I signal discreetly to the women, my hired crew of classy escorts disguised as serving staff in their skimpy elf outfits and they fall into step behind us as I guide Hensley toward his office at the back of the mansion. I clock the two security guards heading our way and tense up but Victor’s wife steps in front of them, thankfully.
The door clicks shut behind us, sealing out the jazz and chatter, leaving us in the relative quiet of his chrome-and-leather sanctuary. Skipper is tucked away in her Christmas basket in the corner, a red bow tied around her neck, snoring softly like the little diva she is.
Hensley stumbles slightly as he makes his way to his leather couch, sinking into it with a satisfied groan, his eyes already glazing over from the alcohol I've been pressing on him all night. The women move like a well-oiled machine, one straddling his lap with a giggle, her green velvet skirt riding up as she presses against him. Another pours champagne down her cleavage, inviting him to lap it up like a thirsty dog, while a third begins unbuttoning his shirt, her fingers trailing over his chest in teasing strokes. He’s in heaven, or so he thinks as his hands roam freely and his laughter booms in the confined space.
I slip behind the couch to a small bar and take the vial from my clutch purse and pour the sedative into a fresh glass of champagne while he’s distracted by the spectacle. My heart’s steady, my mind focused as I turn and walk back to stand in front of him. This is a moment I'd been building to for weeks, years.
"To getting everything you deserve," I toast with a suggestive smirk, handing him the spiked flute.
He takes it without a second thought, downing it in one long greedy gulp, too busy groping and laughing to notice the slight bitter edge I'd masked with bubbles. The women play their parts perfectly, shedding more clothing, scattering sex toys on the coffee table for added effect. There’s a vibrator here, handcuffs there, even a fake line of coke dusted on the glass surface to complete the tableau of debauchery.
I snap a few discreet photos with my phone, capturing the scene in all its incriminating glory. It’s insurance, the kind that would tank his reputation even before the real dirt comes out. Minutes tick by, and Hensley's movements slow, his laughter turning to mumbles, his head lolling back against the couch. The sedative is fast-acting, and soon he’s out cold, a stupid, slack-jawed grin frozen on his face.
"Good work, ladies," I murmur, pulling out fat stacks of cash from under the pillow in Skipper’s basket where I hid it and my laptop and hand them out like candy.
They deserved it. Their performance had been flawless, keeping him occupied while I set the stage. They grin, blowing kisses and gathering their things, ready to slip out and blend back into the night. I open my laptop on the desk and quickly pair it to Victor’s computer, activating the program I built to clone everything on it. But as the women head for the door, it creaks open, and my heart jumps into my throat in panic.
Three shirtless catering guys in half-masks, a Santa, an elf and a reindeer stand there in the open door, their oiled muscles gleaming under the office lights, looking like they’d stepped out of a fantasy calendar. Skipper pops up from her basket with a happy yip, her tail wagging furiously as she dashes over to them, leaping into the reindeer's arms like she’s known him forever. He picks her up, cuddling her close, and my stomach drops like a stone. Skipper hates everyone but me. Why the hell is she acting like this?
"Out!" I snap, my voice sharper than intended. "This is private. Get back to serving drinks or whatever."
Daddy Santa smirks, striding across the office to me with a confidence that sends a shiver down my spine. He reaches out, tugging a strand of my red hair between his fingers and leans closer.
"I prefer you in blue," he growls, his voice a deep, rumbling thunder that hits me straight in the core and has me freezing in shock.
Recognition slams into me like a wave. Fuck, fuck! Black. Those piercing eyes behind the mask, that commanding tone I'd never forget. My pulse races, a potent mix of heat and fear flooding my system. They found me. How?
The elf chuckles, his dimples flashing even behind his pointed-ears mask as he takes in the room and I know it’s fucking Red. He scans the women pausing at the door, sex toys strewn across the coffee table, the fake drugs dusted across the glass coffee table and Victor slumped like a rag doll in his chair.
"Looks like you upgraded from our little party, Blue. Orgy with the boss? Kinky as hell. Sex toys everywhere, drugs on the table, and the mark out cold? Damn, baby, you've got style. We’re impressed, but a little jealous. We thought we were your favorites."
The reindeer who’s petting Skipper must be Green. His voice is softer but laced with amusement.
"Yeah, this setup's next level. Women, toys, the whole nine yards. And him?" He nodded at Victor, "Looks like he's having the nap of his life. You always this creative with your cons?"
I swallow hard, my mind racing through options. Fight, flight or flirt my way out? But the heat in their eyes, the way my body is responding despite the fear, has me rooted to the spot.
They found me. After all this time, they tracked me down. Part of me knew they would, knew those three aren’t the type to let a con slide, especially one that left them drugged and robbed. But here? Now? With Victor out and the goal inches from my fingers? Fuck.
I should be terrified, but there's a thrill in it, a spark that makes my core clench. They look hot as sin in those costumes, muscles on display, masks adding that familiar edge. It reminds me of Halloween, the way they took me apart. No! Focus, Blue! You've got a job to finish.
So, I do what I do best, I roll with it. I force sass into my voice, crossing my arms to hide the tremble.
"What can I say? I like to keep things interesting. Now get out before you ruin my night or better yet, make yourselves useful and grab a mop. This place is about to get messier."
Black shakes his head, his smirk deepening, those eyes locking on mine like he can see right through me. "Carry on, Blue. Finish the job. We’ll wait."
The women glance at me, brows raised in question, but I nod. "Show’s over, ladies. Thanks for the assist, you were perfect."
I hand out the last of their cash, and they slip out, leaving me alone with the trio, the drugged Victor, and Skipper still happily nestled in Green's arms. My hands are slightly shaky as I turn back to the computer, the device beeping signaling the clone is complete. I unplug it, tucking it back under Skipper's pillow in the basket, then move to the safe.
It clicks open under the spoofer's magic and I stuff the crypto keys, cash, and files into Skipper’s basket, my glances darting nervously their way. They watch silently, arms crossed, masks hiding their expressions but not the intensity radiating off them.
I keep the sass flowing to cover the fear sliding over my skin. "Holding a grudge, boys? It’s been what, a month and a half? Move on. Or are you here for seconds? Sorry, the menu's closed."
Red laughs, a sound that sends unwelcome heat through me.
"Grudge? Nah, we’re just here for the sequel. You left us wanting more, Blue. And this?" He waves at Victor, "Impressive. But we know you can do better…with us."
