Have Yourself a Naughty Little Santa

by Karin Tabke

  “I’m not taking the promotion.”

  “Why not?”

  He shrugged. “It keeps me tied down. I like to spread out and work task forces.”

  “You can’t run forever, Ricco.”

  Her words surprised him. He turned to look at her. He was going to tell her to mind her own damn business, then a few more things to push her out of his way. But her concerned eyes stopped him cold. “Who says I’m running?”

  “No one has to—it’s obvious. Different girl every day, different town to call home. I’d say you have some big commitment issues.”

  Yeah, he did. So what?

  Ricco turned back to the lake and pointed down to the reindeer that had moved farther down the gently sloping fringes. “See the reindeer?”

  She moved to his side. “I didn’t know they were indigenous to California.”

  “They aren’t. Old Kris Kringle, and, yes, that was his legal name, brought a few down from Alaska. When he passed away some forty years ago, the town didn’t have the heart to see the small herd in a zoo, so they let them go. They stayed, they propagated, and the rest, as they say, is history.”

  “Are they tame?”

  “No, but they aren’t aggressive, either. They stroll into town more often than not, minding their own business. The town does own a small herd we use for the Christmas parade.”

  “No animal rights people come up and hassle you?”

  “Hell, no! Those deer are treated better than most kids.”

  “What would happen to them if the town sold out?”

  “I’m getting real tired of hearing that term. Evergreen might be a little hard up for cash at the moment, but we’ll get over the hump. We always have.”

  Kim opened her mouth to reply, but a crisp shot rang out, splitting the serene silence of the lake. Instantly their gazes darted to the small herd, and they both watched in horror as a reindeer fell not more than fifty feet from where they stood. Several tourists who had also come down to the lake screamed and scurried for cover.

  Jesus! Could the day get any worse?

  Thirteen

  “SON OF A BITCH!” RICCO CURSED, GRABBING KIM TO him. Another shot cracked through the crisp, cold air, whizzing past so close to them that Kim heard it zip into the snowbank only a few feet from where they stood.

  Ricco pushed her down into the snow face-first, covering her with his body. “Don’t move,” he softly said.

  Ricco turned on top of her, and she could tell he was looking back toward the tree line where the shots had come from. The sound of a snowmobile racing away alerted them. Ricco rolled off her and jumped to his feet. He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and started to run into town. “Get the hell out of here. Go back to the inn!” he yelled at Kim over his shoulder.

  She jumped up and didn’t bother brushing the snow from her clothes. She glanced at the downed reindeer and scanned the shore for others. Seeing none and not knowing the first thing about reindeer first aid, she hurried after the others who were running for cover. When she reached the street, she turned back to look at the tree line where the shots had come from. The white snow nearly blinded her in its brightness. For a long time she stood, squinting, hoping to catch a glimpse of something, anything, and it occurred to her that Evergreen was under siege. And she was afraid for the town, and she was afraid for Ricco and for herself. And this time she would not tell Nick.

  She turned and ran as fast as she could to the inn. As she did, bedlam broke out in waves around her as word spread. The shots had been clearly heard by those lakeside and by those close by on the sidewalk. Everyone who had ducked down by the lake kept running. Parents grabbed their children close, shielding them and hurrying to safety. Shopkeepers came out from their shops and hurried the tourists inside, soundly shutting their doors.

  By the time Kim made it back to the inn, the streets were deathly quiet. Word had gotten around quickly.

  • • •

  RICCO, PEYTON, AND JIMMY SPED OFF INTO THE TREE line on supercharged snowmobiles. Evergreen, though never riddled with crime, was always prepared for search and rescue. And right now they had a poacher to find. Or, Ricco thought, worse. Did someone have bad aim? Had he or Kim been the real target? Or maybe someone else nearby? They sped down into the valley, then up into the tree line where Ricco was sure the line of fire had come from. Sure enough, they came up on fresh snowmobile tracks. They followed them just into the tree line and stopped. There, glittering in the receding sunlight, on top of the hard crust of the snow—as if laid for the express purpose of discovery—were two .308 brass casings.

  Jimmy pulled up on Ricco’s right, Peyton to his left. Jimmy pulled up his goggles and pointed to the casings. “How nice of the shooter.”

