Spirit (Blackwood Security, #10.5) - Elise Noble Page 0,30

I was in two minds whether to give chase and stop him. On the one hand, Bradley in a mall with a credit card was really, really dangerous, but on the other hand…coffee.

Coffee won.

Two double espressos and a latte later, my darling assistant reappeared, but this time, he wasn’t alone. Three shop assistants trailed behind him, each laden with bags. I’d only cried a handful of times in my life, but I genuinely felt like sobbing at that moment. Next year, I’d beg Ana to let me tag along to Siberia. Or sail to a desert island. We literally owned an island, so what the hell was I doing in Alaska?

“Here we go—costumes for everyone. We can borrow the bathroom to change.”

How horrific would this be? Since there were eight of us, I’d been betting on reindeer with Bradley as Rudolph, but no, what was I thinking? This was Bradley. He couldn’t possibly do something sensible. We got elves. And not just any old elves either.

“Uh, Bradley?” Mack said, peering into her bag. “I think this Christmas thing is for families.”

I tipped out the contents of my own allotted bag and found a stretchy red velvet leotard with fur-trimmed sleeves and a hood, a black belt, and thigh-high candy-striped stockings. Where the hell was the rest of it? I checked the bag again, but it was empty.

“Where did you buy this stuff?” Carmen asked. “A sex shop?”

“It’s mid-afternoon on Christmas Eve, and have you seen the crowd at the convention centre? All the other stores were sold out of costumes.”

Oh my freaking fuck. He’d bought our outfits from the Alaskan version of Ann Summers.

“I can’t wear this.” Carmen held up a green minidress edged with sparkles. “The Christmas tree on the front is decorated with dicks.”

“Yes, and I already thought of that. Ta-da! I bought extra pom-poms. We can glue them on.”

“My costume’s awesome,” Dan announced. “I love it.”

“Thank you, Dan. See? Somebody appreciates my work.”

Yes, it was awesome, if Dan wore it in the privacy of her bedroom for only Ethan to see. The red corset with a tiny skirt attached was practically indecent. We’d have to glue her tits into the top, but of course, Bradley had thought of that too. A package of toupee tape rolled across the floor.

Mack wriggled into her red minidress. “Perhaps one of us could go in and set off the fire alarm instead? Then everyone would come outside.”

“And ruin Mina’s mom’s amazing event? Mack! How could you?”

“I might be able to get in from the roof,” Ana said.

Ana’s floor-length gown, red with white fur on the collar and cuffs, sounded okay in theory, but it fastened with a belt at the waist and nothing else. The only thing standing between her and arrest for public exposure was a pair of velvet hot pants. We let Valerie and Mina have the stripy leggings with the green tunics because quite honestly, none of this was their fault.

I considered vetoing the whole idea and going home, but we’d come this far, and time was ticking. Our deadline for leaving Anchorage was ten p.m., and even that would be cutting it fine. Any later and I wouldn’t be back in time to fly with Kiara.

Fuck it. We’d wear the outfits. We spent enough time in the gym that none of us had anything to be ashamed of, and I could pull my hood over my face. What was a little frostbite between friends? But next year, there’d be a holding cell at Riverley with Bradley’s name on it.

And what was he wearing? Why, a skintight Lycra catsuit, what else? He’d sprayed it with glitter and hastily stitched extra Fraggle around the edges.

“Let’s just get it over with,” I told the others. “Go inside, find Mina’s family, and then get the hell out of Dodge.”

CHAPTER 16

THIS TIME, THE guy on the door more or less rolled out the red carpet. I could feel his eyes on my ass as we walked inside. Gee, this wasn’t awkward at all.

The Anchorage Christmas Extravaganza was my worst nightmare come to life. Worse even than the time I’d infiltrated a Syrian army base and almost died in the process. Worse than getting shot at in the Colombian jungle. Worse than playing cat and mouse with a psychopathic Russian general. Give me solitary confinement any day.

On the stage at the far end of the exhibition hall, a dozen Santas lined up for Christmas karaoke, and an out-of-tune version of “Jingle Bell Rock”