Page 5 of The Thief That Stole Christmas (Indulgence)

Zanya

Islowly wake when two large arms lift me from the car. Cradled in his embrace, I just want to close my eyes and carry on sleeping. But I’m going to need my wits about me for what’s coming next.

“You can put me down now, big guy,”

I say, pushing against his chest unsuccessfully.

“Be still,”

he orders me and a shiver runs down my spine.

“I’ll carry you inside and see you to bed.”

Huffing out a breath, I stop struggling and take in my surroundings. We parked in front of a cute little cottage that would have been the gatehouse in an era gone past. Vines climb up against the brick face And little pots of shrubbery line the outside of the house. I’m sure in the summer they would be bright with color, and I kind of wish I could be around to see it then.

The most noticeable thing about the place is the insane amount of Christmas decorations covering the tiny house. Strings upon strings of lights sparkle in the early dawn light. I don’t know what’s more surprising: that this scary man has a home so well decorated for Christmas, or that I can’t wait to stay there with him.

When we step up to the front door, he shuffles me around so I’m cradled in one arm while he unlocks the door. I gasp in shock when I take in the interior. I shouldn’t, considering the outside, but the cute cottage is made up like any elf’s dream house. A cosy fire is still crackling in the fireplace, just barely visible through the large archway leading to a living area. Wreaths are hung on the wall of the entryway, with fairy lights framing the archway.

He carries me into the living area where I can take in the warmth of the fireplace and the beauty of the large, live Christmas tree covered in bright, odd decorations. The only thing missing from the picture is the presents. As we’re still a week away from Christmas, that makes sense.

I’m gently placed on a large comfy couch, and I watch as Johannes takes a step back to look at me.

“Right, so, I have a spare bedroom; it’s nothing fancy but it has a bed and you’ll have your own bathroom. I’ll show you where it is in a minute. First, some rules.”

This is a new feeling. The need to be coddled and looked after warring with the side of me that takes umbrage with him just taking over and bossing me around. My Little side just wants to roll over and let him do what he pleases, but the me that broke into his boss’s place last night, the one that needs to be in charge, is not happy with this man barging into my life and laying down the law.

I find some kind of middle ground and cross my arms in front of me. I know I look like a petulant teenager right now, but I can’t help myself. I’m tempted to stick out my tongue at him but barely manage to suppress the urge.

“While we’re doing this, I need to know you’re safe at all times,”

he tells me.

“I’m not interested in keeping you trapped here. You’ll be able to go to work and do your thing, but I need you to check in with me. When you’re not at work, we need to be concentrating on your training. I’ll speak with Andre about getting a list together of potential targets and I’ll gather what intel I can on them so we can run through possible plans and scenarios.”

Okay, that isn’t too unreasonable. I nod in answer and encourage him to continue.

“Part of making sure you’re safe is ensuring that you’re cared for. You’ll have at least two decent meals a day and no less than eight hours of sleep every night.”

He pauses to glare at me when I start to interrupt him.

“That’s non-negotiable, Little Mouse. You will be in no fit state to take on all we’ve got in store if you’re not well fed and rested.”

There’s a knock on the door, and we both turn to look in that direction. Cameron’s head pops into the cottage and Johannes beckons him in with the lift of a chin.

“Took you long enough to get here. I’ve been watching out for your car,”

Cameron says by way of greeting.

“I had to make sure she was fed first,”

Johannes answers.

“Apparently, all she’d had to eat is some of your mom’s cookies she’d pilfered.”

“Of course that’s all she ate. Look at her.”

Excuse me? What the holy heck does that mean?

“What did you just say, you cockwomble? What exactly is wrong with the way I look?”

“Not a single thing is wrong with the way you look, but you’ve got Little written all over you. You’re just waiting for a Daddy to swoop in and look after you.”

Not only are my hackles up, but now he’s got me up off the couch that practically swallowed me up, it was so comfortable. I storm towards him and poke a finger in his chest, not caring in the least that both of them are easily twice my size.

“Fuck you! I’ve been looking after myself just fine for long enough. I looked after myself after my biologicals threw me out like yesterday’s rubbish.”

Another poke in the chest and I’m standing on the tip of my toes so my face is closer to his. At this point I’m shouting at him, the events of the evening and early morning finally forcing me to reach my breaking point.

