“Of course, I will help my handsome son and the little rat.”

“Mama!”

“It’s badger, my love,” Vladik explained, always a bit oblivious to his wife’s pointed attacks. “Honey badger.” Vladik pointed at Vic. “You’ll need to buy her big coat.” When his wife and son just stared at him, “Honey badgers are born of heat. When you bring her to visit in Moscow for the holidays or during the winter bear games, she will need big coat. What did I say that’s so confusing?”

Livy appeared at the library door. “Vic?”

“Yes?”

“Whose house is this?”

“Novikov’s wedding gift to Blayne. It was purchased under his sport agent’s name so she wouldn’t find out, but that should keep the bears off our backs for a while. So I think we’re pretty safe for a little bit if that’s what has you worried.”

“But this is Novikov’s house, right?”

“Right.”

Livy stepped back and yelled down the hallway, “Hands off the paintings and silverware and anything else you thieving felons might like to take! This house is under my protection as of this nanosecond!”

Livy’s statement was greeted with whining and accusations of “going soft.”

“The man saved my life,” Livy said over all that grumbling. “You think I’m going to just let you steal his shit?”

The grumbling stopped, and Livy looked at Vic. “There’s bacon. We’re making bacon.”

She walked off.

Vic smiled. “Isn’t she amazing?” he asked his parents.

His mother sighed and walked out. Vladik put his arm around Vic’s shoulders. “The best thing about sweet Olivia being shot is that if she can survive that, we can almost guarantee she can survive your mother.”

“You do know, Papa, that doesn’t sound nearly as positive as you think it does.”

“You’ve been away from Russia too long, my son. Because to Russian bear . . . that is as positive as we are willing to get.”

Vic set up a giant whiteboard in the kitchen while Livy and her family feasted on big piles of bacon. The groceries had been delivered by a nearby shifter-owned store that morning.

They were on Rhode Island. That was where Novikov’s mansion was located. And it was an amazing home. There was a heated pool outside, a heated pool inside, and a separate building that housed an NHL-regulation ice rink and another building that housed a banked track for derby training.

Although Novikov wasn’t the most outwardly affectionate man, he’d clearly been thinking of his bride-to-be when he’d had this house built, and he wasn’t afraid to spend money to make Blayne happy.

So for him to allow Vic to bring Livy’s entire felonious family to this house, to risk the gift he’d spent a lot ofmoney on, in order to ensure Livy’s safety meant more to her than she could possibly express.

Mostly because she was bad at expressing anything but her disdain.

Once the whiteboard was set up, Vic, his parents, and Livy’s family ate bacon from the big platters on the island in the middle of the room and . . . stared.

“Are we actually going to use this whiteboard?” Jake finally asked.

“We need a picture of Chumakov,” Shen said as he wrapped bacon around his bamboo stalk. “Then we need arrows pointing to the picture.”

“Arrows from where?”

“No idea. I just know that’s how it always looked when we worked at the CIA. Lots of boards with a main guy and then arrows pointing to him from other, lesser guys. Except we have no guys.”

“Or,” Balt suggested, “we can all travel to Russia, track Chumakov down, and kill him like dog in street.”

“If we do that,” Livy said, “we’ll need to be back in time for Blayne’s wedding. I’m their photographer.”

Everyone turned to stare at Livy until Melly asked, “So you’re doing weddings now? Because I’m getting married in September and—”

“I am not doing weddings now. I’m doing a wedding.”

“You’ll do a wedding for outsiders,” Melly accused, “but you won’t do it for family?”

“When you have such perfect timing that you save me from getting shot in the head, then, yes!” Livy exploded. “That’s when I’ll photograph your goddamn wedding!”

“You are such a selfish bitch!”

“I’m a selfish bitch? And who exactly are you marrying? That hipster loser with a restraining order against your dumb ass?”

“You’ll never understand our love!”

“Because I don’t have a psychosis!”

“That is enough! Both of you!” Vic’s mother yelled before she turned those angry gold eyes on Joan. “Why are you not doing this? This one,” she accused, “is your child, is she not? I mean based on eye—”

“Mama!”

“—color.”

Livy whispered against Vic’s ear, “Nice race-save there, Ruskie.”

“Stop it.”

“Is anyone listening?” Nova demanded.

Busy staring at and tapping on her phone, Joan lifted her head. “Huh?”

“We need to lure Chumakov here,” Vic’s father suggested.

“Good idea,” Balt agreed. “We lure bear here and club him to death like seal.”

“No.” And Livy could see Vladik’s patience beginning to wane. “We lure Chumakov here so that we can have this Whitlan person taken care of in Russia.”