Santa's Ninja Elves, Page 2
Lizzy Ford
Gloria’s tap at the door the next morning resonated like a gong in her head. Natasha flew out of bed, two knives drawn before she oriented herself. She whipped open the door. Gloria took a surprised step back.
“Breakfast, dear,” she managed. “You alright?”
“Uh, yeah,“ Natasha hid the visible knife behind her back “I’ll be down in a few minutes.” She closed the door and locked it then tossed her knives and rubbed her face. Curly hadn’t called. Whipping out her cell phone, she navigated to her email to see he’d sent her a short reply.
Negative on all accounts.
Blowing out a sigh of frustration, Natasha took a quick shower and dressed again in all black before trotting down the stairs. The others were already seated and eating at the table with the spot beside the guy from Florida open. She sat and glared at her plate.
“We’ll see who eats who this time,” she promised the gingerbread-shaped pancakes.
“I take it you have regular run-ins with gingerbread people,” the man from Florida said.
“You’d be surprised.”
“After our conversation last night, I don’t think I would.”
She looked up at the amusement in his voice. He wore a green sweater that made his eyes as mysterious as the deepest pine forest. She stared, wondering how she’d overlooked just how handsome he was. His eyes glowed. His skin glowed. His smile glowed. She didn’t glow. She was a storm cloud, and he was the sun.
“You have elf ears.”
“It’s a deformity. Medical science has proven there’s no such thing as an elf,” she repeated the standard issue emergency line for when people noticed her ears.
“I was gonna say they’re cute.”
“Cute?” she echoed. “You think my ears are cute.”
“Very.” He tucked her hair behind one. His touch was warm and light. For some reason, she felt a hot blush cross her face. “I thought elves were little green people.”
“They’re not green!” she said, offended. “They look like normal humans, except for their ears and feet.”
“Ok, then,” he said, taken aback. “Elf or no, I’m sure your feet are as cute as your ears.”
“What do you mean by that?” she asked, her eyes narrowing.
“Nothing, I promise.” He held up his hands with a chuckle. “You’re a hard girl to get to know. Most of the times, when I’m interested in someone, I don’t have any problems getting them to talk to me. Heck, even a first date is a given with these pearly whites. But you … You’re kind of different.”
“You’re using psychological operations on me.”
“Wow. Not even sure what to say there. I guess you’re ignoring the part about me being interested in you.”
“That’s not normal, and you’re mourning an ex-fiancée.”
“From the mouth of Caesar, and thanks for the reminder. I’d been trying to forget that,” he said and looked away. “We can drop it. Have some hot cocoa. She put mint in it.” He poured her a cup and fell silent.
Natasha felt truly bad for the first time since meeting him. She remained suspicious of him, despite Curly clearing him as a suspect, but she hadn’t meant to give him such a painful slap in the face about his ex-fiancée. She took a sip of her cocoa, suspecting he wouldn’t want to take her to the Christmas shop. She wasn’t sure why she felt disappointed, but she did.
“What’s your name again?” she asked.
“Matt.”
“I’m not good with names.” Unless they’re on my target list. That thought she kept silent. “Are you still going to the Christmas store after breakfast?”
“Yes. Do you want to come?” he asked.
“I guess. I get sick of Christmas stores, but I’ll go.”
“Good, I think.”
They ate in silence. Even Santa’s kitchens would be challenged to produce gingerbread pancakes of this quality. Her eyes darted around the table as she tried to find someone who would fit the profile of an assassin. Once again, she drew a blank. She wondered just what Mrs. Clause had seen in Hillsboro that convinced Santa to send Natasha. It wasn’t like him to waste one of his top ninja elves to an assignment that wasn’t important. Unless …
He thought she was getting rusty. She was the oldest of the assassins. Maybe she wasn’t as sharp as the others, or maybe he’d lost his trust in her. She pulled out her phone and sent an email to Curly to ask him if there were any rumors floating around up there about Santa putting her on the retirement list. Usually, people started talking long before the retirement list was made public.
