A Santini Christmas

by Melissa Schroeder

  “Hey, did you hear what I said?”

  The annoying college student asked the question and tugged on her arm. She almost lost her tray full of glasses.

  “Sorry, it’s hard to hear in here.”

  He still had hold of her arm and she sensed some kind of movement behind her. She knew without looking who was there.

  “Is there a problem here?” Stewart asked, his voice deathly calm. She didn’t think she’d ever heard that tone from him before.

  The college kid’s attention shifted from her to the hulking figure of Stewart. The sneer on his lips faded and he lost most of the color of his face.

  “Uh…”

  “Is that supposed to explain why you still have hold of the lady’s arm?”

  Frat boy looked down at her arm and then dropped it as if he had been burned.

  “Sorry,” he mumbled.

  “I think you need to finish up and head on out.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He sat back down and she turned to face Stewart. She wanted to tell him to take a leap, but the look on his face sent a blast of ice racing through her blood. This was not the man who had blushed when Thelma had told stories about him or the one who had kissed her the night before.

  This was the Marine.

  It took her another moment to gather her wits.

  “Santini, take a step back.”

  He finally broke eye contact with the college kid. It took a second before his eyes softened a bit.

  “Okay.”

  She stepped around him, but she felt him follow her back to the bar.

  “Do you get that a lot?”

  She didn’t appreciate the tone. It was as if he was accusing her of something.

  “Only when they drink too much. Of course, it isn’t always college kids. I get problems from some of the Marines around here too. Drunkards come in all classes.”

  “What are their names?”

  She glanced at him with a smile, realizing then that he was serious. “I don’t know, Santini. I don’t keep a record of every jackass that comes in here.”

  “You shouldn’t have to deal with them.”

  Sam looked over at them, and moved away. Coward. He was abandoning her to Stewart’s questions.

  “I can deal with them.”

  He watched her in silence. She knew he wasn’t done. She could practically feel his brooding. The man would have been a perfect Bronte hero.

  “Why do you work in a place like this?”

  Irritation, lack of sleep, and her own homesickness had left her with little patience. She also didn’t like that Stewart seemed to think he had a right to question her choices in life.

  “I work here because I like Sam and Thelma. I also like most of the regulars.”

  “Well, you shouldn’t.”

  She stopped putting the order Sam had just placed on the bar onto her tray.

  “I don’t think I asked for your opinion. In fact, it isn’t any of your business.”

  She finished collecting the order and headed back out. It was loud and smoky and she was now getting a headache. She smiled and tried her best to work the tables like she normally did, but Stewart’s attitude was starting to get her down. Worse, she couldn’t argue with him any more when she returned to the bar because he was gone. Disappeared in the night apparently.

  “You need to be nicer to Papa,” Sam said.

  “He needs not to question what I do for a living. I take it he left?”

  Sam nodded as he dried a glass. “He said he’d talk to me later and left.”

  Disappointment was the first emotion to hit her and that just made her angry. She wanted to yell at Sam but looking at her employer, she knew he was too tired at the moment. This time of year was always hard on him and Joey didn’t want to add to that.

  “Just two more hours, then we get to close up.”

  And with that, she went back out into the fray. It was best to just forget her problems and throw herself into work.

  By the end of those two hours, she was happy to shut the door and lock it behind the last customer.

  “Thank God. I thought they would never go away.”

  “Hey, we have to pay the bills,” Thelma said with a laugh. She’d been out all night talking with customers and helping field the tables. It was great to see her out and about. “Why don’t you head home?”

  Normally Joey would argue with Thelma. Tonight though, she couldn’t find the energy.

  “Sounds good. I’ll be in early tomorrow.”

  Christmas Eve. One of the best and worst nights in a bar—with people who would be there to celebrate the season and others who came to drown their sorrows.

  After pulling on her coat and grabbing her purse, she headed out to her apartment. She was about halfway home when she felt it. There was a feeling of being watched…followed. Ever since her attack years ago, she was normally very conscious of her surroundings.

  Stewart. He was probably there to make sure she made it home okay.

  “You can come out now. I know you’re there.”

  She gasped and found the frat boy from earlier standing just a few feet behind her.

  “So nice to see you again,” he said as he approached her.

  Chapter Eight

  Cold, unadulterated fear slithered through Joey’s blood. She’d seen that look on a guy’s face before. This time, though, it was different. This time, she wouldn’t take it.

  “I think you need to leave.” Her voice sounded stronger than she felt. She knew it was more about perception and not reality though. At least, that’s what Sam had taught her when he taught her to fight.

  Know your enemy.

  Frat boy couldn’t hold his liquor. She knew the little bastard was still tipsy. His words were slurring when he spoke. If she was lucky, he went to drink somewhere else.

  Lose your baggage.

  The memory of those words had her dropping her purse just in case the stupid boy didn’t leave.

  “Now why would I want to do that? I thought we could share some Christmas cheer.”

