Strings of lights and power cords overflowed from piled-up buckets. They had two lawn chairs to sit on while hiding in the shadows of the surrounding trees and heating pouches for their gloves if they got cold. And lastly, one satellite phone to call in their capture (and subsequent victory), borrowed from a very hesitant Ash, who promised hell to pay if they broke it.
If one were to catch a Santa Moose, there was only one way to do it—set a Christmas trap.
At first, they’d started small. After all, most of what attracted the moose was blinking lights. Lana wasn’t sure where they were or where the power cords Zoey kept stretching were running to, but they’d divvied up the work. The more decorations they set up, the more focused Lana became on not only setting the scene but telling a story. Theirs was a Christmas town filled with hope, full of cheer, and even perhaps full of romance.
Lana had seen the way Mrs. Claus was making bedroom eyes at Frosty’s button nose.
“Lana? Does any of this strike you as a little perverse?”
“Nonsense. It’s perfect.”
They were crouched out in the woods, doing their best to blend in with their surroundings. Between them, they had recreated Santa’s workshop closest to their hiding spot, complete with elves at their toy-making table and all the reindeer happily munching away at brightly lit Christmas light cookie piles.
“This can’t be good for the environment. Global warming is a thing, Lana.”
“Oh, it’s definitely a thing. I make it a priority to actively invest in sustainable businesses. Pass me the tranquilizer gun.”
“Why do you get the tranq gun?”
“Because of the two of us, I’m the only one with specialized training.”
“Making out with a guy from the Chicago SWAT team does not make you an expert shot, Lana.”
“Hiring a professional is a perfectly acceptable way of learning how to defend oneself. His attractiveness doesn’t make my training any less lethal. And that was years ago.”
A sound in the distance caused them both to tense. “Is that—?” Lana started to ask.
“Not unless moose have started stomping through the woods.” She stood, turning toward the direction they’d parked the truck. “Graham, is that you?”
“Sorry, Zoey Bear. I know you have a thing for Easton, but I decided to rescue you this time.”
“How did he find us?” Lana asked.
Zoey snorted. “Serves me right for leaving him a note about where we’d be.” Hands on her hips, she glared at the man emerging from the woods. “Rescue me from what? Our awesome plan of awesomeness? Don’t lie. You got bored and wanted to poke your big fat nose into our plans.”
“I got lonely,” he practically purred in her ear. Anyone else would have melted at the sheer sexiness of the smoldering look Graham gave her. Not Zoey.
“You’ll live. Now go away. We’re busy.”
“I can’t. I caught a ride here. You have my truck, remember?”
“Not my problem. Now scoot.” Zoey pushed on his flat stomach. The result was Graham gazing down at her like she was the cutest thing in the world.
It was very cute, but Lana was super-duper single, so she looked away, taking a long drink of eggnog. “If you want to go home, I can stay here,” Lana told them.
“Naw, I’d hate to ruin the fun.” Graham winked at her before turning back to Zoey. “It’s a little mean to set up where I had to say goodbye to Ulysses, don’t you think?”
“I think it’s the only spot I knew that wasn’t in town and was a known moose hangout.”
“Why didn’t you ask me? I know plenty of places.”
“Because that would be asking you for help. And this is a female bonding activity. No men necessary.”
Graham opened his mouth, but Zoey scrunched her nose at him. “Female bonding, Graham. So butt out, big guy. There will be no additional bonding from you.”
He held his hands up in innocence. “I wouldn’t dream of it, darlin’.”
“Good.” She pointed two fingers at her eyes and then at him. “I’m watching you.”
Chuckling, he snuck an arm around her, ghillie suit and all. “You weren’t answering your phone,” Graham said. “I—wait, is that a gun?”
“This is eggnog,” Lana provided helpfully, waggling her thermos at Graham.
“Are you seriously out here with alcohol and guns—?” he started to say.
Zoey cut him off. “A tranq gun. And we’re just having eggnog. We’re not drinking.”
