Page 4 of Three Cranky SEALS and a Christmas Menace

Hell no.

The absolute last fucking thing they needed to do was go to Jeff’s home, where he lived with his wife, his mom, her new husband, and his little sister. Yeah, they would rather go back on duty than do that. Holden would rather get shot again. Waylan would rather have ten fucking bullet ants on his ass, and Myles, who had a serious case of aerophobia, would be the first one on the plane without any one of them knocking him out before takeoff.

They were determined not to go to Jeff’s house for Christmas, and nothing was going to make them change their minds.

“Trust us when we say we won’t be good company,” Holden said instead, letting their friend down gently. He could already feel his lack of sleep making him a little grouchier.

“Yeah, Holden will probably bite off anyone’s face who looks his way. Waylan will show everyone his ass where an ant bit him and tell them he deserves to be left alone, and me, I’ll be asleep in one of your mom’s potted plants. And I sleep naked, so…”

True.

They were all cranky as hell from a lack of sleep, and planned to do nothing but recuperate for the next two days. As soon as their money was dropped off, they were driving straight to Montana. They’d bought a ranch there, out in the middle of nowhere, intended for some peace and quiet. Once there, more sleeping like the fucking dead, would ensue until well into the new year.

“Still, it’s an open invitation if you change your mind,” Jeff said, still chuckling, clearly from the images Myles had fed him about the condition of their state of mind.

They ended the call with Jeff as they arrived at the cabin. Gathering their duffle bags, they made quick work of closing the distance to the front door in still steadily falling snow. Holden knew they were going to drop their bags and drop themselves down wherever they could.

In the last one hundred hours, which included making it back onto American soil, they’d survived on two hours of sleep a night, relying on their training, which came second nature to them, to get through the rest of the time. They were reaching the end of their endurance now.

By the time Myles unlocked the door, they’d already lowered their guard from excessively hyper-vigilant, to standby mode. Yet, while they appeared unguarded, they could revert in a heartbeat if presented with a threat. Even just lowering their alertness took a huge weight off their shoulders, and they welcomed it as if they’d taken a sedative.

But the instant they stepped into the cabin and sawher, their bodies and their minds were catapulted back to full vigilance—more so, than if they were bound and facing a man with a gun to their balls.

Fucking hell.

Within a second of entering the cabin, they each assessed the scene and reached the same conclusion.

Dressed in the most obscene scraps of fabric, which they could see right through to her fucking panties, which were also see-through, stood Jeff’s little sister; Mercedes Samson. Or as they knew her,MissadesSamson

She was definitely not dressed to host a tea party. Petals were littered fucking everywhere with the fragrance of her perfume drowning out the scent of the candles, which were also strewn everywhere. A bottle of champagne sat on the dining room table around an array of snacks, from chocolate-covered strawberries with Santa painted on them to candy canes and Christmas cookies, decorated in frosting with dicks wearing a Santa hat.

If they had any doubt before, it was completely eradicated.

Mercedes, the bane of their existence, was going to let a man touch her. And they weren’t him.

Fucking hell again.

“Oh my god,” Mercedes screeched, unadulterated astonishment at the sight of them gleamed in her deep brown eyes. “What are you guys doing here?” she cried. “I haven’t seen you in forever, oh my god…” And then her entire expression changed—as if they’d just presented themselves as the biggest inconvenience of her life.

“No. What areyoudoing here?” Waylan asked, his tone matching both Holden’s and Myles’ annoyance.

“Well, hello to you too. Also, that is none of your business, and I asked you first. It doesn’t matter. It’s nice seeing you guys again, but honestly, you have to leave,” she said, coming toward them, ready to usher their six-foot-four frames back out the door as if she weren’t barely five-five of feminine softness herself.

“We asked you a question,” Holden said, not moving a breath as she tried to turn them around and maneuver them out again, entirely oblivious to what she was wearing.

“Ugh, I’m having a high tea with my imaginary friends,” she said with that mouth of hers. Nothing changed. Dear fucking god. This girl was still as much of a menace now as she’d been when she was just a kid. Jeff’s sister had doggedly followed them around, wanting to do everything they did.

Once she hid in the trunk of their car when they were going to a party, with the intention of picking up some girls. They’d had to leave the party five minutes into it when they spotted Mercedes looking for them, in her pigtails and her freckled face, sneaking into the house filled with a bunch of drunk fraternity guys and sorority girls.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” she asked. “It’s a date. A physical one.”

A physical date? Only Mercedes Fucking Samson would call getting fucked, a physical date.

But Holden did not want to explain the sudden rage inside him. From the way Waylan and Myles clenched their fists and gritted their teeth, they were feeling the same.

Chapter Five

Holden

---