T he bass thumps through the floorboards beneath my feet, vibrating up my legs as Cooper and I lock eyes amid the chaos of Santa’s Naughty List Review .
Red lights sweep across his face, painting him in alternating shadows and crimson highlights that make him look both dangerous and absurdly attractive.
The smell of cheap beer, cheaper cologne, and nachos creates a heady perfume that’s distinctly Red Satin—a scent I’d hoped to never associate with my hot boyfriend. But here we are.
I grab Cooper’s arm and yank him toward the steps at the side of the stage just as Uncle Jimmy cuts through the crowd.
We hardly make it off the last step when Uncle Jimmy reaches us.
“ Effie ,” he booms, clapping me on the shoulder with enough force to make my knees buckle. “Nice to see my favorite niece taking the initiative.” His eyes flick toward Cooper before sliding past him to where Loretta still sits at her table, now looking pointedly in any direction but ours.
“I see you lured your next beneficiary here.” Uncle Jimmy’s smile has all the warmth of a great white sizing up a seal. “Finish this project before the clock strikes midnight on Christmas and I’ll make sure your stocking is full of some serious green.”
He turns his attention to Cooper, extending a hand as if they’re meeting at a church social rather than a strip club with an entire troop of half-naked Mrs. Clauses gyrating in the background.
“Detective Knox. Congrats on the almost nuptials. Better luck next time. I was really looking forward to that cake.”
Cooper’s hand engulfs Uncle Jimmy’s in what I suspect is a grip tight enough to crush walnuts, though my uncle doesn’t flinch.
“Thanks,” Cooper replies with a tone suggesting he’d rather eat glass than continue this conversation.
Uncle Jimmy gives us both a nod before melting back into the crowd and heading for the VIP section, leaving behind the scent of expensive cologne and impending doom.
“And I was really looking forward to what was supposed to happen before the cake,” I mutter with the taste of bitterness coating my tongue.
“Me, too.” He leans in. “Would you care to explain why Jimmy looked at my sister when he mentioned your next project?”
I watch the horror dawn across Cooper’s face as he connects the dots—one hitwoman plus one lucrative project due before Christmas equals a very dead Loretta Sorry-to-See-You-Go-so-Soon under the tree. The muscle in his jaw ticks like a time bomb.
I’m pretty sure that Cooper knows about my moonlighting activities after I saw my face in the middle of a murder board up in his office.
We haven’t had the awkward “so you murder people for a living” conversation yet, but we have since adopted a “don’t ask, don’t tell” policy regarding my burgeoning career as a would-be assassin.
It’s the kind of compromise that relationship counselors probably wouldn’t endorse, but it’s been working for us. Until now.
“I’m sorry,” I shout over the music, which has switched to a dubstep remix of “Little Drummer Boy.”
Cooper’s eyes widen to the point they might pop out of his skull. “You’re sorry? Please tell me you have no intention of wrapping up that little project before the fat man comes down the chimney.”
“Okay, I’ll wait until after,” I tease, although my attempt at humor clearly misses the mark as Cooper looks like he’s on the verge of a coronary event. “What? He did just offer to line my stocking with some serious cash.” I shrug, and Cooper’s frown deepens despite my financially sound argument.
He grabs my elbow and steers me toward an empty table in a relatively quieter corner of the club. A waitress materializes right on cue and deposits a heaping platter of nachos before disappearing back into the red-tinted darkness.
“You can relax. Loretta Sashimi is safe—for now.” I bite into a nacho loaded with cheese, jalapenos, and most likely a questionable health inspection score.
“You know I wouldn’t shoot her with so much as the camera on my phone.
What were you two doing here tonight, anyway?
And don’t say sibling bonding. I’m disturbed enough by what my eyes have seen tonight.
” I glance toward the stage where Niki is now twerking alongside a six-foot-four Mrs. Claus while Watson prances around them, barking with delirious joy.
Cooper sighs, running a hand through his hair in a way that makes his locks stick up adorably in the front. “I was getting information about Enzo. Loretta claims she had nothing to do with his death, but considering she almost stood to inherit everything...”
