Bite Me (8 page)

“Stay. Please. We can chat!”

Livy couldn’t help but frown. “Chat?”

“She’s looking for a girlfriend,” Shen explained, his gaze locked on his laptop screen. Two big fingers quickly moved across the keyboard.

“I’m not really girlfriend material.”

“Have you ever thought a pair of shoes were cute?”

Livy shrugged. “Yeah. I guess, but—”

“Good enough!”

Ira yanked Livy over to the table, removed her backpack, and forced her into a chair. “I’ll make breakfast!”

Vic walked back into the kitchen. “You keep putting holes in my house,” he rightfully accused.

“I don’t want criminals to see any broken windows when I’m not here. The holes are harder to spot.”

“Now isn’t that nice of her?” Ira asked, her head in the refrigerator. “Oooh. There’s bacon.”

“Stop siding with her.” Vic sat down opposite Livy.

“If you don’t want her breaking into your house, then give her a key.”

“I offered.”

“I don’t like keys. It implies . . .” Livy thought a moment. “Permanence.”

“I’m not asking you to marry me. I’m asking you not to break into my home.”

“Yeah,” Livy replied. “I know.”

Vic did not understand this woman because
she
didn’t seem to understand the most basic things. Like how it made more sense to take the keys he’d had specially made for her rather than burrowing expensive and not easily repaired holes into his house so that she had a place to crash for the night. Vic had finally had to hire a shifter contractor to take care of the hole problem because he’d run out of lies to tell the full-human one he normally used. And the shifter contractors? They overcharged! Thieves! All of them! Especially the bears.

Yet the strangest thing about it all? Vic strongly felt that if he’d asked Livy very seriously not to come back into his home, she wouldn’t. Out of some Livy-only-understands-it sense of honor. But he couldn’t bring himself to do that—he just didn’t know why.

Livy’s phone went off and she pulled the device from her back pocket. But one look at the screen had her dropping her head to his thick wood table—hard. The sound was so loud, Ira turned away from the stove, where she was busy putting bacon in one of the pans he never had time to use.

The phone stopped ringing, but then started up again a few seconds later. Livy lifted her head, took several deep breaths, and answered.

“Yeah?” Livy’s mouth set in a hard line. Strange. It wasn’t like she smiled much, but her mouth was usually quite relaxed . . . wait. Why did he know that? How often was he staring at this woman’s mouth? “Yeah. She’s there. Yeah, I did leave her alone. She’s not a child.” Livy paused, dark eyes narrowing. “Because the little twat is
not
my problem,” she snapped into the phone.

Livy winced and the yelling from the other end of the phone reached Vic. Most of it at this point was in Mandarin, but Vic could tell by the tone and what he knew of the language—which was enough to successfully get around China when necessary—that Livy was getting her ass reamed . . . by her mother.

“You are a spoiled child! Undeserving of the Yang or Kowalski name if you can’t do one thing for your family!”

“Melly is—”

“Your cousin! And an important part of this family! You are so selfish!”

“Fine! I’ll—”

“No, no! I wouldn’t think of asking the
princess
to lower herself to help her family. I would never dare to tread on her oh-so-important artistic life! I sent your cousins over to watch out for Melly. And they went. Because they understand family!
Unlike you!
”

Livy sighed and said in English, “Whatever, Ma.”

There was a long pause. Dangerously long. Then Vic heard her mother scream,
“I no longer have a daughter! My daughter’s dead to me!”

But at the hysterical words, Livy only crossed her eyes. Vic sensed this was not the first time those two sentences had been hurled at her.

The screaming on the other end stopped and Livy lowered the phone. Vic assumed her mother had hung up.

“I have to say, I didn’t understand the words,” Shen observed, “but the tone I recognize from when my grandmother and mother go at it.”

Bringing eggs and milk over to the island, Ira asked Shen, “You don’t know Mandarin?”

“As I’ve been telling you since I was in college with your brother . . . I am
sixth
-generation Chinese American. The most Mandarin I know is from the Chinese restaurant down the street. So you can keep your Russian racism to yourself.”

“Excuse me,” Ira snapped back. “That was not
Russian
racism. That was good ol’ American racism, thank you very much. And we’re damn proud of it.”

“It took her years to hone,” Vic muttered.

