Brian and Mina’s Holiday Hits by Kitty Thomas

It’s after dark when we arrive at the Windsor Estate. The heavily guarded iron gate extends around Drake Windsor’s massive property which seems to go on for miles. I grip Brian’s arm and lean in to whisper in his ear as we walk along the well-lit path up to the front door.

“What about weapons?” I whisper.

“No weapons,” he says. “They’ll pat us down and send us all through a metal detector inside.”

“Then how in the f**k are we going to do this? Are you planning to kill him with your bare hands?”

Brian shrugs. “I could. He’s too refined to get his own hands dirty. He’s old money.”

“What does he do? Besides hiring assassins to kill all his enemies.” You’d think Brian would have listed this man’s profession on the murder wall.

“Oil magnate.”

“Is that even still a thing?”

“Apparently,” he says.

“I thought you’d tell me he was in the tech industry.”

Brian laughs. “I said old money.”

“Fossil fuel. Checks out.” Dinosaurs are for sure old.

I stop talking as we get closer to the house. It’s so big, even the word mansion doesn’t quite cover it. The security detail are all big burly guys wearing suits and electronic ear pieces. They give us both a once over, their eyes staying on me a bit longer than is actually necessary.

The first one pats Brian down, and then goes for me, but Brian closes a tight grip over the man’s wrist.

His voice is low and calm when he speaks. “Elvin, I swear to every power living and dead that if you touch her, you will not survive to see your daughter’s first Christmas.”

The guard swallows hard. “I have orders…”

“You have metal detectors. You and I both know that’s the real security. This pat down business is just security theater—a display of Windsor’s power and nothing more. You think about whether it’s worth your life to participate in this charade.”

He nods. “Go on in, Mr. Sloan.” Then he nods at me, “Ma’am.”