“I thought you’d like to know that Georgia has been found alive and fairly well.”
“That’s very good news, indeed,” he said. “I guess I needed that happy ending. I’m very thankful that you bothered to call me.”
“No thanks to you and your duck people, Mr. Grey,” Brenda spit. “Listen, I’m not a fan of Mallard’s tactics or the professionalism we witnessed here. I know several people that use your services, you know?”
“I do,” he said calmly, remembering who he was talking to. “And I am quite embarrassed. We’re going to be making some significant operational changes and we’ll be back stronger than ever in the new year. I promise you and all my clients that.”
“I like to give people second chances, Mr. Grey, so I’ll hold my tongue for now.”
“How noble of you, Miss Braxton. But don’t fret over this one moment longer, because the cat is already out of the bag. The gossip patrol have the story about my indiscretion and they ran it in the New York Post this morning.”
“Oh good,” Brenda said flatly. “That makes me feel much better. And indiscretion is certainly an interesting word for threatening innocent, good people with guns, but what do I know? Have a good flight, Mr. Grey.” And she disengaged the call. What an asshole, she thought.
She grabbed the dogs’ leashes and her purse and headed out to the car with Mulder and Scully following close behind. She was excited to be able to tell the twins the news in person. She wondered which Lowery brother would be more relieved.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Skyler secured permission from the F.B.O.’s customer service rep to step back outside the terminal building when Foster’s beautiful plane started taxiing away from the terminal. She pulled her coat tight around her neck against the biting December wind, then found a spot on the patio with a good view of runway 2/20, the longest of the three. She suspected they’d need every inch of the pavement to get off the ground at the relatively small, high-desert airport.
An outdoor speaker on the patio was tied into the tower feed. She listened as a controller instructed Foster’s pilots to hold for an arriving jet. “Citation 2-9-8-1 Charlie, cleared to land.” She watched as a small private jet touched down, then the much larger Boeing moved into position. As soon as the Citation slowed and pulled off the runway, Foster’s engines spun up and the gleaming 737 started rolling down the runway. It lifted off about three quarters of the way down the asphalt and began a rather impressive steep climb. It soon banked to the right and headed west.
When the plane was almost completely out of view, Skyler started back toward her car. As she passed a ramp attendant in the lobby, Skyler overheard him say, “Mr. Leonard Little. Got it,” into his handheld radio.
Her heart skipped a beat. “Excuse me,” she said, reaching out to grab the man’s upper arm. “Did you say Leonard Little?”
“Um, I’m not sure I can confirm that, ma’am,” the young man said, clearly caught off guard. “Are you here to collect someone?”
“Yes, of course. Mr. Little. Is he due in soon?”
“He just landed. The Citation is pulling up now.” He pointed outside. “You can pull your car out to the plane. The gate code is 1-9-7-0.” And he walked away.
She was left a little shell shocked. Clearly her boyfriend wasn’t getting off that private jet in Santa Fe, New Mexico—he was thousands of miles away in Wabanaki, busy running the police department as a favor to the injured sheriff. But Skyler was intrigued, and she was now in procession of the airport’s gate code, so she jumped into her car and drove up to the side of the jet just as the airstairs were being lowered to the tarmac. Feeling like a total idiot—but at least I’ll have a story to tell, she told herself—she got out and opened her trunk then stood at attention waiting for someone—Another Leonard Little? What were the odds?!—to descend the stairs.
And then Leonard Little, her Leonard Little, the acting sheriff of the Wabanaki Police Department, poked his head out of the plane and looked around. That’s when Skyler screamed.
“Stop it,” Leonard said, clearly flustered. “Why are you screaming?”
She leapt into his arms when he got to the bottom of the stairs. “What are you doing here!?”
“It’s Christmas.”
She pushed him away from her to arm’s length. “Yes, and you said you had to work. Is this Brenda’s doing? It must have been Brenda.”
“Do you think I have enough money to charter an airplane?” Leonard asked. “And would I even have thought such a thing was possible?”