“Sure did!” She grinned. “I’m gettin’ pretty good at it, too.”

Ira placed the eggs and milk on the counter, but quickly noticed her brother’s frown. “What’s wrong?”

“Is any of that fresh?” Because Vic hadn’t bought groceries in months.

“I brought them last night,” Livy admitted.

Stunned, Vic gazed at Livy. “You did?”

“I didn’t think you’d be home for a while. I wanted to make sure I had enough to eat.”

Vic studied Livy for a moment.

“What?” she pushed, when he didn’t say anything.

“You never crash for more than a night. You’re really avoiding this cousin of yours, aren’t you?” he guessed.

“I get around her . . . and all hell breaks loose. She’s crazy. I don’t mean cute, endearing crazy or even annoying, pain-in-the-ass crazy. She’s just nuts.”

“Is that why your mother is insisting she stay with you? So you can take care of her?”

Livy snorted. “Hell, no. My mother hates Melly,” Livy said flatly. “The whole family hates Melly.”

Eggs forgotten, Ira walked around the island and rested her butt on it, arms crossed over her chest. “They do?”

Livy dropped her phone on the table, which explained why her phone wasn’t in a sexy or cutesy case like most women had for their smartphones, but was in some sturdy rubber that could take a real beating. Because she probably beat the hell out of the thing.

“Melly,” she began, “is . . .” Livy thought a moment before announcing, “Crazy. I don’t mean shifter crazy. I mean motherfucking crazy. She was in jail . . . no.” Livy shook her head. “She was just paroled from
prison.
No one in the damn family wants to deal with her, but we all do.”

Vic said, “I don’t understand . . . if your family can’t stand her . . . why is your mother forcing you to take care of her?”

“Because . . . she’s got skills. And my family will always exploit skills. No matter how annoying you may be.”

“Skills? What skills?”

“Well . . . Melly can look at a painting, like a Monet or a Renoir or a Bernardo Zenale—’cause she really liked him—for, like, two hours—and in three days give you a perfect replica. Aged perfectly and everything. There are at least two of her Monets, and a François Clouet in the Louvre.” She paused. “But you don’t know that because we could all go to jail, yada yada yada, blah blah blah.”

The silence after that was long and painful, until Vic’s sister pushed the plate of nearly finished dessert across the table to Livy and asked, “Cake?”

Livy stood. “Thanks for breakfast,” she told Ira after she’d finished eating. “It was good.”

“It was bacon,” Ira joked. “Who can ever go wrong with bacon?”

“You going home?” Vic asked.

“Guess I should. At least to make sure my apartment’s still there.”

“Maybe it won’t be that bad.” And Livy appreciated him trying to make her feel better. It actually gave her a brief moment of hope—until it was dashed by Shen.

“Uh . . . Livy?” He glanced up from the laptop he’d been working on even while they ate breakfast.

“What?”

“I was searching around . . . about your cousin . . . because, ya know . . .” The panda shrugged. “Crazy girls usually mean hot sex and I wanted to see what she looked like.”

Ira sneered. “All these years, Shen, and you
still
disgust me.”

Shen ignored his friend’s sister and pointed at his computer screen. “Is this her?”

Livy walked around until she stood behind Shen and the Barinov siblings stood behind her. Then, together, they all watched the horror unfold.

It was especially horrifying when Melly, while guzzling back another glass of vodka and orange juice, admitted to the PC camera Livy used for online meetings, “You know what? I totally am not supposed to be drinking right now. I think the judge said that.” Melly thought for a moment, her eyes gazing up at the ceiling. “Yep! Totally not supposed to be drinking. I think it’s part of my probation or whatever.” She shrugged. “Well, like, who’s going to find out? Am I right, girls?” That’s when Melly leaned back and Livy could see her other female cousins that Livy’s mother had sent over to “take care of Melly” in the background, including Jocelyn—who Livy thought knew better! And the whole group of them were already drunk and out of control.

Fists in the air, the She-badgers began chanting, “Chug, Melly! Chug! Chug! Chug!” And Melly did.

“Is this live?” Livy asked.

“No. It was posted a few hours ago.”

“Right.” Livy nodded, knew what she had to do. “Okay. Thanks for breakfast.”

“Where are you going?” Vic asked.

