Robbing from mistletoe, p.1
Robbing From Mistletoe, page 1
Robbing From Mistletoe (Mistletoe Creek Series) by Ember Davis
Copyright © 2023 Ember Davis
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, organizations or locals is entirely coincidental. The use of actors, artists, movies, TV shows and song titles/lyrics throughout this book are done so for storytelling purposes and should in no way be seen as an advertisement. Trademark names are used editorially with no intention of infringement of the respective owner’s trademark.
All Rights Reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.
For permission requests, email Ember.A.Davis@gmail.com
Contains explicit love scenes and adult language. The suggested reading audience is 18 years or older.
Cover Design: Mae Harden
Prologue © by Breanna Lynn and Gail Haris - Used with Permission
This book is available exclusively at Amazon.com. If you’ve obtained it anywhere else, you have an illegal copy.
For those who want to do more for those in need but aren’t sure where to start.
You might not want to become a hacker and steal from motorcycle clubs (well, probably not), but you can spread goodwill and holiday spirit.
Table of Contents
TRIGGER WARNING
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
EPILOGUE
MISTLETOE CREEK SERIES
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
OTHER BOOKS BY EMBER
TRIGGER WARNING
This story has dark-ish themes and a morally gray motorcycle club hero. You’ll still find an insta-love story that is spicy and isn’t necessarily simple, but with darker themes, situations, and depictions or talk of violence (not between the MMC and MFC). The DSMC is not a one percenter club, but these guys don’t always operate within the law either and have links to crime families.
There is no cheating with a guaranteed HEA, however, if you don’t like darker themes, then this book may not be for you.
PROLOGUE
Once upon a time, long ago, in a land far away… Well, actually it wasn’t that far away, although Mistletoe Creek, Tennessee, often seems more off the beaten path where it lies nestled against the Smoky Mountain foothills. And it really wasn’t so long ago. A few short months ago, the following conversation was overheard between Fern Myers, Fawn Carter, and Merry Andrews during their monthly meeting. When later asked, all three women would deny the conversation ever occurred.
“It’s your deal, Fern,” Merry says as she glances at the window when a colorful leaf drifts off the oak tree just outside.
Fern scoffs and stretches her fingers before picking the well-worn deck up off the shiny table.
“I always deal, Merry.”
“More like always cheat,” Fawn mumbles.
“Excuse me?” Fern adjusts her bifocals on the edge of her nose.
“I find it highly suspect that every time you deal, you also seem to win.”
“If you want to deal…”
“I don’t. But I do want you to play fair.”
“Play fair? Just because I’m lucky doesn’t mean I don’t—”
“Ladies!” Merry jumps in before their argument can escalate.
It wouldn’t be the first time a confrontation between the two of them had been stopped before it went beyond just words.
“I really don’t feel like getting kicked out of here again by Mayor Anderson. We just got invited back. And personally, I didn’t care for power walking all summer in the heat.”
While the mansion of the original founder of Mistletoe Creek had been turned into a combination of public gathering spaces and city offices, the last time they’d flipped the table during a card game, Mayor Anderson had been left with no other option—he had banned all three septuagenarians for the entire summer.
“I did offer for us to play Yahtzee instead,” Fawn says.
“We could always actually learn bridge instead of just telling everyone that’s what we play,” Merry adds.
“We’ve been playing Texas Hold ’Em for thirty years. Yahtzee is for when I babysit my grandkids. And if we told everyone we were playing poker instead of bridge, we’d have the entire town trying to join in our games.” Fern levels a look at both of the other women until they nod.
The room is silent except for the crackle of cards as they swoosh across the table along with sighs and murmurs as each woman considers her cards.
“It’s too quiet.” Merry drops her cards face down.
“What do you mean?” Fern asks.
“It’s been ages since we’ve had a wedding. Or any good gossip.”
“We just went to Dawn and Jack Phillips’s wedding two weekends ago. Raise ten.” Fawn tosses a blue chip onto the small pile and the other two follow suit.
“It was a beautiful wedding.” Merry sighs, a dreamy smile playing on her lips. “Even if Fawn fell asleep during the ceremony.”
“You take that back, Merry Andrews! Or I’ll tell Dawn that you didn’t like the light pink of her wedding dress,” Fawn fires back.
Merry’s eyes narrow across the table. “You wouldn’t.”
Fawn crosses her arms. “Try me.”
“Fine. You win. I take it back.” Merry’s voice is nothing more than a mumble.
Fern sighs and glances between the two of them.
“I can’t believe Dawn is all grown-up and married now,” Fern says, trying to redirect the conversation. “I still remember when I used to babysit her.”
“Such a good girl.”
“I’m just glad that she and Jack finally found each other.” Merry checks her bet and turns to Fawn.
“They wouldn’t have if it wasn’t for us,” Fawn reminds the other two.