“Well, certainly you knew such a thing was possible,” Skyler said. She hugged him close to her body again. “I am so very happy. This is the best Christmas present you could ever give me.”
“I didn’t give myself to you,” he said, “Brenda did. I brought you something else.”
“What?!”
“I think you’re going to have to wait until Monday for that.”
“Oh crap,” she said. “I overnighted your gift to Maine.”
“Thank you. But all I need is you.”
“I’m melting; that was the absolutely perfect thing to say.” She took a moment to examine his clean-shaven face and she noted that he didn’t smell at all like cigarettes. “So, welcome to Santa Fe,” she said as she led him to the car. “It’s beautiful, wide-open, extremely dry, and bitter cold right now.”
“I’m used to the cold,” he said. “So, why are you here at the airport anyway? I thought I was supposed to be a big fat surprise.”
“You are a big fat surprise! But I was meeting with Foster on his big fat plane before he left for Hawaii. He just took off seconds after you landed. This is completely a coincidence.”
“Or was it very well orchestrated so you’d be here when I landed?”
“Was it? Then Foster would have had to be in on it.”
“Actually, I really have no clue. We’ll have to ask Brenda.”
One of the pilots brought Leonard’s well-worn luggage and briefcase to the car and placed them in the trunk. “Merry Christmas, Mr. Little. I hope you enjoyed the flight.”
“I did not,” Leonard said flatly, “but it had nothing to do with your fine piloting or the quality of that magnificent airplane. I’m just not a fan of flying. I’m afraid I white-knuckled it most of the way across the country.”
“You made it in one piece,” Skyler said. “That’s the important part.” She smiled at the pilot. “Thank you, sir.”
They climbed into the car and Skyler drove back through the gate, navigated around the parking lot, and they were out of the airport in under a minute. She looked over and smiled at the man in the seat next to her. “I really, really missed you.”
“Me too,” he said. “My hand was starting to get tired.”
“My goodness, you are so gross.” But she smiled despite herself. “You won’t need your hand here.”
“Good.”
“And I need to go straight home and shave my legs.”
“Alright.”
“I had no idea I’d need shaved legs here!”
“Okay.”
“I’m serious.”
“Great.”
“Great.” She pulled onto the highway. “Did you bring your gun?”
“I did.”
“Good.”
“Am I going to need it?”
“I hope not,” Skyler said. She wasn’t necessarily comfortable with the idea of her boyfriend brandishing a weapon—and the nations’ obsession with guns in general was a sore subject for her—but she had to admit, given the current state of affairs, that she was happy he was packing heat. “But you never know.”
* * *
Brenda was almost running as she entered the lobby of the hotel with Mulder’s leash in her right hand and Scully’s in her left. The dogs weren’t used to the brisk pace, so they were jumping around in a frenzy wondering what the heck was happening.
“What the hell?” Sullivan yelled as he was nearly knocked off his feet when the
threesome collided with him as he rounded the corner from the back hallway.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Brenda said as she reined in the animals. She was out of breath.
“Calm down, woman. What’s going on?”
“I heard from the police. They found Georgia and she is very much alive.”
A huge smile covered Sullivan’s face. “Well, that’s the best news I’ve heard in a very long time. Where is she? Let’s go.”
“Hold your horses,” Brenda said. “She’s in Flagstaff.”
“Arizona?”
“Yes. At the hospital. But don’t freak out, they tell me that she’s going to make a full recovery. She has a concussion and is severely dehydrated—and I don’t know what else—but she’s going to be fine and we’re supposed to go collect her on Christmas Eve.”
“How did she get to Flagstaff?”
“Massimo. I don’t know one single detail beyond what I’ve already told you.”
“Where is Massimo, Brenda?”
“What did I just say?” she exploded. “I don’t know anything else. And the police won’t tell us anything. Except that they don’t have Massimo in custody.”
“So, he’s still out there somewhere.”
“It would appear so.”
