A Very Daddy Christmas (Lucky Lady Reverse Harems)

Chapter 7

7

Waylan

“ O h, my God!” Eva exclaims as she comes into the bakery.

I register the horror on her face as she struggles to take it all in. Riggs and I did the best we could before she got here, but there’s still plenty of glass and scraps of pastry scattered across the floor. Cora and Sebastian are doing what they can to try and get the rest of it up.

It will take a few more hours to finish cleaning and some serious coin to replace what was broken. The pastry displays alone will be a few thousand, at least, and it’s the last thing the Levine sisters needed at this point. My heart breaks for them. I can’t let this slide.

I won’t.

“It will be okay,” I try to reassure Eva as she cautiously approaches the counter.

“Eva!” Cora exclaims upon seeing her, then rushes in for a hug.

The sisters hold each other close for a few moments. Eva’s eyes can’t look away from the mess—or from us. “What happened here?”

“Orson St. James,” Cora sighs and pulls back, wiping a fresh round of tears from her pretty eyes with the back of her hand. “That’s what happened.”

“I don’t understand.”

I take a deep breath and explain what we walked into, then Cora picks up and delivers the rest of the story. Hearing the details causes rage to bubble beneath the surface, threatening to blind me into a murderous frenzy. I still have a mind of going after those two fucks, but I would have to find them first, and if they have half a brain, they’re long gone by now.

We convince both of them to have a seat at one of the tables while Riggs turns the closed sign over the door. Red and blue lights flash nearby and they’re getting brighter. The sheriff’s office has been alerted by the commotion; probably a 911 call from one of the neighbors.

“We’ve known for a while that Orson may have ties to some really unsavory people in this city,” Sebastian says.

“Those glass displays cost a fortune,” Eva whispers.

Cora sighs deeply. “I know.”

“I assure you, replacing all of this will be not be an issue,” I say.

“What are you going to do? Pay for the damages?” Eva snaps. “You didn’t do this. You’re not responsible.”

“No, but we like to consider ourselves friends of the bakery,” Sebastian kindly chimes in. “Unless a bigger offer comes through for this place, chances are you’re going to become building owners when the escrow expires. And we’re here to support you.”

“Why?” Eva asks.

“Because Cora is a good person and a friend, and she didn’t deserve this. Neither did you. Like it or not, we’re involved now,” Sebastian says.

Eva shakes her head. “You gave us too much money already.”

“I see where Cora gets her hyper-independence from,” Riggs chuckles dryly. But neither Eva nor Cora seem amused.

“You can’t throw money at every problem,” Cora says. “This is serious. Orson St. James sent those guys over here to scare and intimidate us. Possibly worse.”

“Exactly. This cowardly move tells me he doesn’t have the funds to top your offer. And neither does George Hamilton, the man who’s supposed to buy this place once you’re evicted,” I say. “He’s desperate.”

“The sheriff is here,” Riggs mutters.

A deputy joins Sheriff Foreman as he walks into the bakery, their brows furrowed and their eyes registering every detail.

“Good day, gentlemen, ladies,” Foreman says. “We got a call through dispatch about a fight happening here. What’s going on?”

“Sheriff, thank God you’re here!” Cora jumps from her seat.

The guys and I stand back and let Cora lead the conversation. The more I listen, the angrier I get, but there’s one thing that pisses me off even more. Deputy Jones seems appalled by what he’s hearing, Foreman, not so much. I register the furrow of his brow and the flare in his nostrils, but that’s pretty much it as he takes notes in his pad. He doesn’t seem to understand the urgency of the situation.

“Your cameras, are they working?” he asks, his tone too calm for my liking.

“Yes, sir,” Cora says. “I’ll give you all the footage. Not an issue.”

“Deputy Jones will handle that.”

Eva escorts the deputy into the back office to give him a copy of the camera footage. I make a mental note to check those images as well. Everything happened so fast earlier, I didn’t register as many details as I would’ve liked.

My ribs hurt a little. One of them got a punch in, though he received twice as much back.

“Sheriff, we believe the men were sent here on behalf of Orson St. James,” I say, analyzing his immediate expression carefully. “I doubt they’re on his payroll, though.”

“That’s a nasty accusation,” Foreman replies, giving me a doubtful look. “Mr. St. James has done nothing but good for the people of Madison. I see him every Sunday in church, for heaven’s sake.”

“The Levine sisters just secured their hold on this building after he unceremoniously pulled the rug out from under their feet, three months before Christmas,” I retort. “He’s got his heart set on selling the building to somebody else—”

“George Hamilton,” Cora cuts in. “Maybe they were his people.”

