The Santas Who Stole Me (Stolen #1)

Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

CALUM

Stomping back up the stairs, I imagine holding Georgie’s ass again. She fought and hit me, even bit into my shoulder. We don’t let people in this house or into our lives. We are fucking killers for hire, no one can know that shit. Keeper might need this, he can save her, fuck her, whatever, or so I thought before I saw her cry. I changed my mind. Imagining those same tears as she bounces on my cock with those big tits I felt pressed in my back has me thinking, fuck it. He can’t have her for himself.

“Dibs,” calls Keep.

“Mine,” I say with a growl, unsure if we are fighting over the next kill or the girl in the basement. Keeper’s anger fills up the room, and I let mine match it. Too bad my older brother isn’t gonna win this time. This is going to be a fight about her, and he can kill the guy as his consolation prize.

“She’s a person not the front seat or last slice of pizza, assholes. You don’t get to call dibs,” Zee tells us, and I ignore his logic. Keeper slams his fist down and turns to our best friend.

“Is this because she was checking you out? Were you being nice to her for real or did you just want to get info from her? Do you want her?”

Zeke swallows and looks at me explaining nothing for a beat before speaking. “Yea, I guess I do. Dibs too.”

My eyes widen in surprise. Zee doesn’t show interest in women more than an occasional hookup when we are out of town.

“That why you agreed to that bullshit that we make a deal for her help in exchange for the kill? We don’t need it.” My arms cross and I want to stab them both.

They nod, answering my question.

“This is bullshit, I stole her, she’s mine now,” Keep says.

“Georgie is really going to be into your childish behavior,” Zee says with a scoff, and Keeper flips him off.

Here we are, grown assassins, fighting over a girl. She seems worth it, though, so I shoot my finger at Zee too. A double fuck you seems worse than a single one. “You’re such a dumbass,” I tell Keep, and I know he’s biting back his retort of “it takes one to know one.”

“Are we really killing someone in the FBI? It’s a risky target and not a paying job. This will be personal. Fuck, with Georgia we have an actual connection that could point to us.” Zee pulls us from our trash talk, which might I add is weak for a bunch of badasses.

“We are,” Keeper states, already determined.

I look to Zee, our voice of reason.

“FBI connection alone raises the risk twenty percent, the fact that he’s seen two of us. I would have to calculate it again after we formulate a plan. The usual algorithm isn’t valid on this one,” he says.

“Don’t care what you think. We’re killing the guy and keeping the girl.”

“You don’t make all the decisions for us, or for her. She might not want to stay. You threw her in the trunk, idiot. What are you gonna do, Keep, lock her down there forever? Be her white knight? Then what? There is no way she walks out of here, and we all know it.”

“Then we make her want to stay,” Keep counters.

“I second Keeper’s plan,” Zeke adds.

“What the fuck, Zeke? You know that’s a terrible idea.” He’s the voice of reason, I’m the wild one, and Keeper is the grumpy leader who watches out for us. What the fuck happened at the Santa Half-Marathon?

“We can’t let her go regardless, Calum. She saw Keep and the rifle, and she knows where we live. She has a connection to the FBI. It’s too risky. She stays here or dies.”

“She doesn’t die,” Keeper adds with a bitter tone, and Zeke nods in agreement. They both scowl at me, and I agree because all logic was left on the rooftop of that building.

“We will come up with a plan for the asshole. She stays locked up. And may the best man get her,” Keeper says.

“Deal,” Zee says with more determination that I have ever seen from him.

“Agreed.” Keeper lifts his chin in challenge.

“Fine,” I grumble.

“We need rules.” Of course Keeper needs rules, and Zeke wants everything outlined.

“Number one, no one kills her unless we agree.” He looks to Zee for that one, and he gives a slight nod to his head. “We kill the guy together. No going rogue.” He looks to me for rule two, and I nod. “Number three, when this is over and she picks, no hard feelings. We don’t let this break us by letting her choose.”

We all leave the question we don’t want to ask hanging in the back of our minds. Are we gonna kill her if she doesn’t choose any of us?

We spit shake on it, making it official.

I grin, accepting this crazy-ass plan and turning to leave but also knowing I’m gonna motherfucking win.