Page 13 of Naughty Santa Daddy

“No,” I finally say. “I’m not going to see him again.”

Chapter 5

Jessa Aarons

Jessa Aarons

Goliath

“Where’d you disappear to last night?”

Drake comes traipsing around the corner, and I about fall off the bar stool I have my happy ass camped out on. He starts chuckling like a damn hyena when he sees the mess I’ve made of myself. I was minding my own business, drinking my coffee, black like my soul, when his appearance gave me a jolt, and I spilled the nectar of the gods down my white T-shirt.

“Look what you made me do, fucker,” I groan as I try to mop up the mess but only make the stain worse. “This is a new shirt.”

“Oh, quit your cryin’. We’ve got an errand to run,” he barks back as he slaps my shoulder, “so if you need to get yourself pretty again... Grandpa... now’s the time.”

“Where we going?” I ask as I slide off the stool and finish the last dribble of coffee in my mug.

Drake walks behind the bar and pours himself a cup of coffee. “I got a bug in my ass about something Miller said in church last night, so I did a little internet digging before I went to bed.”

“Hold that thought.” I lift a finger to pause his storytelling, then disappear down the hall to head to my room. I change my shirt real quick, then make my way back to the common room. “Continue,” I tell Drake as we walk outside.

Drake lights up a cigarette, then offers me the pack. I decline. I decided to quit that habit not long after I went to prison. It took one phone call from my Granny, telling me that my Gramps had lost his five-year-long battle with lung cancer, and I quit cold turkey.

“Right,” Drake says with an exhale before blowing a smoke ring. “So last night in church, Miller said something about how the cops are probably going to try and blame the club for the shooting, and it got me thinking. What do they know that we don’t?”

I can see the hamster wheels spinning in his eyes. Drake apparently has been a computer whiz since he was a pimply-faced kid. After he got himself into a little hot water with the law, hacking into certain alphabet agencies just because he wanted to see if he could, his folks kicked him out, and he came to live with his uncle, our Prez, Miller. His juvenile record was sealed, and since then, he’s worked his way through the ranks, becoming a full club member and our resident go-to tech wizard.

Things had been calm and easygoing, so I obviously haven’t seen any of his work in the two weeks I’ve been back, but from what I’ve heard from a few other brothers, he’s been a real asset to the club.

Folding my arms, I lean back and park my ass on the seat of my Harley. “What’d you find?”

Drake flicks the butt of his cigarette into the nearby trash can, then mirrors my stance on his bike that’s next to mine. “After I kicked what’s-her-face out of my room—”

“What’s-her-face?” I interrupt with a chuckle. “Do you even remember what color hair she had?”

“She was blonde, I think,” he snickers as he scratches the stubble on his chin. “But anywho, I did my digging and hacked into the police department’s evidence files and found something I want to follow up on before they get a chance to.”

“What’s that?”

“One of the ladies who was at the hospital as an elf got a short video on her phone of the van speeding off. She’s from the hospital’s public relations, so she was filming some stuff for social media. We know the van didn’t have any plates, but it got me digging some more.”

“Sounds like you had a busy night, brother.” I kick one boot out and cross it over the other. Might as well get comfortable while he fills me in on our mission for the day.

“You have no idea,” he bounces his eyebrows a few times, silently letting me know his one blonde bedmate wasn’t his only, before continuing. “Since everything just happened, the police don’t have all their notes and shit uploaded to the system yet, so there wasn’t much else to dig through. I switched over to the city traffic cams, and that’s where I hit paydirt.”

“Let me guess. You found the van.”

“I sure did.”

“Where is it?”

“The van pulled out of a warehouse on the north side of town, not far from the Alabama River. It took some chasing, losing it a few times as it cut in and out of populated areas with and without cameras, but I mapped the route it took to the hospital and back to the warehouse after.”

“That means you want to go check out this warehouse and see what’s there?”

“Yup,” he replies with a sharp nod.

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