“Do you have any evidence?” Lucas asked.
“What is it with you and the police always needing evidence?” Mrs. Berkowitz asked. “Isn’t that your job?”
“So you did already go to the police,” Lucas said.
“Yes, but they wouldn’t help us without some sort of evidence. The thing is, I know we’re right. And then there’s the fact that Santa’s brother is always around, acting like he’s in charge.”
“What’s wrong with that?” Lucas asked. “Maybe it’s a family business.”
“It is a family business,” she said. “Forty years ago, Santa’s brother was a crime boss.”
“How can you remember forty years ago when you just forgot where you put your glasses when they were on your head?” Lucas asked.
She glared down that nose at him. “Boy, my long-term memory’s like a steel trap.”
Molly slid him a small, amused glance. He’d just insulted one of Santa’s helpers. Definitely he was on the naughty list.
“Do you have a real name for this guy?” he asked.
“The brother? Tommy Thumbs,” Mrs. Berkowitz said. “Back in the day, rumor had it that if you crossed him, he’d cut off your thumb and feed it to his pet snake. He was just a low-level mob guy back then, but he had ambitions. Hence the thumb thing. He wanted to stick out.”
Lucas shook his head. “Tommy Thumb was indeed a low-level mob guy in the eighties, but he was killed in a warehouse explosion in the early nineties. His legend’s been kept alive by the old-timer loan sharks pretending to be him in order to keep their people in line with the threat of losing their thumbs.”
“Wrong,” Mrs. Berkowitz said. “He’s not dead.”
Lucas got serious real fast. “No one’s seen Tommy Thumbs in years, and believe me, a bunch of people have been looking. Why do you think it’s him? Did you recognize him? And how?”
“Oh, well, I slept with him a bunch of times in the late nineties.” She gave a small smile. “And maybe once or twice in the new century as well. What?” she said when Mrs. White and Janet gave her a shocked look. “Back in the day, I was a little slower to recognize a horse’s patoot when I saw one.”
Lucas did his best to block images of Mrs. Berkowitz and Tommy Thumbs getting laid, but he wasn’t entirely successful. He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes and took a deep breath. “Do you still . . .” Shit. He couldn’t even say it.
“Do it?” Mrs. Berkowitz asked with a smile. She shrugged. “Not nearly as much these days. First of all, men my age no longer look as good naked, if you know what I mean.”
Lucas wished to God he didn’t.
“But no, I don’t still sleep with Tommy,” she said. “He got old and cranky, and mean as a snake. I don’t stand for that. I’m a feminist, you know.”
Lucas rubbed his temples.
“Headache?” Molly asked.
Worse. Because if Tommy Thumbs was still alive, with his fingers in the hard-earned cash of this Santa Village bingo money, then shit. These elves actually had a legit case—which meant he had zero chance of changing Molly’s mind and getting her to walk away from this. He knew Archer and Joe would have his neck for not calling them in on this, right now. And that was definitely the smart way to go if he loved his job. And he did. But he also knew he could handle this case and keep Molly safe without backup, at least at this point. And more than that, if he called in the troops, he had no doubt that Archer and Joe would come in hot and play hardball, immediately removing her from the case.
She’d never forgive him.
So for better or worse, he was going to let the bad Santa case be Molly’s secret, which meant he was in now, all the way in, and not because Archer had asked him to be. He was going to help her however he could and keep her safe at any cost.
And hopefully not lose his job while he was at it.
Or his thumbs.
Or, he thought, meeting Molly’s see-all gaze, his heart.
Chapter 6
#MerryElfingChristmas
Molly watched Lucas’s face as he listened to the elves. They had a viable case and he knew it. And if there was one thing she knew about Lucas, it was that he was always willing to fight the good fight.
The ladies stayed late, appearing happy to knit away their evening at Molly’s table. Lucas had planted himself as well, the intent in his steely gaze telling her he planned to outwait the elves to have a little chat.
But she wasn’t feeling like chatting.
And so the standoff had begun. Luckily for her, Lucas’s work phone went off around ten p.m. He slid her an unreadable look and jerked his head toward the door before heading that way, apparently certain she’d follow.
Which of course she did.
He pulled her outside onto her porch and shut the door to get away from three sets of curious, nosy eyes. Then he nudged up her against the wall and tilted her chin up, staring down into her eyes. “Okay,” he said. “Uncle.”
At the feel of his warm, hard body against hers, her nipples had gotten very happy. She ordered them to cool it. “Uncle?”
“Yeah,” he murmured, eyes on her lips. “I cave. I’m no match for the likes of you. I’m in.”
She tried to hold in her triumphant smile and failed.
He gave her a head shake. “Before you say I told you so, we’re going to make a deal.”
“You think so, huh?”
“Yes,” he said, tone final.
“What kind of a deal?” she asked warily.
“The kind where you don’t go off without me. We’re partners on this, Molly, or no go.”
That night she’d slept in his bed with him, he’d been warm as a furnace. Twice she’d woken up wrapped around him as if her body knew what her mind didn’t want to accept, that she wanted him. Bad, too. Both times she’d forced herself to scoot away.
Tonight, he was just as warm. And hard with lean, sinewy muscle. She had to remind herself not to wrap around him again. “And if I don’t agree?” she murmured.
His gaze never wavered. “Then I bring in Archer and he takes over. Joe as well.”
She stared up at him, wanting to call his bluff but not wanting to risk it. Lucas was a man of his word. He would do exactly as he’d just said. He’d rat her out in an instant and Archer would bench her. Of that she had no doubt. “Fine,” she said. “Deal.”
He nodded and backed up a step, leaving her body feeling annoyingly bereft. His gaze slid over her features, stopping for a beat on her lips, and as if he was magic, they trembled open.
His hot gaze lifted to hers, and then with a slight quirk of his lips, he was gone.
When she finally went to sleep that night, it’d been to dream about a future with a man she couldn’t, wouldn’t, have.
The next morning she was up early and at the gym. She had a specific routine she put herself through, given to her by her physical therapist and designed to keep the strength up in her weakened leg.
“Ready?” asked a male voice behind her.
She got up and swiped the sweat from her brow, facing Caleb. Besides being a client of Hunt Investigations, he was some kind of a tech genius, a venture capitalist, and . . . her secret sparring partner.
Caleb had his reasons for keeping the secret. He was a closed book for one, a complete mystery to everyone, and kept his own counsel.