“Who?” the older man pushed. “Who do you talk to about Whitlan’s money?”

“Rob . . . Rob Yardley. That’s who I work with. Whoever his connections are, they talk right to Whitlan themselves.”

“Good, rich man. Very good. Now . . . you go back to hotel and to your pretty wife and lovely children. You stay there for night. By tomorrow . . . everything will be done. Clean like whistle.” Several of the men walked into the house; Lyle had left the door open when he’d fled. “And,” the older man said, “you will keep mouth shut. You won’t warn Yardley or anyone else. And you say nothing to police, yes? Because that would make us very angry. Not something you want, rich man.”

As if to punctuate that, one of the men walked out of the house, a snake wrapped around his fist. That was disturbing enough, but then Lyle realized that the head of the snake was gone, the body just limp, and there was blood covering the lower half of the man’s face. And the man was . . . chewing.

Lyle felt bile working its way up the back of his throat, his hand slapping over his mouth.

The older man laughed. “Go, rich man. Go to your nice family. You stay out of this, and we won’t be back, yes? And that make you happy. Never to see the likes of us again?” He laughed again, slapped Lyle on the back, which almost had Lyle vomiting right there. “Go, and be happy this will be worst of it for you.”

Lyle did. He went back to his car, his wife and children at the hotel, and he tried—for the rest of his life—to forget the last thing he’d heard before he’d closed the car door and driven away from the house he was already planning to sell.

The older man yelling out, “Come, all my beautiful sons! It is time for us to feed!”

CHAPTER 26

Vic had changed clothes. Not into anything too fancy. Just his black jeans, black boots, black sweater, and his knee-length black leather jacket. He figured that after the bout, he could take Livy out for dinner. Again, nothing too fancy, but nice.

He walked down the stairs and Livy’s cousin Jake came in the front door. He caught sight of Vic and stopped. “Where you off to?”

“What makes you think I’m going anywhere?”

“You shaved.”

“Really? I shave and that means I’m going out?”

“Yes.”

“God, you’re just like your cousin.”

Jake smiled. “She is me. I am her. Are you taking her out tonight?”

“She has a derby bout. If she’s up to it after, I thought—”

“Derby?” Shen suddenly barreled out of the living room. “You’re going to a roller derby bout?”

“Yeah.”

“Can I come, or do I have to stay here and keep an eye on the Jean-LouisParkers?”

“Well, since you completely freaked them out the last time I asked you to do that—”

“Why did I freak them out? I didn’t do anything.”

“You stared at them for three hours straight until they were forced to go to bed.”

“You said keep an eye on them . . . that’s what I did. It’s not my fault they’re sensitive jackals.”

“I’m not going out tonight,” Jake said. “I’ll make sure they’re fine.”

Vic, satisfied with that since he knew how much Livy trusted her cousin, asked, “Any word yet about Lyle Bennett?”

“Yeah.” Jake yawned, scratched his neck. “We got a name from him. It sounded vaguely fancy British.”

“Do you remember the name?”

The badger thought a moment, then replied, “Yardley. Rob Yardley. Any guy named Rob Yardley shouldn’t be too hard to break.”

“No,” Vic said quickly. “Don’t do anything yet.”

“You know him?”

“I know of him. He’s a gambler.”

“That’s even better.”

“No. It’s not. Don’t do anything until you hear back from me. Understand?”

Jake studied Vic a moment, nodded. “Okay.”

Vic pointed toward the living room. “And you’ll watch . . .”

“It’s covered. Go. Have a good time.”

Vic and Shen walked out of the house. Shen waited until they were halfway down the block before he asked, “Who the hell is Rob Yardley?”

“A gambler who used to be under the protection of Grigori Volkov.”

Shen stopped walking. “Grigori? He’s under the protection of Grigori?”

“Calm down.”

“Calm down? Didn’t you say that Livy’s family thinks a shifter must be involved?”

“It can’t be Grigori.”

“Why? Because you like him? Because you went to his daughter’s wedding in Moscow? Because your mother calls him her little konfetka?”

“My mother calls everyone her little konfetka. It just means ‘sweetie.’ ”

“All I’m saying is, I hope you’re being smart about this. I know you like Grigori, Vic, but he’s still a gangster.”

“I’ll talk to him tomorrow.”

“That doesn’t sound like you’re being smart.”

“What do you want me to do? Let the Kowalskis meet with him? That can only end badly, and you know it. I’ll deal with it. Tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Shen agreed. “But I really hope you know what you’re doing.”