“But we do need to get to the bottom of this,” Sullivan said. “Someone is obviously still out there screwing with you and we need to figure out what he wants.” He peeled and devoured a second banana in seconds. “I love these things. We need to get Brenda to do a banana pancake thing for the hotel. People like banana pancakes, right?”
“You are so strange,” Carter said. “Focus, man.” He turned to Georgia and placed a hand on top of one of hers. “I feel very good about Brenda and Skyler being at the house with you for the next week or so. Skyler is a tough cookie. Plus, having Brenda’s dogs around can’t hurt either.”
“It’ll be nice to have a full house,” Georgia said. She felt him squeeze her hand and it sent a very strange feeling of electricity through her body—she knew he thought it was time for them to get busy. And when Sullivan got up and returned to his room to work on his laptop, Carter moved in for a kiss.
“You mentioned last night that you’re best in the mornings,” Carter said as he nibbled on an earlobe.
“Did I say that?”
“You did.”
“I still need to take shower.”
“Go on. I’ll meet you in my room.”
“But what about Sully?”
“He’s going to take our rental car down to the hotel,” Carter said. “And I’ll take you to your house in your car. After a bit.”
Georgia managed a smile then padded off to her suite’s bathroom, unsure that this was a good idea. She wasn’t exactly sure how not to go through with it…but she’d always thought she liked Carter best. What a mess, she thought. This will end badly.
She and Carter had slept together once after a similar night of heavy drinking with a group of friends, some seven or eight months ago back in Manhattan. But Sullivan hadn’t been there, so it wasn’t weird. It was sweet and energetic and over fairly quickly. They’d decided to remain friends, both claiming that they were married to their work and too busy for relationships. But she carried a thing for him and felt a little spark whenever their paths crossed.
And now she was about to do it again, a mere eight hours after bedding his brother for the first time.
She was not pleased with herself…but she had every intention on following through. Just this once more.
CHAPTER NINE
Skyler woke up quite late. There was a text from Brenda waiting.
I’ve already walked the dogs and I’m about
to head to the hotel restaurant for a ridiculously ridiculous
Sunday brunch. Wake up and join me, sleepyhead.
Skyler dashed off a reply begging for a half hour, then she jumped out of bed and into a hot shower. She felt the familiar pangs of a slight hangover once she was on her feet but knew that as soon as she put some black coffee, greasy bacon, and a few mimosas inside of herself, she’d be as good as new. A good brunch menu almost always worked its magic that way.
“You’ve never gotten ready that fast in your life,” Brenda said as they walked from their casitas to the main building in the chilly, late-morning air.
“I didn’t wash my hair. And it still smells like the chemicals from the hot tub, damn it.”
“No one is going to get close enough to you to notice.”
They were greeted at the front door and immediately escorted to a table near the fireplace. They had a commanding floor-to-ceiling view of the distant mountains and the crystal blue skies above, with only a few airplane contrails where clouds should have been. The ladies ordered nearly everything on the menu—as Brenda was apt to do when dining out—then sat back and enjoyed the perfectly strong, hot coffee.
“I wonder if they think you’re a crazy person for ordering seven entrees?” Skyler asked when the waitress left the table.
Brenda shrugged her shoulders. “You ask me that every single time we go out. They’ll probably think I’m just a big fat heifer. But, if the waitress recognized me, she’ll go tell the chef, and then we’ll certainly get some extra attention. I’m totally okeydokey with using my celebrity to get better service and spectacular food.”
“Oh yeah. I guess that’s why I hang out with you then.”
“I didn’t sleep well last night,” Brenda said, “I’ve been up since 5 o’clock. I’ve already heard from Sullivan—he’s a morning person. Anyway, apparently someone was back at the house again after we left last night. The boys couldn’t find a thing in the woods when they searched this morning.”
“It’s so frightening,” Skyler said. “Someone was definitely there. I saw him.”
“And you wanted to go out in the dark and investigate. What is wrong with you?”
“I’ve always been like that. I need to know what’s going on at all times, you know that. I hate to admit it, but I’d feel a million times better if Leonard was around right about now. A man packing heat comes in handy sometimes.”
“This from the independent woman who told me that she was done with men forever a few months ago,” Brenda said. She accepted a mimosa from the waitress and continued, “You used to despise guns. What has happened to you?”
Skyler sipped her drink. “Pineapple mimosas are good! Brenda, I still hate guns, but when you date a cop, it just comes with the territory. And when your new friend is being terrorized by some crazy person from the woods, maybe packing a piece isn’t such a bad idea.”
Brenda shook her head. “I have no idea who you are right now.”
“You’ll get used to me with time,” Skyler said. “I just wish we could do more to help Georgia. This situation is absolutely chilling. And at Christmastime, for Christ’s sake.”
Brenda chuckled. “Oh, that’s cute, Skyler. For Christ’s sake, indeed. Anyway, I’m just glad Georgia has the twins watching out for her.”
“They’re quite dreamy, aren’t they?”
Brenda scanned the room to see if anyone was in listening range. “Did you see what they were packing last night?”
“How could I miss ‘em? Showers, not growers, for sure.”