  The idiot kept approaching. He was close enough she could smell the stale beer emanating from him. He smelled as if he had bathed in it. He reached for her with those grubby little hands. Fear and anger surged as she swung her fist in his direction. He caught it, most probably by accident. It also gave her an opening. Joey raised her knee and hit him squarely in the crotch. He screamed and dropped her arm, falling to the ground.

  Don’t have pity. If they attack you, they deserve it. Don’t give the bastard an inch.

  He was on his knees, so she punched him. The crack of bone was particularly horrifying and pleasing at the same time. He fell back, blood spurting from his nose and his head hitting the pavement.

  “You fucking bitch. You broke my nose.”

  He apparently had enough beer to allow him to ignore the pain of the broken nose and the kick to his crotch because he was trying to stand again.

  Go in for the kill. No mercy until your enemy surrenders.

  She knew the one thing men protected more than anything else and she kicked him in the crotch again. This time, he fell into a fetal position. Footsteps sounded behind her. She turned ready to confront who was coming. Relief surged the moment she realized it was Stewart.

  He grabbed her by the upper arms and pulled her closer to him. “I thought you would be a little longer or I would have been here to walk you home.”

  There was a groan from behind her. Stewart looked over her shoulder and she watched as pleasure spread over his features.

  “You beat the shit out of him.”

  She laughed, but she knew it didn’t sound right. It sounded…off.

  He sighed, kissing her temple, and walked her to her apartment stairs. It was as if she was in a daze.

  He walked her up the steps, and unlocked the door for her. She realized he had picked up her purse at some point.

  “You sit here,” he said, leading her over to the kitchen table
. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Stewart,” she said as he turned to leave. “Don’t kill him.”

  He looked disappointed.

  “Okay.”

  “I kind of like you. I want to make sure you don’t go to jail.”

  At that, he gave her one of those smiles that usually melted every worry. For some reason, it didn’t this time. “Be right back.”

  By the time Papa made it back to the sight of the altercation, college boy was still there. What a dumbass.

  He was up on his knees, so Stewart squatted to look the bastard in the eye. Blood was smeared over his face; his nose was definitely going to be crooked. Damn, he loved that woman.

  “Shit, son, she really clocked you good.”

  “I’m going to sue that bitch.”

  Stewart leaned closer so their faces were only a few inches apart. “First, you’re not going to admit to anyone that a girl beat you up.”

  “She didn’t.”

  Papa shook his head.

  “Yeah, she did, or you don’t have a case. Of course, if you do sue her or bother her in any way, you might want to run.”

  “What the fuck does that mean?”

  Papa grabbed him by the hair and jerked his head up so that frat boy could see that he meant business.

  “See, while you’ve been safe and cozy here in North Carolina, I’ve been trained by the United States Marine Corps. Know what I do, dipshit? I’m Special Forces. Know what that means?”

  The idiot shook his head.

  “That means your parents’ tax dollars have paid to teach me how to hunt other men. Hell, I spent six months in a foreign country doing just that. I’m in a unit that specializes in recon. There are other Marines who are afraid of my unit. And you know if the bravest men in the good old U S of A are afraid of us, you should be scared shitless.”

  He leaned closer so that he was only inches away from the bastard. “There will be no rock big enough to hide your cowardly ass, college boy. And when I find you…well, let’s just say dental records are going to be needed to identify your body and your poor mama is going to have to have a closed casket funeral. Understand?”

  “Y-yes.”

  “You get yourself home and hope I don’t change my mind and come find you later.”

  Then, even knowing it was stupid, he pulled back and slammed his fist into the bastard’s face. The coward went down, completely passing out from the last hit.

  Papa stood up, drew in a deep breath and headed back to Joey’s apartment. He wanted to kick his own ass for not getting back to the bar in time. He’d gone out, irritated that she was putting up roadblocks when he was sure he’d made some headway with her the night before. He had planned on being back to walk her to her apartment, but he’d gotten held up by an accident on the road.

  Rage still poured through him. He knew he didn’t have to hit the bastard at the end. Joey had taken care of herself pretty well, thankfully. He still wanted to hurt something…mainly someone. He’d gotten his punch in though. Now, he had to calm himself before he made it to the top of the stairs that lead to Joey’s apartment. He gulped in a few breaths of cold air, then opened the door.

  Joey tried to keep herself busy until Stewart made it back. She was filling up the teapot when the door opened slowly. Just like earlier that night, she knew who it was without looking. She hated the fact that she was comforted that he was there.

  “Are you okay?” he asked softly.

  She nodded, trying to hold it together. It would not be like last time. It wasn’t. This time, she defended herself. No one would be able to say it was her fault.

  Joey felt him approach her, but she didn’t hear him. Part of that training he was so proud of.

  “Are you sure he didn’t hurt you?”

  “I didn’t give him the opportunity.”

  “Where did you learn to fight like that?”

  “Sam. When I started working there, he said I needed some lessons. I think Thelma told him…”

  She realized then how upset she was. She had almost blurted out the one thing she told almost no one. He touched her shoulder and she jerked.

