The Santas Who Stole Me (Stolen #1)

Chapter 29

Chapter Twenty-Nine

CALUM

Everyone thinks being a hired hit man is all throwing stars and round-off kicks. In reality it’s a lot of recon and stalking. I do have a badass set of throwing stars, but sadly they have only been used once. It’s a real bitch to clean blood out of the grooves.

I shift in the car and push up my sunglasses. My ass is almost numb. I’ve been sitting for so long. How long does it take one fucker to leave for work? I’m sure he’s jerking off again. Yep, that’s one of those uncool parts of the gig, getting intel on someone’s routine means all of it. Including watching this asshole jerk off to some clown porn last week. As someone who watched their brother rail his girlfriend this morning, I’m in no place to judge a person’s kinks. Still, the red nose? I can’t unsee that shit. I blink my eyes hard a few times attempting to clear those thoughts from my head before the garage door opens.

Fucking finally, we’re about to get to the good part, and I rub my hands together.

He walks out, adjusting his junk before opening the door. The door slams shut and right as planned, the car lights in flames. I wait to ensure there is no way the fucker can get out, already knowing he can’t. Shame about that recall on electric cars, although here it really worked out for us. The backend explodes next and pretty sparks of yellow float in the air in the dark smoke. I watch for a few minutes while the black dissipates, making the air around the car a slate gray. Satisfied he’s burned to a crisp, I text the guys I’m on the way and update Lee about the status of the clown fucker.

A fire truck passes me as I pull out of the neighborhood. It’s a sketchy street, and no one has emerged to check out the explosive sounds. Reminds me of Gram’s street. No one saw anything, and no one spoke to the cops. I can’t wait for Georgie to meet Grams, which reminds me, I need to order our Christmas sweaters. I mentally go through the rest of my to-do list on the drive.

It’s going to be a busy holiday making sure Georgie gets her every Christmas wish.

I quickly ditch the car and send Lee the location for scrapping. She replies with a thumbs up emoji. When I climb into the truck Georgie’s scent fills my nose, and I see her sweater on the passenger seat. I’m so fucking crazy for her, I put it to my nose and inhale. Just her scent has me hard as steel. With a sigh, I drive down the alleyway where Keeper stashed it and make my way to my girl.

Putting the truck in park, I wonder what the fuck is happening. A large haul truck sits in front of the main entrance, and the backend is open while dozens of Christmas trees are being unloaded and stacked around the diner entrance. B and Keeper are outside. I don’t see Georgie or Zee. He’s most likely hanging from a tree somewhere like Spider-Man waiting for his senses to tingle something is wrong.

I walk up to the guys while B is glaring at the delivery men. “What’s happening?” I ask B with a jerk of my chin.

“Delivery screwed up. We ordered one tree, they said it was a hundred. This is only the first load, man, but the asshole won’t go and take them back.”

Christmas trees are being lined around the building laid against windows and any free wall space available. I’m guessing Marge said they couldn’t come inside. “Damn, it’s like the candy cane forest around here. What are you going to do with them? Where are the girls?”

“Marge is pissed, she went inside to call the store directly. Georgie is in the back working on the cookie order. I offered to end the guy but she said it wasn’t necessary. I’m going to be the one hauling all these trees somewhere, so I’m going to regret listening to her order to keep the fucker alive.”

B’s voice raises at the end of his thought, and at the same time one of the delivery men walks by. Color leaves his face, but he doesn’t stop unloading the truck. That is some commitment. I can admit B is intimidating at best, even as he stands here in a white apron over his tight black shirt and faded jeans. He swipes a hand through his hair and stomps to the back of the truck.

“Finish the job?” Keep asks. His eyes remain on the truck and quickly survey the parking lot.

My brother is on edge about Georgie.

“Yes, all done. Did you get our girl out of her head?”

“For the moment,” Keep replies with concern etching his face.

I love my brother and constantly give him shit because he worries too much about us, but he might be right to worry about Georgie this time. Sure, she accepts our lifestyle, I guess you could call it that, still doesn’t mean she is ready to be part of it. The plan for her ex might be weighing on her. She’s too good for us. Unfortunately, I want her too much to let her go, but I’ll shield her from the carnage we leave behind if that’s what’s best for her.

“I better go check and see how she’s doing.”

“Do that. I’ll go shoot one of these assholes. Enough with the trees, dick,” he shouts, and the guy jumps at his tone.

Leaving him to deal with that, I remove a tree from the entrance and notice the open sign is off again. I don’t understand how this place stays in business but whatever. My phone buzzes and I stop on my way to the kitchen to see a text from Lee.

Attached is a picture of a death certificate for Georgia Alice Davis. My brows wrinkle in confusion as I scroll the document. It’s dated today, listed as a suicide. What the fuck is this?

“Georgie,” I shout, running to the back.

Marge glances up from her phone where she’s standing in the kitchen. “It’s been twenty-five minutes,” she tells me as she paces behind the counter, my eyes searching again for Georgie.

I head to the freezer, check the storage closet, nothing. “Georgia!” I scream again. My tone is frantic, and I keep searching despite knowing she’s not here. She’s not fucking here.

“She told me to call after thirty minutes.”

My attention turns to Marge. Before I can get any words out of my mouth Keeper slams the kitchen door against the wall as he stalks over to Marge. “Where is she?”

“Watch your tone,” B warns as he saddles up next to her.

“Did you see what Lee sent? This doesn’t make sense, Keep. Marge, where the fuck is she?” My words are pained when the fear of what could be happening to her starts to grip my stomach.

Zee walks in from the back and glares at Marge.

“Mags, what’s going on?” B asks her, and her bottom lip trembles before she speaks.

“She was meeting with the FBI agent?”

“Chad?” I question.