“Who’s out there somewhere?” Carter had appeared behind them and he was busy greeting the uncharacteristically alert dogs. “You know there are nails everywhere around here, Bren. Better watch the dogs’ feet.”
“Georgia is alive and in a Flagstaff hospital,” Sullivan said. He filled his brother in on the few remaining details.
“We’ll go get her on Sunday,” Carter said. “If we go early enough, we can be back in time for a normal, quiet Christmas Eve at home. Although, we’re going to be armed to the teeth.”
Brenda sat down on a folding chair and the dogs curled up around her feet. “Would that crazy Italian really come back for more? I mean, what on Earth could his end-game be? He abducted her, drove to Flagstaff, and then somehow managed to hit her on the head and then lose track of her? He must be on the run. And if he’s smart, he’s going in the other direction. There is no way he is coming back to Santa Fe.”
The twins considered that for a few moments. They had no words.
It suddenly dawned on Brenda and she glanced at her watch. “Shit. Leonard would have landed by now. I was supposed to go get him.”
“Leonard?” Carter asked.
“Leonard Little is Skyler’s boyfriend and I flew him in as a surprise Christmas present.” She sighed loudly. “I was even going to get a bow.”
“He’s the cop? From Maine?” Sullivan asked.
“Yes. We all went to high school together. He’s very down-Maine. Until last summer, I don’t think he’d ever left the state. But he’s a very nice guy and Skyler seems smitten with him. They’re like night and day. So different. But it works for them, I guess. I mean, so far.”
Carter was busy rolling up a set of electrical plans. “Do you think he brought his gun?”
“I told him to,” Brenda said. “It’s funny—his father never let him carry one, but that all changed last summer.”
“I don’t know what you are talking about. I just hope he has a gun,” Carter said.
“His father wouldn’t let him carry one?” Sullivan asked. “What does that mean?”
Brenda shook her head slowly and stroked Scully’s neck. “His father was the sheriff of Wabanaki, where we grew up. He was sheriff for decades. It’s a long story, guys, but it has a very sad ending. He died in July at the hands of another friend of ours. He’d lost his mind and took hostages and, well, it was all very messy.”
The twins said nothing.
“I’m working very hard to forget last summer. And Leonard and Skyler are doing an exceptional job at pretending that they don’t remember that horrible day. So, I really wouldn’t bring it up when you meet him.”
Sullivan couldn’t help but laughing out loud. “Seriously? Did you just say that? Who do you think we are, complete idiots? Hi, Leonard, I hear your father was gunned down by one of your friends last summer. Merry Christmas, though.”
Carter chuckled. “We won’t say anything. Of course.”
“I might,” Sullivan said. “Now that it’s in my head. Oh shit. What if I say something about it?”
“Get a grip, Sully,” Carter said. He turned his attention to Brenda. “Maybe we need to lock this place up and go home until Tuesday or Wednesday. I mean, honestly, will anything get done until after the holidays anyway? For that matter, maybe we should all just go back to New York and pick this up after New Year’s.”
“I really do like that idea given everything that’s happened,” Sullivan said, “except that we need to wait for Georgia to get released and then there’s that other very annoying, very troubling, selfish person.”
“I’m afraid to ask, but I will: Who is that?” Brenda asked.
“Darby Lowery.”
“Crap!” Carter yelled. “I totally forgot he was coming.”
“We can’t decamp to New York when he’s specifically coming here to spend Christmas with us.”
“Darby Lowery?” Brenda asked.
“Our crazy brother,” the twins said in unison, in the same exact pitch.
Brenda pointed at Carter but was looking at Sullivan. “You owe him a Coke.”
* * *
Carter and Sullivan’s brother descended the commuter jet’s stairs and bristled when the cold wind filled his nostrils. He stuck his hands into the pockets of his hoodie and picked up his pace. He entered the tiny baggage room at the Santa Fe airport and scanned the small crowd for a familiar face. He couldn’t find one.
