“Wow, wow, wow!” Santos jabs a finger at all of us. “I call the shots here.”
John raised his hand. He side-eyes the gift under the tree, then narrows his eyes. “Does that mean you’re taking full responsibility for this crap show?”
“That’s what being in charge means,” Rev pipes in, catching on to John’s line of thinking. “You hear that right, captive? That means John and I are in the clear.”
“My name is Zeva.”
“We can’t call you that, Rev says. “We all agreed that using your name is too personal. It’s better if we don’t form attachments.
More personal than me seeing their faces or hearing their names? And weren’t they supposed to be concealing their identity from me?
I arch my brows and open my mouth to dispute Rev’s logic when Santos cuts me off. He abruptly stops pacing. “So we still have an hour before he finds our note.” He runs his jaw.
“So we just wait then?” John asks.
Santos nods. But I shake my head, disappointed that I’d be stuck in this chair for another hour. Santos must have misunderstood my head shake because he mimics my actions.
“You don’t agree?” Santos asks. “What would you do to get Andreas to corporate?”
I don’t plan to help them lour Andreas, yet I couldn’t contain my excitement. My eyes were so huge, I thought they’d pop out of my sockets. “Are you asking me?” Having never been kidnapped before, this is a treat! I’d watched enough Murder She Wrote to know these guys were amateurs. So why not at least help them level up their game?
“If you’re asking me and you clearly are, I’d let me go.” At their outrageous glares, I squirm in my chair. Taking a breath, I employ my reasoning. “First, you’ve kept me here for hours and you haven’t offered me anything to eat or drink. That’s pretty inhospitable, if you ask me.”
Santos shoved Rev. “We’ll just order you something to eat now.”
I shake my head. “Didn’t you mama tell you that eating a heavy meal before bed gives you nightmares?”
Rev pales. “Are you sure about that?”
“Positive,” I say, “But I’m the least of your worries. You interrupted the meal I was cooking for Andrea’s and he’s grumpy when he’s hungry.”
“But he can eat at his restaurant,” John argues.
“He’s been coming home to her cooking, you idiot,” Santos says. “You said it yourself after one of your stakeouts.”
I nod again. “There’s not much convincing him when he’s hungry.” I sigh, hoping the sound is sympathetic enough to have them reconsider a few thoughts. “Then there’s the other matter.”
“Wait, there’s more?” Santos cringes.
I reluctantly nod. “Since it will be midnight in a couple of hours, it means he’ll be alone this Christmas.” I peek at them from under my lashes just in time to see their Adam’s applebob along their throats. “I can’t imagine Santa being happy. I suspect being on anyone’s naughty list is bad for your health.”
“You mean Santa’s naughty list?” Santo says.
I shrug. From the looks of the tree, I hold out hope that they believe in the big guy, but I can’t rest my faith on that alone. “Or the mafia’s list.”
The men look at each other and scrabble around the room.
“What’s going on?” I ask when Rev unravels a spool of red ribbon.
“We are taking you home,” he says, tying a bow around my waist.
“This isn’t necessary. I already can’t move.”
“This isn’t for you,” Santos says, sticking a note between the ribbon and me. “Between Andreas and Santa, we can’t have both of them being peeved at us.” He shoves a carton of eggnog into my lap.
CHAPTER TEN
ZEVA
