Page 2 of Tangled In Tinsel & Knots
“Fuck.” I lunge forward, catching the back of his Santa coat. The cheap fabric tears, stitching giving way, but I’ve got enough to yank him backward. He stumbles, arms windmilling, and I use his momentum against him.
Kane slams into him from the side, and between the two of us, we take him down. We hit the sidewalk hard, snow cushioning the impact but not by much. I feel the concrete under the slush, unforgiving, and adjust my weight so his skull doesn’t crack against it. Last thing we need is a lawsuit.
“Get off me!” Declan thrashes like a caught fish, the Santa hat flying off into a snowbank. “I didn’t do anything!”
“Sure you didn’t.” I pin his shoulders, knees on either side of him. “That’s why you ran the second you saw us.”
“This is police brutality!”
Kane laughs, low and dark and flashes him his bounty hunter identification badge. “We’re not cops. We’re something much worse for you.” He’s got Declan’s legs now, controlling the thrashing. “Cops have rules. We just have a contract.”
The little girl who wanted a puppy is crying now, full-on wailing into her mother’s coat. The mom is staring at us with an expression that promises tomorrow’s Nextdoor post will be titled something like “Violent Thugs Attack Innocent Man on Main Street.”
“Keep moving, folks.” Noel has appeared, using his considerable frame to block the view while I get Declan’s wrists behind his back. His voice is flat, bored even, like this is the least interesting thing he’ll do today. “Just removing a wanted fugitive. Everyone can go back to their shopping.”
“SANTA!” Some kid in the growing crowd is screaming. “WHY ARE THEY HURTING SANTA?”
The cuffs click closed with a satisfying finality. I haul Declan to his feet, and Noel is already there, brushing snow off the guy’s shoulders with mock courtesy that’s somehow more threatening than if he’d left him covered.
“Declan Krail, you missed your court date. Twice.” Noel is reciting facts, voice steady as a metronome. “We’re here to escort you back so you can face the consequences of burning down two cabins, nearly killing a family, and assaulting an officer. You have the right to remain silent, which I strongly suggest you exercise before you say something that makes this worse.”
“I’m innocent!” Declan’s voice cracks, and real tears start streaming down his face, mixing with the fake beard. The guy is going for an Oscar here. “This is a mistake! I didn’t burn those cabins! I was framed!”
“The evidence says otherwise.” Noel pulls out his tablet, swipes through screens with one hand while keeping Declan steady with the other. “You were identified at the scene by three witnesses. Your fingerprints were on the gas can. The Smyth family, they remember you just fine. Gave a positive ID from their hospital beds.”
“That was—I can explain?—”
“Save it for the judge.” I grab his other arm, and together Noel and I march him toward the truck. Kane is trailing behind, running interference, keeping the crowd at bay with nothing but his size and a smile. He’s good at looking friendly while radiating don’t-fuck-with-me energy.
“We’ll have him back in custody within the hour,” Noel calls over his shoulder, probably for anyone filming this on their phone. “Everyone can continue enjoying their afternoon.”
We’re almost to the truck when the bakery door slams open hard enough to make the bells jangle violently.
“STOP!”
I turn, and there’s a woman charging toward us. She’s small, maybe five five, curves packed into dark jeans and a flour-dusted apron, dark brown curls with caramel highlights escaping from a bun in about fifteen different directions. Her eyes are golden brown, bright with determination, and they’re locked on Declan.
She skids to a stop right in front of us, breathing hard, and I notice flour on her cheek, powdered sugar dusting her forearms. She smells like vanilla and butter.
“What are you doing?” Her voice is sharp, accusatory. “You can’t take him!”
“Ma’am—” Noel starts.
“We NEED him!” She’s talking fast, words tumbling over each other in a rush. “He’s supposed to be Santa today for the Winter Party. The whole town is coming. My sister planned this for months. You can’t just drag him away!”
“We can, actually.” I shift my grip on Declan and hand him over to Noel. “We’re bounty hunters. He’s a fugitive who skipped bail. This is our job.”
“Lily!” Declan twists toward her. His lower lip trembles. “Lily, please, tell them I’m innocent! I shouldn’t be dragged away like this! I help people! I volunteer at the shelter! This is all a misunderstanding! Tell them!”
“You burned down two cabins,” Kane barks.
“LIES!” Declan shouts. “All lies! The media, they twist everything!”
Noel’s jaw tightens, which is his version of wanting to throttle someone.
“Look.” The woman—Lily—plants herself directly in front of me, and she has to crane her neck to make eye contact. She’s barely up to my chest. “I understand you’re doing your job. I get it. But do you have any idea what this is going to do? The Winter Party is in an hour. My sister has been planning this for six months. There are going to be over a hundred families there.You’re leaving us without a Santa the day before the biggest event of the year.”
“Your sister should’ve done a better background check on her Santa.” I try to step around her. She moves with me, blocking.
