stella of Ander. They were going to be close when he grew up, those two. She could see it.

Murphy opened the door wider to reveal that, behind him, sitting against the wall in front of a tower of blocks, was a three-year-old with a shock of untidy red hair.

Alessandra’s son Demetri looked so much like her, Stella wondered if a father had been involved at all. He must’ve had hair as red as hers.

Murphy waved. “Hey.”

Hagen waved back. “You babysitting in there?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Hope you’re charging your dad a lot of money. I think the rate now is fifty bucks an hour. Or is that a minute? I can’t remember.”

Murphy’s eyes widened.

Ander lifted one of the bowls from the coffee table. “He gets paid in chips and considers himself lucky. Here.” He held out the bowl.

Murphy grabbed a fistful of greasy, processed, fried tortilla chips.

Ander returned the bowl to its place and gripped Hagen’s shoulder. “Mulled wine. It’s good stuff. Been mixing it all afternoon. A glass? Stella?”

“Can I have some?” Murphy’s question came through a mouthful of chips.

“No.” Ander shook his head. “Go play.”

Murphy looked crestfallen, but he tramped back to his bedroom where Demetri was banging two blocks together.

“I’d love some mulled wine.” Stella dropped onto the sofa next to Alessandra. “But I want to hear all about your trip to Vegas. What’d you do? What’d you see?”

Ander led Hagen to the table by the wall where he ladled three mugs of wine from a large electric pot set to warm. He gave two to Hagen, who gave a cup to Stella, and brought another over to Alessandra.

Stella sipped. The drink was warm and spiced and tasted like being wrapped in the comfort of good company on a cold winter night.

But she was sure that Hagen would still have something to say about the wine’s terroir , a word she only recently learned—from him, naturally—and the grape and the vintage.

“The trip was good.” Ander’s tone was a little too light. “You know. Vegas.”

Alessandra gave him a weighted look.

Ander glanced at the half-open bedroom door.

He lowered his voice and changed the subject.

“Actually, that reminds me of something I’ve been wanting to talk to you guys about.

I’ve been thinking of asking Slade for a move.

Maybe join Caleb. Something with less fieldwork and more office time. More family time.”

Hagen looked slightly shocked, but recovered quickly enough with a smile that showed many of his teeth. Ander had clearly thrown him with that comment, trumping any thoughts he might’ve had about the mulled wine.

“Wow, look at you. Family guy. You’ve already got the two kids and a pension plan. Next will be confetti, a station wagon, and a dog.”

Alessandra and Ander exchanged a look. Ander’s lips drew a thin, pleading line, and Alessandra closed her eyes. She gave a small nod, and Ander’s face became one big smile.

Without another word, she removed her hand from Ander’s and held up her fingers to reveal a thin gold band that Stella hadn’t noticed under the bowl of guacamole .

It was Stella’s turn to recover quickly. To cover her surprise, she clapped her hands together. “You…”

Alessandra wiggled her fingers. “While were in Vegas. Just a spur-of-the-moment decision. But it was absolutely the right thing to do.”

Hagen pushed Ander hard on the shoulder. “You dog. And you told me you didn’t go to Vegas to gamble.”

“Dude, I just placed one bet.” He pressed a kiss to his wife’s hair. “And won big time.”

“Hit the jackpot.” Stella raised her cup. A mug of mulled wine didn’t seem like the right thing to use for this kind of toast, but she didn’t care. She just wanted to celebrate the moment. “That’s wonderful. To both of you.”

They clinked their mugs. The steam above the wine rose and merged. They were going to have a good Christmas.

Ander gave Alessandra a sweet kiss as Stella and Hagen gazed at each other. She was glad he appeared to be genuinely pleased for the couple. She was too.

They all drank after that.

The festive moment was interrupted by the buzzing of Hagen’s phone on the coffee table and the vibrating phone in the pocket of Stella’s jeans. Ander reached for his own pocket.

Stella glanced at her screen. “Slade wants us in first thing in the morning. Probably something to do with all those cases. Guess the season of peace and love is short-lived in our line of work.”