Blood and Fire (McClouds & Friends #8)(95)

“. . . me that cereal?”

He wrenched his attention to Rachel, who was yelling in a way that suggested it was not the first time she’d spoken. “Huh?”

“The cereal,” Rachel said impatiently. “Pass me the cereal box!”

Bruno looked where she was pointing on the shelf. Looked back, at the open cereal box in front of Rachel’s bowl, some of which was still floating in the pink milk. It was the same exact type of cereal.

He leaned across the table, hefted the box, rattling its contents. It was almost completely full. “Use the open box. There’s plenty in there.”

The little girl gave him a calculating look and glanced furtively to the right and left. “I want the prize,” she confided. She pointed to the undersea scene pictured on the box, which sported cartoon fish and a treasure chest dripping with jewels, festooned with ropes of pearls. “I already have the ring and two of the bracelets. But I don’t have the necklace yet. Maybe there’s one in that box.” She paused, made an impatient but still furtive gesture. “Well? Get it!”

Bruno glanced around the kitchen for her parents. Not there. He was probably committing a huge faux pas, but hell. One look at the kid, and a guy knew he didn’t want to get on her bad side.

He snagged the cereal box and passed it to Rachel, who tore into it with feral eagerness. The inner bag got torn, cereal flew right and left, scattering over the table and floor as she dug for her prize. Yikes.

He was relieved when she unearthed the plastic bag with a shriek of delight. It was a heart-shaped locket, painted plastic, studded with big fake jewels. Then the energy in the room changed. The sound level dropped. Everyone took a simultaneous breath in their conversation. The fine hairs prickled up on the back of Bruno’s neck. Heat raced under his skin as he turned to look. God. He was blushing, for God’s sake.

Lily was framed in the door, offering shy smiles and nods. She glanced at him. He couldn’t breathe. Her hair was damp, spiraling in lush corkscrewing waves. Her lips were soft, luscious. She had color.

A shriek of chair legs scraping, and Davy McCloud wiped his mouth, shoved a last chunk of bagel into his mouth, and piled up his plate, glass, cup, and silverware. He vacated his place, gesturing with his chin for Lily to take his chair and sit next to Bruno.

She smiled her thanks and slid into the chair, looking at everything except for him. Zia Rosa headed over with a cup of coffee and set it before her, having already administered sugar and cream for Lily according to her own personal and inflexible criteria.

“You eat a big breakfast, honey,” she announced. “Watcha want, omelet, pancakes, French toast? Over easy, scrambled, ham, bacon?”

Lily looked bewildered. “Ah, whatever’s around is fine. A piece of toast, if there is some. I can do it myself. Please don’t worry about it.”

Zia snorted. “Girls these days! What are you gonna make babies out of if you don’t eat? What are they s’posed to be built out of, air?”

Lily choked on her coffee.

“Zia, you start in on her, and I’m wrapping duct tape around your head,” he warned her, but the damage was done.

“You shut up, boy. I wasn’t talkin’ to you.” Zia barreled back to the stove to dish Lily up, a woman on a mission.

“Sorry about that,” he muttered. “Should have warned you. She’s got this thing about grandkids. Huge pain in the ass.”

Lily started to reply, but Zia Rosa came marching back, bearing a platter of food that made their eyes widen in awe. A huge omelet was splayed over the plate, stuffed with cheese, vegetables, and sliced ham. A mountainous heap of fried potatoes teetered over it. Three pieces of toast. She laid it down, crossed her arms over her bosom, dark eyes narrowed. Daring them to defy her. “Mangia,” she said, her voice steely.

Lily looked intimidated. “You’ll help, right?” she asked him.

“Sure.” Looking at her at that close, intimate range, smelling her shampoo, it made his body stir. Gave a man an appetite.

There was a commotion outside the kitchen, and voices outside, one of which made his heart jump. Kev. Bruno’s chair shot back. He leaped up as his adopted brother strode into the room.

Kev’s dull green canvas raincoat billowed around his knees. His dirty blond hair had grown out past his shoulders, loose and tousled. He looked grim and as tired as a guy ought to look after flying from New Zealand, but even so, he looked better than Bruno had ever seen him.

Months of traveling the world with Edie, his bride-to-be, had agreed with him. He was filled out, had color. He looked a lot more like Sean now, his biological identical twin, than he ever had before. Except for the scars that seamed half of his face from cheekbone to jaw.

Edie was making the rounds of hugs, but Kev cut through the crowd. He made his way to Bruno, grabbed the front of his sweatshirt, and jerked Bruno up until their faces were inches apart. “What the f*ck is going on?” His voice suddenly silenced all other conversation.

“Uh . . . long story,” Bruno said.

Thud. Kev shoved him against the wall, which made the various bruises on Bruno’s ribs hurt like hell. “I hear you met some femme fatale and started slaughtering people for her? Dead bodies on the streets? Posses of commandos coming to blow your ass up? Over some chick you just met?” The words hissed out like water from a fire hose.

Bruno was taken aback. “Ah . . . ah, not exactly.”