CRIMINAL CHRISTMAS: A Set of 8 Holiday Suspense Stories, page 16
“Well, aren’t you Scrooge reincarnated?” Caroline said.
“Yes, he is,” Syd agreed. “I’m working on that.”
Grey fluffed out his napkin and put it in his lap. He took up his utensils and held them still a moment, sending a little prayer up to the gods of good steaks and thanking them for the piece of heaven he was about to dive into.
“Thank you, Sydney.” He cut into the meat and gingerly placed a bite in his mouth. He chewed slowly, letting his taste buds savor the burst of flavors. If there was a heaven for great steaks, he’d be in it. Right now.
Syd watched him closely. He swallowed. “I adore you, Syd. It’s perfect.”
“Yes!” She and Caroline high-fived each other over the table.
Mitch fidgeted in his seat and jerked a thumb to the door behind him. “I think we need to check out this Santa. Something is sideways with that.”
“No,” both women said.
Not that the word “no” ever stopped this guy. They should know that this late in the game. To prove the point, Mitch jumped up and headed for the back door.
“Sorry, girls,” he said. “I can’t stand it. There’s been a recent string of burglaries in this area, break-ins, and stolen Christmas gifts. Santa in an alley screams criminal activity to me, and if he’s been burglarizing the neighbors, this Santa is about to get busted.”
Caroline put her elbows on the table and hung her head in her hands. “I’m sleeping with a paranoid freak. I swear he needs therapy. It’s just not normal.”
She rose and caught the waitress’s attention. “Can I get our coats, please?”
The waitress glanced behind her to the food prep area. “You haven’t eaten. I think the chef is plating your food right now.”
“I’m sorry, but my boyfriend, the absolute love of my life, is insane. Maybe you can keep it warm for a few minutes?”
A minute later, she had her coat on and Mitch’s in hand. “We’ll be right back,” she told Grey and Syd. “If I have to kill him first and drag his cold, lifeless body back in here, I swear to you, we’ll be right back.”
Somehow, Grey knew that was a lie.
Caroline stepped into the alley and the pungent aroma of old food mixed with God knew what else from the dumpster stole her breath. She slapped her gloved hand over her mouth and breathed in. She loved this man, but at times, he made her nuts. When he’d been on the run, she’d survived without him and that time had been peaceful and quiet.
And boring.
And lonely.
Right now, standing in this dreary alley, sucking in bad air, peaceful, quiet and boring didn’t sound half bad.
She hunched against a burst of wind and pulled her coat tighter at the collar. “Mitch?” she called.
“Ssshhh.”
Caroline sighed. She should just shoot him and be done with the whole mess. A dull spotlight on the side of the building illuminated the back half of the alley. Ten yards to her left she spied Mitch’s white shirt in the darkness. She marched toward him, his coat in hand, ready to give him the beat down of his life.
“Listen to me,” she said. “I love you more than is rationally acceptable. At this point, it’s a sickness. I usually have no problem indulging your sometimes bizarre instinctive moves, but tonight I’m digging in. Please. Syd worked hard on this dinner. Do you even know what it took for her to pull this off?”
“Ssshhh,” Mitch said again. “Did you hear that?”
Double sigh. “Forget what I hear. Did you hear me?”
“Just listen, Caroline. Then you can lecture me on what a rotten friend I am.”
“You’re not a rotten friend. A little twisted maybe, but not rotten.”
“Ssshhh.”
Okay. Now he’d gone off the rails.
“There it is again.”
That time she heard it. The low clang of metal sliding against metal.
Dammit. Wasn’t this always the way with Mitch? From the first time they’d worked together at the FBI, she’d been fool enough to buy into his paranoia. Problem was, most of the time, his paranoia was warranted. Standing in this putrid alley in the freezing cold, she felt it again, that pull, that enticing excitement that made her blood hum because Mitch Monroe, sex god of the century, might be right about a crooked Santa.
God help them.
Caroline cocked her head. “Fire escape?”
