Santa E-Book

Emma Calin

• Herausgeber: Emma Calin
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2018

Beschreibung

A street-hardened cop, a lonely woman. Dare she unwrap the Christmas gift of love from a dangerous Santa?

For Paula Middleton, the season of love is not just Christmas. As a cop on the hard streets of south London she knows the value of mercy. As a woman alone she fills her life with love for others in her community. When her kindness conflicts with the ruthlessness of the law, the heartless system of police discipline moves against her.

Max Muswell has a reputation as a hard man, a local boy-made good. Never overstepping the mark, always bending the rules, he’s charming but ruthless. 

Crossing swords with this tough and dominating man could be the end of her career or the chance of mind-blowing passion to last a lifetime. 

Can love for all men also become the love of one man for one woman? Can the sparkle of snow find an echo in the sparkle of a diamond to last for every season?

If you enjoy James Patterson, Nora Roberts, Catherine Coulter and Kendra Elliot, you'll love a series that combines all of their best traits in fast-paced, pulse-pounding roller-coaster adventures full of passionate steamy romance, danger and love.

Scroll up and click the buy link now and be inspired by this feel-good Christmas story, at any time of year.

The complete Passion Patrol Series:

Combat
Dynasty
Seduction of Taste
Dynasty Plus – Gourmet Book Bundle Edition
Crowns
Santa
Wealth

Coming Summer 2019: Power
Coming Autumn 2019: Desire

Leseprobe

SEDUCTION OF SANTA

By

Emma Calin

SEDUCTION OF SANTA

By Emma Calin

First published 2017

By Gallo-Romano Media

Copyright © 2017 Emma Calin

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 any information storage and retrieval system, without prior written permission of the author. Your support of authors’ rights is appreciated.

All characters in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Dedication

To the men and women of the Metropolitan Police at Christmas.

Table of Contents

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SEDUCTION OF SANTA

By Emma Calin

Seduction of Santa

Chapter 1

Christmas? Who needed Christmas, for Christ’s sake? Wasn’t life difficult enough already?

Police Constable 866L, Paula Middleton, cruised the early evening streets of Brixton, South London, noting the houses with fairy lights and flashing neon reindeer in the front windows. The big bizz machine of buy, buy, buy had been at full power since Halloween. This year she just hadn’t been able to capture the mood.

She swung the Ford Focus into the shadowy yard of Meadowchef Foods, a big wholesale supplier to cafés and restaurants. Trucks queued to load and unload at the line of warehouse doors. Mixed with the diesel smoke, flecks of icy sleet showed up in the headlamps. That’s all she needed. Her assignment was routine. The manager wanted to discuss a hike in thefts. She parked the car and tried to find her professional concerned-and-interested face. She knew from experience that often the staff were the principal suspects. The wages here were low, the staff shifting and often without immigration papers. They would watch a cop show up and just maybe think twice before they stole again. No one would thank her for turning over too many stones.

There was a shout, and dodging between the trucks was a running male figure, clasping something under his jacket. In her soul she sighed. She was forty-one years old, thirteen years of service, and still on the bottom rank. Did she still have the dynamism to chase this guy alone, out into the dark streets? She was a cop. She had to be something genuine.

She was breathing hard, but gaining. The guy was still clutching his prize inside his jacket, making it hard for him to run. He hadn’t looked round and maybe didn’t know she was behind in the shadows. As a community officer she knew many of the local citizens, criminal or otherwise. There was something familiar about the guy ahead of her. She was still gaining and had gotten close enough to see he was limping. In a few seconds she would have a hand on his collar.

“Leroy, Leroy Prentice. I’m getting too old for this.”

The suspect took another few steps and then paused as she came to a halt at his side.

“Leroy, you’re under arrest, OK. Your poor bloody mother’s going to go ballistic.”

He hung his head, breathing hard.

“I told her I’d bring in something to eat.”

“So you went thieving?”

He nodded.

“I’m on a suspended jail sentence. Please. Please. If you nick me I’m locked up.”

“Why ain’t you got any money?”

“The rent, the...”

“The blow, the crack or what?”

Leroy stared at the floor. As far as she could remember he was nineteen. Paula knew the family well. His mom, Melissa, was on her own and had been since Leroy was a baby. She had a younger boy Benny, with learning issues.

“What have you got in your coat?”

“Nothing.”

“Just show me.”

He pulled out a pack of catering quality burgers, two frozen pizzas and a pack of processed chopped chicken meat.

“Was it worth getting sent back to jail for that load of crap?”

The lad stared at his old torn trainers.