Her spirits even further depressed, she trudged out of the house behind Matt after breakfast. The sky held steely clouds that promised more snow later, and the air was cold. Matt wore a thick coat, but she was used to the cold, white landscape and walked out in nothing more than her turtleneck. Her specially made boots gripped the snowy sidewalk in a way no normal shoes could. It had snowed a foot, and the flakes clung to her lower calves as she made her way to the rental car.
“We may not be going anywhere after all,” Matt said, hands on his hips as he stood beside the car. A snow plough had pushed a four foot wall of snow and ice against it.
“At least I’m good for something,” she said. She went to the snow wall and pulled free a pouch of the glittery deicer they used at the North Pole. She sprinkled the glitter over the wall and tossed some in front of the car, so they could pull out. Within seconds, the snow wall was gone.
“How’d you do that?” Matt breathed.
“It’s just something we use up north,” she replied vaguely.
“Amazing.” He opened her door for her, and she stared at him. Before she could say anything, he held up a hand. “Look, I realize if you can melt snow, you can get your own door. Just allow me to pretend to be of use to you.”
She got in, and he closed it.
“I’m not used to this,” he said as he slid into the driver’s seat. He blasted the heater and rubbed his hands together. His nose turned red in the cold, and she almost smiled. “So where you from up north?”
“Alaska.”
“You’re used to this weather.”
“More or less.”
“Are there lots of elves in Alaska?” he asked. She was ready to retort when she saw his faint smile. She bit back the words.
“Yes, tons of us,” she said. “Enough to replace me, seeing as how I’m a total failure.”
“What do you mean?”
“I think my boss sent me here to keep me out of the way. He’s lost his faith in me.”
“That’s rough. Ever consider a new job?”
“No, never. Figured one day, someone would kill me before I killed them. Never needed a back-up plan,” she said glumly.
“I imagine it’d be hard to find a new job with your unique… skill set.” He managed to sound sympathetic, and she looked at him. “Can you do anything else?”
“I can’t cook or sew or design toys.”
“And you’re not very good with people,” he added. “So we can rule out anything involving customer service. Or working in an office.”
“I’m good at board games and I designed websites for a few people up north.”
“Now that’s a good skill to have.”
“Board games?” she asked.
“No, website designing. People pay good money for that. And you could do it from home, so you don’t have to work with people.”
“I could do that,” she said. “And if a client doesn’t pay, I’ll keep a stock of candy cane bullets.”
“It might be a better idea to have someone who manages the business and client aspect of this,” he advised. “If you kill your clients, no one else will want to work with you, and then you wouldn’t have a job anymore.”
“I can see that.” She pulled out her phone to see if Curly had replied. His unread message popped up, waiting for her to open it. Her heart beating faster, she did.
“Bad news?” Matt asked, glancing at her.
“My coworker says my boss put me on the retirement list. No more Christmas assassinations for me,” she said. He choked on something and coughed. She stared out the window, thinking about his website suggestion. Matt beat on his chest, his face red. She waited until he seemed ok before asking, “Where could I find someone to manage clients?”
“With your background … “ he started. “I could help you.”
“Really?”
“I think so, yeah.” He didn’t sound too sure. She didn’t have a chance to ask him more as he parked in front of a small store whose windows were blinking with Christmas lights. As soon as she opened the door, she smelled her favorite treat: caramelized pecans with cinnamon. Matt trailed her into the store. She went straight to the small snack counter tucked in one corner.
“May I?” he asked and held up his wallet.
She nodded and looked around. The store was an eclectic mix of antiques, Christmas decorations, winter clothes, and the snack corner.
“Since you’re about to retire, have you ever considered wearing anything but black?” Matt asked, joining her in the middle of the store. “You’ve got a real pretty face, but black does nothing for you.”
She looked up at him, again caught in his dark green eyes. His gaze was always warm when he looked at her, his smile making her feel comfortable despite the jitteriness his nearness caused. She wondered what it was about him that drew her. He was an open book, an oddity
