“I can see you like that,” he murmured.
“You know I do.”
“Okay, I’m out,” Poppy said, and grabbed Flash’s hand again. “Mummy and Daddy are about to kiss, so why don’t we go get a snack?”
I giggled as my very wise daughter guided her brothers toward the kitchen. My distraction had been a mistake, however, and I found myself yanked gently from my hiding place and pulled up against the hard granite chest of my husband. I met his eyes and smiled. “Hi.”
“Hey, Sunshine.” He grinned. “You ready to talk?”
“Nope.” I gave an extra pop sound to the P and then ran my fingers through his beard. “But I’ll be happy to let you try again when we’re naked and your face is between my legs.”
His tongue slid along the seam of my lips and then he kissed me deeply, slipping one of his hands under my T-shirt and up my back.
“Hatch,” I warned, even as my bra was unhooked, and his hand moved to cup my breast.
“Yeah, sunshine?”
“The kids,” I panted out as he palmed my already rock-hard nipple.
“What about ’em?”
“They’re—oh,” I breathed out on a sigh as he slid his hand under the waistband of my yoga pants and between my legs.
“They’re what, sunshine?”
He pulled his hand away from my body and I whimpered with need as he slid his fingers into his mouth and licked them clean. “Upstairs. Now.”
I didn’t argue, and headed for the stairs.
“Poppy, watch your brothers for a bit. Gonna help your mom with something real quick.”
“Okay, Sid.”
God bless my daughter and her willingness to watch her brothers so my husband could drag me into our bedroom for a quick shag.
Walking into our room, I pulled off my shirt and bra, then rushed to remove the rest of my clothing. Hatch locked the door and grinned, pointing to the bed. “Assume the position, sunshine.”
I giggled, stretching out on my back while I watched him strip. God, I’d never get enough of my man’s body. He grinned, kneeling on the bed and crawling between my legs. He always started here... his mouth on my pussy... and I loved it.
Sliding his tongue through my folds, I wove my fingers into his hair and arched into his mouth. He slid two fingers inside of me and twisted them while he bit down gently on my clit and I nearly came apart, but I wanted to enjoy this... wanted it to last, so I stowed my orgasm and allowed his touch to consume me. I came apart, but didn’t linger in the feeling, instead demanding my man lie on his back.
“Only if I get to taste you,” he countered.
I smiled and straddled his face, before wrapping my fingers around his hardening length and taking it into my mouth. Hatch went to work on my pussy and I was having a hard time focusing on the beauty that was his dick while he sucked my clit.
“On your knees,” he said.
I immediately went there. Hatch knelt behind me and guided himself inside of me and I dropped my head back at the sensation.
His palm connected with my bare bottom and I whimpered pushing my body back against him.
“Love how your body responds, sunshine.” He slammed into me again, his palm slapping me a little harder this time and the sensation overtook everything.
God, it felt amazing, but when he slid one hand between my legs and fingered my clit, I came the second the palm of his other hand slapped against my bottom again, and I cried out his name as I buried my face in the mattress while he continued to thrust into me. As he came inside of me, he wrapped his arms around me, gently rolling us to the side so we were spooning, staying connected as he kissed the back of my neck... just as his phone buzzed on the nightstand.
“Do not answer that,” I ordered.
He sighed. “All hands, baby. Need to be ready to go when they find the truck.”
“But I wanted more,” I grumbled as he answered his call.
“Hey, Book. Yeah? No shit? Okay, yeah, I’ll meet you guys there.” He hung up and slid off the bed.
“Did they find it?” I asked.
“Yeah, baby.” He leaned down and kissed me quickly. “I’ll text you when I know something.”
He dressed quickly, and I was left somewhat unsatisfied in our bed. He’d make up for that later, I’d demand it, but I still hated that I had to prepare dinner while still horny.
I sighed and climbed out of bed, dressing quickly and heading downstairs to hang out with my children.