“Yeah. And sure, maybe Santa lives over the building, but why use the fire escape? There’s got to be a street entrance.”
“Santa doesn’t want to be seen?”
“Not only are you beautiful, Caroline, you’re brilliant. You have your rifle in your trunk?”
And it begins…On the way to Mitch’s, she’d picked up her rifle from her gunsmith after having a mounting ring on the scope replaced, so yes, she did have her rifle in her trunk. “My rifle?”
“Get your scope and keep an eye on things out here.”
She threw her hands up. “Whoa. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Do you have your phone?”
“Yeah, why?”
“We should let Grey know we’re checking this out.”
“Nah. He’ll be a pain in the balls about it.”
“What else is new, but you need backup. If I’m getting my rifle, you’ll be alone. And that doesn’t work for me. At all.”
Mitch turned, met her gaze dead on and she waited. In the next three seconds he’d realize she was right. Between their work at the Bureau and what they did for the Justice Team, they’d worked together long enough to know certain things, like entering an unknown situation without backup could not be compromised.
“You’re right.” He pulled his phone from his back pocket and shot Grey a text.
Mitch Monroe may have been a lot of things, but stupid was nowhere on the list. Caroline glanced back at the door leading into the restaurant and what would have been an amazing meal. Maybe later.
Grey’s tall form suddenly filled the doorway. Text received.
“There he is,” Caroline said. “Where do you want me?”
Chapter Two
Where did he want her? Where he always wanted her. Underneath him.
But that would have to wait. First he had a criminal to catch. Although Grey and Caroline thought he was nuts and simply itching for an adventure, Mitch had been following the news obsessively for days. Christmas was a heyday for criminals on the take. Police suspected a Santa theft ring.
“Find a good vantage point across the street where you can see the top of the building,” he told Caroline. The place appeared to be empty. Possibly a few homeless people using it on occasion or local drug dealers if they were desperate, but otherwise zero activity.
Why McCann’s had set up their restaurant in this neighborhood was the question of the hour, but the area was said to be undergoing rejuvenation. All artsy-fartsy and shit. Mitch guessed the rent was low and that was the real reason. “If our Santa is using the fire escape to go up, the roof is the place to start.”
Caroline hesitated for a minute, then whirled around and headed for the parking lot where they’d left her car. She half waved, half saluted Grey as she did. Damn, he loved her. She bitched a lot, but when it came down to it, she always had his six.
Grey stepped out of the doorway and off the step. Under the single street light, his face was set in an I’m going to kill you look. Nothing new. “Where is she going?”
“To get her rifle.”
Grey’s head dipped forward in that WTF move he always hit Mitch with. “What?”
“Hey, you never know what nasty criminal element could pop out of this building.”
“You can’t be serious.”
Mitch pointed up. “Santa’s on the roof, and I don’t think he’s looking for a chimney.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
His buddy’s eyes bulged. If he didn’t relax, he’d pop an artery. “Dude, you have got to relax. And Caroline says I need therapy.”
“If you think that Santa is involved in the burglary ring, call the police. Now, we’ve got a great meal waiting for us.”
“What fun would that be?”
Grey was bearing down on him, his hands balled into fists. Yep, the man was pissed. “I’d get to enjoy my steak in peace and go home with my beautiful girlfriend and strip off her festive dress.” He turned his hands palms up as if weighing his two options. “Indulge you on some ridiculous escapade or enjoy a night of holiday cheer. Hmm…”
“Go eat your steak. Caroline and I got this.” Mitch headed for the nearest entrance to the building. He tried the knob but the door was locked. Time to find that fire escape. He glanced back at Grey still standing in the alley. “Get lost. I’ll handle this.”
“‘Handling’ in your world amounts to you ending up with your ass in trouble and me having to bail you out.”
Mitch started jogging. The fire escape had to be on the north side. “That’s what I have Caroline for now. You’re off the hook. Beat it.”
He’d barely rounded the corner, jumping over a torn shopping bag, when he heard the sound of Grey’s footfalls behind him. The man had a heart of gold but worried too much. That would probably be Mitch’s fault too. Whatever.
