His dad and King huddled over something on the desk while Dottie and Stan scrolled on their phones.
“Milo got an address in record time. My son is locating her. He’s a licensed realtor in California,” Dottie announced to whoever was listening.
“Stan,” Arnie’s father called out. “Think you can pull this off?”
“With the right props and equipment, I can execute a totally believable house renovation. Might be fun, too.”
“Good practice,” Dottie added.
Watching his brother and substitute maternal figure pound fists made Arnie feel like an outsider with his nose pressed against a window.
With no idea what they were planning, and his grumpy inner baby feeling left out, he muttered, “What’s going on?”
King grinned—only when the tattooed badass smiled, the result was sometimes menacing and slightly scary.
“We’re saving your stupid ass.” The dark eyes studying him twinkled with amusement and a hint of aggravation. “And I’m going on record with a lecture about how this didn’t need to get so bad. Thinking you were all that and then some also hasn’t helped. Dude, you have no stakeout skills whatsoever, and after talking to your dad and brother, I think it’s safe to say that this bullshit of thinking you could figure this out on your own just shows what a daft moron you can be.”
Grumbling like a baby, “I told you, man. It was personal,” was all Arnie could think to say.
“Yeah?” King scowled and shook his head. He tsk’d. The sound made Arnie feel as dumb as rocks. “When my wife was in jeopardy and ended up kidnapped, did I stomp my feet and whine that it was personal?”
Arnie shook his head and stared at his feet.
“That’s right, you big, dumb, shit. No. I called on my team for backup.”
“Squad goals. Remember?” Dottie interjected in a scolding hiss.
Though his reasoning seemed solid at the time, now that he was amid a dangerous shitstorm, Arnie regretted going it alone.
It was the loving tone and reasonable voice of his father that helped him climb down off an emotional ledge. “Easy does it, okay? He feels like shit enough as it is.”
Arnie winced. “No, Dad. It’s okay. They’re right. I fucked up.” He scraped a hand through his hair and sighed. “Picked the wrong time to fly solo. I just figured if NIGHTWIND got involved, I’d be stepping over a line.”
Jon ended his call and joined them. “Milo did his thing. You’re all set. You’ll need cover, but I’ll leave that up to your discretion.” His face transformed into a dark scowl. “I want a chat with this feckless lawyer. What’s his name?”
“Bruce Wells. He’s on my payroll as of two hours ago,” his father announced. “It doesn’t hurt to have a guy in your pocket who can walk a legal razor’s edge.”
Dottie let out a snort and made a face. “You know what you’re doing, Ned. As long as he doesn’t dip his toes in the swamp, I suppose he’d be an asset.”
King growled, and the whole room paid attention. “I don’t fucking care how edgy some law school putz is or isn’t. Just get him here as quickly as you can. The guy doesn’t know what he doesn’t know.” Cracking his knuckles, he curled his lip in a sneer. “His brain will gleam like a nun’s bathroom after I pick him clean.”
“It’s all in the details, isn’t it?” Stan asked.
King nodded. Arnie could feel his boss looking at Stan with newfound respect. He murmured, “The details can keep a man from getting killed.”
Arnie raised his hand and waited for Dottie to call on him. “Is anyone going to let me in on what’s happening?”
Slapping Ned Wanamaker on the back, King chuckled. “Dad, you’re up. He won’t take a swing at you.”
Well, those words didn’t fill Arnie with warm and fuzzy happiness. He grimaced and looked at his father.
“Maybe you should have a seat, son.”
“Really?” Arnie griped. “Are we gonna do that again?”
“Sit the fuck down,” Dottie snarled.
All it took was her half-assed shove to topple him into his desk chair. It was disconcerting as bloody hell when his father, Stan, King, Jon, and Dottie formed a tight semi-circle.
He’d never been so helpless. It wasn’t a good feeling.
Assuming the parent role, his dad led the charge.
“We took a vote. It was unanimous. Running in, guns blazing, so to speak, might seem like a good idea—at first.”
Oh, man—he did not like the words coming out of his dad’s mouth.
