The tree deliverymen were finishing the placement of the garland. Not the best job, but it looked like Felicia was close by to nip and tuck bows and lights into the spray.
“It’s nice, yes?”
“Yes.” She didn’t have time to debate, simply moved on. “Solomon will make sure you’re taken care of.”
“The security guard, señora?”
She caught Solomon talking with one of the men working on the outside lights. “Him.” She pointed.
“Right, security.”
“Thanks again,” she said before moving to the next eruption.
In two and a half hours, Felicia and her crew were cleaning each room as they exited it. The house took on an elegant holiday appearance with silver and white blanketing the formal dining room. Silver, white, and splashes of burgundy emptied into the living room. Garlands mixed with lights laced the banister of the stairway. The tree glittered with glass bulbs, crystal ornaments, and two sets of lights . . . one clear, the other red. Garlands and bows and a five-foot Saint Nick welcomed those at the front door.
Gabi signed off the lighting crew, delighted with their work. “I can’t wait for the sun to retire for the night.”
“My people will call you in a few days to schedule the day to take it all down after the first.”
“Perfect.”
Solomon followed the lighting crew out to pick Hunter up from the airport.
Andrew met the caterer at the gate and brought in the special dinner Gabi had ordered for their private celebration.
Felicia and the remainder of her crew exited the house at exactly three hours from the time Gabi said they needed to finish.
Gabi kissed the woman’s cheek. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”
“It was crazy in there for a while. But I think it turned out pretty spectacular.”
“It jumps off the pages of a magazine.”
“Enjoy your holiday, Mrs. Blackwell.”
One by one, the trucks and vans left the property. The outside lights were starting to glow as the sun started to fade.
The three left standing took in the outside of the house. The shrubs twinkled, the eaves took on larger bulbs, mainly clear, but a splash of red adorned the columns, reminding Gabi of a candy cane. There was just enough color to add fun to the elegant feel of the decorations.
“Pizza and beer in the guest house,” Andrew called to Cooper.
“I’ll take you up on the pizza once Hunter arrives.”
“Thank you, guys. I know that was nuts. But just look at this.”
Cooper winked. “Looks good, Mrs. B.”
Diaz despised the States. Too many eyes, too many ears. Not enough guns.
Raul walked into the sparsely furnished home one block over from the Blackwells’.
“Well?”
Raul pointed both index fingers in the air and walked over to the computer. “We’re all set.”
The cocky attitude, Diaz could do without . . . problem was, Raul was good at what he did when he wasn’t strung out. Seemed he’d been off the shit for a couple of weeks . . . or at least cutting down.
The computer fired up and audio feeds buzzed through the speakers.
Normally, Diaz wouldn’t have traveled all the way to California to retrieve his money. Hit men were good for something. When he’d learned how deep Mrs. Picano’s pockets had become, however, he made an adjustment in his plans.
“One video feed smack in the middle of the living room, audio everywhere else.”
The computer was a grid of boxes. Raul’s fingers flew over the computer, pointing, clicking, typing in a command. The video feed came to life in living color.
A tall, slender woman waltzed into the frame and walked right past. “Is that her?”
“Yep, Mrs. Blackwell.”
Diaz lifted an eyebrow. He had to give credit to a dead man. Alonzo lucked out with that one before he managed to get dead.
Raul pulled up an audio feed deeper in the house. The sound of running water met their ears.
“The house is completely wired. Massive security system. She has two bodyguards and the butler lives in the guest house.”
Diaz didn’t think it would be easy.
“Did you clean up your loose ends?”
Raul pointed his damn index fingers at him again and winked. “Now we just have to wait.”
Great . . . Diaz wasn’t a patient man.
Hunter had his head buried in an e-mail on his open laptop when Solomon slowed the car at the gate. He looked up briefly, returned to the mail, then snapped his eyes back out the window.
The hair on his arms stood up, and an unexpected chill took the form of a tsunami over his skin. “Whoa.”
Solomon watched him through the rearview mirror.
He absently closed the computer and moved it off his lap as Solomon brought the car to a stop.