I gasp hard. “Did she do it? Is she responsible for the double homicide?”
He frowns my way once again. I’m sensing a theme.
“I’m not quantifying that with an answer. Although, toxicology found the same substance in Enzo’s bloodstream,” he says, lowering his voice despite the fact that the music would drown out a space shuttle launch. “Pentobarbital. Same as Nicholas.”
I inch back in my seat. “Sounds as if we’ve got a serial killer on our hands.”
Cooper gives a solemn nod. “It wasn’t you, was it?”
“No, but let’s just say someone beat me to the punch last night,” I admit, then quickly add. “With Enzo, not Nicholas. Nicholas wasn’t on my... to-do list.”
“Sorry about that, I think,” Cooper says, tilting his head in the way he does when he’s trying to reconcile Detective Knox with Cooper Who Dates a Hitwoman.
“So what did Gabe have to say?” Cooper asks, masterfully changing the subject while demolishing a nacho loaded with guacamole.
I fill him in on my conversation with Mr. Esposito, including his allegations about Holly Bellini’s financial arrangement.
“And then there’s Stella Martinelli”—I continue—“who volunteers at the Jolly Holly Tree Lot. She swears she barely knew Nicholas, but I caught her arguing with him at the Jubilee. And when I pushed her on it, she claimed it was about fundraising auction bids.”
He nods. “Because nothing says passionate argument like disagreeing over minimum bids for a charity basket.” Cooper nods thoughtfully.
“They all have motives of sorts. Holly loses business if Nicholas pulls funding from her events. Gabe’s Christmas shop goes under if Nicholas opens a competing store.
And Stella... well, I’m not sure what her angle is yet, but arguing about charity auctions sounds minuscule.
” Cooper pushes the almost empty nacho platter to the side.
“Leave the rest of the investigation to me, okay? This is officially a double homicide, which means the sheriff’s department takes priority. ”
“Gladly.” I’m not sure if I’m telling the truth, but Cooper doesn’t need to know that. “Besides, tomorrow night is the big Christmas Eve Eve shindig at the Evergreen Manor.” I place my hand on his, my fingers tracing the veins on the back of his hand. “Cooper Knox, would you be my plus-one?”
“I’d be honored.”
“Great. I’ll wear my least murderous outfit, and you can leave your handcuffs at home.” I pause, reconsidering. “Actually, bring the handcuffs. Just for recreational purposes.”
Cooper’s lips curve into a wicked grin before he sobers up quickly. “Why would Jimmy want my sister out of the picture, Effie?”
I sigh, wishing I had a good answer. “I’ll get the dirty details, but first...” I lean across the table, closing the distance between us until our lips meet.
The kiss is hot enough to melt the polar ice caps, a sharp contrast to the Christmas-themed debauchery happening around us. Cooper tastes like nachos and promises that I’m not sure either of us can keep, but for this moment, I don’t care.
When we finally come up for air, I spot Niki making her way toward us, Watson trotting at her heels with what appears to be a sequined pasty stuck to his fur.
“Time to go,” I tell Cooper, who nods in agreement.
We collect Watson, detach the inappropriate souvenir from his golden coat, and make our way through the crowd toward the exit. The cold December air hits like a slap after the overheated club, but it’s a welcome relief.
“Your place?” Cooper asks as we reach the parking lot.
“Thought you’d never ask.” I grin up at him.
We hightail it out of there because I’m about to do my best impression of a ho, ho, ho . Well, almost my best impression.
As we drive away from Red Satin, I can’t help but glance in the rearview mirror at the neon sign growing smaller in the distance.
Two brothers dead from the same poison, a lineup of suspects with solid motives, my uncle’s hit assignment on Cooper’s sister, and a looming Christmas Eve Eve party where all the players will converge.
I’d bet my last candy cane that someone is planning to add another body to their naughty list before Santa slides down the chimney—and this time, I might not be able to blame it on natural causes or someone else’s handiwork.