“What the fuck does that mean? Summer and my kid are in danger. I want them out of there as soon as possible.”
As the half-moon assemblage of collaborators glanced at each other, the uneasiness in his stomach gathered strength.
“By morning, we’ll have active surveillance in place twenty-four seven.”
King reminded him, “We don’t yet know who is watching her.”
So? What difference did it make? If they had an address, why couldn’t it be a simple extraction? Shit, they did this sort of stuff in their sleep. He didn’t give a flying fuck who Giselle had on her evil payroll. His only concern was rescuing Summer. And their baby.
“Here’s the thing, son. Yes, we can ride into the San Fernando Valley, rescue your fair maiden, and have that be the end of it.”
The pregnant pause made Arnie hella nervous.
“But,” he continued, “this scenario leaves a lot of loose ends. Ends capable of regenerating.”
“Dad,” Arnie grumbled. “Thanks to you and my brother, the former raging alcoholic, I’m viciously hung over.”
Stan laughed out loud. Arnie glared at him. Before he lost his temper and made things worse, he asked for clarification.
“Regenerating ends aside, what the fuck are you saying? Can you spare me the bullet points and get to the main subject?”
More looks were shared, and King nodded. “He’s right. Just say it. Time’s wasting.”
“Okay,” his dad muttered. “Here goes. Arnie, my boy, by letting Giselle’s scheme play out, we can catch her red-handed. In flagrante delicto, if you will. In the act. While the crime plays out.”
It took his alcohol-soaked brain a moment to catch on. “No!” He angrily railed when understanding shook him to his core. “Are you fucking crazy? Let it play out? She’s trying to traffic my kid!” he shouted. “And lord knows what she has planned for Summer. No!” he yelled. “Absolutely not. Fuck you all.”
He stood and was quickly tackled until his ass was once again in the chair.
Jon pushed Dottie to the forefront. “Your turn, Quickie.”
Panic-stricken, he jumped first. “Dottie. This is Guantanamo all over again. You know damn well I can’t do nothing.”
“It’s not the same,” she replied in an annoying reasonable voice.
He resented her calm, and for the first time in all the years he’d known her, he wanted to get in her face and bully her into getting out of his way.
“You listen to me, Darnell.” She spoke in a snapping, waspish tone. The one teachers and grown-up authority figures used to prove they were scary. “You won’t be doing nothing. I wouldn’t sign off on this plan without every possible safety protocol in place. If things start to go south, we can throw a shield around them.”
“Do you hear yourself? What you just said is practically word for word the same bullshit assurances they fed me at Gitmo.”
“Something tells me we shouldn’t be hearing this,” Stan muttered.
His brother was right, but for the first time ever, he didn’t care about top secret classifications or CIA security protocols. He couldn’t care less that he almost divulged one of the DoJ’s most troublesome skeletons.
“Think, Darnell. Don’t just get pulled under by emotion.” Dottie held his gaze. “For your entire life, you have seen Giselle for what she is. How many times did you tell me she deserved whatever karma she got for making Darnell Senior miserable? For what she did to Ned? And Stan?”
Seeing his brother’s pained expression, Arnie took a deep breath.
“She’s marched stepped through the men in your family, and now she has her sights on you. Enough already.”
Dottie took a breath and crouched in front of him so he was focused on her and no one else.
“I swear on the heads of my grandbabies that Summer and Arianne are the priority. Not catching Giselle.” She paused until he clenched his jaw and blew the air from his lungs.
“But this is your shot, Arnie.”
He noted how she cleverly segued from calling him by his formal operative name to the variation reserved for those he held closest. The reminder of who she was silenced his objections.
In a soft voice, she added, “We can end this thing for all time. You just have to believe and be one hundred percent on board. This is what we do. Don’t doubt what you know to be true.”
He was stone-still and silent while running the specs in his head. Without knowing what the play was, Arnie had to rely on instinct and previous experience. King and Jon’s involvement was the closest thing to a guarantee of success. Dottie’s passionate vehemence also held considerable weight.
The choice wasn’t easy.