Brenda’s face reddened. “It’s been way too long for me. I’m acting like a horny school girl.” She started fanning her face with an imaginary fan.
“School girls would be so lucky to have two twins like that vying for their attention.”
“We need to change the subject. It’s Sunday, for Christ’s sake.”
The friends broke up laughing until a man in a white jacket appeared next to the table.
“Ladies,” the man said, “I’m so sorry to interrupt what appears to be a very good time. My name is Jason Day. I’m the head chef here at the resort.” He turned to Brenda. “Miss Braxton, I’m a huge fan.”
Brenda stared up into the young man’s face and tried not to drool. “And I need to thank you, Chef, for allowing me to steal a few of your people away from the kitchen yesterday for the fiesta. They came in very handy. I couldn’t have done it without them.”
“We were most happy to assist,” he said. “That is, until I found out that you’re going to be opening a restaurant at that new hotel on the Plaza,” he said with a little laugh. “You’ll be serious competition for us.”
“Oh please, Jason. Competition is a good thing,” Brenda said, “I’ve always believed that. I actually encourage it. More restaurants and more hotels make everyone better, don’t you agree?”
The man smiled. “I guess I do. And I do wish you the best of luck with your new place. I can’t wait to come try it.”
“Well, Chef Jason Day, my friend Skyler Moore and I look forward to many great meals here at the Four Seasons, too. Especially this morning’s breakfast.”
“It’s on its way, ladies,” he said with a smile. “Every dish in the house.”
“Yummy,” Skyler said.
“It’s how I roll,” Brenda said.
When the chef left the table, Skyler sighed deeply.
“What’s the matter?”
“Nothing. I’m fine. Just thinking about all the work I should be doing.”
“It’s Sund
ay, a week before Christmas,” Brenda said. “Let’s do try to relax, alright? I have to get some work done tomorrow, too, but today we’re going to enjoy this breakfast, maybe do a little shopping downtown, and move into our new house.”
Skyler crinkled her face. “New house?”
“The Four Seasons is lovely, naturally, but I thought we could use a bit more room. Especially with the dogs being here and Christmas approaching. And I really do need a kitchen.”
“Alright. Where are we going?”
“Georgia’s house.”
Skyler’s mouth fell open. “You must be kidding.”
“I’m not. It was Georgia’s idea. She’s won’t stay on at the twin’s house after what happened last night. She wants to hole up at her house and she wants company. She likes the idea of the dogs being there, too.”
“It is a beautiful house when bombs aren’t exploding in the front hall,” Skyler said calmly. “I guess I’m game. I mean, it sounds insane, though.”
“There won’t be any more bombs. Plus, it was just a teeny tiny bomb.”
The food started arriving in waves, and they dug in.
“I’m going to have to go on Weight Watchers in January,” Skyler said as she shoved some bacon into her mouth.
Brenda’s face dropped. “Bite your tongue.” She slowly sliced into an eggs benedict and started cutting it into tiny pieces as if that was somehow going to help control her own growing waistline. “I shouldn’t have ordered this much.”
Skyler realized what she’d said. “I wasn’t trying to be mean. I just wasn’t thinking.”
“No. It’s good. I’m good,” the chef said. “It’s research, right?” And she smiled a genuine smile before popping the decadent egg, ham, English Muffin, and hollandaise into her mouth. “Oh. Jason’s hollandaise is too good.”
* * *
Georgia was quite hesitant, but Carter eventually won the battle and escorted the opera singer downtown for a mid-morning visit to the Santa Fe Police Department to file an assault and battery report against Massimo. They took the photos of Georgia’s black eye into evidence, promising to include them in the file they were preparing. The officer on duty wasn’t too encouraging, however, explaining that since Massimo was an Italian citizen living and working in Italy, there wasn’t much of anything they could do unless he returned to the city.
“We can’t do much more,” the officer said without apology.
“Lovely,” Carter said. “Welcome to Santa Fe.”
“It’s not just Santa Fe, sir,” the officer said, clearly annoyed.
“I told you this was a waste of time,” Georgia said as they left the station.
“At least it’s been officially recorded,” Carter said. “That will help, perhaps, down the line.”
When Sullivan and Carter left to meet their contractor at the hotel construction site downtown, Georgia closed her heavy front door and set the alarm system. The boys had repeatedly offered a room at their house, but she put her foot firmly down; she was determined to live her life…in the house that she just spent a small fortune to buy and decorate.
The authorities had finished their on-site investigation and had officially turned the house back over to her—they had come up with nothing, although results from forensics tests were forthcoming. Despite the scorched wall and ceiling in the foyer, the rest of the place was pretty much intact; there was no structural damage. And the catering crew had done a fine job cleaning up after the party, too.
She spent the next several minutes checking each and every door and window to make sure they were secure. Georgia then pulled up the live video surveillance feed on her iPad—everything looked clear outside. Appeased for the time being, she retreated to her home studio and went through her vocal exercises at an upright piano. Although she had several months before rehearsals would begin for the summer performances at the opera house, she intended to keep her voice relatively tuned.
She was halfway through neutral vowel scales—z, z, z, z, z, z, z—when the phone rang. She cursed it, meaning to leave it in the other room so as not to be interrupted. She didn’t recognize the number but answered it nonetheless.
