Santa Clause 2 Bernard Novels & Stories

Once her slippers were on, she headed into the kitchen. But no Elijah… He wasn’t even there… But there was a brown paper bag on the counter, her name sprawled across it. Starlight grinned as she opened the bag and found a large breakfast burrito wrapped in foil inside. And a note. She pulled out the note and carried her burrito to the kitchen table. It read: ‘On the first night of Christmas, my Star took from me: sleep. But I’m not complaining. Not one bit… Be back with the Thomas clan around 9:30 a.m. Take it slow, little Star… E.’

**Chapter 15: A Stealthy Confrontation** Claus had managed to slip into the dimly lit warehouse and was now eavesdropping on the conversation between the mysterious man and another individual. The tension in the room was palpable, and Claus could sense that they were close to uncovering crucial information. As Claus continued to listen, he heard the man mention an exchange of information. The other person inside the warehouse must have valuable details about the Beast's plans and the whereabouts of Rick and El Patricio. Suddenly, the conversation ended, and the mysterious man exited the warehouse, clutching another envelope in his hand. Claus knew he couldn't let this opportunity slip away.

How far can the bastard have gone? Then, I see him again, tall against the crowd. He emerges from the next door along from Antonio's, a small hair-salon-cum-barber-shop. Shoving something into his pocket, he turns my way... The clothing store? It appears Santa Claus is doing his rounds, collecting his gifts from all the little boys and girls on his list, regardless of whether they're naughty or nice. Hastily, I move on, cross the street to merge with the hubbub of people, then double-back on myself to wait, watching the store entrance as he enters, strolling in as though he owns the fucking place.

“Or cause any pain to your family. I’m so sorry.” Clara reached across the table and patted my hand. “I know, dear. And deep down, I think Bernard knows it too. He’s just... struggling right now. With the infestation, losing our trees... it’s been hard on all of us, but especially on him.” I nodded, understanding the gruff Alpha a bit more now. “Thank you for sharing this with me, Clara. It helps to understand where he’s coming from.” She smiled warmly. “Of course. I hope it helps. And I hope you know that despite Bernard’s behavior, I think you and Chris make a lovely couple.”

"Dig in, Lyra. These are all your favorites." Dad quietly looked on. He lifted his wine glass and said softly to the empty seat, "Merry Christmas, Lyra." Ava and Jamie also joined in, saying, "Merry Christmas, Lyra." Outside, fireworks burst again, lighting the night sky. They were as bright and lively as last year, but this time, a member of the family was missing, and she was gone forever. That blizzard at the rest stop last Christmas had frozen an 18-year-old Omega she-wolf to death, and with her, the hearts of an entire family died, too.

Father Richard Carson—sixties, Irish softness in the vowels, glasses low, silver-and-gold pen poised over an inventory list. They nearly bumped. Apologies. Handshakes. Bernard made the introductions. “We’re waiting on a second shipment from Tunisia,” the priest added, fatigue in his voice. “A second shipment?” Julia brightened, tugging William closer by the hips as if to share the spark. A soft buzz rolled through the building—the loading bay call. Right on time, Bernard thought, and thumbed his radio. “Larry.” “Security,” came the muffled reply, mid-chew. “Disable the roller door alarm and leave the door open, please. One item.”

His head leaned back a little. I kept romancing him. My fingers worked deeper into his shoulders. The other girls noticed. I signaled them sharp, but quietly with my eyes to give me space. They smiled, moving away. Bernard continued talking. “The offshore accounts in Switzerland are safe for now. But we need to shift another fifteen million before the audit.” The bald man chuckled. “You always find a way, Bernard. That’s why we follow you.” I leaned closer. My breasts pressed softly against the back of his head. I whispered near his ear, my voice low and sweet. “You look so tense tonight, sir. Let me take care of you.”

"I asked her if she was coming and she said that she's here." "Okay, thanks," Caden replied, rushing off. "I'll find her!" He searched the crowd, looking at every face, and hoping beyond all hope that he found Jocelyn. Then the parade started, and huge floats passed around the town square. Santa's Workshop, complete with elves who were throwing out candy; Rudolf heading up Santa's sleigh; but the one he liked the most was a manger scene with Santa kneeling before the baby Jesus, placing a gift at His feet. But Caden kept scanning the crowd, looking for Jocelyn.

His laughter peeled through the warehouse echoing off of the cement walls, heightening his insanity. Bernard had never been so happy in all his life. All his years of searching. All his time and money spent to bring her back to him and she had been right under his nose most likely the entire time. Those goddamn alerts that had his men running around like chickens with their heads cut off, they had damn near driven him insane. Yes he would punish her. He would punish her, punish the man. Punish the club. He’d even punish the children and anyone that had dared to associate with what was his.

“It was Christmas when I came home for the holidays. I was devastated about breaking up with Marco over my parents, of course. So, browsing around for a bit to distract myself, I got this email. I didn't even remember having this account anymore, so I logged in again just to delete it. She closed her eyes at the memory. Definitive proof that her father was a lot worse than he thought. Charlotte had grown up hearing strange phone calls in the dead of night and visiting from men…creepy. That's why she feared when the senator told her he would hurt Marco if she didn't obey. But what she saw on Christmas Eve was proof live and in color that Bernard McKeena was one hell of a bad guy.