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Tam said something in a foreign language that sounded like nails spitting. Liv gave Sean a wide-eyed, questioning glance.
“Remember Kurt Novak? That psycho billionaire I told you about?” he whispered. “Vadim Zhoglo was the guy’s business partner. Russian mafia. Real bad-ass. He and Novak’s father are two of the reasons Tam’s so paranoid. He and Daddy Novak want to chop her into little bitty pieces for betraying Kurt. Nick wants to bring Daddy Novak and Zhoglo down. He’s been bugging her for inside info ever since Davy’s wedding. Tam’s bummed about it. Can’t say as I blame her. Those guys are crazy mean fuckers.”
“For God’s sake.” Liv covered her face. “You people are all nuts.”
“It’s not our fault.” Sean sounded aggrieved. “Vadim Zhoglo is a—”
“Don’t tell me about Vadim Zhoglo,” she broke in. “I can only wrap my mind around one psycho murderer at a time.”
Their whispering had caught Tam’s ear. She flung the double doors open. “The lovebirds have clothed their nakedness and deigned to grace us with their presence! Behold, gentlemen. The beauty who has held our fickle Sean’s attention for, what? A record of three days now?”
Liv blinked. It was like being in a spotlight, having four big, intense looking men, checking her out. Two she could identify as Sean’s brothers from their looks. Both very tall, both extremely handsome. Each with bright, tilted green eyes. The other men were dark, and equally big. One was rough, with beard stubble and long wavy brown hair, tattoos adorning his muscular shoulders. The other was even darker, golden skinned, with flashing black eyes, and a smile that turned slowly into a huge, white-toothed grin as he looked her over.
“Nice,” he said, staring at her breasts.
“Stop drooling, Seth,” Sean said coolly.
“How can he help it? Isn’t she tasty?” Tam sounded pleased with herself. “Don’t you just love those hourglass curves? Wardrobe courtesy of me, I’ll have you know. I can’t wait to see you in the red halter dress, honey. You’re going to cause car accidents in that thing.”
“Three days, you said?” Seth looked impressed. “That’s a long term relationship for Sean. He goes through chicks like French fries, two, three at a time. So have you gotten her a rock?”
“None of your business,” Liv cut in, in her sharpest, most authoritative voice.
Seth looked chastened. The men shot each other significant glances. Sean cleared his throat. “So. The guys with the dirt blond hair are my brothers. The clean cut one is Davy, the furry one is Con.”
The two men nodded warily. She nodded back.
“The smartass lech is Seth Mackey, Davy’s business partner. And that tattooed low life scumbag over there is Nick. He’s—”
“He’s a fed. And he shouldn’t be here,” Tam broke in, her voice harsh. “He’s not welcome. And he’s not leaving this place alive.”
“Aw, come on. We can’t just let you kill him, Tam.” Connor’s voice was mild and conciliatory. “He used to be my colleague. It wouldn’t be right. And besides, sometimes he’s even a little bit useful.”
“So I won’t kill him. I’ll give him a massive head injury. Cause irreparable brain damage.” She turned to Sean. “They had him hunch down in the backseat when they went past the cameras!”
Sean’s mouth compressed, trying not to smile. “That’s terrible.”
“I’m getting a thermal imager installed,” Tam fumed. She swung her furious gaze on Seth. “You got a decent one in your catalogue?”
“Top of the line,” Seth said cheerfully. “Costs a fucking fortune.”
“E-mail me the details. I’m going to price check, and I expect a fifty percent discount, as an apology for this violation of my privacy.”
Seth’s grin faltered. “Aw, come on, Tam. Get a sense of humor.”
“Let’s get breakfast going before we get started,” Davy said briskly.
“What do you think this is, a diner?” Tam lit up another cigarette. “I don’t have breakfast stuff. Go to town if you want to eat. Better yet, don’t come back at all. You dickheads are pissing me off. Goodbye.”
Davy pointed to a big box that sat on the floor by the door. “We brought food,” he said, a hint of triumph in his voice.
Tam sagged down into one of her bar stools, knocking her forehead against the gleaming black marble countertop. “I should have shot the whole mangy pack of you years ago, when I had the chance.”
“Too late.” Connor slapped butter down onto the counter.
Tam lifted her head. “It’s never too late,” she said darkly.
Liv sat in the center of a hive of activity while Sean briefed the others on their adventures. Ham sizzled on a griddle, pans full of omelet were cooked up, fluffy and tempting. Toast, bagels, butter and jam appeared. Orange juice was opened. Coffee made. Tam’s kitchen had never seen such disarray, judging by the delicate revulsion on the woman’s face.
