Holiday Justice by Adrienne Giordano & Misty Evans

Author:Adrienne Giordano & Misty Evans
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780990798446
Publisher: ALG Publishing LLC
Published: 2014-11-11T08:00:00+00:00

Grey’s reaction time was fast. Mitch’s was faster. He pocketed his phone, blew past Grey, and on his way to play defensive end, said under his breath, “I’ve got this. Go get Syd.”

Then he stepped in front of the hulking suit and got in his face, distracting him from Grey who, for once, did as Mitch suggested and took off for the opposite apartment where the door was still open. “We’re the new landlords and we’re cleaning up this dump. Who the fuck are you?”

Sydney was still screaming “Cupcake! Cupcake!” as if the hounds of hell were after her, but then came the glorious sound of flesh hitting flesh and a couple of cries from the Santas.

Score one for Justice.

Her screams distracted the man for a split second, his brows lowering into a frown. Mitch had seen a lot of bad guys in his time, many dressed in nice suits like the guy in front of him. Suit or not, Mitch’s gut vibrated like it always did when facing a criminal.

Logan. Had to be. The man in charge of the Santa theft ring. The man who let the lowlifes do the dirty work while he took in the profit and kept his nose clean.

Well, not this time.

Mitch’s gut twinged again, and sure enough, the asshole went for something in his coat. What little light came from the outside street lamp bounced off black metal. A peashooter.

“I’m so glad you did that,” Mitch said, seeing the man’s hand shake as he pointed it at Mitch’s nose. “Now I can add assault and battery with intent to harm to your list of offenses. And, gee, is that weapon registered? Legally obtained? Hmmm…”

Before the guy could retort—or pull the trigger—Mitch feinted right and slammed his fist into the guy’s lower belly. Logan grunted, the gun went off, and plaster rained down.

On the heels of the gunshot, Syd screamed. Grey unleashed an impressive array of swear words followed by another crash. A heavy thud told Mitch one more Santa was down for the count.

Justice Greystone: 2. Santas: 0

Logan must have done the math as well. In an instant, he pivoted and bolted for the door. Mitch gave chase, taking the guy down in a meager pile of shoveled snow on the sidewalk, but the guy rolled and slid out from under him, Mitch’s knees hitting the icy sidewalk hard enough to rattle his teeth. His face went nose first into the snow.

When he came up, sputtering and wiping his face, he was holding nothing but Logan’s expensive wool overcoat.

Slick dick.

Caroline was probably laughing her ass off.

Mitch swung his gaze left, then right, and spotted the guy hoofing it, heading for a black Mercedes. He sat back, drew out his phone and texted Caroline. Now would be a good time to put those expert marksman skills of yours to work, honey.

Three seconds later, a crack came from across the street. At the same moment, the third Santa flew out the downstairs window in a flood

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