Wyatt (Lane Brothers #1) (66 page)

Breakfast went…not as well as my misplaced sense of hope had fooled me into believing it would. Luc, while he’s trying, is as awkward and uncomfortable as all get out.

And my little darling brother is being his usually bratty self, thanks to the suspicion that Maddy might steal his precious Luc’s attention from his royal highness.

“You stop being such a snot-nosed punk and be nice, or I’ll kick your scrawny butt, Benjamin Munro!” I hiss, plonking down a glass of juice with his breakfast. “Maddy is here to stay, so you might as well get used to it and try being a big brother instead of a douche.”

That earns me a glare and a giggle from our newest recruit. Luc, I notice, is struggling not to laugh when Ben sticks his tongue out at me and rolls his eyes dramatically.

“She don’t understand that big brothers tease little sisters.”

That catches our attention pretty darn quick; even Luc manages to crack a smile and give him a look of paternal pride. I, on the other hand, am no dummy. Benjamin is most definitely up to something. I recognize the signs.

Too bad for him my pregnancy hormones have turned me into a hard ass, and I am so on him if he so much as sniffs at little Maddy.

“I’ve never had a brother. What should I do?”

Gosh, this kid and her accent. It’s nothing like Luc’s, in no way smarmy or stuck up, but it’s not exactly normal English as far as I’m concerned.

“Nothin’ yet, just don’t be a baby when I tease ya or this one’ll scalp me. So, what did you do if you didn’t have no one to play with?”

“Okay. And I like reading. I’m up to seven-year-old books now.”

Ben scowls, totally unimpressed, and shakes his head, muttering about boring girls and men needing to be patient with their women.

“Seriously, kid, don’t let him lead you around by the nose. We girls have to stick together.”

                              *********************************

Really? Two weeks ago I was a sane, normal, albeit quirky young woman, and now, thanks to the terrible trio, I can’t get a word in edgewise without being overruled and outvoted.

I’d tried glaring my husband into submission every time the gang got another of their cuckoo ideas into their thick gourds, but the man obviously never wants sex again in this lifetime.

“No, absolutely not.”

“But love—”

“No. You know how I feel about this.”

After he’d set Frank and some Ivan guy on the job, we’d discovered that Maddy’s mom is still alive and safe back home in some tiny village in England.

The woman, if I can be so magnanimous as to call her that, seeing as I think she’s a monster, had given her kid up right after birth and spent the last years living a quiet but good life thanks to a shit load of money she’d gotten out of nowhere.

Huh! She’d sold her kid, it seems, and that shit has officially signed her death warrant with me.

“Look.” He sighs, watching me go through my nightly routine with an indulgent smile. “We need to get to the bottom of this, and I don’t want to leave you here. I’m still not convinced that fuck skipped over the Mexican border. Anyway, didn’t you want to go see
The
Tower and The Eye
?”

Okay, that is true…

“Fine, but if your bitch mother so much as sneezes my way, I can’t be responsible for my actions,” I warn, putting my hair up in a loose bun.

That makes him laugh, something he’s been doing a lot of lately despite my refusal to have sex—hey, it’s hurting me too, but I don’t feel comfortable going there as yet, not when I haven’t got the answers to everything.

For all I know he’s up to his eyeballs in this stuff and is just spinning me a really long story to keep me in check.

Time will tell, I guess, but that’s also something that’s working against me, since my hormones have done things to my vagina I’m having trouble controlling.

I’m cool now, but only because talking about his mother always gives me the crabs. He’d finally opened up some and told me about his stepmother and his father, and boy am I glad I’ve never met those bastards.

According to him and a very scathing Cammy, two colder human beings were never born. They’d spent eighteen years trying to push my husband into the mold they’d made for him, and when that didn’t work they’d all but disowned him, leaving him to fend for himself.

Not that they’d taken much satisfaction out of it, because he’s richer than they are six times over and can buy and sell those creeps any day of the week.

Now I have to meet them, thanks to his brilliant idea that we all need to go over there and get some answers. And all because I can’t keep my big mouth shut about who I’d suspected had given that Barker bitch all that money in the first place.

