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When I was a kid, Christmas was my mom’s favorite time of year. She would bake cookies and sing carols while we decorated the entire house. Christmas wasn’t just a day where you ate too much and exchanged gifts with loved ones. To Mom, it was magical. In the weeks leading up to the big day, she told stories about miracles and the power of love, trying to convince us to believe in it too. It meant so much to her that she named me after the emotion she believed tied in best with the holiday. Joy.
Four hours ago, I was headed home to put the cheap present I'd bought for Dad under the shitty tree Dad had bought for me.
And then I saw the lights.
As I neared our trailer, the strings I'd worked my ass off and almost twisted an ankle mounting the day before hung half-broken and completely useless, off the corner of the front window. If one of the local brats had ripped that shit down, best be believing they would put them right back up.
Nothing was supposed to ruin this holiday for me. But as I said, trauma is a bitch, and when Mom left, the decent part of Dad died too.
On the sofa where I thought I left my father — passed out drunk and in no state to get into trouble while I left him for one fucking hour — sat a man I’d hoped to never see again. Dolph Kringle, our small town’s answer to Tony Soprano, or some shit. Dad gambled our television away years ago, so I’d never actually seen the show, but I got the gist of things.
Dolph had his finger in every racket in the tri-state area and was willing to go to any length to ensure it stayed that way. He was also the father of an ex-flame I had no intention of reigniting, seeing as I liked myself free and breathing. I knew Dolph far better than I would have liked because his interests aligned far too often with my dad’s. Supplier and consumer. A match made in hell, if you were the sorry bitch who had to clean up the mess.
And it looked like this was one of those times.
“Joy, so good of you to join us,” Dolph said, offering a smile so sharp it cut harder than the wind howling through the park outside.
“I guess my invite got lost in the mail.” I huffed an unconvincing laugh at my own joke, leaning against the doorframe and refusing to move further into the room.
Dolph grunted, not at all impressed with my witty repartee. Fuck him. I didn’t care, as long as he showed himself out so I could continue with my... My thoughts screeched to a halt as I noticed my poor shitty Christmas tree had been massacred. Pine needles littered the floor and someone had gone to the trouble of burying an axe in the trunk enough times to split it in half and embed the blade in the floor of our kitchen. Fuckers.
“Look, much as I love uninvited guests coming in and fucking up what little joy I have in this world — get it? Joy?” When there was no response, I rolled my eyes and continued, “Can we wrap this shit up? I’d hate for you to be late to your next world domination meeting, so can I show you this lovely door?” Bravado and sarcasm were my best and only line of defense against assholes like Dolph. Like any predator, if you showed them a hint of fear, they’d rip your throat out. I wished Dad could learn that lesson before he got himself, or me, killed.
“We’ll go in a minute, but first, we have business. You and I.”
Even though Dolph was the only person I could see, I wasn’t stupid enough to assume he was alone. Powerful people were never alone.
“What business?” I asked, glancing around with a forced air of indifference. A red smear on the corner of the kitchen bench made me smother a curse as Dolph sat forward, instantly claiming my full attention.
“Your services have been offered in recompense for a rather large sum of money. I’m here to collect.”
This time, the profanity made it to the tip of my tongue before I swallowed it, biting the inside of my cheek viciously to avoid tipping my hand.
“Now you know if it were up to me, I’d let Earl off with a warning. You know how fond I am of your pop, but I have a business to run. What kind of a message would that send to people?”
“What do you need?”
My hands may have been tied when it came to the favor I had to carry out to make sure my father didn’t get his fool head cut off, but I’d be damned if I'd sit through Dolph’s bullshit attempt at empathy when the man was a sociopath of the highest order.
The plan was simple. A break and enter including file retrieval. In and out with no evidence of the crime.
It was simple.
Until I found out who the target was.
The low rumble of an automatic door broke me from my thoughts in time to move deeper into the trees as a large black SUV reversed out of the garage and rolled smoothly past my hiding spot. Risking a quick glance, I made out the faces I needed to ensure were clear of the property to do my job. Even though the mere sight of them stole the breath from my lungs more effectively than the ice in the air. Nick and Noel were in the back seat; Noel’s stupid red hat as much of a giveaway to his identity as Nick’s hyperactive bouncing. Nick had always been a ball of energy and the clown of the group. If he didn’t have wicked knife skills, I would have wondered why he hung with the rest of the guys. But I had seen him use those skills. Far too close for comfort. In the front passenger seat, the weak winter sun glinted off blond hair that could only belong to Chris. The driver was the only body I couldn’t see, but that didn’t particularly matter. Only one person could be driving the vehicle that turned on to the long drive to the front gate of the property. Satan himself.
Not the fictional horned, goat-footed guy that religious people used to scare the shit out of their beloved offspring. No. This was someone far worse.
Satan Kringle.
Dolph’s son. My ex-boyfriend. The guy I was about to rob.
AFTER TWENTY MINUTES, during which the snow picked up until a steady fall had covered the tire tracks the guys left, I made my way toward the house and found a viable entry point in the window over the kitchen sink. I wondered who had decided that toast was more important than warmth as I popped the flywire screen out of its frame and slid through the opening. The only thing from this half of the last century in the kitchen was the smoke alarm which had a propensity for screaming obnoxiously any time someone so much as thought of lighting a pilot light without first opening a window for ventilation. The reminder of different times brought an unwelcome wave of melancholy that I squashed ruthlessly in favor of thanking my luck for the easy entry.
The file Dolph wanted was a paper file. The kind of thing that couldn’t be trusted to technology, even with the passwords and firewalls and whatnot that people used to protect their things these days. Dolph was old school, and it seemed his son was the same. I knew Satan kept a safe in his office, but would he keep something that valuable in such an obvious hiding place? If it was so important he didn't trust Noel's computer skills to keep it safe, it had to be something really special.
But I had to start somewhere, and the study was as good a place as any. I made my way through the house on light feet, mindful that the clock was ticking and hoping like hell Dolph could hold up his end of the bargain and keep the boys at his Christmas party long enough for me to get the job done.