“Then, when I was stuck in foster care, who do you think cared for me? Not those twatwaffles that only had me so they looked good with their friends. Nope, again that was me!”

I’m breathing heavily, riding the wave of rage like a pro surfer, carefully balancing on that fine line.

“And then, when my adoptive parents were ripped away from me and I was left with nothing but a rotten uncle who won’t give me access to the money I need to save my second home, who do you think looked after me then?”

I pause, as if giving him a chance to respond, but probably more for a little bit of dramatic effect.

“Oh, right! Me again. So, Mr. Perfect. You can fuck right off.”

“Feel better?”

Of all the things I’d have thought he would say after my rant, that is probably on the bottom of the list. The grumpy look on his face is replaced with a softness I don’t want to focus on right now.

Damn it.

I fall back onto my heels, physically deflating. I feel a lone tear run down my cheek, followed by another.

Before I know it, I’m pulled into Cameron’s arms, hiccuping sobs racking my body.

“Been keeping that in, have you? That’s okay, pretty girl. Get it out. I’ve got you.”

He’s rubbing my back in soothing circles, holding me up while I break apart in his arms. Keeping me together so I don’t shatter into a thousand little pieces. I don’t even know why I’m crying like this, but I can’t stop now that the floodgates are open.

“Jo, where is her room?”

he asks over my head before I’m picked up yet again.

I’ve no clue where he’s taking me, my face still buried in his pine-scented chest. My hands are gripping his arms like lifelines. A couple of steps later I’m being shuffled until I’m sitting in his lap. And then I’m being rocked, and slowly everything starts to feel just that little bit better. His fingers run through my hair in soothing strokes as he continues to rock us back and forth in what I’m assuming is a rocking chair.

My crying quiets down, and I can finally take a breath that isn’t racked with sobs.

“There we go, such a good girl, letting out all those icky feelings. Now close those eyes for me, and have a good sleep. Everything will be better once you’ve had a decent sleep.”

Emotionally and physically wrung out, I can’t do anything but obey his order. My eyes grow heavy, and before I know it, I’m fast asleep.

Johannes

Liewe fok.

Watching Cameron with the Little Mouse is exactly the wake-up I needed. He’s the perfect guy for someone like her. And watching him care for her, soothe her in a way I know I’ll never be able to do, brings it home.

I show them the way to the spare bedroom, where Ouma’s rocking chair is still housed. He sits down in the chair with her, rocking her back and forth. I back up out of the room and head back to the living room.

I’d fed Zanya at her little flat, but didn’t take the time to get myself something to eat, so I set about making breakfast. The methodical motions of kitchen prep unruffles some of my feathers, and before I know it I’ve got two plates full of toast, fluffy scrambled eggs, and bacon.

Just as I’m about to place the teapot on the kitchen table, Cameron walks in, looking like a million fucking bucks.

“She stopped crying and I got her to sleep.”

By silent agreement, he sits down at one of the place settings and pours himself a cuppa.

“She’s a feisty one, that’s for sure. I thought you were crazy when you shared your idea, but you might just be right. And it will liven things up again. Everything’s settled now that Amanda married the boss. I was starting to get bored.”

“You’ve certainly done an about-face pretty fucking quickly, boet.”

“Having a pretty little thing like that feel safe enough to break down in your arms will do that to you. To be honest, Jo, I know this isn’t something we’ve ever discussed, but we both go to the same clubs, so you know what I like. And she’s almost perfect.”

“Hmmm,”

I respond.

“What does ‘hmmm’ mean, exactly?”

“It means, I think you should be careful. It’s obvious she’s in a vulnerable state. And she’s going to be working with us.”

“So it’s not because you’re interested, too?”

“No!”

I say, and when he smirks at me, I could lean across the table and smack him in the face.

“Gotta say, Jo, didn’t know you would ever be into age play, but I suppose it just takes the right girl.”

“Fokof, man. I told you I’m not interested. And what the fuck are you doing trying to get me to admit I’m interested in the same girl you are?”

“Jo, mate, have you seen that girl? It will take both of us to keep her safe and well.”

I look at him, a frown on my face trying to work through what he’s saying. And then shake off the confusion because nothing’s changed.

“It doesn’t matter what I’m interested in, Cam. That girl will never be interested in someone like me.”

I shrug off the punch to the gut my own words cause.

“We’ll see about that,”

Cameron responds before digging into his breakfast.