“How’s your mom and Benny?”

“OK.”

“Just fuck off, Leroy. Just get home and say nothing. You didn’t get caught. This never happened, OK. Stay out of Meadowchef’s yard. Do you understand?”

“What?”

“Keep the food and just fuck off. Like now.”

He didn’t need any more encouragement. He’d just made it to the next junction when she heard running footsteps behind her. It was a small man in shabby suit with an overweight security guard.

“That was him. He’s getting away,” said the guard.

“I stopped a guy but it wasn’t your man.”

“Yeah, that was him. Boss, that was him.”

Paula kept calm. She was in the shit, but it wouldn’t be the first time.

“Look, he was a young black guy. This is Brixton; who else are you going to see?”

“No, I saw you all the way. I couldn’t quite get off the loading bay fast enough to catch you up.”

“That’s ’cause you’re a useless fat bastard,” said the small guy.

She smiled at him. He was a pale middle-aged man with smoke-stained teeth and a wispy dandruff-speckled comb over. Just for the moment he could be George Clooney.

“Nice to meet you, sir. I’m Paula, your community officer.”

“I’m Nigel, logistics manager. Shall we go back to my office?”

“Only if you’ll get me a nice cup of tea, Nigel. An officer always needs places where she can get some friendly company.”

Nigel smiled, but the guard was still excited.

“Boss, that was the guy. She let him go.”

“The officer has told you he wasn’t so that’s an end to that. Get back on your patrol.”

They walked in silence back to the depot. The security guy peeled off still mumbling.

“He was only trying to do his job, Nigel. It’s an honest mistake to make in the dark.”

“Paula, I’m the boss here. A lot of these idle bastards are useless, including that slob. This place would be nothing without me. If I can ever help you, or if you’d like a few sausages, or a nice bit of beef? We’ll have turkeys in next week so just come to me.”

His expression had become almost a leer as he surveyed her body. She could definitely resist both his meat and his sausages. Just for now she’d play along. They walked through the depot, dodging fork trucks and grubby workers carrying trays of blood-dripping meat and chickens. He opened a door to an untidy damp smelling windowless office and took a seat behind a grey metal desk. She took a seat to face him.

“So Nigel, you’ve got an issue with theft.”

“Yeah. All that lot out there are thieves, a load of scuzzbuckets and scumbags. We search them all the time. We’ve got hidden cameras in the toilets to watch them poking bags of frozen prawns and hot dogs into their stinking underwear. They throw stuff over the walls, they hide stuff under the trucks. We caught some of them munching frozen doughnuts they’d hidden next to their skin to thaw out. They’re morons, Paula. People like you and me, you know, from the educated executive class, we know what these people are.”

She wanted to keep him on her side, but couldn’t find any suitable words.

“Does your human relations department deal with these issues?”

Nigel let out a cracked metallic snort.

“What? Human relations for that lot? The guv’nor hires and fires. He relies on me to keep this shit-hole turning over.”

“And who’s the guv’nor?”

“Max Muswell.”

“Why do I know that name?”

The manager sniggered.

“Loads of people know Mr Muswell, including a lot of your top bosses. He runs training stables for racehorses. He was on the TV when his horse beat the Queen’s in the Derby last year.”

“Why does he want this business?”

“Money, Paula, money. He picked it up for nothing. He’s nationwide these days. He’s undercut all the others and raced them to the bottom and deeper. He’s brought in low-cost labor on zero-hour contracts, he’s scrapped the pension scheme, he uses self-employed drivers. You know, guys who push to the limits and aren’t too difficult, if you know what I mean.”

She knew very well what he meant. This guy was incredible. He was so keen to big himself up to a woman that he’d expose the shady operation of Meadowchef Foods for an ounce of kudos. Maybe her looks and size 16 charms still had some traction.

“He sounds very single minded and progressive.”

“He’s a hard man to beat. You must have read about his divorce?”

“Juicy divorce stories aren’t my idea of entertainment. It was bad enough going through my own.”

“His wife was that actress Azzura Vermillion. Christ Almighty, she was a right old brass, took him for everything and left him with her kid, some brat she had by Romano Poxato the film director.”

“Yeah, I sort of remember that. I really should get out more.”

“Just imagine, your missus going over the side, getting herself pregnant and then handing you the babe.”

For a moment she reflected on what must have been a personal tragedy. For sure she would be Googling the scandalous details later. The guy in front of her didn’t seem bothered about the Leroy Prentice incident. She wanted to stay professional.

“You believe your theft problem is mainly staff then. Where do you recruit them?”