* * *
Hatch
I pulled my truck up to the compound about twenty minutes later. I was glad there wasn’t traffic from Vancouver into Cully, but I was still the last one to arrive, which surprised me a little. Several of us lived on the same street... our own commune, so to speak... so how the hell they got there before me was a mystery. Walking into the compound, I was met with my brothers flooding toward me.
“You’re the last one,” Booker said. “Let’s roll.”
I turned around and followed them outside again, Hawk and Ace climbin’ into the cab of my truck, while the rest scattered. “Where are we goin’?” I asked.
“Beaverton,” Hawk said.
“Shit, it’s that close?”
“Yeah, man.”
I followed Booker, who was on his bike, and the rest of the crew and we headed for the area that the iPad had pinged from. It took several minutes, but we finally located the big red truck in an alley, in one of the roughest parts of town. Parking on the street, we pulled our guns out and approached the truck very carefully.
The alley was located directly behind an old brick building that had originally been a glass factory in the early nineteen-hundreds, but now served as one of the city’s largest homeless shelters. The truck was tightly wedged between the alley walls, leaving only the slightest gap between its bright red doors and the exposed brick. I scratched my head, trying to figure out how the driver could have even gotten out of the cab. Once we reached the rear of the truck, Booker examined the lock on the back door.
“The lock’s still intact,” he said.
“Why the fuck do you think they left it here?” I asked.
Booker shook his head. “I dunno. Maybe whoever took it got spooked and dumped it, or maybe they chose this as a quiet place to stash it for a while.”
“Quiet is right,” Hawk agreed. “This place is a ghost town.”
“That’s good for us,” Booker said. “The cops haven’t seemed to notice this being here, so we can simply take it back without getting law enforcement or anyone else involved.”
“Merry Christmas,” I replied.
He smiled. “Ho, ho, ho.”
“Now, how the fuck are we gonna get in the cab?” Knight asked.
“How did they get out?” Ace whispered.
“You’re wondering that too, huh?” I asked.
“Sunroof?” Booker said.
Hawk piped up, “You don’t s’pose they’re still in there, do you?”
We all looked at each other and in unison responded, “Shit.”
“Hatch, you and Hawk go around the block, to the other end of the alley and make your way back toward us,” Booker said. “I’ll boost Ace up to the top of the truck in case anyone tries to leave via the sunroof. Knight and I’ll cover the rear in case this is all a trap.”
“Got it,” I said, and Hawk and I broke out in a slow jog around the block. The crisp night air felt good in my lungs, and it helped cool me from the burning surge of adrenaline. God knows who or what we’d find at the other end of the alley, but I tried to prepare myself for anything.
As we made our way down the alley, I could barely make out the truck’s grill, reflected in what little light was being cast. I gripped my gun tightly, preparing myself physically and mentally for what I may be forced to do to defend myself. I sure hoped it wouldn’t come down to anything drastic. Gunplay at Christmastime just didn’t seem right.
“I can see Ace on the roof,” Hawk said as we got closer.
/> I signaled to Ace who gave us a thumbs-up in response. We slowly approached the front of the truck and I tried to position myself to get a closer look into the cab. Given its height and precariously wedged position, this would prove difficult to do without detection. Should someone actually be in there, the last thing I wanted them to do was start blasting their way out of the cab, or take off down the alley with me on the hood or Hawk under the wheels.
I stood on some wooden pallets that were stacked to one side of the alley, peered inside the cab, but still couldn’t see anyone inside. Just as I was about to hop down from my position, something caught my eye giving me pause. Located behind the truck’s seats was a small sleeper compartment, big enough for one person to get some shut eye while out on the road. Although, I couldn’t quite make out a figure, I could see what looked like a large red blanket wadded up on the twin bed. I pulled out my cell phone and turned on the flashlight to get a better look, just as the “blanket” began to move.
“There’s someone inside,” I whispered to Hawk as I ducked out of sight. I turned off the light, and returned the phone back to my pocket.
“What’s the plan?” he whispered back.