Nodding to wordlessly signify he was on board, Arnie looked at King. “I have to be there. Don’t try to stop me.”
A smile moved slowly across King’s face. It wasn’t friendly by any stretch of the imagination. He was hundreds of steps ahead, and the realization brought Arnie considerable relief.
“Miss Felicity Toy is in her camouflage den as we speak. I believe the smokescreen she has in mind will give you lots to work with.”
Stan’s laughter caught his attention, and he turned his gaze on his brother.
“Something I need to know?”
“Yeah,” Stan sniggered. He held out his hand for Arnie to shake. “Welcome to Aloha Design.”
“What?”
Shaking his hand, Stan laughed. “Yeah. Aloha Design. We’re in business together, bro. We’ve even got a silent investor with tons of money to burn.” Stan pointed at their father.
Arnie scowled. “Wait, what?”
King and Jon chimed in with amused voices. “So you guys just acquired a fixer-upper in Southern California, courtesy of the realtor stylings of none other than Jeremy Anders. Milo set up Aloha Designs as an LLC. He’ll want your input on a logo and shit like that.”
“Okay, time-out.” He made the appropriate hand gesture and then sat back heavily. Nothing made sense.
Dottie picked up the thread and spoke to him like he was half simple. He might have laughed if the subject weren’t so damn serious.
“So once upon a NIGHTWIND time, the recently reconciled Wanamaker brothers went into business with the silent funding of their moneybags father.”
“That’s me.” His dad chortled. “Moneybags McGee.”
“Oh fuck,” Stan barked with laughter. “That’s our cover! The McGee brothers.” With a loud hand slap, he high-fived their dad and then bowed when King and Jon applauded.
“An-ee-way,” Dottie drawled, “Aloha Designs is born. According to the business prospectus Milo put together, you and Stan buy homes, renovate, and flip. The cover is standard workmen. Trucks, tools, work belts.”
“Here’s the best part,” Stan cut in. “We’re actually gonna do some work, even if that means hiring local guys to get it done.”
“Getting ’r done,” Jon teased. “A Louisiana boy favorite.”
“This isn’t about you,” King told him. “Shut up. Can’t you see poor Arnie is dropping a poop trail? He just came face-to-face with what it means to find the one. Give the man some goddamn respect.”
Two fingers snapped near the end of his nose. Arnie jerked and looked into his father’s eyes. “Are you following, son?”
“Um, yeah. I think so. I just have one question. What happens when Summer sees me? Do you have a plan for her reacting to me turning up in her neighborhood as a house flipper?”
“That’s where Izzy takes over. She’s got you covered, dude. If we understand things correctly, your lady doesn’t know Stan, so he’s in the clear. Stan McGee.” Jon chuckled. “You, ya giant a-hole. That muscle beach blond thing you’ve got going on is the problem.”
Dottie shoved her phone a few inches from his face. “Here’s her digital overview of your makeover. Weighted bodysuit to alter posture, add pounds, and redistribute body mass. As long as you keep your clothes on, your own father won’t recognize you.”
He peered closely at the proposed disguise. He had to hand it to Izzy. She used her genius to manipulate key parts of his features. This sort of thing wasn’t new. He had plenty of experience changing his appearance when going deep cover and blending into the background.
Her concept of colored contacts, a hairpiece, bushy eyebrows, and a mustache, plus the stoop of a middle-aged, slightly overweight blue-collar workman was a work of undercover art.
Jon went into business mode, speaking in sharp, direct bursts.
“You and Stan. Wheels up at five a.m. Dottie and your father will follow later. Everything will be ready when you reach Los Angeles. You’ll be collected off the plane and given your physical equipment. After that, you assume full control.”
It all sounded so cut and dried, but there was something nobody was mentioning.
“Giselle,” he ground out. “Where is she? Do we have eyes on her?”
His father grunted and crossed his arms. “She slipped away like skunk smell on the wind. I’ve got Wells on the hunt. He knows her methods.” Turning to address King, he added, “He’ll come in to talk when he returns to the city.”
“Where are my bags? Did they come with me, or is my stuff still at Granddad’s?”