“Tranquilizer guns—”
“One. It’s a singular gun.” At Lana’s correction, Graham growled in exasperation, but Lana only grinned. “It’s annoying, isn’t it? Taste of your own medicine.”
“You actually set a trap.” He seemed equally horrified and impressed.
“Yes, until you stumbled onto it and ruined everything. Do you know how hard it is to stretch power cords to this part of the woods?”
“If you plugged them into Rick’s barn, it’s going to blow a fuse any second. I can’t believe the power even ran this far.”
“It’s Rick’s barn?”
Zoey blinked innocently. “Oh, did I not mention that?”
Suddenly, a loud crunching sound of a branch being stepped on caused them all to turn. It was dark and very hard to see, but Zoey pointed into the woods, saying in excitement, “It’s the moose!”
There was definitely movement through the trees, coming straight for their Christmas trap.
“Umm, Zoey, I don’t think—” Graham started to say as Lana lifted the tranquilizer gun to her shoulder.
Now, Lana didn’t make a habit of getting sloppy with her moose catching tranquilizer gun safety. But she also had worked hard for this single opportunity, and she wasn’t going to waste it by being slow on the draw. Unfortunately, about the time she squeezed the trigger, Lana realized that Rick looked a whole lot like a moose when coming out of the woods on a snowy winter evening.
It wasn’t funny. Accidentally shooting someone with a tranquilizer dart intended for a large animal was a great way to hospitalize someone. Which was never funny. But the dart didn’t hit Rick; it just sort of grazed him in the process of flying through the air and thwapping into the tree next to him.
They all stood there in silent horror, listening to that thwap echo through the forest.
“Umm…you just tranquilized Rick.”
“I didn’t tranquilize him,” Lana said, feeling a little light-headed as she hurried across the clearing. She tripped on a Ninja Turtle dressed as a Christmas caroler. “Rick, are you okay?”
“Lana?” He was looking between her and the Christmas town with surprise and confusion on his face. “What are you doing out here?”
“Umm…” She hedged. “It was a moose-catching, female-bonding, trying-to-earn-the-town’s-trust…thing.”
“Did you shoot at me?”
“I promise I did not shoot at you,” Lana told him.
“You didn’t shoot at him.” Zoey pointed to the bit of fabric pinned between the dart and the tree trunk.
Rick rolled his shoulder to better see his triceps. Yep. That was one torn jacket. In a very calm voice, he said, “I think you hit me.”
She quickly pulled Rick’s jacket off his arm and down to expose his shirt underneath. “There’s no way. Not with all these layers of clothing.”
It was only a tear in his shirt and…oh.
“Well…okay,” Lana hedged. “It’s maybe a teeny bit of a flesh wound.”
Graham groaned. “Of course you shot him.”
“I didn’t shoot him. I nicked him. Nicked isn’t shot.”
Zoey tilted her head. “I think we may need to get him to the hospital. Nicked or not, that’s a powerful combination of—” Lana tuned her out as Zoey began to list the ingredients of the tranquilizer dart.<
br />
“Rick, dear. Zoey’s right, we need to call for an ambulance.”
“Nope, no hospital.” Rick shook his head. “I’m fine, I’m…whoa.”
“—and it’s going to stay in his system for up to thirty days, so no one should eat him.” They all turned and looked at Zoey. “What? I’m just saying. I do my research, okay? If you didn’t want research, you shouldn’t have involved me in this.”
“No hospital.” Rick’s voice was a low growl. “It’s only a scratch, and they’ll use this against her.”
“Rick,” Lana said softly, touched by his concern.
“You’ve been drinking.”
“No, I haven’t.”
“You two are both tanked.” Graham poked Zoey’s shoulder, and she wobbled. “We can smell it on your breath from here.”
Well, that wasn’t very attractive.
Zoey wasn’t buying it. “But it’s only Mr. Lockett’s eggnog. It’s cinnamon-y. There’s no alcohol. I tasted it to check.”
“Yes, which is why it’s deadly. I would have mentioned that if you’d told me you were bringing it out here.”