“Pronto.”
“Georgia Reece, please,” a male voice said.
“Speaking.”
“Miss Reece, this is Archibald Grey from Mallard Protection in New York City. I got your message and called just soon as I could.”
“Oh, yes, Mr. Grey,” she said, “Your service was recommended to me by one of my friends back East—the soap opera actress Olivia Downs. I’m so very sorry to disturb you on a Sunday.”
“Our business operates 24-7, ma’am. What can I do for you?”
Georgia gave the security expert a quick rundown of the events of the previous few days. “Sadly, neither the local police nor the F.B.I. have been much help yet. It’s all quite frustrating and more than just a little unsettling.”
“That is very troubling, yes,” he said. “But we can help. Did you have something specific in mind or shall I outline some possible…”
“I want someone here as soon as possible, Mr. Grey,” she said, cutting him off. “I have a few friends who will be staying with me at my house, along with two rather large, friendly dogs, but I’d feel much better with professionals on the case. I’ve never felt the need for personal security in the past. This is all so new to me.”
There was a short pause before he began to speak again. “I have a two-person team in Los Angeles who are just finishing up an assignment. Both are recently retired New York City police detectives. They are two of my very best. I can have them there tomorrow. Do you have room to put them up?”
“I will make room, sir. And I am most grateful.”
“Their names are John Sparks and Anna Jannis. A married couple. I have your email address, Miss Reece, so I will have my assistant send our standard contract and the cost estimate. If you could look it over and sign the document, we will put everything in motion.”
And she did just that. It was an expensive proposition, but the terms allowed for her to call off the team at any point, so she didn’t feel locked in. She emailed back the document and within an hour received an itinerary—John and Anna would arrive in Santa Fe early the next afternoon.
Georgia busied herself with preparing the guestrooms for Brenda, Skyler, and the security team. She was thankful that she purchased the largest house she was shown; there would be plenty of room for everyone.
Both washing machines and both of the clothes dryers whirled away in the laundry room while Georgia scrubbed toilets and stocked bathroom cabinets with all the essentials. She did the work herself instead of calling in strangers, as she was normally apt to do. She was just happy to have the distraction and to be kept busy.
* * *
Over the crest of the hill to the south, Massimo Modena pulled to the side of the dirt road and put his rental car into park. He fished a pair of binoculars out of his leather briefcase and pointed them toward the back of Georgia’s house. He was patient. He could wait all night if he had to.
CHAPTER TEN
With Christmas Eve just a week away, downtown Santa Fe was buzzing with tourists and locals alike, on a quest for the perfect souvenirs and gifts. It was a typical cloudless, albeit chilly December Sunday, and most of the art galleries and shops were enjoying brisk holiday business. The historic plaza and surrounding narrow streets were artfully decorated for the season and scores of artisans had set up impromptu shops on the sidewalks, their wares laid out on large colorful blankets. Indian jewelry—all things turquoise, spiny oyster shell, coral, and sterling silver dominated—and original crafts and artwork were the mainstay outside, just as they were inside the shops.
Carter watched as a plump, middle-aged woman with a thick New Jersey accent haggled with a Native woman over the price of a small dreamcatcher. She was relentless in her pursuit of a deal and wasn’t backing down. Carter wanted to intervene and tell the woman in the purple velour tracksuit that she was bei
ng rude, but he thought better of getting himself involved, and certain he’d be smacked across the face if he scolded her. He pulled his sunglasses down off the top of his head and continued up the sidewalk with a cardboard tray of Starbucks coffees. He nearly tripped over a homeless man and a Black Labrador who had taken up residence in the main entranceway to the hotel.
“Watch it, bucko!” the deeply tanned fellow yelled.
Carter was no stranger to street people; he dealt with them constantly in Manhattan. “Dude, you and the dog need to find another place to perch. We’ve got people coming and going all the time.”
“It’s a free country, man. I have the right to be here if I want.”
“It’s a free country, you’re right,” Carter said, fumbling in his pocket for his keys. “But this is technically private property, so move your shit or I’ll move it for you.” He got the door open and squeezed inside, locking it behind him.
“I feel sorry for that poor dog.” Sullivan said from across the lobby. “Is he going to move?”
“I don’t know. We’ll see.” He set the coffees down on the makeshift table they’d created between two sawhorses and took off his coat. “When is the contractor getting here?”
“He just texted. He’s looking for parking. It’s not easy on the weekend, Carter. I’m just glad he’s agreed to work on Sundays.”
Carter sighed. “He better work every damned day for what we’re paying him. We’ve got to stay on schedule. I want this place open by March 1st. It’s a firm date, brother.”
“I keep thinking we’re not going to pull this off. I realized neither of us called to see about getting the fucking gas running. All those inspections. All the permits we still haven’t bribed people for. The mattress delivery is delayed again. Oh, and that custom deer antler chandelier won’t be here until January 15th.”
“Great. That’s all great. But, we will do it, man. We have to.” Carter took a sip of his coffee, instantly burning his tongue. “God damnit to hell!”
The New Mexico Scoundrel Page 8