“You cover me while I give this fucker a little wakeup call. Get ready to move back in case he’s packing.”
I gently and silently climbed onto the hood, and once in position tapped on the glass with the barrel of my gun.
The large red lump barely stirred. I tapped again, a little more vigorously but the truck’s occupant remained still. I looked up at Ace who gave me a shrug. My eyes had now adjusted to darkness and I was able to make out more details within the tuck. I could clearly see an empty bottle of Jack Daniels on the floor, next to a string of wadded up Christmas lights.
I gave the window one more tap, and trying to remain as quiet as possible, but loud enough for the thief to hear me, said, “Wake up, fucker, we’ve got you surrounded.” This finally got his attention. He shot out of bed, hitting his head squarely on the cab’s ceiling, sending him straight back to the mattress, and wincing in pain.
“Put your hands where I can see ’em,” I said a little louder.
“What the fuck, man? What the hell is going on here?” he asked as he sat up, clearly in a daze.
I could finally see the thief clearly but could barely believe what I was seeing. Santa Claus had stolen our truck.
“Who is it?” Ace called down.
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“Hey man, where am I?” Santa asked in a half lucid, gravelly tone.
“How about you just put your hands where I can see them and get the fuck out of the truck?” I said again.
“Truck? Why am I in a truck?” he asked while raising his black gloved hands.
“That’s a great question, St. Nick.”
He looked down at the full Santa suit he had on and then back to me with a genuine expression of surprise. “Why am I in a truck, why am I dressed as Santa, and why the fuck are you pointing a gun at me? You a cop?” he asked.
“We can talk about all of this when you get out of our truck. Do you have a weapon in there?”
“A weapon? No man, I—” A wave of realization washed over Santa’s face. “Oh shit, the kids.”
“What kids? Are there children in there with you?” I asked, suddenly very concerned about what psycho Santa might be capable of. For all I knew, this drunken nut job had escaped from the looney bin.
“No, the kids at the shelter,” he said.
“Look, man, you’re not making any sense, and we just want our truck back. Why don’t you come out of there now and we’ll figure this out? How ’bout you slowly make your way to the driver’s seat and open the door.”
“How the hell am I gonna get outta here? I’m pretty jammed in.”
With every passing moment, Santa seemed less and less like a dangerous criminal and more like a guy who wasn’t quite sledding with all eight reindeer. I was guessing the empty pint bottle on the floor had much to do with that.
“Hey man, I’m sorry. I’m not even sure how I got here,” he continued.
“You still have the keys?” I asked Santa, as Ace slid down the windshield to join me and Hawk, our guns still drawn.
“What the fuck?” Ace said as he spotted the cab’s jolly occupant.
Santa reeled back and thrust his arms up higher.
“It’s okay, I’ve got this, guys,” I said before returning my attention back to Santa. “The keys? Do you still have them?”
Santa nodded. “Yeah, I think so, they should be in my pocket.”
“Okay, I want you to slowly take the keys out and start up the truck. We’ve got guys behind you, so don’t even think about doing anything stupid or I’ll put a bullet through the windshield. I don’t even care if it gets me on your naughty list.”
Santa did as I asked, and I guided him down the alley until the truck reached a point where he could easily get out.
“Okay, kill the engine and slowly exit the cab with your hands up,” I called out, and as soon as he was out, I had him pinned against the side of the truck with his hands behind his back.
“Hey, c’mon, man, I ain’t gonna hurt nobody,” he said in a slight southern drawl.
“Please forgive me if I don’t quite trust the guy that just boosted a truck full of toys,” I said.
“Toys?” he replied. “Aw, shit. Oh, no,” he said.
“Holy shit! You guys gotta see this!” I heard Knight yell from the rear of the truck.
“Come on,” I said to Santa and we all moved to the back of the truck, which Knight and Booker had opened.
“We were gonna check to see if anything was missing, and it looks like we picked up a new donation instead,” Knight said, smiling.
