“Stop.”
“Good luck with that, cuz. Unless, of course, you will need me to protect you from them with my overt manliness?”
Livy snorted and playfully pushed her cousin’s head away.
“You should see your place now, Livy,” Jocelyn told her, offering a bite of the Danish she’d picked up from the spread that Kyle had put out. Yes, Kyle. It seemed that like most torturers, Kyle was also a wonderful host.
Livy waved the pastry away. “Did Melly come with you?”
“Yeah. She’s out in the back, though. On the phone.”
“On the phone with who?” When Jocelyn raised an eyebrow, Livy sighed. “Tell me she’s not on the phone with anyone who has a restraining order on her.”
“Does her ex-boyfriend have a restraining order on her?”
“Several.”
“Oh. Then I can’t tell you that.”
Livy, unwilling to deal with more than one tragedy at a time, focused instead on Kyle. He was talking to her mother, and based on the expression on Joan’s face, he was trying to convince her to pose for him. With as little clothing as possible.
“Coop?” she said, and pointed.
Cooper, busy catching up with Jake, followed where Livy was pointing. His eyes crossed and he promised, “I’ll handle it.”
“Thanks.”
Coop walked over to Kyle and grabbed his brother by the scruff of his T-shirt, dragging him out of the room.
“Don’t give me an answer yet!” Kyle begged Joan. “Think on it! Your beauty must be captured for all time!”
Jocelyn laughed. “I love that kid.”
“You would.”
“Olivia,” her uncle Otto called out. “One of those hockey players you take pictures of is here to see you.”
Livy looked over at the living room archway to see Vic and Shen standing there with large duffel bags and computer cases. She’d guess there was more equipment out in Vic’s SUV.
“I am not,” Vic growled at Otto, “a hockey player.”
“American football then?” Otto asked.
“Uncle Otto,” Livy cut in before Vic could start roaring, “these are my friends Vic and Shen. They’re going to be helping me.”
“Helping you with what, Olivia?” her uncle Balt asked. “You have us here. Now tell us what you need.”
Livy looked at Vic and he motioned to the stairs with a nod of his head. He and Shen headed upstairs to get situated while Livy faced her family.
She walked to the front of the room and looked over all their faces. Livy had silently rehearsed how she planned to discuss this. Starting off by thanking those who’d made the trip before carefully explaining everything she’d learned since she’d discovered her father’s body.
Yet after all that rehearsing what came out was, “My father’s dead.”
The honey badgers stared at her for several long seconds until Jake gently said, “We know, hon. We were at his funeral.”
Livy shook her head. “No. That wasn’t him in the casket. My mother put some other guy in there. Right, Ma?”
All heads turned toward Livy’s mother, and Joan threw up her hands. “Can’t even trust my own daughter to keep her mouth shut!”
“You whore!” Aunt Teddy accused, one finger pointing at Joan. “What did you do to my dear brother?”
“I didn’t do anything to him. I didn’t kill him. I was just sure he was dead.”
“But you couldn’t get his insurance without the body. So who did you kill? One of the many lovers you cheated on my dear brother with? You disgust me,” Teddy sneered.
“I don’t care.”
“Stop it,” Livy calmly cut in, not in the mood to fight or watch others fight. “This isn’t about my mother. This isn’t about insurance. This is about who killed my father.”
“I loved my brother,” Balt said, his eyes sad, “but he probably died in some bar. Or over woman.”
“No,” Livy said. “My father was hunted down. For entertainment. For sport.”
The room became silent as her family tried to understand what she was telling them.
“How do you know this, little Olivia?” Balt asked. “How do you know this is true?”
“Because I found my father’s honey badger form stuffed and on display in a woman’s apartment. My father’s death wasn’t over a woman. It didn’t happen during a bar fight. My father was murdered. Not because he was an asshole—as we all know he was—but because he was a shifter. Because he made good sport. And, as Damon Kowalski’s daughter, I’m not letting that go. I’ll never let that go.”
The family remained silent. There was no rallying cry. Nor was there dismissal of what she’d said. Instead, Livy saw sly glances passed between siblings, cousins, spouses.
Balt studied Livy a moment before he asked, “What do you need from us, Olivia?”
That was simple. “I plan to rain down vengeance on the man who did this to my father and anyone protecting or helping him. And you trifling band of miscreant felons are going to help me.”
Balt slowly stood and stalked over to where Livy was standing. They stared at each other for several seconds before Balt threw open his arms and wrapped them around Livy.
“My little Olivia! You make us all so proud!”
Livy looked over at Jake and Jocelyn, but both quickly turned away before they started laughing hysterically.
“We will make the ones who did this to our brother pay and pay and pay until there is nothing left.” He finally released her from the hug, but he still kept one arm around her as he faced the rest of the family. “Now the world bleeds—”
“Or,” Livy emphatically cut in, “we can just go after the ones who did this. Rather than taking it out on the entire world. That seems excessive.”
“If you’re sure.”
“Yes, Uncle Balt.” She patted his ridiculously broad shoulder. “I’m sure.”
Vic helped Shen plug in all his equipment. They’d found a room in the enormous house with a desk and chair, so they made the executive decision that it would be their office.
When Vic had gone back to his house to pick up his stuff, he’d found Shen still there, watching the History Channel while sitting on Vic’s couch and munching away on long stalks of bamboo.
At first, Vic had been really annoyed. He didn’t want a roommate. He especially didn’t want Shen as a roommate. But as soon as Vic told Shen what Livy had found in Allison Whitlan’s apartment, the giant panda’s whole attitude had changed. Vic didn’t even have to ask Shen for help, Shen just assumed he would be helping. He’d gotten off the couch and packed his equipment. And while packing, he’d asked, several times, how Livy was holding up, true concern in his voice.
That had meant a lot to Vic because Livy meant a lot to him. And getting her through this wouldn’t be easy.
“How tall are you?”
Crouching beside the desk, Vic had to lift his head to see who’d spoken to him. It was Kyle Jean-Louis Parker, which was strange. Why was he here? Weren’t most kids in school?
Deciding it was none of his business—and he didn’t really care one way or the other—Vic went back to his work and replied, “Seven-one.”
“Really?”
Vic realized he was missing one of the cables, and he again raised his head to ask Shen to hand it to him, but he found that Kyle was now leaning over the desk and right next to Vic’s face.
Jerking back, Vic snapped, “What are you doing?”
“You have amazing bone structure. Such dramatic lines. Are you of Slavic descent?”
Vic frowned. “You don’t recognize me, do you, Kyle?”
“Should I?”
“I helped save your brother from a cult last year.”