Spirit (Blackwood Security, #10.5) - Elise Noble Page 0,2

their manes and tails.”

“You were right,” Dan whispered. “This is definitely worse.”

To my left, Logan groaned. “Miniature horses? That’s, like, multiple Spocklets, right?”

Unlike Bradley, who’d been too busy shopping, Logan had been part of Operation Spocklet four years ago. At Blackwood, my Special Projects team got hired to do the impossible by whatever means necessary—assassinations, rescue missions, a touch of spying, the odd investigation, and, on one memorable occasion, hunting down an escaped Shetland pony. Spocklet had been born Bressay Monarch IV, but thanks to ears that had always stuck out a little more than normal, he’d been bestowed with his nickname by his owner, the sixty-seven-year-old wife of a global shipping magnate who’d sobbed uncontrollably as she described how Spocklet had kicked up his heels and galloped off while she attempted to lead him into the ring at the American All-Star Miniature Horse Show. The little bastard had gone on a rampage around town before disappearing into the wilds of Montana.

We’d once helped a friend of Mr. Shipping Magnate to track down his missing son, so guess who got recommended for the job? It took three weeks plus a team of former special forces operatives armed with thermal imaging scopes, night vision goggles, GPS units, and years of knowledge and tracking expertise to find Spocklet living his best life with a herd of deer, then another week for us to catch the fucker. His “mom” had sobbed gratefully into his mane when they were reunited and didn’t quibble over the quarter-million-dollar invoice, but still, it wasn’t an experience I cared to repeat.

“A whole damn herd of Spocklets,” I confirmed. “No. No way.”

“And that brings us to the reindeer,” Bradley announced. “Rudolph’s the star of the show, but of course we can’t leave the others out, so we need to create a reindeer village. I’ve had plans drawn up…” An honest-to-goodness architectural blueprint flashed up on the screen. “And we need to get started right away because there are only eight weeks until Christmas, and once we fly the reindeer in from Norway, they’ll need time to acclimatise before visitors start arriving. We also need to bring over a supply of lichen for them to eat, and their handlers will need to stay in the guest house.”

I stuck up my hand, and Bradley huffed a bit.

“Yes, Emmy?”

“Who wants to come to Cabo with me?”

There was a chorus of yeses, and Bradley put his hands on his hips. “You can’t do a proper Christmas in Cabo.”

“I promise to play Christmas music while I’m on the beach.”

“You’re not taking this seriously, are you?”

“Oh, I’m taking it very seriously. Do you not remember the last time you brought a reindeer here for Christmas? It headbutted anyone who went near.”

“I’ll concede he got a tiny bit territorial. But we’re having female reindeer this year, and the herder assures me they’re friendly.” He clicked to the next slide. “We’ll also need to man the toy factory, so I’ll need volunteers for that. Although we won’t actually be making all the toys from scratch—not after Isaiah’s accident with the sewing machine—so it’ll mainly be wrapping.”

Three years ago, Isaiah had gotten distracted by Dan’s tits and sewn through his finger. Visiting the emergency room on Christmas Eve wasn’t fun, let me tell you.

“How are we gonna get the gifts to the underprivileged kids this year?” Nick asked. “I’m not wearing that Santa outfit again. The pants chafed like hell.”

“I thought they could come here to see the animals.”

Black shook his head. “Security risk.”

We’d been through this before.

“They’re children.”

“Who will need to come with their parents. No visitors outside of Blackwood employees, our friends, and their families, not unless they’ve been vetted first.”

“But—”

“No buts, no exceptions. We don’t have time to vet hundreds of people.”

This was why I hated Christmas. Bradley called me the Grinch, but it was basically one long argument that drove me to distraction. And every year, the debacle got longer. Christmas used to start on the first of December, but now Bradley plunged us into a new nightmare as soon as the Halloween decorations were packed away.

Everyone started talking over each other, and I slid down the wall until my ass hit the floor. Dan did the same, then produced two tiny bottles of vodka from her jacket pocket.

“I came prepared this year.”

She passed me one, and I unscrewed the cap.

“Cheers.”

“Happy fuckin’ holidays.”

I was about to slug back the whole lot when Bradley almost deafened me with an air horn. For fuck’s sake. His