“No, his old partner, a woman who approached Georgie not too long ago. Georgie made a deal to give them a bunch of files. Whatever is on the drive she thought would be enough to lock him up for life. She asked to borrow my car. She should have called by now.” Her knuckles whiten with her grip on the phone and she stares at it like that will magically help Georgie call. A small tear runs off her long black eyelash, and I really don’t give a shit because why would she allow my girl to do something so dangerous? B grabs her and engulfs her small body in his for a hug.

“Fuck, where is the meeting?” I ask Marge.

“The coffee shop by the market off 2nd Street.”

“Keeper, it sounds like a set up.” He nods and I see Zee, who doesn’t seem all that bothered that Georgie could be out there tangled up with the sick fuck who hurt her before.

“Why would she work with the FBI?” B asks Marge, who remains buried in his arms.

“She wasn’t working with them. She didn’t want to get any of you in trouble. We thought it would be a way for him to be put away. Georgie cares about you too much to put you at risk. I don’t know all the details, but she is terrified of him.”

I run my hand through my hair, annoyed she didn’t take the phone we gave her.

“B, track Marge’s car, I’ll call Lee and see what the fuck this is about. She isn’t dead,” Keeper says as he looks at me, and his eyes are wild. He’s fighting to stay in control and not tear the fucking place down. The savage expression on his face is a forewarning for the hell he’s about to raise.

“Zeke, where is she? Did you have eyes on the diner when she left?”

“No, I wasn’t on the rooftop then. Not that it would matter with the amount of trees outside.” He doesn’t offer any other explanation. Instead Zee stands there looking put together as if he’s going to a freaking board meeting. His hair sits in place slightly styled while punching commands into his phone.

My dread quickly turns to rage. I make no attempt to bottle it.

“What the fuck Zee? Don’t stand there like this doesn’t matter. We don’t know where she is. She could be…” I can’t finish that sentence because if she’s gone I won’t be far after. There is no world if she’s not in it, and the stranglehold on my chest grips tighter. I shove Zeke hard enough he stumbles back.

“Fuck you, don’t stand there like a god damn ice queen who doesn’t give a shit about Georgie. Where the fuck were you when she left? She deserves more than—” My airflow is cut off, stopping my bitch ass rant. His face is stone, and if I hadn’t seen the rapid blink of his eyes I wouldn’t think my words surprised him. Zeke holds me against the wall by the throat, keeping his phone in his other hand.

I grab my knife and switch the blade, pressing it to his neck. Even with the length of our outstretched arms my blade has his skin red around the tip with the pressure.

He leans into it and leers at me, piercing his own skin and blood starts to trickle.

I’m an asshole and don’t pull the blade back.

“I will give you a pass because we are all worried about our girl. But don’t question my god damn love for Georgia ever again. She is everything. Fucking everything. I will get her back.” His words are strained as he speaks through gritted teeth. The grip on my neck increases so hard his nails break my skin with a noticeable pinch.

I cough and sputter when he releases me with a shove. The knife clinks on the floor and I don’t move to grab it. Bending at the waist, I brace my hands on my thighs, taking a deep breath. Oxygen relieves the burn when my lungs fill with air again, but I welcome the pain, knowing it’s better than panic. “Zee, where is she?” I choke out when my vision is no longer blurry.

One glance at Zeke, and I know he’s not angry with me. At least I don’t think he is. He is always hard to read, so I never know for sure what he’s thinking. I shouldn’t have started shit. I know he’s guarded, but fuck I’m out of sorts, and the only thing that will fix it is Georgie. I’ll apologize later. Keeper stands next to us, still trying to get Lee on the phone. It doesn’t matter he didn’t come to my aid, I deserved that, and I know it.

“The car is about five miles from the coffee shop,” B tells us, breaking the tension in the room.

“I have her location,” Zee says.

“How?”

“I put a tracker on her bracelet. She’s moving. They must have dumped the car.”

“A tracker, thank fuck you are an insane genius,” Keeper tells Zeke.

The tension in me uncoils a bit, knowing we have a way to find her.

“Will you get her then? B, go with them,” Marge adds. I almost forgot she was here.

My cell rings across the kitchen, and I open it.

“Lee,” I say, putting her on speaker.

“Cal, listen, you guys need to get out of the diner. Take Marge. An FBI raid has been put in place. I tried to come up with a way to stop it. It’s out of my hands, but listen. The Porter agent, he made those death certificates.”

“Those?” I only saw Georgie’s, and I swear it will haunt my fucking nightmares.

“He’s planning on staging all of your deaths. The time stamps aren’t completed. I swiped them out of his work PC. Zee, do you have the GPS?”

“You hacked into his work PC? Jesus, Lee, that’s ballsy even for you,” B says, and I look at him wondering how the fuck he knows one of my best friends and how does Lee know Marge?

“Sebastian, is that you?”

“Yea, I heard, FBI raid, thanks for the heads up.”

Sebastian? I’ll figure how the hell everyone is connected later. The more time that passes the further away I feel her pull.

“Mags, baby, look, we’re going to have to call him.”

“No, B, we have some more time. I’m not ready,” Marge tells him.

Zee moves to the back, glancing at the couple huddled together. He tosses the keys to his Mustang to B with a jerk of his head.

“You can take my car and get out of here,” Zeke tells B.

“Thanks, go get Georgie, and bleed the prick out for me.”

Keeper is out the door first, and Zee and I follow, loading in the truck. I unlock the hatch in the side and pass out weapons like they’re candy.

“She’s stopped moving,” Zee says studying his phone.

I chew on my rage to cover the questions bubbling inside me about why she stopped moving.

“She’s not dead,” Keeper repeats to himself.

I swear to God that better be true, or he’s going to see true hell on earth delivered to anyone who hurt my cookie.