I hope for their sakes I’m wrong and that he doesn’t connect any of them to it, because if he does, those two are dead freaking meat.

“If she says anything I’ll hold your coat while you play footie with her head. Now come on and get into bed.”

His eyes have taken on that weird, sexy, hooded look that I recognize as his sex face, something my libido is picking up on with bells and whistles ringing strong.

“Lucian, I’m not in the mood to argue with you about sex tonight.”

I say it because I know if I get on that bed and he turns my way, there won’t be much arguing. I’ll probably fold like a freaking concertina under his hands.

God, why did all of this have to happen when things were going so well?

Uh, because things were going so well, my inner harpy snarks, letting me know how cynical and unimpressed she is with me at the moment.

Yeah, yeah, I know you want to do the tango with your guy, but I need to get a grip before I give in here. Trust is not a given, ya know.

Jesus, I really need to call Mary or the girls before I get on that jet, or I can tell ya, my mind may not survive whatever the heck else happens.

London, England

Luc

The moment the huge wrought iron gates squeak open to admit the car filled with those I cherish most, I have an instant regret for thinking this is at all a good idea.

Why have I brought my family here?

What possible good do I think could come from subjecting these innocents to my parents and their icy brand of disapproval?

Well, for one, I want them to see what I have and know that nothing they did or will ever try to do will ever have the power to harm me. I want them to see the love my family has for me—hopefully Ashley will buckle soon and tell me—and covet what their black hearts can never have.

Mostly I want to see the look on Mother’s face when she sees Maddy.

It’s a shot in the bloody dark, I know, since the woman has no emotions and so rarely gives up her secrets, but if there’s even the smallest chance that she’ll react, I want to see it with my own eyes.

“It looks like a castle.”

“Yes, Benjamin, but there are most definitely no fairytales here.”

Ashley rolls her eyes at my tone and kicks my leg none too gently, her gaze telling me she doesn’t appreciate my attempt at disillusioning her little ones.

“What? Best they know that their grandparents are bloodsucking—ow! Dammit, woman, that bleeding hurt!”

“Oh, I’ll make you bleed if you say one more miserable word, Lucian Jasper,” she hisses under her breath, pinching my thigh again for good measure. “Leave them alone. They don’t need this crap.”

Like I do?

“Love, I simply want them to be prepared for her.”

I see her cute little nose scrunch up, and bite my tongue to stifle a laugh. This is my love, all full of piss and vinegar, as the Yanks would say. She’s pregnant and still feeling the effects of morning sickness, and yet she’s ready to protect what’s hers without so much as a sniff.

Goddammit, I’m going to sex her up the minute we’re alone, for no other reason than I find her brand of parenting completely irresistible.

“I’m prepared. That’s all you need to know. Now, what all are we doing today?”

So ready to get this done. I can’t blame her. The minute we know everything, we can proceed with the adoption papers and match Benjamin’s with a set with Maddy’s name on.

My lawyers are good, but they want everything in order so that the judge won’t think twice about giving us our girl. Legally.

If that doesn’t happen, well, I have no scruples about greasing a few palms to get my way. But for now…

“It’s good to have you back again, sir,” the butler, Alfred, murmurs regally when the car comes to a halt and we exit.

The man must be nearing ninety, if not more, and yet he still works here every day, six days a week, serving these vipers. I’d tried, unsuccessfully, to steal him and take him back home with me, but the man’s loyal to a fault and stubborn besides.

He’d been one of only two people in this dump who’d given a damn about me and Cammy, the other being Glory, the crotchety old housekeeper.

“I can’t say I’m too thrilled to be here, Alfred old chap, but I am glad to see you. How’s the arthritis?” I ask, taking Ashley’s hand when he leads us in and directs the staff to gather the luggage.

“Not altogether pleasant, sir, though I dare say I’ve managed it rather well these last years. Lady Jasper knows you’re here. I’m to show you into the formal dining room. Lunch is served.”

The rudeness of this act is not lost on me. Or my wife, it seems, because she just squeezes my hand and smiles ironically, rolling her eyes at the ridiculousness of all this pomp and grandeur.