Foreman shakes his head. “I find it hard to believe. We’ve never had such issues with Mr. Hamilton, either. These are God-fearing men we’re talking about. No criminal record, no ties to any shady folks in the district. It just doesn’t make sense.”

“Sheriff, with all due respect, setting aside what you think you know about these folks, the Levine sisters were clearly victims of a terrible crime here,” Riggs says, muted anger dripping from his voice. “Perhaps you should listen to what they’re telling you and investigate accordingly, without bias.”

Foreman, however, considers it condescension and immediately gets prickly. “I’d appreciate it if you refrained from telling me how to do my job, Mr. Marley. You three may have served our great country, and we’re all thankful for that, but this is my district. I know how to run it.”

“Two men just walked in and trashed a neighborhood staple,” Sebastian chimes in, his tone clipped. “I’m not sure you’re running it as smoothly as you think you are. And from what I’m hearing, Denaro has been making significant headway across Madison.”

“Denaro?” Cora asks, understandably confused.

“A notorious mobster,” Sebastian explains. “A transplant from Chicago. Came in about five years ago and opened a slew of fronts for his illegal operations.”

“That’s nothing more than hearsay. We investigated. We couldn’t find anything,” Foreman says, putting his pad away and crossing his arms in a petulant fashion. “I resent your implication.”

“You couldn’t find anything because every real estate transaction he made was brokered by Mr. St. James’ companies,” Sebastian insists.

And there it is. The missing piece. We’ve had our suspicions for a while, and even if what happened today can only be considered circumstantial, I’m growing increasingly confident that those two goons we chased out may have been sent by Denaro—a knee jerk reaction from Orson upon noticing that money sitting in escrow.

We may have unknowingly triggered something terrible here, which is why we’re determined to cover the costs of repairing everything that was broken today. We owe the women that much.

Cora looks around, her gaze revealing her broken heart. “I never imagined it would come to this. This is our family’s legacy.”

“I’m sure the sheriff will do his due diligence and investigate accordingly,” Sebastian says, giving Foreman a warning glance. “Whoever those two were, they need to be brought to justice.”

“I wholeheartedly agree,” Foreman replies. His deputy rejoins him, while Eva stands beside Cora, placing an arm around her shoulders. “I think we have everything we need for the time being.”

“We’ll probably have some follow-up questions once we check the camera footage,” the deputy says to the ladies as he holds up a USB stick.

“What about protection?” Eva asks. “Surely they’ll be back. This was only the beginning.”

I wish she were wrong, but I know better. It was just the beginning. We could handle the situation ourselves, but risking an all-out war with a former Chicago mob boss isn’t a wise thing to do, especially since we don’t know where the fucker likes to hang out. He’s always moving. Always one step ahead of the authorities. And clearly with his hands deep in the pockets of some of Madison’s most influential people.

“I’ll send a deputy over to keep an eye on the place for the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours, but if nothing else happens, all I can do is advise you to call 911 at the first sign of trouble,” Foreman says, preparing to leave.

His deputy goes out first while Eva looks understandably irritated. “That’s it?”

“It’s all we can do right now,” the sheriff replies.

“We’ll get a panic button fitted under the counter,” Riggs says. “It’s common practice these days anyway. Perhaps not in this community, but it appears it’s come to that now.”

The sheriff takes slight offense but chooses to respond with only a stern frown before he steps out. “I’ll be in touch, ladies. Take care of yourselves and stay cautious.”

The five of us wait until he’s out the door.

Anger rises within me, and I can feel it emanating from the Levine sisters like heat off a radiator. Anger and fear. They’re intertwined, and they’re often the cause of unwise decisions.

Cora gives Eva a worried glance. “Should we withdraw the escrow offer?”

“No,” the four of us answer at once.

“Hell no,” Eva reiterates. “We worked our asses off to get here. We’ll figure it out. There’s only so much those assholes can do, now that the police have been alerted.”

I can tell she’s terrified, though. For all her stoicism, Eva knows the worst is yet to come. We’ll stick around and help them secure the bakery. Riggs is already on the phone with our security company, talking about panic buttons and a new alarm system. Cora is trying to wrap her head around all this, but she will need time.

I’m not letting her handle this on her own.

We’ve invested our own money in this place now, and I’ll be damned if I’ll let Orson St. James, or anybody else for that matter, ruin what feels like could become a really beautiful thing.