Page 101 of Tangled In Tinsel & Knots
“Yeah, I know.” Chris sets his mug in the cup holder with more force than necessary. “It just pisses me off beyond reason how much crap he’s pulled with Hannah. All the manipulation, the gaslighting, kicking her out of her own apartment. And even now, I don’t trust that bastard not to try ruining her town parade event weekend or the upcoming tree lighting celebration.”
“You don’t have to tell me.” I cross my arms over my chest, trying to trap some body heat. “I was there when he called Giuseppe, remember? Listened to every single word through the phone. His threat was crystal clear—he wants that business for himself, and he’ll do whatever it takes to make sure Hannah doesn’t get it first.”
Chris drums his fingers on the steering wheel in an agitated rhythm, staring at the dark building. “Speaking of Hannah, her heat is getting closer. I can scent it on her every morning when she comes downstairs. Getting stronger, more concentrated, more intense.”
“I know.” Just thinking about it causes my body to react, cock stirring in my jeans despite the cold. “Trust me, I fucking know. And she’s still denying that we’re a real pack. Still acting like living with us is some temporary arrangement until she figures out her next move, and resisting us when it’s clear her body craves an Alpha’s touch.”
“What are we going to do about that?” Chris asks, glancing my way. “Because she’s ours. We all know it deep in our bones.She knows it too, somewhere beneath all that fear and self-protection. But she’s fighting it hard.”
I blow out a long breath, watching it fog in the cold air inside the truck’s cab. “Keep showing her we’re there for her no matter what. Helping with whatever she needs—business stuff, personal stuff, everything in between. Bending over backwards to prove we’re not going anywhere and we’re not like the assholes from her past. She’s scared. You see it in her eyes sometimes when she thinks we’re not watching. Like she’s waiting for us to disappoint her or leave or turn into controlling dicks like Scot.”
Chris shifts in his seat, leather creaking, nodding.
“So we need to let her set the pace. Not make her think we’re controlling her life or trying to take over every aspect of her existence.”
Chris laughs, the sound filling the truck’s cab. “Hard to do when we literally moved her into our house within days of meeting her, and now we’re attached to her every fucking second of the day like possessive stalkers.”
I snort. “Not exactly subtle about wanting her around constantly. Noel practically shoved me out of the way this morning to volunteer going with her into town today for the parade prep.”
“He’s got it so bad for her.”
“Fuck, man, we all do.” Chris runs a hand through his hair, messing it up further. “Last night when I got home from processing those criminals and realized I’d missed out on what you two were doing with her on the couch…” He shakes his head. “I was so fucking jealous I could barely see straight because I’m craving her that badly.”
“In our defense, things escalated quickly. One minute we’re dancing for her, next minute candy canes were involved. It was spontaneous.”
“I’m sure it was very spontaneous and not at all premeditated,” Chris says dryly. We both laugh. “Never thought I’d say this about anyone,” Chris admits. “But she’s the one. Forever. The endgame. I knew it the moment I kissed her in that Santa suit and she melted against me.”
“I knew it when I woke up with her riding me thinking I was Noel,” I say with a laugh. “Best mistaken identity of my entire life.”
“Lucky bastard.”
We fall into comfortable silence, both of us watching the building. It’s two stories. Downstairs is the business, I assume, with the company name in large gold lettering above the door: Confetti & Meatballs Event Planning. Professional-looking signage, clean windows, but everything dark inside. Upstairs, the blinds are shut tight on what must be the apartment where Hannah used to live before Scot kicked her out.
The thought has me simmering with anger.
Another car drives past slowly, the driver clearly lost, and we both tense until they keep going.
“We’ve been sitting here for hours,” I finally say. “He’s clearly not coming. Place looks abandoned.”
“Agreed.” Chris stretches as much as the truck cab allows. “I think we should head inside. Check it out properly. See what we can find.”
I perk up immediately. “Thought you’d never ask.”
We climb out of the truck, and the cold smothers me. I zip my jacket up to my chin and pull my gloves on tighter. Chris does the same. We stick to the shadows and the tree line as we approach the building, moving with the kind of casual purpose that doesn’t attract attention. Just two guys out for a walk in the freezing cold because we’re idiots.
The driveway leads around to the back of the building, and that’s where we head, completely out of sight from the street and any neighboring buildings. Perfect for what we need to do.
Chris peers through the back window first, cupping his hands around his face to block the glare from the weak sunlight. “Dark. No movement inside that I can see. No computers on, no lights, nothing.”
“Let’s do this, then.”
Chris pulls out his lock pick set from his jacket pocket, something we all carry for situations exactly like this, and gets to work on the back door. I keep watch on the surrounding area.
It takes him maybe thirty seconds before I hear the satisfying click of the lock disengaging. “Got it,” he mutters.
The door swings open silently, and we slip inside quickly, closing it behind us.
I move immediately to locate the security panel, knowing exactly what to look for and how to disable it without triggering any alarms. We’ve done this enough times that it’s second nature now. But when I find the panel on the wall just inside the back entrance, the system isn’t even armed.
