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“Girlfriend?” Margot, Davy’s wife, sailed into the workroom, her hugely pregnant belly preceding her. “What’s this I hear about a girlfriend?”
“Nothing,” Nick muttered. “Nobody’s goddamn business.”
“Nonsense,” Margot teased, clasping her hands beneath the heavy undercurve of her belly. The bulge was covered by eye-grabbing purple paisley knit, which clashed cheerfully with her shaggy mop of curly red hair. “It’s going to break the hearts of all our single girlfriends at the wedding tomorrow, but it does solve our seating dilemma. Erin couldn’t figure out who to seat next to you. A stacked blonde, a hottie redhead, a sultry brunette? It was driving her nuts. So what’s your girlfriend’s name?”
“Wedding?” Nick went tense, eyes widening. “What wedding?”
Margot rolled her eyes, and put her hands behind the small of her back. “Sean and Liv. Tomorrow at four PM. Wake up, Nick. You were invited months ago. I already reserved a room for you at Three Creeks Lodge. It has a private deck with a hot tub. You’ll love it, particularly if you’ve got a girlfriend with you. Don’t even think about squirming out of this one, buddy boy.”
Nick gestured at the monitor. “Get real! I can’t walk away from this to put on a goddamn suit and eat canapés! Forget it, Margot.”
Margot snorted. “Oh, please. A psycho scumbag criminal hungry for your blood is no excuse to miss a great party. This is a McCloud wedding, after all. Having a dangerous villain at large is a tradition. It makes it all the more poignant, know what I mean?”
Nick grunted. “Poignant, my ass—”
“The food will be fabulous, the champagne will flow freely, and the Vicious Rumors are actually going to do the music as a special favor to Sean. They don’t even do weddings anymore, since they’re getting so big for their britches these days. Plus, we all get to meet your girlfriend and vet her for you,” Margot concluded brightly. “Cool! I can’t wait.”
Nick shook his head. “Raine’s going to the wedding too, right?”
“Hell, yeah. She’s in the ceremony. So’s Tam, for that matter. Tam’s the maid of honor, as always. I’m sure she’ll be pleased to see you.”
“Yeah, right.” Pleased to shoot him on sight was more like it. “I can’t leave. Somebody who speaks Ukrainian has got to—”
“I solved that.” Davy poked his head around the door, looking hugely pleased with himself. “That’s what we came over to tell you. I found a guy through an army buddy of mine. An ex-Ranger who grew up in Brighton Beach, Brooklyn. For you non-New Yorkers, that’s a neighborhood otherwise known as Little Odessa, a hotbed of Russian and Ukrainian—”
“Thanks, Guidebook Boy,” Nick snarled. “What’s his name?”
“Alex Aaro. He’ll mind the monitors for you while we guzzle champagne and dance all night. He’s driving up from Sandy already.”
“But I—”
“We’ll bring the laptops too,” Davy soothed. “There’s good wifi at Three Creeks. You can get a direct video feed, and check on the madam in between each course. If you want to.”
“But this guy doesn’t know their faces,” Nick protested.
“Establish a code word with Ludmilla. If she says it, the guys jump into action,” Davy said patiently. “Simple. Stop being such a wet blanket. Here, I’ll download the guy’s resume.”
“No!” Nick lunged to stop him from inserting the thumb drive into the computer, feeling like an idiot. “I’m, uh, using that monitor.”
Davy peered at it, and started to grin when he saw the blue-toned map of Seattle glowing on the screen, and the single icon blinking on it. “I see,” he murmured. “That’s her, huh? In Bothell? Sweet.”
“What?” Seth loped over and lunged across the table to squint at the screen. “Do my eyes deceive me? This controlling bastard is monitoring his girlfriend with X-Ray Specs? Where’d you put the beacon burr, Romeo? Her bra?”
“Her phone case,” Nick admitted reluctantly. “And her purse.”
Seth crowed with delight. “Classic. Bet she doesn’t know, right?” He studied Nick’s stiff, frozen face, and laughed harder. “Of course not.”
“He’s got it bad,” Davy commented. “This is how it always starts.”
“What’s her name, damn it?” Margot fussed. “We need to know what to write on the seating tag.”
“Becca,” Nick said shortly.
Margot waited. “Just Becca?” she prompted. “No last name?”
“Just Becca,” he muttered.
Margot frowned. “What, is she in hiding? On the run from the law?” She chewed on her lip, her multicolored eyes getting very big in her freckled face. “Oh, my God. Is this the girl you saved from that mafiya guy? The girl you found naked in the swimming pool? No way!”
