Tracefinder - Kaje Harper Page 0,75

back by the time we want to leave, I will call Gannet on him, I swear. For now, let’s see what Mafia Santa brought for good little boys and girls.”

Brian’s half-smile told him he still hadn’t gotten it quite right, but they picked up the packages. Luger sniffed at them, his alert stance easing. His tail swept in a casual wag as they followed Lori’s slow ass up the stairs. As usual, Charlie brought up the rear. Lori’s turtle speed was actually a good thing. Nick didn’t have to slow down while pretending not to, to keep Charlie right behind him.

Brian set his armload of packages under the tree. Nick did the same with the big box he’d carried. He glanced at the tag as he set it down. “Zander.” Huh, I’ll have to call him. He wondered if Doc would take the gift or set it on fire. Depended on what it was, maybe. The doc definitely had a rocky reaction to Damon.

After carefully arranging all the packages in a semicircle, Brian looked up. “So now—”

“Now let’s open the damned things,” Nick said. “Damon wanted drama? Let’s see what he brought.” Not like he was going to admit that he was curious.

It was kind of anticlimactic. Brian got superinsulated work gloves, steel-toed boots, and a box of brown hair dye. Lori’s packages had a canister of pepper spray, a heating pad, and a big package of baby-proofing stuff, from electrical outlet plugs to cabinet latches.

“What, no ultimate baby car seat?” Nick asked.

Lori showed her teeth in a grin. “He dropped one of those off a week ago.”

Charlie flicked a look at Lori. “Next time, I’d appreciate a heads-up.”

She dropped her gaze but shrugged in a way that didn’t look like a promise. Charlie sighed.

Living with someone as untrustworthy as Lori had to be a challenge. Nick took a step to nudge Charlie’s good arm. “There’s a present for you too, man. What do you think? A video on diaper changing? A rocket launcher?”

That got him a small chuckle. Charlie tugged at the paper, then looked blankly at the revealed box.

“What is it? A time bomb?”

“A high-end TENS unit,” Charlie said.

“Because he’s too cheap for a twenties? What?”

“It’s kind of electro-acupuncture. For pain.” Charlie pulled the paper all the way off. “My old one broke. I’ve seen good reviews of this one.”

Brian said, “Damon’s presents were always useful. But good useful. Like, in the fall, if I needed sneakers he’d get me secondhand, but at Christmas, he’d spring for Nikes, maybe.”

Lori said, “Mom bought the really fun stuff. Of course, there was a chance she’d hock it all by New Year’s.”

“She only did that once,” Brian muttered.

“Or six times.” Lori shrugged and pushed the box of outlet plugs and clips aside. “What did you get, Nick?”

There hadn’t been a present for Nick, unless it was so small they’d missed it. He shrugged. “I guess I’m so perfect I don’t need presents.” I don’t want a gift bought out of Damon’s tainted money anyway. It wasn’t like he hadn’t had plenty of years with none.

“Well, you’re not getting off that easily.” Charlie bent with a grunt and fished a shiny gold bag out from under their tree. “Here, open this one.”

It turned out to be a T-shirt with “I’m just a radioactive spider bite away from greatness” on it. That loosened a tension Nick had barely noticed. He laughed and dug out a red box from the bag Brian had brought in. “Here, nutcase. Try this.” The Thor dashboard bobblehead should make Charlie smile.

They sat on the floor around the tree with Lori enthroned in the armchair, and swapped the remaining gifts. Nothing big or impressive, just little stuff that brought a smile, a laugh, or a smack on the arm. He and Brian had agreed to a five-buck limit on presents for each other. It might seem cheap, but he’d caught Brian clumsily surfing the internet with a look of panic on his face, and when he’d pushed, Brian had confessed he was looking for the perfect first-Christmas boyfriend gift. Which gave Nick room to say, “Me too. I mean, I want it to be really special, and I have no clue.”

And Brian, with that odd wisdom he sometimes had, said, “How about if we don’t?”

“Don’t?”

“Don’t try. No perfect gifts? Just you and me and Christmas, and, like, a candy bar, or Minnesota Vikings socks, or an extra-large bottle of Gun Oil.”

He could do that. Relief made him laugh. “And

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