Page 13 of The Santas Who Stole Me

“Sure, anything is fine,” I say, moving to the barstools at the end of the island and sliding in.

“Juice?” Keeper asks, handing me a glass. When I take it he moves to kiss the top of my head making me blush.

Calum watches me.

“Can I have my guitar case?” I blurt out. I shouldn’t seem so desperate for it. Sure, I just let Keeper rail me, but honestly, I don’t know where I stand with any of these guys. Yesterday they made me think they wanted to peel my skin off, but now they look like they want to peel off my clothes. The rational part of my brain shouldn’t find that as comforting as I do.

“Why do you want it so badly?” Keeper asks instead of giving me an answer.

“I need it,” I say, pushing the barstool back so I can stand, not liking his hovering. Zeke motions for me to sit and places my omelet in front of me. My stomach growls at the delicious smell. It’s been a while since I’ve eaten. Food first then stand up to the big guy.

“Tastes even better than it looks. Before LA I stuck to baking and pastries. Working at the diner, I started cooking more, but I never could get the omelet flip perfected,” I say in between bites, then Zeke gives me his movie-star grin. I’d only seen it once before. He has dimples that make me want to crawl in them and die.

The guys don’t say anything while watching me take another few bites before Keeper starts up again. He doesn’t strike me as someone who lets his questions go unanswered. I don’t know if I trust them. They haven’t hurt me, not really. The trunk thing was bad, and the panic attack they caused was also bad. Worse than bad, but the way they took care of me after they realized what happened leaves me with stupid hope again, maybe they could help. Guess I’ll go first then.

“The guitar case has my stuff. I was saving money to get a fake passport and ID to leave the country. I knew of someone here in LA that could do it. I had a connection to get in contact with her, possibly, but it’s expensive.” I hold back the information about the drive I sewed inside, not sure if I can trust them completely. “Your turn. Tell me more about the roof and why you can decide to kill an FBI agent like it’s a task as simple as running to get a gallon of milk?” I take another bite and try to look tough as I brace myself for this answer.

They are filling up the air with all of their big dick energy making it hard to breathe. Keeper can back it up, the other two probably can too. Calum and Zeke look at Keeper, he nods, then Calum turns to me.

“We’re killers.”

My jaw drops a little. I saw that coming but hearing it over an omelet is nonetheless a bit shocking. Or maybe I’m shocked they admitted it like that, no chance of me walking away alive now. But was there ever?

“For hire, he means,” Keeper adds and studies me like he’s worried about my reaction.

I figured it was something like that. I saw the gun, the basement, the way they move and the arrogant attitudes. They didn’t fear talking about killing someone in the FBI yesterday, so I guess learning they’re assassins isn’t as shocking as it should be. “Thanks for sharing.” I shrug because I don’t have anything else to add. Calum snorts at my comment, but before I let anyone else drop any more bombs, I continue. “And you’re keeping me here to make sure the FBI doesn’t catch onto what you were doing at the Santa Half-Marathon? And I’m going to help you find Chad?” I put Keeper’s words from the rooftop together. They must assume I’ll snitch, or I will bring the FBI to their door. It’s more than needing my help, they need to keep me quiet.

“We are keeping you. If you are here, it will be easier to get rid of that asshole for you. Want to hire us, cookie? We’re good at this; five stars on Yelp review good,” Calum tells me, and Keeper snorts at his joke.

Do I want their help? It all sounds too good to be true, but my heart kind of swells at the idea they would help me. I should leave, try to plead with them that I’ll never say a word. I should feel scared they just admitted to killing people as their day job. All these logical thoughts run through my head and go out the window when I shrug and say, “Okay.”

Chapter Twelve

CALUM

“I doubt I can afford your services. Everything I have is in that case. It was more before someone took my money while I was sleeping,” Georgie tells us.

“What do you mean, took your money while you were sleeping?” Zeke asks.

“Oh, well, I am in between places to stay right now. I couldn’t make the shelter in time and, well, I was planning on working a double every day this week.” She shrugs it off like being homeless is no big deal.

I ball my fists at the thought of her alone at night on the streets.

“What’s the going rate for murder these days?” she asks, then smiles at Zee, and he returns it, weird, but whatever.

I need the guys to go, so I can have time with Georgie. When she was having her panic attack we agreed to break up time with her. She’s been through too much, and we don’t want to overwhelm her, so Keeper got her last night. The fucker always has to be first.

“It’s on the house. We weren’t sure if Chad could continue to live after seeing Keeper and Calum regardless. Now it’s about you,” Zee offers an explanation, always direct with his words.

“How do you know you can handle it and not get caught?” Georgie’s eyebrow raises at her question. Is she doubting us? That isn’t possible, she just doesn’t understand how good we are at our jobs.

Keeper scoffs at the insinuation. If we can kill a future king in South Africa we can deal with an agent. Zee turns on the TV in the living room, and the anchor’s voice fills the room with the story about the councilman’s sudden heart attack. We have an open floor plan downstairs, so we always turn on the TV and listen or watch from the living room while in the kitchen.

“That was you?” She looks from the TV over to us before settling her gaze back on the TV. Georgie gets up from the barstool at the kitchen island and stands behind the couch. Her legs are sexy as fuck in those shorts. I like how cute she looks when she’s confused. She says, “How did you give him a heart attack? You were on the roof with a gun.”

“Because we are good at our job; the roof was backup. Trust we can handle it now?” I ask her.

She doesn’t need to answer, I can tell by the look on her face she is starting to understand our level of awesomeness.