In For the Kill (McClouds & Friends #11)(52)

Tam snorted. “Listen to him. A Florentine accent, of all things.”

“Wow,” Sean said with a low whistle. “Didn’t see that coming.”

“I’m not surprised at all,” Tam said. “You forget that Sam here isn’t like the rest of us hardscrabble proles. He’s the Petrie princeling, massaged and molded to take up the reins of global leadership.”

“Shut up, Tam,” Sam muttered.

“But you’re a rebel, Sam,” Tam went on. “You turned away from the big money to wallow in the worst cruelty that humanity can inflict upon itself. Vice and homicide, on the big city streets. Why, I wonder?”

He shook his head. It was none of her goddamn business, for one thing, and for another, he truly didn’t know. He chose not to examine his own motives that closely. It never led anywhere good.

“I can’t take my firearms to Europe,” he said to Val. “I’ll need to score some weapons once I get there. You have contacts?”

“I’ll set you up,” Val said. “You understand what is expected of you, no? You must be with her every second of every day.”

“No, he will not!” Sveti yelled. “I will not be—”

“I’ll follow her into the ladies’ room when she pees,” Sam broke in. “I’ll follow her into the changing rooms where she shops.”

“I’m not going there to shop!” Sveti’s face was bright red again.

Sam pressed on. “I’ll sleep across the threshold of her door.”

“That I doubt,” Tam said. “You’ll find a warmer, softer nest.”

“I can’t ask Hazlett to buy another ticket!” Sveti protested.

“I’ll cover my own ticket,” he said.

“Money’s not an issue, with Samuel Petrie,” Tam said. “Did you not see the suit he wore to the wedding? His portfolio almost equals my own. And loaded as he is personally, his family is still more loaded. We’re talking the top one percent of the top one percent.”

“You hacked into my bank accounts?” Sam demanded. “Why?”

“I had to know everything there was to know about a man who looked at my girl the way you looked at her,” Tam said coolly. “Did you think we wouldn’t notice?”

“What does my portfolio have to do with me perving on Sveti?”

“Not much, but I found it entertaining just the same,” Tam said. She turned back to Sveti. “He has a huge trust fund, too, but he’s never touched it. It sits there, desolate, accruing interest like barnacles. This pathological lack of interest in such a large sum of money strikes me as suspicious. It hints at deep-seated control issues in his family. Though he does well on his investments with his own money. Are you bored to the point of suicide yet, Sam? Bummer about your detective job. You hero types, so desperate for validation. You have to put your ass on the line to earn the very air you breathe, hmm?”

“Leave him alone, Tam,” Sveti whispered. “He doesn’t deserve it.”

“Aw, look at that,” Tam crooned. “Defending him, how sweet. I’ve often wondered why a guy would choose to live in a forties-era two-bedroom bungalow in grotty North Portland and pull a government salary when he has that fat, soft cushion of money. He could just lie back on it and drift away on a slow-flowing river of bourbon, hmm?”

“Fuck off, Tam,” Sam said. “You know nothing about me.”

Tam’s smile was catlike. “I know when I’ve hit a nerve.”

“Stop it,” Sveti said. “I don’t want to watch you hit nerves.”

Tam opened her mouth, paused, and closed it with a snap. “Have it your way. The point is, Sam can afford to go to Italy a thousand times over. And nothing makes a man as focused as a sexual obsession.”

“It’s my decision!” Sveti was on her feet. “I don’t want someone breathing down my neck, following me into the bathroom! And it’s not economically feasible or sustainable in any way! Who pays for it?”

“You can’t stop me from coming,” Sam said.

“Sure I can!” she shot back. “I’ll tell the cops you’re stalking me!”

“Yeah, you do that. It adds lots of credibility to your testimony. They’ll figure it’s not just PTSD, but a personality disorder, too.”

Sveti’s face contracted. “Oh, shut up.”

“Just saying,” he murmured.

There was an awkward pause, and Becca piped up. “Well, then. If she doesn’t want Sam to go, let’s look again at SafeGuard.”

“I’m going, no matter who you send,” he said.

Sveti slapped her hands on the table in a rare show of temper. “I can’t pay for SafeGuard!”

“So opt for the bargain-basement option,” Tam reminded her. “Behold, Sam Petrie, with his lustful gaze and his volunteer services, if you’re uncomfortable letting us hire someone.” Her eyes raked him. “But I’m sure he’ll get his just recompense out of you.”

Liv winced. “Ouch.” She leaned over and laid a hand on Sveti’s arm. “Honey. When you’re in Europe, will you do something for me?”

Sveti looked wary. “What?”