“Maybe if we’re really lucky she’ll actually say hello. Now put a smile on that mug, Lucian: we’re gonna give them a good show. Benjamin, stop pulling your sister’s hair, and Maddy, straighten that spine, little cowgirl.”

And then we’re walking into the opulent dining room, my mother and father doing their best royal imitation by looking us up and down like we’re a quartet of particularly unappealing bugs.

That’s when I feel my love’s spine stiffen before her face goes so syrupy sweet I feel my teeth ache.

“Get ready to rumble, baby. I got this,” she mutters out the side of her mouth, throwing me a saucy wink.

                       ***************************************

I’m laughing inside. Well, outside too, since my shoulders haven’t stopped shaking the last half hour since I’d brought my motley crew of ferals into the realm of all things cold and dead.

Ashley, thanks to her immovable pride and her need to hackle the hell out of others, has chosen to do everything in her power to irritate the hell out of Cynthia, something I never thought I’d see.

“So you sit around all day having tea? And shopping? That’s so… No wonder you look so tired. You must be bored out of your mind,” she says sweetly, throwing a glare at Maddy before she can wipe a swath of butter on the tablecloth.

“Well, a true lady knows her place.”

The scathing tone makes my hackles rise, but I should know by now that my little love has no need of my help defending herself from slights.

“Ooookay, well, I’ll need a map so’s to keep away from there. I like my life meaningful and interesting.”

Oh, Jesus, save us all from that trilling tone.

I look away, breaking eye contact for the express purpose of not laughing aloud, again, when I see Benjamin giggling silently, his gray gaze trained to his right, his eyes dancing with so much mischief I can only but assume the lad’s done something particularly smart.

My control almost slips when I look over to see my father’s soup swimming in grapes, his snowy white shirt covered in orange droplets thanks to Benjamin’s skill and aim with a spoon and fruity ammo.

“This soup’s gross, man. Haven’t ya heard of burgers or mac and cheese? Seriously, Mad, when we get home I’ma make you a wicked good burger. Hey, Ash, can we make Mad some real food so she can forget about this yucky stuff these people eat?”

“I’m pretty sure I’ve been feeding her real food, kid, but if you want burgers I can do that.”

“Yeah, Gramps, maybe we can ask Ash to make us some here for dinner!” he yells down the table, garnering my father’s attention with his loud and altogether enthusiastic joy.

The old man, instead of giving him the usual grunt and evil eye, stares at him thoughtfully, his eyebrow raised in contemplation.

“I’ll consider your request when you stop throwing grapes into my soup, young man.”

And with that he flicks his newspaper and goes back to his usual pursuit of ignoring any and everyone around him. His wife included.

Of course, I’m sitting there with my bloody mouth hanging open and struggling to associate that calm demeanor with the scathing, heated set-downs I’d received my whole life.

“Hey, all my party people! Why didn’t anyone invite the Cammy to the party?”

Oh, bleeding Christ!

I turn just as the little termagant comes hopping into the room, her bottom lip hanging in a mock pout that lasts all of thirty seconds before she turns to Mother with look of patient understanding.

“Your invitation must have been lost in the mail. No worries! I’m here now. Sooo, anywho, I’ve brought along my fiancé to meet the parentals. Now, now Mother, don’t get all over excited! He’s just a lowly American come to meet you,” she trills, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Camille—”

“Oh, chill out,” she laughs. “Hi, Pops! Are you still tuning out of life to ignore the old ball and chain’s existence then? That sucks.”

I’m silently laughing at this all too familiar display when Brody comes strolling in, his face a portrait of lazy indulgence.

“Keep it down, sugar, the staff are circling the wagons. Want to introduce your guy or what?” he drawls, planting a kiss on her puckered brow.

“Um, not until she answers my question. No sense in doing the song and dance if we’re not staying. Sooo, Mother dearest, is it true that you paid that Barker girl to lie to Luc about his daughter and then stashed her with some flaky, good for nothing old coot in the wilds of Cornwall?”

And I should have known the little baggage would come in and muscle in on my fun.