He stopped, his breath fogging in front of his face as he pulled up and caught sight of the metal fire escape a few feet away. Grey came to a stop behind him. “I’m just going to do a sneak and peek. You can stay here.”
He grabbed the cold handrail and hauled himself up to the first step. He started climbing, his wet shoes squeaking slightly on the metal stairs. Slow down or they’ll hear you coming.
The fire escape shuddered and Mitch looked over his shoulder. Grey was joining him.
“We’re a team,” Grey said. “We do this together. You fucking pain in my ass.”
“I love ya, man.” Mitch cracked a grin, leaned back, and held out his fist. Grey bumped it with his own. “Let’s go see what Santa’s up to.”
The building was a modest three stories. As they passed boarded up windows and eased their way to the top, Mitch kept hearing noises from inside. The low hum of voices or possibly a radio. Maybe it really was just a homeless guy or two, but his gut told him different.
Before they reached the roofline, he smelled cigarette smoke. He held up a hand to stop Grey. Grey lifted his nose, smelling it too.
Carefully, Mitch rose enough to peek over the edge. Sure enough, two men, both dressed in Santa suits stood in the southwest corner of the building smoking. The back half of the rooftop entrance blocked his sight line, but he saw enough of them.
“When’s Logan coming?” one of the men said. He had a heavy southern accent. Tennessee, maybe.
“Around midnight,” the other answered.
The Santa who sounded like Elvis ground his cigarette butt into the roof with a boot heel. “Would be nice if we were getting a bigger cut.”
“You’re a greedy son-of-a-bitch, you know that? We get what we get.”
The second Santa flicked his cigarette off the side of the roof. “Dyson’s a punk kid. It’d be easy to take him out. A little fall off of this roof would do the trick. Only three of us then. Bigger paycheck.”
Elvis Santa laughed. “Come on, let’s go finish packing up the merchandise. A piece or two of that jewelry might just accidently fall into my pocket. I’ll sell it and split it with you.”
Mitch ducked down, signaling Grey to keep quiet as the two men went for the rooftop entrance. As soon as the door closed, he hauled himself up over the edge. Grey followed on his heels.
They looked around. “Well?” Mitch said. “Do you believe me now?”
“It’s shady, I’ll give you that, but we’ve got no proof there’s anything illegal going on here.”
“So how do we get inside?”
Grey shook his head. “We don’t. We call the cops.”
“You just said we have no proof. If I can get inside, I’ll snap a picture or something. Besides if the cops show up now, this Logan guy will get away. Sounds like he’s the brains behind this operation. I say we get in, find the proof, and wait until ʼol Logan shows. Then we bust them all.”
Grey shrugged. “Technically we can’t bust anyone. The Justice Team doesn’t exist and we sure as hell aren’t FBI agents anymore.”
Fuck the minor details. “I’m going in.”
“You’re just going to open that door and walk in? Caroline’s right, you are certifiable.”
A clang behind them made Mitch whirl, ready to jump on whoever was coming up the fire escape. A second later, Sydney’s head popped up over the roof edge. The wind grabbed her coat and blew it open, exposing the deep V of her red dress. “What the hell are you two doing?”
And that’s when an idea—a terrible, awful idea—formed in Mitch’s head.
“You want me to what?” Syd half laughed at the insanity Mitch had served her. “I may have posed as an escort once, but I’m no stripper.”
She’d just climbed a damned rickety fire escape in five inch stilettos and a dress tight enough to destroy her circulation and Mitch wanted her to do some kind of half-baked undercover assignment. This night was a keeper, a real humdinger in the annals of Sydney Banfield.
“No,” Grey said. “Forget it.”
Mitch eyed her open coat, let his gaze wander over her body in a detached and strategic analysis. If it had been any other man, she’d have dropped him. Then kicked him in the balls.
“This’ll work,” he said. “She knocks on the door, says Logan sent her as a Christmas bonus or something. Then she loses the coat, they take one look at her ti...er...assets...and she’s in.”
