Page 32 of The Santas Who Stole Me

“I’m not done. We can bring him here, and you guys can deal with him.” It’s only a little bit of a lie. I will bring him here, but only after I hand over the file. The guys won’t be able to assassinate him if the place is crawling with feds, right? I was feeling confident about that before, but what if I lead the guys right into a trap? I won’t. Agent Fisher will make sure of it. I’ll give her the file, then she will arrest Chad. This will be over.

“No,” Keeper says again, no explanation provided.

I stare at him for a moment, then Calum whispers in my ear, “Cookie, I know you’re strong as fuck, but please let us do this without you. We only just found you and I can’t handle it if anything happens to you.”

His voice is so sincere, I almost give in.

I glance at Zeke, but he hasn’t said anything.

“Keeper, we might need this to happen,” Zeke states, his tone even, and I know he is calculating, preparing how to best deal with Chad.

“Are you fucking serious?” Keeper shouts.

But Zeke is serious; he’s always serious. “We can control the circumstances. Calum will stab him in the bathroom. I don’t think he would bring the FBI along to haul his abused girlfriend home. We can take him home, grill him for leads on who to frame for his murder, and get it done. It’s not how we typically do it but we already have an idea who would benefit from his death.”

I wince at his statement, and Marge notices, reaching her hand out to me. That hopelessness starts to swirl in my brain again. I don’t feel so confident now. I’m just the abused girlfriend; not a leader for my Santa assassins. Shit. I bite my lip, and Calum must feel my doubt creeping in because he squeezes my thigh in reassurance.

“We will do it, Georgie. It’s a good idea, we have to have a solid plan for how to get you away though. Marge, can you get the diner empty?” Keeper says, and his words give me a little more strength.

“So you can stab someone in my bathroom?”

“He most likely knows she works here. It would be easy enough. And somehow, I imagine your fry cook can handle a bloody clean up,” Keeper says.

“We can handle the blood. It’s how to do this without the feds breathing down our necks after.” My face scrunches in confusion about how B and Marge are simply cool with this. He hardly flinched when the gun was aimed at him. One day, I’ll tell Marge all my secrets about the guys. Sure, she can probably put two and two together even if I haven’t straight come out and said they are killers. Eventually I will, then hopefully she will feel comfortable enough to tell me her secrets too.

“We’re going to play up that this is about Georgie and hope he doesn’t bring a partner. If he brings friends Georgie is going to draw him away,” Zeke says, his features schooled as always.

“What days are the slowest at the diner?” Keeper asked.

“Wednesdays,” B tells us.

“Zeke?” Keeper is asking if this works. Three days is closer than I thought. Damn, but I’ll make it work. The next part is my lie, another partial lie.

“I need to help Marge bake,” I blurt, a little too demanding.

Everyone stares at me. I’m not a good liar.

“Yep, we have a big order Wednesday. I need help,” Marge confirms.

“We’re busy with murder Wednesday,” Zeke adds, as if Marge missed the earlier conversation.

“I’ll need to help on Tuesday for the order.” She nods, cool as a cucumber.

How is she lying to these men so easily? I may not have told her the details, but she’s aware they don’t follow the same rules as the rest of the world, and she still isn’t scared. Who the hell is this girl? And I’m glad she’s my best friend.

The guys turn to Keeper. He’s the shot caller after all.

“Fine. Coming here was relatively uneventful and safe. Another few hours will be the same.”

I feel so much relief he agreed, I force myself to calm down and not blow out the breath I was holding. This will work. I have Marge, the guys, B, and even if hope fucked me over in the past, I still have her too.

Chapter Twenty-One

CALUM

We stand up to leave the diner after talking out a few more scenarios. Georgie hugs Marge as they talk about girl shit and how to add Christmas decorations to the diner. It’s adorable. She is adorable. I want to scoop her up and slam into her, but I let her have her time with her friend. Whatever is weighing on her has to do with her dick of an ex. I can’t wait to slide my knife into his flesh for hurting my girl. Every second he’s breathing my anger deepens. Despite how proud I am of her for fighting back, I want to keep her away from him, protect her even though she’s stronger than she thinks she is.

“On Tuesday we will decorate the tree near the to-go window.”