“Well, Paula, you and I are practical people. There’s a couple of business gentlemen who specialize in providing flexible labor solutions to our type of company. Mr Muswell prides himself on providing employment for many who would not otherwise find any work.”

“Like you have to accept the people they supply?”

Nigel gave a thin smile.

“I can see you understand,” he said.

Indeed she understood. Traffickers presented illegal immigrants to companies and took a big wedge of the wages as an old-fashioned protection racket. The workers were effectively slaves and had no choice. With no papers they could hardly escape and run to the police. Shortage of housing and high rents meant that regular low-skilled workers couldn’t live in London.

“I’m guessing you don’t want police to interview any of your workers?”

“Nah, fucking hell not. Look, Paula, most of them don’t speak English. We can deal with these creatures ourselves. Mr Muswell wants to keep out those thieving bastards from the Loughborough estate. At Christmas this place is rammed with stuff and every toe-rag in London has got this sort of place on his list. If the cops can lock up a few, it’ll put the others off. Between you and me he’s threatening to put some loose Doberman dogs in the yard.”

“Nigel, I couldn’t support that. Loose guard dogs are against the law. A kid could get torn to shreds.”

“Yeah, well, I’m just saying, you know. Come on, Paula, we’re on your side against this scum.”

She replied with a weak nod of her head. This guy was in her lifetime top ten of repulsive men. He continued.

“Now what about that tea? I expect you’ve got cozy tea spots on your patrols, Paula? If you ever needed just to rest your feet I’ve got a little nest upstairs for when I’m here at night. Maybe you work nights yourself sometimes?”

She watched his leering eyes sweep up and down her body. His mouth raised on one side revealing his brown teeth. He stood up and brushed past her to go a table behind her. His stained clothes smelled of animal blood, vegetables, and diesel fuel.

“I believe you said you aren’t married yourself?”

His phlegm-rattled voice licked her like a cold lizard’s tongue. She felt vulnerable and dirty. He looked up from pouring the tea.

“Quite amazing that no one’s snapped you up. Many men—real men I think, like a bit of flesh on a woman.”

Fuck! She needed to slap this man down, but also needed to keep him sweet. Why the hell had she let Leroy go? She knew why but this was not the moment to reflect upon her wider life. She stayed quiet while he restarted his sales pitch.

“And, may I say, prices are shooting up. A nice turkey, a supreme quality pudding and maybe a nice sack of Brussel sprouts could be a big help at Christmas?”

Paula started to laugh.

“Some girls get offered diamonds, others gold. How could a girl resist a man with a sack of brussel sprouts?”

Nigel let out a metallic whinny.

“Not being rude mind, not saying anything personal, but a little helping hand, a small act of friendship between executive-level people is normal. It’s a shame that thieving bastard got away ’cause at first I thought you’d caught him. I know you cops don’t want all that paperwork. I’d have done the same myself if you know what I mean. You take them to court and the fucking do-gooders let them walk free.”

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. She was too soft for this job. She knew it and the bosses knew it. She thought back to her first days on the beat with her tutor constable Bob Lakin. He was an old sweat from the politically incorrect engine room, a survivor, a thief taker and a bit of a bruiser. He’d given her a bit of advice she’d never forgotten but never really used until now. “If you have to tell a lie, tell it with confidence and just keep telling it. Once you’ve lied that lie is your truth. Never ever go back. They’ll hang you for your honesty and take an extra rung on their career ladder. Never ever go back.”

“The guy I stopped was just a passerby. You were a long way back in the dark, Nigel.”

“Yeah, well we’ll keep it confidential between ourselves. eh?”

“No. The man I stopped was nothing to do with Meadowchef Foods. That’s it.”

He came back to his seat at the desk, handing her a greasy-feeling mug. She glanced at a picture of a naked grossly obese woman holding a bag of hamburger buns. The slogan read “Nice Rolls.”

“Nah, like I’m just saying, Paula. A nod’s as good as wink if you know what I mean? When I was a kid the copper would just slap you one in the mouth. Them days was better.”

She considered the possibility of a copper slapping him straight in the mouth with immediate effect. She had to negotiate her way out of this situation with honor.

“Nice tea, thank you.”

“A gorgeous woman is always welcome to the best catering blend we’ve got.”

“I feel honoured, Nigel. I’ll notify mobile patrols of your issues here and step up our attention to your yard. It seemed to me anyone can just walk in off the street.”

“Yeah, we’ve got trucks in and out all day and all night. We’ve got CCTV and barbed wire protecting all the walls. We could do with high voltage live wires but it’s not allowed is it?”

