Usually, whenever she’d practiced that move on Caleb, he’d let her connect so he could teach her how to not fall into whoever she was fighting.
But she didn’t connect. That was because the person standing there ducked and then straightened faster than the speed of light, whipping her around, holding her back to his chest, his arms pinning hers at her sides.
Before she could so much as draw a breath, he breathed her name in her ear, a whisper of surprise and shock in his low voice.
Lucas.
She sagged into him and he immediately loosened his grip, turning her to face him.
She started to say something, but then she got a good look at him and her mouth fell open in utter delight.
He was in an elf costume, and no one in the history of ever had filled out an elf costume like Lucas. Words failed her.
“What the hell was that?” he whispered with a good amount of shock. “You know martial arts?”
“A little. Sorry I almost kicked you.”
“Are you kidding?” he asked in disbelief. “If this costume wasn’t cutting off vital circulation, I’d be hard. With moves like that, why did you pour coffee into Santa’s lap rather than kick his ass?”
She shrugged. “Coffee in his crotch seemed more appropriate. Hey, do you know that you make a pretty damn hot elf?”
He grimaced. “I don’t want to talk about it. Ever. You didn’t answer your phone. I’ve got the flash drive. Time to get you and this memory stick out of here and call in reinforcements—”
“Yes please,” she agreed. “Just as soon as I get into this room. I’ve got a feeling about it.”
“Okay,” he said and turned his back to her, watching the hallway. “Go.”
Not having to be told twice, she went back to the lock. “I thought for sure you’d go all caveman on me and try to carry me out of here.”
“You’ve got a feeling,” he said simply and right then she felt her heart roll over and expose its underbelly. “As for the caveman thing,” he went on. “We’ll play that game later.”
She dropped the bobby pin, but she’d gotten the lock open.
“Nice,” he said.
“Not my first time.”
He snorted and opened the door. Dark room. He gestured her in, shut the door behind them and used her phone as a flashlight, shining the glow around the room, letting out a low whistle.
There were two long tables. One held two large duffle bags, one stuffed, one empty. The other table had some money wraps and a paper register filled with numbers. Lucas flipped through it and shook his head. “Cash entries. Large cash entries, by date. There’s already one written in here for tonight. Five grand—” Breaking off, he unzipped the full duffle bag and found it filled with cash. He looked at the still empty bag. “Someone’s going to be back and soon,” he said. “We’re out of here.”
“Agreed,” Molly said, snapping pics with her phone. “Just give me one more minute—”
“What the hell?” asked a woman. Janet. Standing in the doorway, she wasn’t in her elf costume, but in a Mrs. Claus costume instead, a red-and-white number that made her look like an apple dumpling. She was smiling her usual warm, sweet smile as she pointed a very small but lethal-looking gun at Lucas.
“Criminy,” she said, pulling the door shut behind her. “You two are such a pain in my patoot!”
Lucas reached for the gun at his back, but Janet shot him in the leg and what made it all the more shocking was that there was no real sound. She had a silencer on her gun.
Lucas hit the floor. “Molly,” he grounded out through his teeth. “Run.”
Like hell she was going to leave him. She dropped to her knees at his side and stared up at Janet in shock. “What are you doing?” She didn’t have to fake the quiver in her voice; it came naturally watching Lucas’s pant leg become soaked in blood as she slowly tried to reach beneath Lucas for his gun.
“Dammit to hell, Janet,” Santa grumbled as he came into the room, followed by his brother, Tommy Thumbs. “I told you to leave these two alone, that they’d be nothing but trouble.”
“And I told you I’d handle it,” she snapped.
Tommy sighed and pulled a huge gun from somewhere, pointing it at Molly’s face. “Freeze,” he ordered.
Molly froze.
Santa’s brother glowered at Janet. “Are you shittin’ me?” He looked at his brother. “I’m not going back to jail for you two. Why the fuck do you need so many women in your life anyway?”
“No one’s going to jail, Tommy,” Janet said.
“Really?” he asked. “Because the one you just shot is a cop.”
“No, he’s a security specialist and an investigator,” Janet said.
Molly used this argument between the crazy old people to slowly reach beneath Lucas again, trying to get his gun free. Which was a lot harder than it looked in the damn movies.
“That’s even worse!” Tommy yelled at Janet. “We can’t let them go now, they’re onto you, you crazy old bat. And you’ll implicate me.”
“No, we’re not onto anyone, honest,” Molly said, coming up on her knees, holding Lucas’s gun behind her. “You can let us go.”
Tommy rolled his eyes, reared back and backhanded her with his gun. As she spun with the momentum, stars bursting behind her eyelids, Lucas somehow pushed to his feet. He reached for his gun again, but she’d dropped it at impact. She could see the exact second he realized they were both unarmed, but he changed tactics without blinking and took out Santa with a hard punch to the face.
It all happened in slow motion. Molly hit the floor in tandem with Santa. Darkness crept into the edges of her vision just as Tommy aimed his gun at Lucas and pulled the trigger.
Nothing happened.
They all stared at each other and then Lucas dove for his gun. But Tommy grabbed a hunk of metal pipe from a shelving unit and swung it at Lucas’s head before he could reach it.
Molly screamed, the sound echoing in her head as darkness claimed her.
Chapter 24
#BabyItsColdOutside
Molly came to in a dimly lit space with a gasp.
Lucas had been shot.
Trying not to panic, she went to sit up and realized that her hands were bound behind her. At least her feet were unhindered, she thought as she blinked her vision clear. She was still in the storage room. Lucas lay only a few feet away, so terrifyingly still that her heart stopped. Flex-cuffs bound his hands too, and blood pooled beneath both his left leg and his head.
Scrambling to her knees as fast as she could—which wasn’t very fast without use of her hands—she scooted over to him. He had a nasty-looking gash at his temple. “Please be okay,” she whispered, fighting back an impending meltdown of epic proportions, because it was quite clear that he wasn’t okay, wasn’t even in the vicinity of okay, and in fact might not even be breathing. “Oh God, Lucas, don’t be dead.” She bent over him and saw that his chest was rising and falling with shallow but steady breaths.
A soft sob of relief escaped her, but she managed to bite back the one right on its heels. Get it together, and fast, she ordered herself and nudged Lucas with her shoulder.
He didn’t move.
She nudged harder.
Still no response.
“You’ve got to wake up,” she begged him. “I need you. I love you and I need you and I didn’t really know either of those things until right this minute, so if you could . . .” She broke off, suddenly realizing that there was a third person in the room.
Santa.
He lay on his back, his hands unrestrained at his side and a large bullet hole between his eyes. A shocked expression remained etched on his face.
She understood the sentiment. Cute, feisty, sweet, warm, little Janet, aka Mrs. Santa Claus, had taken all of them down.
From down the hall came the sound of applause. She could figure out what that meant. The evening was possibly coming to an end, which meant someone would be showing up with the last of the evening’s till.
And to finish what they’d started.