“Come on,” I said to Santa and we all moved to the back of the truck, which Knight and Booker had opened.
“We were gonna check to see if anything was missing, and it looks like we picked up a new donation instead,” Knight said, smiling.
I looked inside and could see a 1994 Harley Road King, laying down, surrounded by brightly wrapped gifts and toys.
“My bike! Oh, shit, what have I done? I was just trying to help the kids at the shelter. What the hell have I done?” he asked, his large frame slumping to the ground with a thud.
I pulled his dirty fake beard down, revealing an only slightly less scruffy one, on a face that looked like it had seen better days.
I sighed. “Okay, man. We’ll get you back to the compound and figure it out.”
“He’s not fuckin’ comin’ back to the compound,” Ace growled.
“He’s wasted, Ace. We need to sober him up and get some fuckin’ answers. This guy’s clearly no threat to us. Besides, he rides. What are we gonna do, take him to the cops?”
Ace studied me, then shook his head. “He’d better fuckin’ have some answers.”
I nodded and I helped Santa to his feet while Ace maneuvered the truck from between the buildings. While Ace took care of the truck, I loaded our new stray into my truck and we headed back to the compound.
Hatch
Santa passed out in the truck on the way back, but he woke up pretty quickly when I pulled into the parking lot of the compound.
“We’re here. Don’t do anything stupid,” I instructed.
“Where’s here?” he asked.
He seemed a little more lucid and thanked me softly when I handed him a bottled water.
“You’re at our compound. No one here’s gonna hassle you if you co-operate, but you’ve gotta understand the situation we’re in. You stole our truck, and more importantly, you stole from a bunch of kids at Christmas.”
He looked up at me, “I know that, but I never—”
I interrupted, “We’ll talk about it inside with the Prez.”
He nodded.
“One more thing, there’s no way I’m introducing you to everyone as Santa, so why don’t you give me your name.”
“Scott Bohman,” he replied.
“Can’t say I’m pleased to meet you just yet, but my name’s Hatch. I’m the Sergeant at Arms for the Dogs of Fire. Like I said, shoot straight with us, and we’ll deal with you accordingly.” I lowered my gaze and my tone. “Try to fuck with us... and we’ll deal with you accordingly.”
“I’ve been around,” he replied.
“I have no trouble believing that whatsoever, Scott. Let’s go.” I led him inside, where everyone had already gathered in the great room.
Booker had clearly filled Crow in on everything, and he sat with a scowl on his face.
“Crow, this is Scott Bohman, from...” I looked at him.
“Florida, um, Gainesville, Florida,” he replied, extending a hand to Crow, who simply glared back.
“And what exactly brings you here to the Pacific Northwest? More specifically, what the fuck are you doing in my town, stealing my property?”
“I’ve got no excuse, sir, and I truly apologize. I don’t drink... well, I haven’t drank in a really long time... and I’m not really sure of all the details, but I think I was... trying to help.”
Although Scott was big, and clearly looked like he could handle himself, he was as calm and gentle as I’d ever seen a person. You would never have guessed in a million years that this guy had boosted a truck in the middle of the night.
“How is stealing my truck helping me?” Crow demanded.
“Not you, so much as the kids back at the shelter where I’m staying.”
“I think maybe we should get Scott here a seat and some coffee. Whatta ya say, Prez?” I asked.
“I swear, I don’t mean any trouble to y’all and I’ll figure out a way to make this up to you in any way I can. Everything’s still in the truck,” Scott said. “All of it. I promise.”
“Take a seat. Someone get him some coffee and a coat that doesn’t make me feel like sitting on this guy’s lap,” Crow called out, clearly relaxing a bit. “Who are you, Scott?”
“I’m just a guy riding across the country. Well, I guess I’m a guy who’s ridden across the country now.”
“You rode here from Florida?” Crow asked. “On a bike?”
Scott nodded. “I set off a year ago, and have sort of zig-zagged around the country. Working here and there, sleeping wherever I can. That sort of thing.”
“By working, you mean boosting trucks and fencing the goods? Or do you mean specifically robbing children’s charities?”
“I told you, I was blind drunk and stealing your truck seemed like a good idea at the time.”
“A good idea?” I challenged.
“I said it seemed like a good idea. Obviously, I was outta my fucking mind. Look, I’ve been staying at this shelter for about a week and it’s filled with kids that aren’t gonna see Jack Shit for Christmas, let alone Jack Frost. I was drinkin’, feeling sorry for myself, and then I started feelin’ sorry for all those little kids. The next thing I knew, I was in the suit and behind the wheel of the rig. I’m not even sure how I got into the alley.”
“It’s a miracle you didn’t kill anybody,” Crow said.
“I hadn’t had a drink in over ten years before yesterday morning,” Scott said with tears welling in his eyes as Booker handed him a cup of coffee, which he took and thanked him for. “But I drank until I couldn’t see straight, and I can only see the rest in blurry snapshots. I remember a bell ringing and wrestling with Santa, then I remember pulling on a string of Christmas lights. I have a vague recollection of driving, then the next thing I knew, Hatch was tapping on the windshield.”
“Why start up again yesterday?” Crow asked.
“I don’t want to talk about that,” Scott
