inside him stilled as he watched a shadow dart across the parking lot and duck behind a shrub manicured to look like a giant wine bottle. Through the thick fog that had settled on the ground, he couldn’t see who was there or how big they were; all he knew was that they’d come from the general vicinity of Regan’s car and had something slung over their back. And it wasn’t a tote full of toys.
Reaching behind the seat, he blindly grabbed his ax and a Maglite. As he crept around the side of the building, he was acutely aware that no one was around and that Regan’s new place, although right off the main drag of town, was extremely isolated. Back pressed against the cold concrete wall, he glanced down at Regan’s car and noticed the trunk slightly ajar. Using his elbow, he cracked it open and peered inside. It was a disaster. Magazines, papers, flares, and CDs were scattered around. Her taillight was broken and the carpet had been ripped up.
He shifted back to the shrub he had seen the suspect disappear behind. Carefully, he made his way toward the giant wine bottle. Half of him hoped that the son of a bitch was there so that he could beat the crap out of him. The other half, the half that registered that he was a winemaker and not a PI, hoped the guy had fled. And yet a small part, a part he didn’t want to acknowledge, was afraid that maybe it was Richard. And if it was, then what did that mean?
He could hear heavy breathing coming from the other side of the shrub, followed by a rustling of leaves. One hand on the Maglite, Gabe took a deep breath and, wondering why in the hell he didn’t just call the cops, leaped out from behind the wine bottle, ax blazing.
“Don’t move!” he yelled.
He heard a shriek and branches snapping, then a bright red light began flashing, followed closely by a cheery little, “Merry Christmas to one and all.”
Dressed in black tennis shoes, black sweats, a black hoodie, and her hair pulled up in a messy knot on top of her head, Regan was stuck ass first in a shrub shaped like a corkscrew, clinging to Randolph and muttering some very choice words under her breath.
“God, Regan.” He squatted in front of her. “Are you all right?”
“What in the hell are you doing?” she snapped. “And why are you holding a persimmon roll over your head?”
“Me?” He dropped his “ax” to the ground and shrugged. “Hostage negotiations. This in exchange for the deer.” He pulled the Eiffel Tower key ring out of his pocket and dangled it in front of her.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He shot a look, just one, at Randolph. She snatched the key chain and shoved it in the pocket of her hoodie. “You’re trespassing and you should leave.”
He started carefully untangling Regan from the branches. “Says the woman hiding ass-backward in the bushes with America’s Most Wanted Deer in her clutches.”
Even though she was only lit by the moon and his flashlight, he could see her cheeks heat as she fiddled with the strings of her hoodie. “I think I’m cursed.”
“Cursed?” He laughed. She didn’t. She was serious.
Setting Randolph on the concrete, he eased her out of the bush. She dusted herself off, and since the majority of the debris was on that sweet backside of hers, he helped with that too. When she realized he was doing more touching that dusting, she batted his hands away.
“Don’t laugh.” She paused dramatically, lowering her voice when she continued. “But I think I did something to piss off the Ghost of Christmas Past or something.”
“Like obliterating the town Christmas display?”
“I’m being serious.”
“So am I.” He reached out and rested his hands on her hips. He couldn’t help it. Whenever he was around Regan he had to touch her. Based on the way she shimmied closer, running her hands up his chest, she suffered from the same affliction.
“I swear, Gabe, I have tried five times to return this damn reindeer. Every time, someone shows up. Or there is a vigil going on. Or your grandmother calls me.”
“Merry Christmas to one and all,” the deer said.
Regan just stared at Gabe as if that was solid proof of a curse.
“Don’t you think you’re being a little paranoid?” He ran his hands up her sides, loving how her breasts pressed tightly against the snug