Page 77 of Naughty Santa Daddy

She sputters, about to argue, but my look of warning is enough to have her choke down whatever she was about to say, eyes wide as she watches me.

Without a second thought, I go to my wall. My hand lands beside a picture, and it immediately pops outward, and my safe door behind it slides open. It’s some new tech I’m pretty proud of. I hear Hadley snort behind me, and I know she’s probably thinking it’s cliché I have a wall safe behind this ridiculous landscape painting. There’s a reason why you pick the most boring image; it’s because no one pays any attention to it when it’s actually hiding everything behind it.

I remove the forty-five I’d locked up earlier when we’d arrived in the bedroom. Next, I grab the earpiece inside and slide it in my right ear. Tapping the tiny button, I alert anyone listening, “Glass downstairs, possible breach.” Then I move for the closest pair of pants. They’re the sweats Hadley was wearing while baking. I leave my shoes off so no one will hear me coming. I’ve owned this cabin for many years and have laid low when times have called for it, so no one knows the layout better than I do.

I pop open the cabinet closest to the door and grab my vest. It’s bulletproof and here for times exactly like this. It won’t save me from taking one to the head, but it may keep me alive if the person is aiming for the largest part of my body like most are foolishly taught. I prefer one kill shot to the forehead, but not everyone is as used to this sort of life as I am.

I press my finger to my lips, with one last reminder for her to remain silent, and I slip out the door as quietly as possible.

The hall is clear, so I immediately go to my son’s room first. I quickly peek my head in to find myprincipinosafe and fast asleep, so I close the door and press my middle finger next to the knob. It engages the separate security system I have in place. It’ll lock his room and Greta’s down. They’re attached, and with my fingerprint on the lock, this part of the house instantly goesinto panic mode. I had the house specially designed so that not even a small bomb would get to them; they’re safe. Greta will get a vibrating alert, so she’ll wake up and standby. If she doesn’t hear from me by a certain time, she has separate means to communicate with Emilio and a FED I have on my payroll. I had to figure out a way to always keepprincipino miosafe from my enemies, and this was the most reasonable without completely altering his life.

I’ve gotten nothing in my earpiece since I let the guards know of the breach, so they’re either dead, or something is up with my comms. I open the door to the closet right next to Amos’ door and feel around until I push the long thin panel out of the way. I pull out my AR-15 clad with a night vision thermal scope, place the strap over my shoulder, and hit the emergency power button so the house goes completely dark. I have guns, knives, and a plethora of other weapons stored all over this house in case I need them, as you can never be too careful with your family’s safety. Grabbing the workout band Amos had been playing with from my home gym that got stuffed in the closet earlier, I tie it to my thigh, using it as a makeshift thigh holster to hold my forty-five. I may need both guns; I don’t know what I’m going up against yet.

Inhaling deeply, I hold it for a second and allow my senses to adapt, then exhale, my heart pounding rapidly to the point I swear someone could hear it outside my chest. With careful steps, I begin to search room by room, peeking my head in, checking that it’s empty, then moving on. By the time I get to the stairs, I know a few minutes have passed. It feels like it’s been an eternity, but in reality, it’s only been minutes. I’ve been taught from a young age to move quickly but efficiently.

Leaning over the stair rail, I attempt to see whatever I can, but it’s not much. The only reason it’s so damn bright by the windows is because of the amount of snow we’ve gotten. Wethought it would be stopping soon, but that’s not the case. I’ve never seen this amount of snow while living in Texas before, and it has me at a loss for what to do. The entire state will be shut down and not for our measly one or two days for a bit of ice like usual; this will affect us for at least a week, if not more. The last storm wasn’t half this bad, and a large portion of the state was closed for days. People were without power for a week in some places as well as water.

Thankfully, the cabin is well-stocked for anything we’ll need. I have this place prepped with provisions to last at least six months. That’s if my enemies don’t try to kill me and leave Greta and Amos locked in the room for God knows how long, with the snow blocking any help from getting out here.

More noise downstairs pulls me from my thoughts, and I continue my search. One foot in front of the other, I make my way down the stairs, careful not to step anywhere so much as to make a creak. I’m going to pepper these idiots with bullets, then string them up around my property as a warning to anyone else ignorant enough to show their face here; maybe I’ll add Christmas lights to show them I’m really in the fucking spirit right now to be bothered.

I finally get to the bottom, effectively ducking into the nearest dark space to give me a moment to take everything in. There's a groan, definitely male. It sounds like it came from the kitchen, so I begin to head in that direction. More groans follow, along with banging.

There’s a dark liquid trail that I soon realize is blood. Whoever’s inside has been injured, which will work to my benefit. A cut will be the least of their worries when I’m finished with them. This could be good news; it’ll give me the chance to capture them, drag them to the basement, and torture them until they tell me everything I want to know. Namely, who sent them and what they want. I should think of this as an earlyChristmas gift to myself; an easy opportunity like this doesn’t present itself often.

There’s mumbled cursing and another crash, making my heart pound so fast I wonder if I might have a heart attack at this rate. I hate the fucking suspense. I’d rather an enemy just come at me so we can fight and I can kill them. I suppose it’s too much to ask for, though—bunch of damn cowards. Without further hesitation, I sneak into the kitchen and find a man lying on the floor wheezing.

“It’s me! Christ, Mass, don’t shoot.”

“Cazzo,”I curse, with an exhale. “Stupido, I swear.” I grumble, releasing the AR to hang across my chest. “What happened?” I bend, leaning over him to check out where he’s bleeding. It’s too dark for me to see well, and the glare from the snow is weird, it makes stuff neon but not—it’s hard to explain. “You alone?” I stare, trying to get my eyes to adjust.

“Ouch,” he hisses. “Don’t move me, asshole.”

“I should remove your tongue,” though there’s no heat behind the threat. “Tell me what happened? Where is everyone?”

“A towel?” he asks, and I help him sit up. Grabbing a few kitchen towels covered in pink and gray nutcrackers, I hand them over, and he immediately presses them to his head to staunch the bleeding. Greta’s going to fuss; she picked those out herself. His arm is bloody and his pants—I’m assuming that’s where the trail on my floor came from. “I-I was in a wreck.”

“Tell me where my men are.”

“I was coming here because of the storm. I couldn’t let you be trapped here without me. Then I was being followed. They tried running me off the road and shot at me.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know,” my brother winces, then lays his head back against the cabinet.

“The men?”

“I was racing here; I couldn’t exactly lose them in my car with the snow. I knew if I could make it to the gates, you’d kill them. I wrecked… hit my head. Then they were chasing me. They shot me.”

I glance at his arm again, taking in the blood with a bit more respect. I bet it does hurt. “You killed them?”

“No, I couldn’t find my gun in the wreck, so I was running. I made it to the gates and told the men. They went to look for them. The others went to watch the gates and do perimeter checks.”

“Fuck, Emilio. I thought someone had broken in. I locked everything down. You couldn’t have tried knocking?”

“The porch is icy, and with my head hurting, I slipped trying not to hit all the Christmas decorations Greta has on the porch. I fell through the window and cut my leg. I was just trying to get to the kitchen to clean up. Since when do you let her add all this extra crap to the decorations? You’re a minimalist.”

I could strangle him for nearly giving me a heart attack. You can’t do that to a man who’s merely finished nutting and is in the most relaxed state. “You get cleaned up. I need to turn the lights back on and check on everyone.”

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