Ash and Bishop grinned.
Rafe raised an eyebrow. “It’s dangerous. Breaking and entering is still a crime, even if we’re doing it for good reasons.”
“Don’t care.” I crossed my arms and did my best to match his dangerous air.
I fell embarrassingly short, but I tried. “I want to be part of this.”
They loved me, and I knew they wanted to protect me, but that did not mean they were allowed to leave me behind on the best night of the year.
Rafe studied my face for a long moment before he nodded. “Let’s go spread some Christmas cheer.”
Two hours later, we’d hit six houses and were parked in front of the seventh.
Every house so far had been a perfectly choreographed operation.
Ash picked the lock while Bishop and Rafe kept watch.
I carried in the bags of toys, and I couldn’t help myself as I read each of the tags when I placed them beneath the trees.
Sarah, age seven.
Miguel, age four.
Emma, age eleven.
We moved through the homes like ghosts.
Beautiful, gift-giving ghosts with hearts full of cheer.
Bishop lifted a bike from the back of the truck that followed us from house to house.
Colt sat behind the wheel, jamming to soft Christmas music and offering cups of hot chocolate every time we stopped.
“How do you know what they want?” I crept into the house behind Bishop, my arms full of small presents to put inside the stockings.
Bishop flashed a smile. “We pay attention.”
I believed that.
He’d learned more about me in a month than anyone in my life ever had.
Ash set a stack of toy blocks in the floor where the toddler boy would find them right away in the morning. “Mrs. Peterson at the grocery store mentioned that Sarah has been asking for a bike. Some of the teachers at school have the kids fill out cards. We, uh…”
He stopped and scratched his cheek. “We kind of break into the school and take pictures of the cards.”
Because of course they did.
My giant, terrifying bikers were nothing but big ole teddy bears at heart.
I finished my work on the stockings and turned to take in the small living room.
A plate of cookies sat near the fireplace, an adorable card withFOR SANTAscrawled out in red crayon.
I took one, bit into it, and put it back on the plate.
“That’s the spirit.” Rafe took three cookies and shoved one at each of us. “For the road.”
Bishop’s head snapped up, and he raised a hand.
