Ultimate Weapon (McClouds & Friends #6)(56)

One of them was Nick. His central position, and the nervous, strangled way that he was tugging at his bow tie indicated that he was the groom. Which meant that his attention was fixed at the back of the hall where his bride would appear.

Gray man, gray man. Val slunk deeper into the shadows behind the door and cursed being so tall, not for the first time. He spotted a chair, snagged it, and sat, putting himself effectively beneath Nick’s line of sight. There she was at last. The bride. A rustling murmur arose from the crowd. Heads swiveled. He caught a glimpse of her as she passed through the vestibule. Pretty, a cloud of curly dark hair that reached her shoulders, big green eyes all misty with love and bridal nerves. A lace-covered sheath showed off a memorable figure. She was followed by two very pretty dark-haired girls in rust-colored silk, one of them her younger sister, from the looks of her. The other girl was younger still, only fourteen or so, slender and ethereal.

The string quartet began to play, and everyone stood. Val sighed with relief as the collective point of focus shifted to follow all that dewy feminine beauty on up the aisle and away from him.

Then a buzzing hum in the back of his mind indicated that someone was staring at him. He had to look around twice before he identified the observer.

It was Rachel. Her arms were clamped around Steele’s neck, her face buried against the crumpled iridescent sheen of her mother’s scarf. Only her eyes were visible under the mop of dark curls and the floppy crimson bow. Huge, dark owl eyes, staring into his.

She raised her face. Her eyes looked solemn and wise.

He waved at her. Her face dove into the scarf, but in seconds, she peeped up again. This time he ventured a smile. The cycle repeated, but this time when she emerged from the scarf, her eyes were sparkling. The child was smiling at him. Dimpling. Flirting. Her head tilted.

The strangeness of it made him want to laugh. The minister droned on. The sound slid over his ears without penetrating.

Now, he decided. He grabbed his chair, strode over to Steele. He sat down beside her and grinned widely, right into her face. “Ciao.”

The child dove into the scarf again with a squeak. Steele gasped.

“What the f*ck are you doing here?” she hissed in Italian.

He kept the smile nailed firmly on. “Keeping you company,” he murmured back in the same language. “Resign yourself. I am your date. You invited me.”

“Oh, no. No way are you my date, you—”

“Shhh!” A woman shushed them, frowning. Several others were looking over curiously.

Val leaned closer. “You could scream and yell and throw me out if you want to ruin your friend’s wedding,” he said softly. “And I’m sure your daughter would help to make the event memorable, too. You could even try to kill me with one of your hair ornaments. That would make a big impression, no? Or you could smile and accept reality. Those are your options. After what you did to me in the hotel room, I will not hesitate to embarrass you.”

“Vaffanculo,” she hissed. “Stronzo.”

“I’m a good dancer,” he offered.

“Maiale,” she hissed. “You are not welcome here. Va te ne, before I really do kill you.”

Rachel began to whimper. “Mamma?”

Tam shot him one last poisonous look and murmured something soothing to the child. Rachel was emboldened, and soon began to flirt again while her mother stared up at the wedding, mouth clamped. Furious, but neutralized—for now.

Ah, well. He winked at the child. He’d charmed the little one, at least. And the evening was young.

He would take it as progress.



Manipulative swine. He’d assessed the situation perfectly. If she got agitated, Rachel would freak. If they made a scene, Becca would never forgive her. Becca had doubts about Tam, even though Tam’s efforts on behalf of the children kidnapped by the organ pirates had forced her to grudgingly admit that maybe Tam might have some small redeeming qualities—the operative word being “small.” Becca was still pissed at the way Tam had kicked her man around during the organ pirate debacle. It wouldn’t do to underestimate Becca. After how she’d aquitted herself in that whole Zhoglo nightmare, she’d proved she was not to be f*cked with, and Tam respected that.

But it was so silly of her to take it personally. That big galoot Nick had deserved every kick in the teeth that Tam had given him, and he was tough enough to take it. Nick himself had no hard feelings.

It didn’t matter. Becca was still convinced that Tam was a rude, raving, dangerous hellion. Which, of course, she was. No arguments there. But Nick insisted that they grit their teeth and feign friendliness.

So f*ck it. Whatever.

The upshot of it all was if Tam wrecked Becca’s wedding, no matter how justified she might feel, being jerked around by this gigolo pimp * with his big, terrifying agenda, that fragile truce would be dissolved, and the bride would proceed to take Tam apart. Physically. Unpleasant for everyone. Not good for Rachel. To be avoided if at all possible.

Tam cuddled Rachel, glancing down at the little girl’s face to see how she was handling…holy crap! The kid was smiling at him! Giggling at that smirking pig dog! And he was smiling back, using that knock-you-dead sidelong grin, white teeth flashing, eyes crinkled. God, what a lethal smile. She wanted to backhand it right off his face.

Bastard. How dare he use Rachel to back her into a corner.