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The woman was gorgeous. Dark, almost black sable hair that she wore in a tight ponytail, tall and fit, a sort of no-nonsense air about her as she walked over to the line by the coffee pot. “I don’t remember the last time it snowed in Lauchtenland. I love the crunch. And the fact that you can see footprints—or the lack thereof.” She turned to Iris. “Hi. I’m Pippa. We stayed at your place in Lake Como. Thanks.” She held out her hand.
Oh. Iris shook it. The woman’s British accent sealed the name recognition. “Nice to meet you.”
“You remodeled it yourself?” Pippa walked over to the pile of clean dishes and grabbed a mug as Ned retrieved the full pot.
Iris held out her own mug, and Ned filled it, then Pippa’s, and finally his own. “Yeah. A little bit at a time.”
“Brilliant,” Pippa said, then walked over to the island and sat on the stool. “So, what’s this I hear about someone trying to kill you?”
And with that, the entire room shut down. Her mother drew in a breath. Fraser’s jaw tightened, Ned quietly set the pot of coffee back, nearly empty now. Iris looked over, her mouth tight, and Imani set a couple extra plates on the island.
“What? That’s why she came home, right?” Pippa took a sip of coffee, then made a face. “Oh, how I miss tea.”
“Yes,” said a voice on the other side of the dining room, from the hallway leading to the guest room. “She came home because someone is trying to kill her. And nearly succeeded.”
“No one nearly succeeded, Hud.” He’d showered, his dark-blond hair still glistening, and wore the slightest five-o’clock shadow. His frame filled up the doorway, and she hadn’t realized, really, how much bigger he was than her brothers, who had always sort of loomed over anyone in the room. But Hud had a presence that could hold its own with them any day. Even without the heroic monikers.
“Please stop living in denial, Iris,” Hud said and walked through the dining room into the kitchen. He looked at Ned, then, “Did you tell Fraser?”
All eyes went to Ned. He shook his head.
Right, because they’d been too busy gossiping about her and Hud. Her mouth tightened. Oh, this would be fantastic.
Fraser turned off the water. “Tell me what?”
Maybe she was in denial, because she sort of wanted to put her hands over her ears.
“We found the guy who tackled Iris dead, gunshot to his head, in his flat,” Ned said.
Fraser held up a hand. “Start withwho tackled Iris.” He looked at her. “You were tackled?”
“Not just tackled. Destroyed. Blown up. She left her feet and flew about ten yards,” Hud said and walked over to her.
Oy. No wonder she hurt.
Hud looked down at her. “She should have never been officiating that game.”
“Whoa, step back there, dude. That’s my job. And frankly, we don’t know that the hit had anything to do with—”
“Someone is trying to kill you, Iris?” Her mother’s soft voice broke through her words.
Oh. “Um…”
And right then, her father walked into the house. “Jenny, it smells amazing in here. What’s for breakfast?”
Her mother looked at him, and even Iris wanted to recoil. “Apparently, secrets and lies.” She tossed her towel down. “Starting with you. Did you know that someone tried tokillIris?”
“Iris?” He looked at his daughter. “When did you get here?”
“Last night,” she said quietly.
“Yes, Iris. Our daughter Iris. Who you told me was just fine and that I should stop worrying.” She finger-quoted much of that.
Her father swallowed, took a step toward her mother.
She held up her hands. “Don’t.” Then she turned to Iris, her boys, and even Hudson. “I am tired of you all keeping secrets from me under the guise of protecting me. I pray for every single one of you every single day, and I have the right to know what is happening to my children. And the people they love.” She looked at Shae then, who nodded, eyes wide.
“Isn’t it enough that Jonas was nearly nuked, and that Fraser nearly had his hand blown off, never mind Creed’s broken leg, and then Shae, poor Shae, got kidnapped? And brought to Russia somewhere?”