“No.”

Without warning the office door barged open.

“There’s a fucking police car in my parking bay,” said a strong male voice in a broad East-End cockney accent.

She turned to see a tall man in his mid-to-late forties. His hair was cropped quite short, his cheek was scarred, and his nose a little deflected. His skin had a rugged outdoor look. Her eyes flicked to his Rolex watch, a chunky ruby ring on his finger, and the beautiful fit of his blue Chester Barrie Savile Row suit.

She stood up to offer her hand to shake. He didn’t respond but looked her up and down.

“Your car then, is it?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I need it shifted.”

“I think you need to get a few manners.”

“Fucking what? This is my depot, my business, and my parking bay. I’ve got a new Rolls Royce out there with fucking morons swerving trucks round it. If one of those braindead monkeys dents my motor, your boss is going to get the bill.”

His eyes were deep-set and at the dark end of hazel.

“My bosses are villains. They don’t pay bills.”

“Yeah, tell me about it, officer. You lot are the biggest gang of crooks in London.”

She offered her hand once more. He took it and gripped it with an edge of anger.

“Nice to meet you, Mr Muswell.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Now move that heap of shit out of my bay.”

“I take it you don’t want me to introduce myself?” she said.

“You have. You’re a copper and you’re on my turf, that’s it.”

“In the absence of any courtesy I’ll leave my card. I’m Paula Middleton, your community officer.”

“Look sweetheart, I want you out of my bay. If you want to see me, make an appointment. The only thing you lot are good at is drinking tea. I’ll apologize for swearing in the presence of a lady. Christ knows what good a woman can do on these streets. I pay a huge wedge of tax and I get nothing back.”

“Well, maybe I’ll use some taxpayer’s money to pull over a couple of your trucks and check their driver’s hours records, tires, and licenses.”

“Don’t threaten me. Those punch bags run their own trucks. Do what you like with them, there’s plenty more where they come from.”

Paula sighed inwardly. In less than one hour she’d met not only the most repulsive man of a lifetime, but also the most obnoxious.

“If you have any problems you can always call me. I’ll get you an appointment or I can come round, if there’s a parking space. The hardworking taxpayer buys those cars.”

“Like you care, sweetheart. You lot get a good pension while business people like me have to graft and pay right up to the grave.”

“I’m always pleased to meet a true conscientious taxpayer, Mr Muswell.”

“Let’s go. I can’t waste any more time.”

She walked with him through the depot. The staff looked dishevelled, pale, and thin.

“I believe your personnel are provided by an agency of some kind?”

“What’s that to you? You just stick to plodding the beat.”

“You just stick to answering my question. Your manager asked me in to discuss theft, including theft by your own staff. How do you source your workers?”

“Through an agency, a legit business that’s none of your affair.”

Large high flood lamps illuminated the yard. The wind was cold and flecked with sleet. She couldn’t miss the silver and maroon Rolls-Royce Wraith coupe behind her humble Ford Focus. This guy was a bully, but she’d already sensed a weak point.

“If ever you want to talk about your labor situation, maybe I can help.”

He paused and looked into her eyes. There was an anger inside him which could beat another man without a fight. She’d charged into bars and pubs too often in her life to confront such men. While his alpha dominance could deflate a man, a woman provided a moving target. This was a guy whose anger was defensive and maybe self-destructive. His aggression was attractive to a woman and he knew it, wanted her to see more, was almost inciting her to push further. It was crazy, but there was just a little surge inside her.

“Let me stick to being a billionaire business man. You get back to the station and write blah, blah, blah on five hundred bits of paper.”

“Now you’re talking my language. It’s always great to meet someone who understands your problems, isn’t it?”

He looked her up and down, a smile on his lips.

“I think it said Paula on your card.”

“It did. I think your name is Max. If you ever want to chat about issues with the guys who supply your workforce you just give me a call, Max. Sometimes it’s good to talk to someone who wants to listen while you’ve still got the chance. You never know what’s round the corner.”

“You coppers are always trying to worm your way into people’s business.”

She’d had a gutful of this jerk.

“Mister, let’s call a spade a spade. Those people in there are dirty and hungry. You’re a tough guy all right. I can fucking see that and you ain’t any sort of pushover. I’ll be honest. I don’t think you want that situation, but thugs bigger than you ain’t giving you a choice. You’re Mister ruthless business man, blah, blah, blah as you put it. You’ve got serious organized bastards on your back. When you want to talk, call me. Now get that fucking great steel penis-substitute out of my way and I’ll leave you to think.”

“You’ve got some nerve.”