Page 159 of Sinning for Santa

Adrenalin courses through my veins as I hold on to the back of Devon’s red Santa pants, trying to match his long strides as we sink into the woods.

I never in a million years would have thought I’d have the guts to do this, and I can only assume it’s from the high I’m already on from surviving the whole bomb thing.

That was the scariest thing I’ve ever had to face.

And now, I’m heading into danger again, my eyes trying to adjust to the dark woods as Devon and his men go hunting for the man that knocked me out and strapped me to a chair with a bomb.

I want to kill him myself.

Snapping twigs are loud as Devon’s men creep through the trees, some of them wearing some sort of goggles that remind me of those night vision things I’ve seen in movies.

Words are whispered and hand signals are used, all of which I don’t understand, except for the one where Miles holds his hand up.

That’s a clear stop.

Ha! I do know stuff.

Everyone halts immediately, and they are so still and silent, I wonder if they can hear their blood rushing past their ears too.

I’d ask in other circumstances, but this isn’t one of them.

I told Devon I’d behave, and since I don’t want to cheat death for a second time today, I do exactly what I’m told.

Milesdoes another hand signal, a swirl and points in one direction and then the other before straight ahead, doing nothing but confusing me, yet the men understand clearly, and start fanning out. Some to the left. Some to the right, while Devon stays with Miles and Finn, and we start moving forward.

We creep further into the woods, the moonlight filtering through the canopy of trees every so often, helping to light the way, and soon, I hear yelling.

A man yelling.

He sounds scared.

Devon chuckles quietly, which makes me smile. I bet he likes the sound of the man he’s hunting being scared.

Hell, I do too.

As we draw closer to the yelling, it becomes clearer to hear, and Devon reaches back to where I’m latched onto his pants, giving my wrist a reassuring squeeze.

“Where the fuck are you?!” the male voice yells. “I’m going to kill you!”

Twigs snap up ahead, and that’s when my eyes catch on a shadow. A man, alone, spinning back and forth with something in his hand.

“Knife,” Miles whispers, and I see Devon nod as we draw closer.

The moment a feminine laugh floats through the air, we all stop in our tracks, and I swear, the sound of it is so sinister that I can’t fight the chill that runs up my spine.

Frankie.

Then, as if that wasn’t freaky enough, a hauntingly beautiful voice starts to sing.

“Ding dong, I know you can hear me.”

“What the fuck,” Devon whispers, and another chill ripples up my spine, as the song, so familiar, turns my blood to ice.

“Open up the door. I only want to play a little.”

“Is that her?” Miles whispers, turning back to Finn who shrugs as I croak out.

“Yes.”

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