He smirks back at me and takes the opportunity to scan his leering eyes down my body as I walk past him. I shoot him a wink as I go and keep that smile on my face until I leave out the front door. Outside, the ocean breeze hits me, cooling the rage simmering under my skin. I catch my reflection in a window and smirk at the red hair, fierce eyes and a woman on a mission. Two nights to go. Time to deck his halls and burn them to the fucking ground.
Red
The bar smells like stale beer and shitty fried food, but it’s got a clear view of the Santa Monica pier, where Blue’s been spotted. I lean back in the booth, nursing a whiskey that burns just right, my eyes scanning the neon-lit boardwalk through the grimy window. Black and Green are bickering over whether we should approach Blue before the party.
“She’s going to be thrown by seeing us there. It could spook her and make the job go wrong.” Green snaps. “I thought you wanted us to help her. Ambushing her could make the whole con go sideways.”
Black rolls his eyes, his hoodie up, hiding the tattoos curling up his neck. “We’ll make sure that doesn’t happen. We need to keep the element of surprise with this girl. If we approach her before the gala, it could spook her enough that she drops the con and runs. I can only imagine how much work went into setting this all up. The last thing we want to do is blow the whole thing on her.”
I set my glass down with a clink on the scarred wooden table. “I agree. We need to let her run this her way and just be there to provide back up in case something goes sideways. This is her show. Once it’s done, we make our move and show our hand.”
That woman’s been living rent-free in my head since Halloween, when she turned our hideout into a fucking masterclass in deception. We were just looking for a place to lay low after hitting a hedge fund prick’s safe down the street. With the cops swarming the neighborhood we lucked out picking that Victorian mansion she was house-siting. Those blue-green eyes, dazed and soft from the orgasms we gave her, haunt me. I want her under me again, sassing me until I shut her up with my cock. She stole from us, sure, but worse, she stole a piece of us and I’m done letting her run. I can still feel the way we all stilled when I was fucking her ass, my brother in her perfect cunt when I said, “You were made to take us like this. You’re our perfect match, baby. Such a good fucking girl.” We all felt the truth of that in the moment, including her. She was quick to mask it when she fired back, “Get your heart out of your dick. Put it back into your chest and fuck me like you promised.” But I know down to my core she felt it too.
Black smirks, leaning back with his arms crossed. “Oh, we’ll show her our hand alright, straight on her bare, gorgeous ass. We’re going to leave our mark on Blue in the most pleasurable way possible.” His smirk fades away. “But we need to be smart about this. Our girl clearly loves a good game and she also plans to win. We need to convince her that our game is the only one she really wants to play and that all of us winning is the end goal. We can’t underestimate her or she’ll slip through our fingers again.”
He’s not wrong. That night was a lesson in underestimating your mark. We thought we had her with three against one, masks on, guns out. But Blue? She flipped the script, made usthink we were in control, then left us passed out with a Dear John note. “Thanks for the treats, sorry about the trick.” It made my pride sting a bit. I want to punish her, spank that perfect ass red, but more than that, I want her with us for keeps. She’s our match, our fire, and I’m not letting her slip away again.
Green pulls out his laptop when he gets a notification, fingers flying as he responds to whatever just came through and then shuts it down with a satisfied grin. “We’re in. We need to get to the catering company and pick up our instructions and costumes.” He lets out a chuckle. “Get this, it’s back to masks for this job. So who wants to be an elf, reindeer or Santa?”
I grin as I nod at Green and picture her in some slinky dress, working her mark with that sassy smirk while we move around her with masks on so she has no idea she’s being hunted.
“Perfect, we crash the party as wait staff. Get eyes on her, and figure out her play. Once she’s done, we turn it around. She took from us… we take from her.” But even as I say it, we all know it’s not just about the money. I want her on her knees, begging for us, admitting she felt that spark too. She’s ours, whether she knows it yet or not.
Green’s grin turns wicked, his dimples making him look like a devil in disguise. “And then we remind her what she’s missing, what could be hers all the time. I’ll bet she’s been dreaming of us.”
Black scoffs. “Dreaming? More like cursing us. Girl’s got a mouth on her, and I’m not just talking about her sass.”
His eyes darken, and I know he’s remembering her taste, same as me.
I ignore their banter, my mind on Blue’s defiance and the way she melted under my hands. She’s a puzzle I need to solve, a game I’m gonna win. But this time, we’re playing by our rules.