  “Sorry.”

  “No, it just took me by surprise. It’s okay.”

  He slipped his arms around her, and she leaned back into his warmth. “You don’t always have to be the strongest person in the room, Joey.”

  She sighed as she closed her eyes trying to keep the tears from falling. The confrontation had her entire body on alert and, normally, she would shy away from physical contact. With Stewart, it was different. There was something about him that had her yearning for his touch.

  “I don’t want to be the strongest. I just want to survive.”

  And that was all she had been thinking about when she started to hit that college kid. He’d touched her and she was back in high school, Jason Pierson’s sweaty hands on her and she’d lost it. Right there and then, Joey wasn’t sure if she had hit the college kid because of what he had tried or what Jason had done five years earlier.

  “Well, you definitely did that. I have little doubt that college boy will remember to respect women after tonight.”

  She laughed but it ended on a sob.

  “Hey, Joey, baby.”

  His voice was equal parts soothing and panic. It was a strange combination that she would have normally laughed at, but right now, she didn’t see a reason to laugh. Stewart turned her his in arms so they faced each other. He pulled her closer and just held her. Joey felt the brush of his mouth against her temple. His heart beat against her ear. He stood there in her apartment and rocked her.

  “I…” she couldn’t think of anything to say. She shivered as the adrenaline started to fade and she realized how close she had been to going through that experience again.

  “Shh,” he said. And for once, she listened to a man. She sobbed against Stewart’s shirt and again, she didn’t know if it was for tonight or for the memories that still bothered her. It didn’t really matter. All that mattered was that she was safe, there in Stewart’s arms.

  After a few moments, he lifted her into his arms and walked her into the alcove where her bed was. He laid her on the bed and Joey expected him to lay down with her.

  Instead, he kissed her forehead. The gentle touch had her craving something else, something more from a man. Something she hadn’t wanted for five long years. The need had been building the last three weeks. Every time she was with him, the ache for him grew. When she reached for him, he shook his head.

  “That wouldn’t be right.”

  Disappointment crashed down on her. She realized he must have figured out what had happened all those years ago and there were men who were disgusted by women who’d been raped.

  She sighed, not realizing until now just how much she had needed him to touch her. She was agitated by her own desires and his reaction to them. When she spoke, her voice was harsher than it normally was.

  “Then, just go.”

  He shook his head again. “I’ll sleep on the couch. You rest. I’ll be here if you need me.”

  Stewart kissed her on the forehead again, then pulled the sheet she used for privacy closed. She lay back down and stared at the water stained ceiling above her bed. Joey wanted to be mad. She was irritated, but there was comfort in knowing that Stewart was just a few feet from her. It was something new for her. Comfort with a big old bad Marine standing guard.

  With that thought, she slipped off her shoes and jeans. At that point, she just decided sleeping in her t-shirt was enough. Moments later, she was snugged in her bed; the horror of the night fading and the contentment of having Stewart close by filled her.

  Damn Marine.

  It was her last thought before falling asleep.

  Chapter Nine

  Papa woke up before the sun. Years of training couldn’t stop that from happening. He was a creature of habit, unfortunately. He sat up and stretched. The cracks that sounded as he twisted his back made him feel old. He knew he wa
s much too young for those kinds of sounds to emanate from his body.

  He hadn’t had much sleep. Part of it was the couch. He doubted Joey would have been able to fit on it. The other trouble he had was the woman herself.

  She hadn’t said much about her past, but he had figured out part of it. He knew she didn’t trust men. He thought she’d been burned, maybe treated badly by a guy so she avoided them. Now he knew better.

  There was no mistaking the terror he’d seen on her face last night as she beat the shit out of the college boy. Even with the situation, he felt his lips twitch. The women packed a hell of a punch and Papa was pretty sure that kid would think twice about taking on a woman again. Hell, with the kick to his crotch, Papa wasn’t sure the kid was going to have a fully functioning weapon for a while.

  His smile faded as his mind moved back to Joey. He decided not to think too much about the woman. He was a little too raw from the night before and besides, he had morning needs to attend to.

  After he was done, he walked out of the tiny bathroom and glanced toward the curtain where Joey slept. As soon as he had closed it the night before, he knew it was more than just to shield herself in the room. It seemed she was cocooned from the world in a way. She participated, but she was always careful about how much she involved other people in her life. Damn, he had to have been stupid not to have picked up on some things. She didn’t scare easily. Now that he looked back, there were times that she positioned herself in a place to have a quick escape. She was skittish of men…but not him. Not now. She seemed comfortable around him. Last night, she’d wanted him in her bed. And sadly, he had turned her down.

  He sighed. That had been one of the hardest things to do. From the moment he had seen Joey Antonio he had wanted her. It wasn’t something he could explain to most people, but he understood the Santini Curse. Most Santini men knew when they met the woman for them. He had mocked it for years. The younger generation always did. Papa hadn’t truly believed it until he’d stepped into that bar. Now, he knew what his uncles and father talked about.