Elf Against the Wall: A Holiday Romantic Comedy (The Wynter Brothers Book 2)

“You fucked up my truck.”

“I’m gonna fix it,” I snarled, not at all ready to deal with Hudson’s bullshit today.

“What the hell even went through it?” he demanded.

“I said I was going to fucking fix it.” My skin felt too tight. I could still taste Evie on my mouth.

I should have just fucked her right there. I didn’t know why I hadn’t—it wasn’t like she was some blushing virgin I could traumatize. She was fucking perfect.

And now I might never see her again.

Better to end it this way.

I owed it to my past self to at least leave a bitter impression with her parents.

It was better for Evie if she hated me. I’d seen how she looked at me with stars in her eyes.

Better to break her heart now than on Christmas morning when she realized that I wasn’t going to ride in on a white reindeer at the eleventh hour to save her from her family.

I was moving on. I was going on vacation after I returned the last of the recovered money to Aaron. Somewhere warm, with no Christmas.

After grabbing a beer from the fridge, I stood behind Jake’s computer. I nodded to the screen.

“So, bad news.” Jake grimaced. “Some of the info we got was crap.”

“People at the party were probably trying to one-up their family and friends,” Talbot interjected.

“This guy?” Jake pulled up a photo of a balding redheaded man with freckles all over his face. “Doesn’t even have the clearance at his company to be making insurance decisions.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah, fuck.”

“So, how bad is it?” Lawrence asked me as I scanned through the checklist of firms that potentially had committed insurance fraud.

“I need another eighty-seven grand.”

Talbot winced. “Like before Christmas or on Christmas?”

“Christmas Eve. Two a.m.”

“You gotta hit the Bergeson account. That’s the only way, man,” Lawrence said. “You gotta hit it hard.”

I rubbed a hand on the back of my neck. “Fuck.” I paced toward the door, which let out into the cold, out to Evie, then back. “Let me just think about this. I need to come up with a plan.”

“I have a plan: let’s get Braeden super drunk, kidnap him, threaten the info out of him, and go home in time for Christmas,” Jake suggested.

“That is not a plan that—”

Eeek!

“Hudson, what the fuck are you doing? You know I hate that sound!” I bellowed.

Lawrence clapped his hands to his ears as Hudson scratched white numbers on the rarely used chalkboard on one wall.

Screee!

He drew a circle around a four-digit number.

“That?” He tapped the chalk. “That is how much money you owe me for my window, Anderson, on top of the money you owe Aaron Richmond.”

“Fuck you.”

“Also?” He slapped an unmarked white envelope against my chest. “This came for you.”

I ripped it open, knowing exactly what I’d find. The only thing on the card was a time and an address.

“Looks like you’ve been summoned.” Lawrence peered over my shoulder.

Talbot patted my shoulder. “Can I have your bike after Aaron kills you?”