He walked the length of the terminal and peered outside. Nothing.
“Merry Christmas, to me,” he said. He fished out his cell phone and called Sullivan, the lesser of the two evils.
Sullivan skipped the formalities. “I am so sorry, buddy. Almost there.”
“It’s okay, Sully. Should I call an Uber?”
“No, no. I’m five minutes away,” Sullivan said. “Sit tight.”
“Alright. By the way, do you know that there isn’t even a bar here? This is one small ass airport. Are you sure this is a good place for one of your hotels? Seriously. How do all the people get here?”
“Welcome to Santa Fe, Darby. It’s small, but nice. Listen, we’ll get you a drink, don’t worry. I’ll be there in a few. I’m in a dark green Jeep.”
“See ya, dude.”
“Goodbye, dude.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
When they found Georgia’s house empty, Skyler and Leonard took very little time shedding their clothes and jumping into the large shower in Skyler’s suite. Within moments of soaping each other, he was inside of her, lifting her body off the tile floor. She’d almost forgotten how strong he was and how full he made her feel, like no one before him. She purred into his ear and playfully bit at his neck, and soon, he grunted, then pulsed deep inside. He was done. She had just gotten started.
“Sorry,” he said after they’d dried off and were lounging naked on her unmade bed. “You know I can last longer than that, right?”
“I do.”
“And when it’s not weeks between sessions. With a few drinks. And if I don’t move much.”
“I get it. I’m fine.”
“Are you?”
“I could go again,” she said with a sly smile.
“I need a minute. Or 30. I need 30-minutes.”
She laughed. “It’s cool.” She stroked the hair on his leg. “I’m just really happy that you’re here with me. This is the Christmas miracle I needed. The fact that you got on that airplane all by yourself, without having to hold someone’s hand, well, that’s something right there.”
“It’s not the half of it,” Leonard said. When he noticed her staring at it, he pulled the sheet over his still-recovering penis and took her hand in his. “Kristin begged me not to come. She’s not ready to let Porter run
the show and she’s totally not herself yet. She hardly gets around.”
“Is she getting out of the house yet?”
“She has two broken legs, babe.” Leonard rubbed one of his own legs in a kind of weird act of sympathy. “So, no. It takes three to six months for leg bones to heal completely. She’ll be able to do some desk work soon, but she won’t be in a car or in the field until well into next year. It’s rough for everyone. And you know her; she’s very antsy. She keeps saying that she’d rather kill herself than to watch another minute of daytime television or look at Facebook ever again. She’s been living online.”
“So, you’re going back.” Skyler hoped this wouldn’t be the case. She wanted him back in D.C. with her.
“I think I have to,” Leonard said solemnly. “At least until I go to Nevada for training.”
“Nevada?”
“That’s where that tactical school is. If I want to start my own protection agency, I’m going to need that kind of training. It’s just outside of Las Vegas, which is cool, because I’ve never been there.”
“You’ve never been anywhere,” she said. “Do you really see yourself in the field, being a bodyguard for a Paris Hilton-type? Is that what you want to do?”
He shook his head. “It is not what I want to do, no. Who is Paris Hilton?”
“Are you being serious right now? The Hilton Hotel heiress? Reality television star. Singer. Deejay. International pop culture icon. She has like 100 million followers on social media. What planet do you live on?”
“Not that planet,” he said. “But if you think I should reach out to her, I will. But, seriously, I want to run the show. Hire the employees. Be the boss. I like being the boss, but I’m sure as hell not going to freeze my ass off while being the boss in Wabanaki for the rest of my life. Not even until Kristin is back behind the wheel. They’re just going to have to learn how to deal without Leonard Little. I’m going to have people like Ferris Hilton to protect.”
“Paris! Jesus.”
“And you can do my agency’s P.R., yeah? You’d do that for me.”
She considered that for a second. “Sure,” was the correct answer, for now. She wasn’t completely confident that he could get such a business off the ground and that, of course, made her feel guilty. But sure was the right answer.
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