Both other women nod in agreement.
“I thought that was never going to happen no matter how many times we kept signing Dawn up to volunteer with Jack at Parks and Wildlife.” Merry rolls her eyes.
Fawn shrugs. “They finally stopped fighting it.”
“It was a beautiful wedding,” Fern says.
“I already said that.” Merry stares at Fawn.
“Who cares? It’s still true.”
“We need more weddings.” Fawn checks her bet and Fern deals the last card.
“No one is close to dating, let alone marriage.” Fern studies her cards in her hands before lifting her shrewd gaze to the five cards on the table.
“Neither were Dawn and Jack last year and look at them now. On their honeymoon.” Merry clasps her hands together and the cards in her hand crinkle.
It wouldn’t be the first deck to be lost to their lack of attention. And it definitely wouldn’t be the last.
“So, what are we going to do about it?” Fawn asks.
“Same thing we always do,” Fern responds. “Let’s see, there’s Pierce and Hudson. Either of whom would be a catch.”
“Don’t forget Robyn or Elle. But not for either of those boys.” Fawn taps her lip as she adds to the list.
“No, all four of them are ready for something special. Something spectacular. It’s…” Fern’s voice fades as her attention shifts back to her cards.
“It’s matchmaking time,” Merry says and gasps when Fawn pushes in all her chips.
“All in, ladies. Who’s next?”
CHAPTER 1
ROBYN
As I blink, trying to chase away the last of the sleep that held me captive in my nightmare, I know my eyes are puffy and today is going to be a long day. The sun hasn’t even thought about peeking over the horizon yet and there is no way in hell I’m going to be able to get back to sleep. Not anymore.
It’s always the same when I sleep. If only I weren’t so tired all the time from the memories of my past, and the need I feel to constantly keep moving, even while I’m standing in one place, I wouldn’t even try to sleep. As it is, I know sleep is essential.
And to think, there was a time in my life when sleep was bliss.
I miss those days.
They’re far behind me now. For the last ten years, I haven’t been able to sleep through the night. All because everything changed when the evils of the world pushed their way into my life and couldn’t be ignored. If only things had been different.
Maybe I would have gone off to college. Maybe I would have been married and have a few kids by now.
Instead, I’m 28 and have spent more time looking over my shoulder to make sure no one is coming after me instead of looking toward the future. I know what lies ahead of me anyway, since I’ve been walking the path that I’m on for years now.
The only thing I look forward to is trying to balance the scales of justice, even if only a little bit, by taking from those who have too much. Instead of breeding more evil, I use their money for good. Okay, I also look forward to whatever specialty drink the Mistletoe Café has on their menu.
It’s a relatively new thing for me to look forward to since I’ve only been in Mistletoe Cree k, Tennessee for the last five years. I love it here. It reminds me of my hometown which was close enough to Baltimore to make it fun, but far enough away to be safe.
At least, I thought so while growing up.
I learned nowhere is safe. Not the small town I grew up in. Not even Mistletoe Creek. Which is why I probably won’t be able to stay here for very much longer.
This is the longest I’ve stayed in one place since I started to bounce around the country ten years ago. I needed to keep moving for a few reasons. Part of why I kept moving was to try and outrun my fears and demons. The bigger reason is I was trying to find out what happened to my best friend, Kyla.
I needed to find her.
I never did and five years ago, when I rolled into Mistletoe Creek, I finally accepted I probably never will. It was difficult to come to terms with but being in a place that almost felt like home helped. The way the people of this Christmas-loving small town accepted me helped as well.
I can’t help but wonder if they would have opened their hearts to me the way they did if they knew I’m putting them in danger by being here.
I don’t like putting them in danger and I’m almost positive it’s not imminent or anything. I just know if the people who I steal from found me, they wouldn’t forgive the town for harboring me. No one here knows what I do with my time other than the lies I tell them, but I’m not sure that would matter in the end.
As far as Mistletoe Creek is concerned, I work from home in the IT field. It’s not entirely a lie. I do work from home, and I do use my IT skills. I just use them to skim money from men who have too much of it and who have a hand in human trafficking.
They deserve it. They ruin lives with their actions.
I might never have found Kyla and the people behind her being taken and sold, but I used my hacking skills to learn a lot about traffickers across the country. It’s harder to hit the people at the top, but I find those on the fringes, and I make sure they don’t have the resources to ruin as many lives as they could.
I always do my research when it comes to who I steal from. The men I skim from have bloody hands and souls steeped in sin.
I had no idea how much trafficking was going on in and around Baltimore while I was growing up. My parents shielded me from that kind of thing, which is exactly what parents are supposed to do. I miss them, but this is the path my life has taken, and I can’t bring them into it.
Kyla’s family tried to protect her from the darkness of the world too. It didn’t stop the men who took her.