“I have everything,” Dad replied. “In the car.”
Glancing at the clock, he noted the time and calculated the hours between now and getting on a plane. He didn’t want to go to his apartment. Being alone wasn’t wise. Not while he was free-falling and capable of anything.
Tapping away on her phone, Dottie chimed in. “You boys are booked into connecting suites at The Plaza. Ned, I’m sending you the confirmation information. A car is reserved for the early morning airport run.”
She looked him up and down. “Get him showered and fed. Izzy will be over once she has everything assembled.”
Jon raised his hands in the air like he was testifying at a church revival. “There ya have it, kids. NIGHTWIND has been activated. The mission to save Arnie’s ass is now in progress.”
26
The January sun felt wonderful on her face as she sat on the two-person glider with Ari right next to her in a baby seat. Rocking slightly, Summer kept an eye on the sky, looking for the intrusive drone driving Bud crazy.
She craved beams of sunlight the same way a bee craved nectar. The golden rays fueled her spirit. If an office job was in her future, hopefully, it included a window so she always had access to the sky.
Ari yawned. Her sweet little face glowed. She was grateful for the blessing of a healthy child. The baby was growing like a weed. At every doctor’s visit, the nurses assured her she was doing a great job.
As Ari’s eyes drifted closed, Summer thought about a phone call earlier. What Reed had to say confirmed what she somehow already knew—the long wait for Arnie to figure it out was almost over.
While this realization was good news, it wasn’t without a dark side. The quiet threat surrounding her and the baby not only strengthened but it also grew in malice. Arnie finding them in time and the growing threat balanced on the head of a pin.
Hours before Reed’s phone call, Summer awoke filled with certainty. In her dreams, she heard Arnie’s voice—deep, rich, and firm—telling her to be careful.
The danger she warned him about was closing in on her, and he knew. Thank god because she honestly didn’t know how much longer she could hold on.
Reed also had a long talk with Cyrus—the poor man was a mess. Joanne had been through
hell, and the way Cy told it, picking up their lives where they left off before Jo’s mom entered her final days was easier said than done.
“He dropped the ball, Summer. And he feels like shit about it. Especially now.”
She blew out a deep sigh. Her emotions were all over the place. Thinking Arnie had never looked back was one of the things she found most painful. It didn’t make sense. The man she fell in love with was neither shallow nor insensitive, but the facts, as she’d known them before today, came down firmly on the side of her having been deliberately abandoned.
When she pulled her Santa Barbara disappearing act, Cy installed a person he knew in Summer’s apartment. Her cover story was simple. She was Summer’s cousin, staying at the apartment to keep an eye on things and water the plants while she, Summer, went off on an imaginary cruise with friends.
It was a ridiculous ruse, but at the time, she’d been panicked and operating on adrenaline. Running away to hide was the only thing she could handle. After a certain point, with all she had to deal with, her pseudo-cousin in Santa Barbara was forgotten. Out of sight and mind should signal the end to this part of the story, but man, oh man, she wasn’t prepared to learn what really happened.
So the woman? Stacey? Yeah, she was the daughter of a buddy of Cy’s. At the time of her involvement, she was a standard-issue, overworked, overtired, over-everything med student. The apartment-sitting gig was perfect for the harried doctor-in-training.
Fast-forward to when Ari was born. By then, Joanne was hanging by a thread. Same for Cy. When Reed and Cy decided to let the lease end, Stacey’s move out of the apartment got lost in the shuffle. Long story short, it was necessary to fast-forward again—this time to the recent past. The Christmas break, to be exact.
During holiday downtime at home in her new condo, Stacey unpacked a few forgotten boxes and came across a piece of notepad paper, covered with coffee stains containing a name and a note.
The name? Arnie
The note? Please call me.
Stacey called Cy and apologized up and down for not following through to tell him about the contact. Her excuse was sleep deprivation and extreme stress. All she remembered was the scribbled note and a vague recollection of a guy with a huge attitude knocking on the door.
Finding Summer (Nightwind Book 3) Page 49