I looked inside and could see a 1994 Harley Road King, laying down, surrounded by brightly wrapped gifts and toys.
“My bike! Oh, shit, what have I done? I was just trying to help the kids at the shelter. What the hell have I done?” he asked, his large frame slumping to the ground with a thud.
I pulled his dirty fake beard down, revealing an only slightly less scruffy one, on a face that looked like it had seen better days.
I sighed. “Okay, man. We’ll get you back to the compound and figure it out.”
“He’s not fuckin’ comin’ back to the compound,” Ace growled.
“He’s wasted, Ace. We need to sober him up and get some fuckin’ answers. This guy’s clearly no threat to us. Besides, he rides. What are we gonna do, take him to the cops?”
Ace studied me, then shook his head. “He’d better fuckin’ have some answers.”
I nodded and I helped Santa to his feet while Ace maneuvered the truck from between the buildings. While Ace took care of the truck, I loaded our new stray into my truck and we headed back to the compound.
Hatch
Santa passed out in the truck on the way back, but he woke up pretty quickly when I pulled into the parking lot of the compound.
“We’re here. Don’t do anything stupid,” I instructed.
“Where’s here?” he asked.
He seemed a little more lucid and thanked me softly when I handed him a bottled water.
“You’re at our compound. No one here’s gonna hassle you if you co-operate, but you’ve gotta understand the situation we’re in. You stole our truck, and more importantly, you stole from a bunch of kids at Christmas.”
He looked up at me, “I know that, but I never—”
I interrupted, “We’ll talk about it inside with the Prez.”
He nodded.
“One more thing, there’s no way I’m introducing you to everyone as Santa, so why don’t you give me your name.”
“Scott Bohman,” he replied.
“Can’t say I’m pleased to meet you just yet, but my name’s Hatch. I’m the Sergeant at Arms for the Dogs of Fire. Like I said, shoot straight with us, and we’ll deal with you accordingly.” I lowered my gaze and my tone. “Try to fu
ck with us... and we’ll deal with you accordingly.”
“I’ve been around,” he replied.
“I have no trouble believing that whatsoever, Scott. Let’s go.” I led him inside, where everyone had already gathered in the great room.
Booker had clearly filled Crow in on everything, and he sat with a scowl on his face.
“Crow, this is Scott Bohman, from...” I looked at him.
“Florida, um, Gainesville, Florida,” he replied, extending a hand to Crow, who simply glared back.
“And what exactly brings you here to the Pacific Northwest? More specifically, what the fuck are you doing in my town, stealing my property?”
“I’ve got no excuse, sir, and I truly apologize. I don’t drink... well, I haven’t drank in a really long time... and I’m not really sure of all the details, but I think I was... trying to help.”
Although Scott was big, and clearly looked like he could handle himself, he was as calm and gentle as I’d ever seen a person. You would never have guessed in a million years that this guy had boosted a truck in the middle of the night.
“How is stealing my truck helping me?” Crow demanded.
“Not you, so much as the kids back at the shelter where I’m staying.”
“I think maybe we should get Scott here a seat and some coffee. Whatta ya say, Prez?” I asked.
“I swear, I don’t mean any trouble to y’all and I’ll figure out a way to make this up to you in any way I can. Everything’s still in the truck,” Scott said. “All of it. I promise.”
“Take a seat. Someone get him some coffee and a coat that doesn’t make me feel like sitting on this guy’s lap,” Crow called out, clearly relaxing a bit. “Who are you, Scott?”
“I’m just a guy riding across the country. Well, I guess I’m a guy who’s ridden across the country now.”
“You rode here from Florida?” Crow asked. “On a bike?”
Scott nodded. “I set off a year ago, and have sort of zig-zagged around the country. Working here and there, sleeping wherever I can. That sort of thing.”
“By working, you mean boosting trucks and fencing the goods? Or do you mean specifically robbing children’s charities?”
The Davenport Christmas Chronicles Page 4