I take a deep breath and head to my desk and get to work. Christmas is right around the corner and the organizations I infuse with money will need more because of the holiday season. The victims the organizations help should have a happy Christmas. At least, as much of one as they can.
I don’t steal for me. It’s almost all for them.
I don’t need much, and my small apartment is a reminder of that. I don’t want to worry about a lot of stuff when I pack up to move. The things I have remind me of the life I had, the life Kyla had, and tide me over from day to day. It’s more than enough.
I pull up my files on the Devil’s Saints Motorcycle Club out of Seattle again and check to make sure the information I have is still the same. They’re not the only men I’ll be targeting today, but they’re the first, and the payout is going to be bigger to make sure those who need it get it in time for the holidays. They can afford to give a little to those whose lives have been ruined by men who think they have power because they have a dick.
Everything I’ve found says they have ties to the Russian mob in the area, the same mob which has been trafficking women out of the port for years. I shiver and close my eyes and breathe to try and settle my stomach. If I focus for too long on the horrors those who are stolen endure, I would be useless.
When I open my eyes again, my computer monitor swims across my vision as I try not to cry. Those same horrors are ones Kyla experienced.
I should have gone with her that night, but I was sick and could barely lift my head up from my pillow. I told her she shouldn’t go without me, but she didn’t listen. Which was a total Kyla thing to do, and it would be so easy to be mad at her because of it, but she’s not to blame. She should have been able to go to a concert.
How many people do the same thing all the time and get back home safely?
She just…didn’t.
I force myself to get to work even as my mind drifts off to memories of Kyla. We were opposites in so many ways and what they say about opposites attracting was true for us. She was tall at close to 6’, slim, and blonde. I have black hair just like my mom, curves and hips that won’t quit, and am still the same 5’4” I was when I was a freshman in high school.
I remember hoping that I would have a growth spurt, but I never did while Kyla, who I had been friends with since Kindergarten, shot up over one summer. I was jealous of her height, but she was such an amazing person that I couldn’t hold onto it for long.
She was the one who always pulled me out of myself and my head when I got stuck in it. She stood between me and the few mean girls who liked to bully me. No one wanted to get on her bad side, and it wasn’t just because she had a temper. She was popular but didn’t gain the attention or friends through cruelty.
She turned 18 right after spring break our senior year of high school, but I wasn’t going to turn until the summer. I remember going over to her house on the morning of her birthday and being greeted by her mom who hugged me and welcomed me into her home with a big smile on her face.
“Robyn,” she kept her voice low, no doubt because Kyla was still sleeping, and she was not someone you wanted to wake up if you could avoid it. “I’m making chocolate chip pancakes. How about you come and hang out with me and let the birthday girl sleep for a few more minutes?”
I grinned and teased her, something I was only comfortable doing because she felt like a second mom to me and their house was my home away from home, “Scared?”
She gave an overexaggerated shiver and laughed softly, “Petrified.”
I giggled as I followed her through the house and into the kitchen where I found Kyla’s dad drinking coffee and reading the newspaper. I rolled my eyes because no matter how many times we tried to get him to read it on his tablet, he always insisted he could feel the news better when he was touching the paper.
I had no idea what the hell he was talking about, still don’t, but we dropped the argument about saving trees and cheaper online subscriptions long before that morning. Sometimes I wonder if he still reads the newspaper like that or if he avoids the news because he knows how close some of those tragedies can strike.
I chatted with Kyla’s parents in the kitchen, feeling the love in their home and looking forward to giving my best friend her birthday gift which was practically burning a hole in my pocket. I knew she’d be excited. Hell, I was excited.
Once there were fluffy stacks of chocolatey pancakes ready to go, Kyla’s mom looked at me and grinned. “Breakfast is ready. I think you should go and wake her up. She’s less likely to yell at you.”
I shook my head at her, “Sending me to the wolves? I thought you loved me,” I pressed my hand to my chest and pouted.
With a shooing motion, she sent me off to Kyla’s room where I found my best friend sprawled across her bed like a starfish. Her blonde hair was in disarray and there might have been some drooling happening. I grinned at her and then plopped down next to her hard enough to make her jump slightly.
“Hey,” she held the word out like any movement was a personal affront to her entire life and I couldn’t help but laugh. “No, it can’t be morning,” she rasped which only made me laugh harder.
“Come on, sleepyhead. It is morning. More importantly than that it’s Saturday,” I coaxed her.
She shot up in bed and narrowed her eyes at me. I swear I knew what she was going to say before she said it. “It’s not just Saturday,” she huffed.
“Pretty sure that’s all it is,” I pointed out and gave her my sweetest smile.
If she could have shot lasers out of her eyes, she would have. “It’s my birthday,” she pointed out as if she felt sorry for me because I must have been suffering from acute onset amnesia.