And, oh my, Grey’s eyes bugged out. “Hey, Genius! Why not send your girlfriend in there? She’s got assets.”
She did not even believe this one. In the months she’d known these men she’d heard all kinds of whacky conversations. One thing that had never come up—not in front of her anyway—was the topic of her boobs.
“Hello.” Syd waved. “I’m standing right here while you idiots debate the usability of my tits.” She turned to Grey, grabbed his hands. “Baby, I can do this. And the faster I do, the faster we get back to our meal and a great evening. You know how he is. He won’t give up.”
“Yeah,” Mitch said. “She’s right. Thanks, Syd. I think.”
“You’re welcome. But I’m only doing this because I don’t want my evening ruined by one of your insane schemes. Let’s get this done and over with. I want Caroline watching my back though.”
At least Caroline was a woman. And as a former FBI agent, she understood the unrest that came with strolling into a room full of potentially seedy men and pretending she was there to strip for them.
Once again Syd pondered her existence. All she’d wanted was a basically normal life running a shelter, helping battered women escape lives they shouldn’t be living. She’d been doing that. At least until Justice “Grey” Greystone, hunk that he was, entered her life.
She loved him, no doubt, and one day, if his intense Type A personality didn’t give him a heart attack first, she’d marry him. Maybe pop out some babies. Deal with crazy Monroe, whom she loved like a brother but sometimes wanted to bury alive.
Bury him later.
She glanced down at her dress and the killer shoes. A stripper would wear those suckers. Decision made, she spun back, headed for the fire escape again, coat flapping and the cold wind blasting her assets.
“I’m going. Make sure Caroline has me covered.”
“Syd?” Grey called.
She whirled back more than ready to blast the two of them. “What?”
“This is crazy. Please be careful.” His voice, normally so solid and determined, buckled. “Call my cell and keep the phone line open. Just scream if you need me. Give me a code word.”
And just that fast, her frustration peeled away. Wherever he went, whatever he was doing, he always worried about the people he loved.
She smiled at him, the wicked one that promised a steamy night. The smile that would send his overactive mind reeling in another direction than his current state of worry. “Cupcake.”
His eyes narrowed, and even through the cold, she spotted the simmering heat that always charged her body, made her tingle with anticipation because their love of cupcakes didn’t necessarily include eating them. The things they did with cupcakes should, in fact, be illegal.
“Cupcake,” he said. “Say it and I’ll bust in there.”
She stepped over the roof’s ledge onto the ladder and looked back at him. “What does a lap dance go for these days, anyway?”
Chapter Three
When the Santas had entered the roof door, it had automatically locked behind them, but Grey watched Mitch pick the lock with ease. The guy had always loved crappy locks.
Quietly, they entered and scanned the area. The building’s top floor was truly abandoned and Grey and Mitch made their way silently down the stairs.
Mitch was itching to go down to the first floor but Grey gave him the signal to hold back. He was listening intently for the sound of…
Knock, knock, knock…yep, there it was.
Except Sydney being Sydney, it was more of a bang, bang, bang. He could picture her on the front stoop, stomping her feet and thinking, let’s get this over with, boys. I’m freezing.
Even though the building was unheated, a fine line of sweat broke out over Grey’s forehead. Here he was, once again, sending Sydney in as bait.
“What the hell was that?” a low, gruff voice coming from down below asked.
Grey sat down on the step, leaning forward enough to hear the men without being seen. Mitch sat beside him.
“I don’t know,” another answered. “Logan’s not due until midnight.”
A third voice chimed in. The guy with the southern drawl. “Ignore it. Probably some homeless douche bag trying to find a place to stay tonight.”
Bang, bang, bang…and then the distant sound of Syd’s voice. “Hey, boys, open up! Logan didn’t send me here to freeze my cha-chas off!”
Mitch cut his eyes to Grey and grinned, giving him a thumbs-up. Fucking, Monroe. It took all of Grey’s willpower not to reach over and break that thumb off.
