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Climbing a tree, flipping a coin, finishing a painting, or a workout. Whatever it was, my little brother brimmed with pride.
Despite the uneasy quality of his smile, seeing him like this again provokes excitement within me.
“What?” I whisper.
“I’ve got an in with the bikers.”
I reach forward, grabbing his arm. My heart pounds like reindeers’ hooves on Christmas eve.
“Are you serious? You spoke to Terrence?”
“To one of his men. Apparently, Terrence is coming by the mall tomorrow. They want me to pick up a package. To prove my loyalty.”
I should tell him to stop, that this is a bad idea.
But I can’t stop thinking about the little boy he was, with the ready-for-anything smile, and the broody inward-facing person he became after. That change is Terrence’s fault.
“Good.” I nod. “Maybe this is how we get revenge.”
Chapter Seven
Nick
My mind is filled with the way Natalie moaned for me, the way she twitched and whimpered as I brought her to orgasm in that storage closet…
A damn storage closet.
My woman should be staying in a mansion, a palace, anywhere she wants. She should have her own home studio and she should never have to want for anything.
I remember the look on her face when she said she was kicked out of the orphanage, and rage boils inside of me, making my muscles tighten ready for action. That’s a damn monstrous thing right there, kicking a young woman out with nowhere to go.
Part of me rebels at the idea that people could be so cruel, but I’ve lived too long to entertain that doubt for more than a second. Of course, people can be that cruel.
That’s precisely why I’m here.
I remember the way she watched me yesterday, trying to seem subtle as she browsed the stores. She had a sex-messy look going on, her hair wild around her shoulders, her hoodie crumpled, everything about her begging me to charge out of Santa’s Wonderland and take her beneath the Christmas lights.
She said she felt the same. She wants me as badly as I want her. She wants us to fuse together, to collapse into each other and take everything the other has to give.
Blinking, I push away the thoughts and try to focus on my job.
A mother and her kid are smiling at me, the kid wearing a I Love Christmas T-shirt. I do my best Santa voice as I ask the little boy what he wants waiting for him under the tree when he wakes up.
I’m not sure how believable I am, how much I convince them when the last thing I want to do is be here. The only place I want to be is with my woman, my Natalie, tracking the blush that moved across her face when I told her she was mine and mine alone.
The blush was like a Christmas promise, but I don’t think I can wait until the twenty-fifth to take it, her, everything she owes me by her very existence. I never believed in fate before, but something crazy is happening this year, as though Santa – the real Saint Nick – has cast some crazy spell over us.
Again, I push away the thought, warning myself to calm down and not let my thoughts float away into ridiculous territory.
The day goes on like this, with me trying my best to be a good Santa while my thoughts brim with Natalie and the taste of her lips, the way she shivered as I rubbed her over her pants, and finally the word virgin as she blurted it out.
Virgin.
Which means she will belong to me, only me, for the rest of our lives. She will never touch another man. She will never taste another man.
I keep watch on the food court throughout the day, watching the bikers. My muscles stiffen in anticipation when I finally lay eyes on him, Terrence Clarke, the leader of the Bloody Sons.
He’s a tall man, an inch taller than me, with wide shoulders and a well-built look about him. But I know from my research that he uses steroids to achieve this physique… It's just one of the many drugs he and his lackeys push on the masses. His hair is long and greasy and gray, hanging down in a curtain around his bearded face. He’s a few years older than me, but hard living has aged him even more.
I watch as he greets the Bloody Sons, doing my best to maintain my Santa facade.
He drops down and the two other bikers chuckle. He hangs around for a couple of hours. No deals are made whilst he’s there though. I grit my teeth, trying to will something into existence, trying to will something to happen.
And then it does, but it’s not illegal. It’s just confusing.
As I’m rocking a little girl on my knee – and she’s telling me all about how she wants a magic pink unicorn for Christmas – Natalie’s brother walks toward the bikers. I recognize him from when I barged into the storage closet, his wiry mop of brown hair bobbing as he wanders over to them.
