Page 52 of The Santas Who Stole Me

“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.