“Back to the apartment. I’ve got people to kill.”

Vic shook his head. “Anyone else, Livy, and I’d assume they were just being overly dramatic. But you . . . I’m pretty sure you’re going to kill them.”

“Yeah. I’ll get away with it, too. By the time I’m done, it’ll be like they never existed.”

“That’s an option,” Vic told her, trying to be reasonable. He was always trying to be reasonable, which made her think he was much more bear than cat. “But I have a job for you. It’s very important.”

“Whitlan’s daughter again? Seriously? Can we not just leave that girl alone?”

“We need you to check her apartment, which would be much safer than dealing with your cousin right now.”

“Breaking and entering could still put me in jail, though, Barinov. If I get caught.”

“But much less time than first-degree murder.”

He had a point.

“It’s not like your cousins are going anywhere,” Vic added.

Not until they’d slept off whatever they’d drunk. And if they’d added some snake poison for that little extra kick, they could be out for days.

“We’ll do this together,” Vic offered.

And Livy couldn’t help but snort. “You? You’re going to break in with me? ’Cause I don’t exactly see you blendin’ into the walls.”

“Shen and I will be your backup.”

Shen finally looked away from the tits Melly had decided to bare on camera. “Wait. How did
I
get in the middle of this?”

“You’re the one who keeps wanting to be my partner,” Vic snapped at his friend.

“Yeah, but—”

“Just do what I tell you, panda.” Vic smiled at Livy. “Okay, Livy?”

Livy took a breath. “It’s probably a good idea. That way I can more carefully arrange the murders.”

Vic nodded at her statement. “See? That sounds like a good plan.”

But Ira gawked at her brother. “That really sounds like a good plan to you?”

“Better than the first one,” he shot back.

C
HAPTER
6

O
nce Vic had Livy’s solemn promise not to suddenly run off so she could eviscerate her cousin, he slept most of the day. Not even bothering to change, but dropping facedown over his bed, fully clothed. He woke up when the scent of his sister’s garlic chicken snaked up the stairs to his bedroom. But he waited until his nephew climbed up on his back and tugged at his hair before he actually opened his eyes.

“Uncle Vic, Mommy says dinner is ready.” Vic didn’t move, so his nephew tugged harder. “Uncle Vic! Uncle Vic! Dinner!”

When Vic still didn’t move, his nephew leaned over to see Vic’s face. That’s when Vic unleashed his fangs and gave a low-volume roar.

Igor squealed and laughed, trying to quickly get off Vic so he could make a run for it.

Flipping onto his back, Vic caught his nephew around the waist and tossed him up in the air.

Igor laughed while kicking his legs and swinging his arms until his mother yelled up the stairs, “Would you two stop fooling around and get down here for dinner? Now!”

Grinning, Vic stood, tossing the boy over his shoulder and taking him downstairs to the kitchen. He plopped Igor in a chair, adding a few phone books so the boy could feel as tall as he would likely be one day, and looked around.

“Where’s Livy?”

“Outside,” his sister said, putting big bowls of food out for them. “Staring off into the distance like she’s analyzing all the ills of the world.” Ira shook her head. “These artists. So moody.”

Vic stared at his sister a moment before asking, “So how’s your husband?”

Ira, eyes narrowing, put her hand over her son’s face so she could give Vic the finger without guilt.

Chuckling, Vic headed outside to the backyard, but stopped when he saw Shen walk into his kitchen.

“Are you staying?” Vic asked.

“You’re not going to cruelly send me off to a hotel now are you? All alone?”

Then Shen fluttered his eyes in a way that Vic was entirely not comfortable with.

“Don’t do that,” Vic muttered before walking out the back door to find Livy.

As his sister had said, she was sitting on one of the benches in his backyard, her body almost lost in one of his leather jackets—and staring up at the sky.

Vic sat down next to her, grimacing when the bench creaked ominously.

Slowly, eyes wide, Livy looked over at him.

“It’s not my fault. It’s this weak full-human furniture.”

“Why do you have full-human furniture when you are far from full-human?”

A little embarrassed, Vic shrugged. “It came with the place.”

“Did all the furniture come with the place?”

“No.”

“Did you choose the furniture?” When Vic didn’t answer, Livy said, “Your sister. That’s what I thought.”