  “No shit.” Ricco looked down into the lake valley at the fallen reindeer so close to where he’d stood with Kim. She could have been killed! He watched the beast struggle to rise in the deep snow. “Bastard!” Ricco cursed and pulled his two-way out. He alerted a number.

  “Go ahead, Ricco,” Elle’s voice came across the static airwaves.

  “Elle, call Doolittle. We’ve got a downed reindeer lakeside just past the west boathouse.”

  “What the hell is going on? Someone said shots were fired downtown?”

  “Not quite. Some asshole decided to take some target practice on the herd.” He looked at Jim and Peyton and said to them, “I’m following the tracks, you stay here and collect the evidence.” He put the two-way back to his mouth and said, “Elle, Pey’ll give you further instructions. I’m going after the asshole.”

  “Be careful, Ricco!”

  Ricco gunned the big Arctic Cat, and, in a rooster tail of snow, followed the tracks of the slimy bastard into the tree line.

  Fury encompassed him like a fist that was strangling him. What the hell was going on? A mugging, a crazy-ass driver, and now some random shooting at the herd? In one day Evergreen had seen more felony crime than it had in the last fifty years combined. Hell, the worst thing that ever happened in Evergreen was old Mrs. Mulvaney’s deaf, dumb, and blind dog, Raggedy Anne, getting run over by one of the teenage boys.

  Ricco gunned the Cat, following the clean trail, and in less than ten minutes he came to the edge of the only road from 80 into Evergreen. He hopped off the Cat and yanked his helmet off. There, in the snow, were tire tracks—by the looks of them made by a truck with all-terrain tires. He followed the wet tracks. No trailer, which meant they’d loaded the sled on the back of the truck. A flatbed? No, not enough tires. Whatever it was, they were headed north.

  He considered calling CHP, but they’d laugh their asses off when he told them to put an APB out for a poacher.

  Instead he radioed Jimmy. “He got away.”

  “Where are you?”

  “About two miles north of town on 82. Looks like he parked here, unloaded the sled, did his deed, then hightailed it back. He didn’t have much time on me. Put a call in to CHP and ask them to be on the lookout for a truck hauling a sled. At least we can get an ID on the prick and turn him over to the game warden.”

  “Will do.”

  Ricco tucked the radio back into his jacket pocket. For a long minute he stared at the road. Something was up. Three incidents in one day was too coincidental. Either someone had taken an ad out to harass Evergreen for the hell of it, or there was a motive behind the skirmishes. Who, and why?

  As he rode back to town, his mind wandered, his intuition peaked, and his anger simmered. While he didn’t live in Evergreen and hadn’t since he was eighteen, he considered it home. His mother and sisters and their families called it home. His friends and their families called it home.

  His father flashed in his mind, the way he’d seen him the night before, and Ricco’s gut tightened. Knowing the man was there, he’d avoided his mother’s house. And he had nothing to say. If what Ez said was true—that their father had come home to die—then so be it, but Enrique Senior had never considered Evergreen his home. Ricco opened u
p the throttle, and the Arctic Cat lurched forward.

  He wanted the old man gone. Knowing his father was too selfish to be the man he should be, it was easier to hate him for the man he was. As he broke the tree line, Ricco could make out a small group of people down by the edge of the lake. He set his jaw when he recognized Kim among the gathered group. Hadn’t he told her to go back to the inn? He nearly ground his jaw to dust when he recognized the man she was speaking to. Enrique.

  Ricco let off on the throttle and debated whether or not to engage or remain unengaged. His sister Elle made the choice for him. She looked up and saw him, then waved him over. Kim, his father, and his mother looked up as well. On the ground between them was the downed deer.

  He pulled up and killed the engine. For a long time his gaze held Kim’s. He’d told her to go back to the inn. Why had he thought she’d listen? She was the most exasperating woman he’d ever come across. She was stubborn, opinionated, too smart for her own good, and sexier than hell.

  Visions of her naked and sweaty, writhing uncontrollably beneath him, had him on the rise. Mentally he shook himself. His gaze caught hers again as he walked toward the group, and he scowled. Kim’s full lips quirked at the edges. Once again the urge to throw her down into the snow and get naughty with her fueled his anger.

