Snowflakes swirl in the air and splat against the windshield. Pine trees add to the wintery wonderland. And all hope of escape gets buried under an avalanche of snow.
Even Frosty the Snowman and Olaf can’t help rescue it.
The car eventually pulls to a stop in front of a secluded house built of logs and stones. As far as I can tell, there’s nothing else within several miles.
Any other time, I’d consider it romantic, a great setting for a couple to escape to for a few days. The house is large, with picturesque windows and a wraparound porch.
“Wow,” I say, forgetting myself for a moment. “The place is gorgeous.”
Gorgeous and very familiar.
I’ve been here before.
Several times when I was a kid. This is where Nikolai and I had talked about making wishes and shooting stars.
The image of the shooting-star ornament he gave me flickers in my memory.“Remember the star. It has the answer to everything.”
What were you trying to tell me?I silently ask him.
“It belonged to your cousin.” Eric doesn’t sound as impressed with the location as I am. “It’s where he’s been hiding since your grandfather’s arrest, causing all kinds of havoc on my boss’s business.”
Which means the FBI is clueless about this property—not exactly good news for me.
“According to Nikolai’s lawyer,” Eric continues, “Nikolai bequeathed it to you.”
“His lawyer told you that?” So much for attorney-client privilege.
“His lawyer’s been working on our side for the past year.”
“And now that Nikolai’s dead, you’re taking over his cabin for your evil clubhouse?”
“More or less. For now, anyway. Until the Feds discover its existence.” He climbs out of the car while Evil Sidekick opens the door for me.
“You, out,” Evil Sidekick barks, waving his gun at me. I’m seriously thinking of renaming him Evil Asshole.
I slowly slide out of the car, glancing around the area that still reminds me of an Enchanted Forest. Nikolai and I used to pretend that magical creatures resided here. Some wondrous, like unicorns and hippogriffs. Others scary and devious.
My gaze shifts toward Evil Asshole. Well, I guess I know what category he falls under.
The cold air grips its icy tendrils around me, penetrating the light-knit fabric of my dress. I attempt wrapping my arms around myself to ward off the chill—not easy when your forearm is in a cast.
“Inside,” he-of-so-few-words grunts.
Not wanting to give him a reason to shoot me now, I walk up the wooden steps, pull open the door, and cross the threshold.
I’m rewarded with an interior that is as gorgeous as the exterior. The small foyer opens into a spacious living room. Against one wall is a grand brick fireplace, which Santa would never have to worry about getting stuck in. A huge wreath hangs on the wall above the mantel.
Nikolai loved Christmas as much as I did as a kid. From the looks of things, that never changed for either of us.
A giant Christmas tree stands in the corner, and the entire room has been decorated. Some of the ornaments I recognize. They once belonged to Nikolai’s family. The room has a cozy, rustic look I could easily imagine being showcased on the cover of an interior design magazine.
The house looks exactly as I remembered—beautiful and timeless.
“You go that way.” Evil Asshole shoves me toward a door with a deadbolt.
A deadbolt I don’t remember from the last time I was here.
I stumble forward.
