Page 7 of Christmas Trouble

Azrael hated the people crowding around him as much as he hated the fucking world.

But most of all, he hated that this asshole beneath him had made him violent when all he had wanted was to fucking chill on vacation with his friends.

So much for trying to live a normal life.

And Azrael was reminded once again that he was anything but normal.

And never would be.

“Fuck.”

When Seven muttered the curse word, Hunter glanced at his husband.

“What’s wrong?” Hunter asked.

“Azrael just texted me to send in the calvary.”

“Is he fucking with you?” Ice grumbled, coming up and out of his light doze. Grit moved anxiously to his paws.

“Maybe…” Seven’s words were cut off when another text came through.

“Fuck! Joshua just texted the word, help. So it seems legit.” Seven was out of the passenger van in seconds and turned back. “One of you stay put and call 911.”

Creed turned to Kellum and cupped the back of his neck. Creed pressed his forehead to his husband’s.

Four-year-old Dylan, who had been looking out the window at the snow covered parking lot that looked more like a dirty slush fest, shouted, “Take me with you,” as he held out his arms.

“Not this time,” Kellum told his brother.

“Make the call?” Creed roughly asked Kellum.

Kellum held Creed’s storm-colored eyes. His teenage brother Aaron was inside that department store and if anything happened to Aaron, or any of the boys…Kellum couldn’t even finish the thought.

“You got it,” Kellum whispered and wrapped an arm around Dylan’s small waist to keep him from following Creed out the door. “Bring them back safe.”

“I will.” Creed stepped out of the van and left the sliding door open.

Ice and Echo, along with Grit, got out of the vehicle.

Hunter was already out and joining Seven near the front of the van.

Nobody went running into the store. They never ran, even when loved ones were involved. Running in without grouping up and at least making a short plan was a good way to get dead.

“You guy’s loaded?” Hunter asked, checking the clip on his gun.

Echo cackled at Hunter. “You really need to ask?”

“Heel,” Ice told Grit, and the big golden dog stuck like glue to the assassin’s side.

“All right, let’s go check it out,” Seven said and shot a text message to inform Dave, who was already at the vacation home—along with several more adults and a handful of children.

The trip to the airport to pick up Ice, Echo, and their Labrador retriever was supposed to be a short one. But it was turning out to be anything but.

The boys had all piled in the passenger van with demands of stopping at a Target department store to buy last-minute presents.

Leave it to their kids to get into trouble.

“If Joshua started shit with anyone,” Seven muttered. “I’m going to ground him forever.”

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