  Refusing to acknowledge the man standing next to her, he moved past them to the downed deer and caught Adam Ramirez’s eyes. The town affectionately referred to him as Doctor Doolittle. He had an uncanny way with animals; since he was a boy, he’d sworn he could communicate with them. From the looks of the animal, Ricco guessed that it was dead.

  “You’re just in time, Ricco. We need help to remove the carcass.”

  From the amount of blood on the snow and the entry location of the wound in the neck, it looked like the animal had bled out. His anger turned up from medium to high.

  “Uncle Ricco?” Tonio asked, popping out from behind his mother, “did you get the bad guy?”

  Ricco shook his head and reached out to tousle the boy’s thick black hair. “Nope, he got away. Maybe CHP will pick him up.”

  Tonio knelt down by the great beast and patted his face. He looked up at his uncle and squinted. “He was the protector of the herd. What will happen to them now?”

  Ricco looked across the lake to where the herd had regrouped. “One of them will step up.”

  “What happens if one doesn’t? They need a dad, a protector.”

  Ricco squatted down next to his nephew and looked at him evenly. The boy’s dark eyes held compassion and the simple innocence of a child who still held out hope that his old man would show up and step up. It killed Ricco that Elle had picked a man just like their father. Tonio didn’t deserve it—hell, no kid deserved it.

  “Then the uncle will step up and make sure all of the other reindeer are safe.”

  Tonio’s eyes filled with sudden tears, and Ricco’s heart swelled in love. Embarrassed, Tonio swiped at his eyes with his sleeve. “I hope so,” he whispered.

  Ricco squeezed the boy’s shoulder and said, “C’mon, kiddo, there’s nothing we can do for him now.”

  Tonio stood and moved toward his mother, but stopped and stared down at the dead deer with sadness.

  Ricco looked over to Peyton and Jimmy and inclined his head away from the group. As he turned, he noticed that dozens of tourists had gathered up near the sidewalk. Great.

  Ricco, Peyton, and Jimmy walked toward the group. Ricco smiled and said to the gathered throng, “Show’s over, folks, go on back to town.”

  Peyton cleared his throat. With a smile in his voice, he walked ahead of Ricco and said in a more friendly tone, “Just a mistake. One of our townsfolk had an accidental misfire of his rifle. Unfortunately, one of our herd was compromised. Nothing to worry about. Everything is okay.”

  The crowd moved, but grumbled and they looked over their shoulders at the dead reindeer in the snow. They weren’t sure they believed the mayor.

  “Nice save,” Jimmy said.

  “Yeah, nice save,” Ricco spat. “What are you going to say when the next incident happens?”

  Peyton’s head snapped back. As tall as he was, he still had to look up to meet Ricco’s gaze. “What makes you think there will be another incident?”

  “Do the math. A mugging, a blacked-out SUV driving like a maniac down Main Street, and now one of the herd shot, and it was no casual, oh-I-think-I’ll-shoot-a-reindeer shot. This guy had motive and he planned it. And his second shot came too damn close to me! The bastard probably had a driver waiting to help get the sled in the truck. Why?”

  Peyton scowled and looked at Jimmy. “Tell him,” he said.

  Jimmy exhaled and said, “A Sysco truck was hijacked just a mile south of town.”

  Incredulous, Ricco stood speechless for a minute. What the hell? “Sysco, as in the main food supplier to the restaurants in town?”

  “Yeah.”

  Ricco swiped his hand across his face. “This is bullshit!”

  “You don’t have to tell us. No food, no tourists, no revenues.”

  Ricco began to pace. “What motive would someone have to harass the town?”

  “For shits and giggles?” Peyton offered.

  Ricco whirled around and speared him with a glare. “I doubt it.”

  “I think the twenty-first century has caught up with us, Ricco,” Jimmy said, all joking aside.

  Ricco shook his head. “No, it hasn’t. This isn’t the real world catching up, this is calculated.”

  “What are you saying, Ricco?”

  “I’m saying the more we hold out against this developer, the more shit happens.”

  “That’s a pretty bold statement,” Jimmy said, shaking his head, not fully convinced.

  “Bold, but true. I’m going to look into this Land’s Edge company and see what I can dig up. In the meantime, we need to be discreet, but watchful.”

