Page 62 of Phantom’s Mate

Jax leafed through the documents, his lieutenants looking over his shoulder. They all looked like they expected someone with a camera to jump out any second and yell, “You’ve been punked!”

The rest of the clan was gathering around the edges of the open space, staring and whispering.

Finally Jax looked up at Kane and Jace. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

It was Flynn who answered. “You think we put down our eggnog on Christmas Eve to come out in the snow and fuck with you? Sign the damn papers. I have two kickass chefs in my crew, and the prime rib is coming out of the oven in…” He checked his phone. “Sixteen minutes. I intend to be there.”

Kane walked up and handed Jax a pen, indicating where to sign, and how many copies. Jax signed, still looking shell-shocked. Jace and Kane counter-signed, and then gave Jax his copy.

Nick nodded in satisfaction. It was done. Jax and the clan could go straight, with legit businesses and the money that went with them. They could even return to their former compound, so they’d have a decent place to live.

The rest of it was up to them.

Now came the other favor his crew had done for him.

Flynn turned to the gate and moved his hands apart in an expansive gesture. The gate grew, and grew—and then the nose of a truck came through, followed by another, and yet a third.

All of them were panel trucks from AR Enterprises, one of Raines’ old companies, except the signage had been not-quite-covered by homemade signs that said Evil Santa Express, with a Grinch face wearing a Santa hat.

Brandon’s dad Xander was driving the third one.

Nick couldn’t stop grinning, and Britt was clapping her hands and giggling. “Did you know they were going to do the signs?”

“Hell no. No one ever knows what Xander’s going to do.”

Xander got out of the driver’s seat and said, “I have a message from the Ghost of Christmas Present. Or maybe that was ‘Christmas presents?’ Anyway, he is also known as Saint—ahem—Sinner Nick.”

That set Britt off all over again. Nick just shook his head and took another handful of popcorn. To save Jax’s pride as alpha, they’d decided it was better if the Wild Bloods had no overt presence here, so Xander had volunteered to supervise this part of the proceedings.

Xander gestured to the trucks. “Go ahead. Open them.”

After a moment of hesitation, Jax’s people opened the trucks. Nick knew what was in there—he’d told the Wild Bloods what to get and paid for it out of the money he’d put aside.

One was a refrigerated truck, filled with food—including full-on fixings for Christmas dinner.

One had generators and nonperishable food, along with stoves and grills so they could cook. Also warm clothes, bedding, and other necessities.

The third, the one Xander was driving, held pre-decorated Christmas trees, boxes of lights, and a full-sized Santa sleigh filled with wrapped gifts. Mostly for the kids, though there were things for the adults too. Plus he was pretty sure Xander had slipped in some really adult gifts, but he was turning a blind eye to that.

Jax had been studying Xander, and finally said, “You’re Xander Fierro.”

Xander nodded. “My fame precedes me wherever I go.”

Jax shook his head. “No, I remember you. I was only four, but I was there the day you took down Austin Raines’s dad, back in Arkansas. You could have been alpha of the Broken Hill Clan, but you walked away.”

Xander gave a dramatic shudder. “Fuck, yes. Believe me, what I did was better for everybody. I wasn’t the kind of alpha they needed. And my family deserved better.” He eyed Jax. “Brandon tells me you want the same for your cubs. A better life.”

Jax gave him a jerky nod. “Was he the one who persuaded the Council I could pull it off?”

“Him and Titan. And somebody else.” He gave Jax a note.

Nick watched him open it. He knew what it said—he’d written it himself.

You’re welcome.

Don’t fuck this up.

Nick