Black
The night of the gala, we’re in. The theme’s pure Blue—Christmas half-masks and sexy as fuck. I’m Daddy Santa, red hat with a white beard trim on a black half-mask, shirtless to show off my inked pecs and abs, oiled up like I’m headlining a seasonal strip club. Red’s an elf with a green hat and pointed-ears attached to his eye mask, his lean muscles gleaming under the lights, that cocky grin promising trouble. Green’s a reindeer with antlers on a brown eye mask, his tattoos snaking down his arms, a quiet intensity in his eyes. All the male staff are shirtless, the women in skimpy elf outfits with glittery masks, so we blend right in. It’s an ironic nod to our Halloween masks, and I can’t shake the feeling Blue planned it this way, like she’s daring us to show up. If she only knew.
The gala’s in full swing at Hensley’s glass mansion, all glitz and fake holiday cheer. Chandeliers sparkle like ice, a jazz band riffs “Winter Wonderland” with a sultry twist, and rich pricks sip champagne while bidding on charity auction items they’ll never care about. I spot Blue instantly in a slinky red dress hugging hercurves like it’s painted on with her new red hair cascading down her back. She’s moving through the crowd like she owns the place. She’s posing as Sapphire Blake, event planner, and she’s working Hensley like a pro. The guy’s a walking midlife crisis. He’s mid-fifties with an orangish fake tan, slicked-back hair and eyes glued to her tits. I catch him brushing her arm as she hands him a champagne flute, his fingers lingering too long, and my fists clench around my tray. I want to snap his wrist, but I keep it cool, passing out drinks as Daddy Santa, my mask hiding the murder I feel in my eyes.
Blue’s a fucking pro with all smiles, flirting, dropping hints about some “after-party” that’s got Hensley practically drooling. Yesterday, during setup, I saw him corner her by the dessert table, “helping” with a centerpiece while his hand grazed her ass. She played it off, all sugar and spice, but I could see the fire in her eyes, the kind that says she’s gonna cut his balls off the first chance she gets. We know she’s not just here for the money, this is personal for her. I get it completely and can’t help but marvel at how skilled she is at this. She’s a force to be reckoned with, and I’m half in love with her for it.
Red
Watching Blue work is like porn for con artists. She’s leading Hensley on with teasing touches, a brush of her hip here, a sultry laugh there all while he follows her like a dog chasing a bone. During setup yesterday, I saw him grab her ass while she adjusted a wreath, his hand lingering like he thought he owned her. She played it cool, all smiles, but I wanted to deck him. That girl’s got ovaries of steel, playing him like a fiddle while planning to torch his world. I admire her ability to switch personas to fit the situation. That Halloween night, she took us apart, body and soul. The way she ground up against my touch when we had her tied to the chair, her eyes locked on mine, daring me to take more? I’m fucking hooked. She conned us, stole our haul, but it just proves she’s our equal, if not better. She’s fierce, smart, and that body… I want her under me, over me, any way I can get her. But she’s so much more than just a hot body. She’s got a fire in her, a need for justice that feeds something inside of me. We’ve all been burned by the rigged systems of this world but Blue’s fighting back, and I want to fight with her, not against her.
I weave through the crowd as a serving elf, pouring champagne, my pointed-ears mask itching but my grin in place. I pass Blue a tray of canapés, letting my fingers graze hers, and she freezes, her breath hitching.
“Careful, sweetheart,” I murmur, winking behind my mask.
Her cheeks flush, her eyes lingering on my abs, but she doesn’t recognize me, just feels the spark. I love her sass, her strength, the way she owns every room she’s in. She’s not just a mark; she’s the whole damn game and I can’t wait for us all to win it. But we’re not there yet so with another wink, I slide past her and move to get another tray.
I catch Green’s eye across the room, his reindeer antlers bobbing as he hands out drinks. He’s watching her too, his jaw tight, that protective streak flaring. We’re all in deep, and we know it. A couple hours later, things start winding down with most of the guests leaving. Blue’s leading Hensley away from the party with a group of women in skimpy elf outfits trailing her, giggling like they’re in on the joke. The “after-party” I heard some of the catering staff talking about must be starting. This has to be it, her con’s in motion. Drugging him, cracking the safe or whatever she’s got planned is about to happen. I nudge Black, who’s glaring like he’s ready to burn the place down.
“She’s moving,” I whisper.
Blue
The party was a well-oiled machine of my own design, a symphony of smooth jazz, clinking glasses, and manufactured holiday cheer. I moved through the room with practiced ease, an invisible hand guiding the flow of the night, checking on the caterers, nodding to the jazz band, and, most importantly, keeping an eye on Victor Hensley. He was exactly where I needed him: deep in conversation with a city councilman, his face flushed with champagne and self-importance.
I glide past a table laden with tiny chocolate truffles and miniature quiches, catching the eye of one of the "elf" servers—a beautiful, dark-haired woman named Chloe—and gave her a subtle nod. She knows her role: keep Hensley's glass full and his ego inflated.