“Don’t call anyone,” Rick repeated, then he took a step and stumbled. “Don’t call Jonah. He’ll cause her problems.”
Now, it was possible Lana wasn’t at her best, but she certainly wasn’t hammered. She definitely knew prioritizing Rick’s health was much more important than a little thing like the law.
“Well, it was an honest mistake,” Lana said. “It’s not like we’ve never been incarcerated before.”
“Lana, do not tell him that,” Zoey hissed.
“You’re going to have to let Graham in on at least a few of our secrets one of these days. Rick, we need to get you to your house. Graham, would you be willing to help him on the other side?”
“Immookay.” Rick’s voice was starting to slur. “Graham—”
“Yeah, yeah, no cops.” Shaking his head, he said, “You’re a loyal SOB, aren’t you?”
“What are we going to do?” Zoey asked as they helped him walk back the way he had come.
“About what?”
“You shot Rick,” Zoey said in a hiss.
“I didn’t do it on purpose.” Lana tightened her hold on Rick’s waist. “There you go. Lean on us.”
“And yet he still has dangerous chemicals coursing through his veins,” Zoey said. “You can’t drink and tranq.”
“You gave me the eggnog. I didn’t know it was alcoholic.”
“Well, I didn’t know either,” Zoey argued back. “All I could taste was the thousand cups of cinnamon Mr. Lockett poured in there.”
“You didn’t ask him if it was spiked?”
Zoey drew herself up, indignant. “Lana, that is Easton’s grandmother’s recipe. Of course I didn’t ask.”
“What else did he put in here? I’m feeling all paranoid.”
“You’re paranoid because what’s left of your collective sobriety has realized one of you just committed a crime.” Graham grunted as Rick leaned more of his weight against Graham’s shoulder. “Come on, Rick. One foot in front of the other, buddy. We’re almost to the porch.”
“My nana liked cimmanon.” Rick cocked his head and tried again. “Mininmon. Cimmimmim?”
“Close enough,” Lana said. “Come on. Let’s get you up the steps.”
They weren’t the quietest in their approach, especially with Rick staggering every step. Now, for the record, if Diego wasn’t expecting them to all come stumbling through the door, he certainly covered it well. A single eyebrow rose, followed by a low curse.
“What did you do this time?” he asked, taking Rick’s arm away from Lana.
The extra help was a relief, because she might be tall, but Lana wasn’t quite in shape for helping carry a 180-pound, muscular adult man through the woods.
“I…There was a dart.” Rick paused halfway to the couch, staring blearily at the wall. “Roger’s judging me. Roger, stop judging me.”
Lana followed Rick’s line of sight to where a massive tabby cat perched on a bookshelf, flicking his tail.
“Yeah, he’s messed up,” Diego said with amusement.
“We’re going to call an ambulance for you, okay?” Lana told Rick.
Rick weaved unsteadily on his feet. “Imma…imma good.” Good enough to give her the most drunken, happy smile she’d ever seen on his face. “You’re cimmomin.” He took a strand of her hair, inhaling deeply. “Is my favorite. Cimmonin and apples. You’re my favorite.”
“This isn’t happening.” Zoey took Rick by the shoulders, shaking him. “Don’t, okay? Do not profess your innermost secrets. Rick, no secrets.”
“Imma lay down.”
At which point Rick stretched out on the couch, pulling Lana down with him. He put his head in Lana’s lap and began to sing. For a man under the influence of dangerous chemicals, Rick had quite a pleasant singing voice. One ambulance, two paramedics, and an IV later, Rick was still lying with his head on her lap, although he’d stopped singing around the time he announced the room had stopped spinning.
Zoey hustled back into the living room. “They said to go to the emergency room if you start feeling heart palpitations. But the dart only scratched you. They think the chemical exposure was minimal compared to what it could have been.”
“Go. I’ll stay with him.” Lana adjusted the blanket around Rick’s shoulders. “It’s my fault.”