  Jimmy nodded vigorously and said, “Yes, keep it under wraps. The crew from Town & Country is due to arrive tomorrow. Another truck is coming in with an emergency food shipment. I plan on meeting it tomorrow morning when it turns onto 82.”

  “Great, just what we need—a police escort for the food truck. How do you think that’s going to look?” Peyton demanded.

  “Make it look like you’re coming back into town. Easy enough,” Ricco said. He glanced over his shoulder and saw his family, along with Kim, walking toward his mother’s house. He scowled. He seemed to be doing a lot of that lately. His scowl deepened when he watched her take his old man’s elbow and steady him when it looked as if he had slipped on an icy patch of sidewalk. Elle hurried to his aid as well. Son of a bitch!

  “When did your old man come back to town?” Jimmy asked.

  “Too soon.”

  “Leti says he’s dying,” Peyton offered.

  Ricco turned his anger and frustration on both men. Peyton was his mother’s age, and Ricco knew the mayor had a soft spot for her. Jimmy and Ricco had started in the same kindergarten class at St. Anne’s and graduated high school together. He considered both of them his friends, and if any man knew how he felt—or, in this case, didn’t feel—about the man who’d donated his sperm to his mother’s egg, it was these two. “He can go to hell.” With those parting words, he stalked off, wanting to be alone.

  He wanted to punch something, someone, anything to relieve the pressure cooker that had become his temper. It rarely reared its head, but when he reached his flash point, he always found that an hour with a heavy bag usually did the trick. Except there was more to his anger now than just his father’s reappearance after ten years and the calamities befalling his hometown. His libido was in overdrive and he wanted a release. But not just any release—and that, he realized, was the crux of his problem. He wanted Cinderella again. And he knew he’d want her again after that and after that. And he couldn’t for the life of him figure out why. And it wouldn’t matter if he asked her to stay an extra day or two; she would say no. She was the fem
ale version of him. Well, not exactly. Sex to him was like football or boxing. A sport, a physical outlet. Something he did for fun. It raised his endorphins and made him feel good, and, since he hadn’t had any complaints lately, he’d have to say he made his partners feel good too. A win-win for everyone involved. Why, then, did he feel like sex with Kim was different?

  He jammed his fingers through his hair and decided he didn’t care. He’d ride the wave again if she let him and get off the board when the wave fizzled out. He made his way back to the lake edge to find the carcass of the deer being loaded on the back of a flatbed trailer. He yanked on his helmet, then drove the sled back to the city yard where the PD kept their vehicles. He decided to go back to his room, grab some clothes, and go work out.

  As he was coming out of his room, he nearly slammed into Kim. She cried out, startled.

  “Sorry, I didn’t see you,” Ricco apologized.

  She smiled. He didn’t expect that. For some reason he figured she was pissed at him for something. “I’m going to your mom’s for dinner. She wants you there.”

  “Give her my regards. I’m heading to the gym.”

  “Will you go later?”

  “As long as that poor excuse of a husband is there, no way.”

  “Ricco, he’s dying,” she softly said.

  He stiffened. “I don’t give a rat’s ass.”

  “Really?”

  He moved in and narrowed the space that separated them. His heart rate kicked up several notches. The velocity of his blood pressure was so intense that he’d have a damn heart attack in the hallway if he kept it up. “Let me explain to you how that man won the Father of the Year award. He deserted my mother, my sisters, and me when I was a baby. That was the fourth time he did it. Each time a baby was born, he took off. We lived in a rat trap of an apartment in East Oakland. I went to sleep to gunshots and woke to roaches crawling over my legs.

  “My sister was almost killed when she wouldn’t give her lunch money up at school. Later that same day my mother was beaten and raped on her way home from work. When she came home from the hospital, she took all four of us and ran as far from Oakland as she could. What little money she had ran out here, in Evergreen. It took that bastard five years to find her. He came, he took her money, and left. He’d come back when he hit rock bottom, my mother, the good Catholic martyr, took him back each time. I stopped talking to him when I was thirteen. He’s a liar, a drunk, and a son of a bitch. He left us destitute, my sister and mother were almost killed, and my mother lives with her assault every minute of every day of her life. And for that, I will never forgive him.”