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After the contests end, bells ring, cymbals clang, and drums bang. The crowd cheers as a Chinese dragon bounds into the gym. Judging from their acrobatic abilities, the performers must have high sashes in the dojo. The mythical creature’s head bobs, his snake-like body dances, and giant jaws move to the beat. Delighted children shout as the beast prances, puppy-like, across the room and somehow, avoids Santa. After a few minutes, the serpent agrees to be harnessed to the sleigh. With one final sashay around the room, the doors swing open, and we follow our Pied Piper to the sidewalk where Suds lifts Mikey to his shoulders.
Spying Rose and Wheels, I grab my husband’s hand, only to be waylaid by Monsignor O’Connell. “It’s a miracle. It reminds me of a story about Mary and Joseph-”
“Thanks, Father, talk later. Uh… my mom’s cargot a flat tire. Sorry but we need to go.” I tug my rambler addict away before he can get involved in a conversation which would no doubt last well into the night.
Adding the white lie to my list of sins to confess, I recognize a familiar face in the crowd, and snap his picture. “Oh my God. It’s him.”
“Who?” Instantly alert, Sebastian does his bodyguard thing while I gesture toward the now blank spot.
“Howie. The douchebag’s not dead.” Disregarding my partner’swhoa -nelly, I rush forward. “Excuse me, sorry, pardonme.”
Eyes on the dark hat with the Alaska flaps, I squeeze through the masses, and chase my prey to the carnival. Dammit. He’s not in the lines for the Tilt-a-Whirl, the Scrambler, or the Ferris wheel.
“Are you sure he’s our guy?” About a minute later, Suds arrives at my side, sans Mikey.
“Abso-fucking-lutely.” My phone out, I scroll to his image, and shove it in my partner’s face.
Nodding, he frowns, his dark eyes dart all about, then narrow. “I got him, you stay put.”
“No way, Howie’s mine.” Following my bossy alpha, I stop at the ring toss game where Howie glares at my husband, now holding him in place by the shoulders.
“Cops? Feds?” He holds up his bandaged hand as far as his sling allows.
“We found your finger in our pine tree.” I’d almost be sympathetic, except for my hundred-fifty bucks.
“So? Not like I can glue it back on.” The thief’s sarcasm changes my mind. He’s a jerk.
Thinking of our trip upstate, I remember how upset the young woman was over the missing Virginia pines. “Sir, you stole endangered trees.”
“I can’t give dem back either. What’s your pernt?” His chin juts out, just begging to be punched but seeing how there’s children everywhere, I simply hold out my palm.
“I want my money back.”
“Fine.” The injured crook struggles to one-handedly remove his wallet. Once it’s out, my partner snatches it away, and removes all the cash except for one twenty.
“Father O’Connell thanks you for your kindness and generosity.” Coat open, Suds stuffs the wadded bills near his holstered weapon.
“Is that it?” Eyes wary, the little worm clenches his one working fist, but thinks it over and steps back from the scowling, ex-SEAL.
“Nope. Samantha and I wish you a Merry Christmas. If you want a happy New Year, I suggest you leave town. Were I to spot you in our neighborhood again, I’d lose my holiday spirit, real quick.”
After the cockroach scampers away, I reach for my husband’s neck and tug him to my lips. “How nice of you to let Howie go.”
My manwaggles his brows. “You really think so? Wanna find out who’s naughty or... sexy?”
Turning a full three-hundred-sixty degrees, a small squeak exits my mouth. “Where? We’re in the middle of a kid’s carnival.”
Sebs grabs my hand, pulls me toward the cotton candy booth, and moves a trash bin to close off a narrow space. With a hard wall at my back, he captures me between his elbows, and kisses my brains out.
Shuddering, we come up for air, and I try to regain my labored breath. “Anyone could walk in on us. This is crazy.”
He opens his full-length wool coat, tucks it behind me, and unzips his fly. “C’mere, babe. No one can view much of anything.”
Reaching into my pocket, I find my hat and tug it lower on my face. Should someone comeby, they’d glimpse a couple in a heated embrace, at best.
When our tongues tangle, his coarse hands unsnap my jeans to untuck my shirt. Suds slides his fingers up my body to cup my breasts. After pinching my tits until they point, he pulls my slacks to my knees and strokesmy slick nub, long and slow.
“You’re always so ready.” While he rubs and plays, I wrap my digits over his steely length.