“It’s our fault,” Zoey said stubbornly.
Graham was still outside pleading their cases with Jonah. Apparently, one couldn’t accidentally tranquilize one’s crush without the cops being called. Zoey glanced at the living room window, through which Lana could see Jonah and Graham in a heated discussion.
“Graham will get Jonah to back off, but don’t be surprised if Jonah wants to talk to you.” Zoey hesitated. “I should stay and help.”
“Rick and I are perfectly fine. Right?” She ran her hand through Rick’s hair, earning a grunt of agreement from Rick in her lap.
Jonah walked in, giving Lana a look that she was sure had convinced many a reluctant witness into talking. However, she’d grown up in the Montgomery household, and it would take more than his side-eye to crack her.
The officer sat on the coffee table, elbows on his knees.
“I’m not all that surprised to be getting called out on a hunting accident, but I’m surprised to find you, Ms. Montgomery.”
“There was no hunting.”
At her calm reply, Jonah cleared his throat, eyeing her ghillie suit. She’d taken the headpiece off, but the rest of her was covered in white and gray strings.
“It was more of a moose-stalking situation.”
“So I’m hearing a lot of what could have happened and what probably happened. I’m wondering what actually happened.”
“I’ll be happy to tell you,” she said. “But I’m sorry, it will have to wait until the morning. I’ll have to call my lawyers.”
“Lawyers? Plural?”
“Yes.” Lana readjusted the washcloth on Rick’s forehead. “How are you feeling?”
Rick watched them through bleary, reddened eyes. “Like you shouldn’t say anything. Jonah, leave her alone.”
He had stopped slurring, but he still seemed out of it. When Rick started to push himself up to his elbows, Lana stopped him.
“I don’t need you fighting my battles for me,” she said gently. “The paramedics said to rest.”
The door slammed, making him groan, a low, pained noise. So far, Diego had stayed on the far wall, watching everything but not saying a word. But when Jonah frowned, Diego stepped forward.
“If Uncle Rick says nothing happened, then nothing happened.” Diego spat off to the side. Inside the house. On a perfectly nice rug. Eyes fierce, Diego added, “If you’re going to keep calling him a liar,
maybe we should get our lawyer involved too.”
Jonah sighed. “All right, I know when I’m not wanted. But, Ms. Montgomery, I’d like to talk to you again. I have a court appearance to make in Anchorage tomorrow morning, and I’d like to see you afterward.”
He was more than overworked. He was exhausted. The expression on his face had bypassed stressed and bordered resentment.
“Jonah? Do you have any help? This town is too big for a single officer without any backup. Even Andy of Mayberry had Barney Fife to help him.”
“It’s occurred to me more than once, ma’am.” He looked at her. “But if you’re thinking of suggesting something to help, I’d like to remind you that I’m here because of your drunken, disorderly, and dangerous conduct. So if you’re about to add bribing a police official on top of that, you may want to think long and hard about what you say next.”
That wasn’t what she had been intending, but like always, the people here didn’t trust her intentions at all.
Lana lifted her chin, holding his eyes. “Go ahead and arrest me. I’m still going to make sure you have the support staff you need to keep Moose Springs safer. It’s not a bribe. It’s a solid business decision. I have a lot of money invested in this town.”
Jonah looked at Rick, then rested a hand on his shoulder. “You sure we can’t take you to the hospital?”
“The hospital will make trouble for her.”
“Between us, I have the feeling that Ms. Montgomery is more than capable of handling herself.”
The officer headed outside to his cruiser, leaving Diego, Rick, and Lana in the living room. Diego watched through the window until Jonah was gone, then he turned back to Rick. A smile almost cracked his face.
“Still stoned?” he joked.
Rick rolled his eyes, flopping a hand at Diego. “Can’t you be anywhere else right now?”
“Yeah, I know when I’m not wanted.” Smirking, Diego headed down the hall, presumably to his room. Rick shook his head, then groaned as if the motion hurt him.
Mistletoe and Mr. Right Page 13
