Page 154 of Terror Tuesday

But Mom…

I have no idea what will come out of her mouth.

“I’ll need some time to fix my hair and get changed. I don’t want to just…show up there and not be prepared. I’m?—”

Hurrying over to her, I press my lips to hers, cutting off her words. “Shh. You’re perfection, just as you are. Now, my red admiral… Get dressed, and let’s go bother the chef up there to make us some breakfast. A nice one. One fitting of two vigilantes.”

“Vigilantes…” she muses. Her worried expression curls into a smile. “I like that.”

forty-four

CALUM

“Will you do something?”She frantically waves her hands around the kitchen while Chef gives me a weary glance.

“What is it you want me to do?”

“Cal…they’recoming here.” She points out the back window. “Look! You can see them cresting over the hill! Help me!” my wife screams with frustration and tugs on her red hair.

Most people would probably think it’s pregnancy hormones, but it’s just my Vera.

Slipping behind her, I press my chest to her back and gather her in my arms. “Breathe… Deep breaths.”

“You’re infuriating,” she says with a little laugh, then spins in my hold. With a pinched brow, she brushes a wayward curl off my forehead and asks, “Which gun should I grab? The Glock? Ruger?” As if considering it, she nods. “The Smith and Wesson in the ankle holder.Excuse me.” She shoves me back and heads toward the swinging door.

I open my mouth to give more instructions to the staff, but my wife halts. “And you two need to pick somethingrealto eat. You cannot feed our first daughter-in-law a fucking nut loaf!”

Once she vanishes, I murmur, “I like my nut loafs.”

“We’ll have some fruit leather and roasted chickpeas, too, sir,” the chef informs me with an arched brow beneath his tall white hat.

I purse my lips, reconsidering. My son and his appointed emerge from the fog, getting closer to the house. “Hmm, so I can keep my head and get to fuck Vera tonight, better add in something like pizza and sandwiches, too.”

His hand rests against his heart, but he nods. “With meat, sir?”

A heavy sigh escapes my chest. “Yeah…”

As long as I don’t have to touch it.

Should I be waiting in my office like the CEO of West Tech Industries? Or perhaps casually readingWar and Peacein the living room?

“Maybe I’ll perch by the piano. I’ll look normal, then,” my wife says, scurrying toward the parlor. She doesn’t play any instruments.

Except my skin flute.

I’ll keep that comment to myself.

Instead of following her, I rest my hands on the metal door handles and wait. Fuck, it’s been a long time since I’ve been this nervous. I’m sure she’s a lovely creature. I trust Valen completely. Well, like ninety percent. Seventy-five. Maybe like sixty-nine point three three repeating, of course.

“They’re here!” I call out.

I throw open the back French doors and smile as my son and his fiancée step inside.

“Hey,” I say,supercasually. So very copacetic that I almost fall asleep at how chill I sound.

“Hey, Dad. This is Olivia Cardell. Olivia, this is my Dad, Cal.”

The beautiful woman sticks out her hand to greet me, but it trembles when I shake it. Both of our palms are sweaty. She’s alot different from someone I would expect my son to go for. Very well done for a geek, to be honest.