Chapter 6
SIX
“Who are we killing?”
I stacked the Magni-Focuser on top of my head so I could stare at him, ignoring the fact that only Beavis was by his side and the other Shih Tzu wasn’t—
There.
I jumped as he sniffed my feet and tried to lick them.
“No one’s dying today. Unless it’s this damn dog. Why is Butthead so obsessed with my feet?!”
“You have pretty feet and my dogs have great taste,” Conor dismissed as he narrowed his eyes in suspicion.
“I don’t need a supervisor,” I grouched when he leaned on my desk to watch me work.
Then I proceeded to shriek once a tiny tongue went straight between my toes!
“Clearly, you do. You’re making a bomb and—”
“I’m not making a bomb.”
“We agreed—you’re not allowed to kill people anymore.”
“I thought I just wasn’t allowed a gun.”
“You and small print, Jesus Christ. No killing. I conceded to maiming and torture for that sex trafficker in Lima, but no. Killing.”
“Luckily for our deal, I’m not reneging. This isn’t a bomb.”
“Sure it is.”
“That tells me how many bombs you have built because I’m making crackers.”
“Like what my ma drags out on the Christmas table on the 25th cracker…?”
“Well, I’m not talking about the ones you pair with cheese, Conor, sheesh.”
“Not explosives?”
“No!” I scowled at his continued suspicion then leaned down to pick up Butthead and shoved the fluff ball at Conor. “I’m making Christmas crackers, dammit. Now, take your foot-fetishist of a dog and let me concentrate.”
He tucked B-head under his arm. For lap dogs, Conor never let them sit on his lap. They were either his sentries or he lugged them around like a football. “Why?”
“Because.”
“That’s no answer.”
“Secret Santa.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Is this ‘let’s just throw random ass words at Conor’ day?”
“It can be if you’d like.”
“You’re still eating Halloween candy corn because of me and—”
“Don’t make out like I didn’t thank you.”
“The least you could do is clue me in! Who’s the Secret Santa with? Troy and Cin?!”
“Actually, your sisters-in-law. Because if you think Troy and Cin are afraid to exchange guns with me for Secret Santa, you’re mistaken.”
He ignored that. “They’re your in-laws too.”
“I’m not claiming them officially. You have no choice.”
“You’re not claiming them but you’re making them a fucking cracker?”
“Not them. One of them. Jesus, you really don’t know how Secret Santa works, huh?”
He gusted out his cheeks. “I thought Santa was secret.”
“Tell me you’re rich…”
“Like you’re not too.”
“Well, I used to do Secret Santa with my dad’s roadies.”
“Explain.”
“What a roadie is?” I taunted.
He flipped me the bird.
“Secret Santa is where you put everyone’s name in a bag, and then you pick someone and you keep it a secret who you’re gifting something to.”
“Why wasn’t I involved?”
“Were you at today’s afternoon tea?”
“Well, no—”
“Then how could you be involved?”
“That’s not fair!”
“If you want to hear about Declan pissing in front of Aela—”
“YOU TALK ABOUT THAT?!”
I smirked. “We talk about all kinds of stuff.”
“No way.”
“Yes way.”
“Nothing’s sacred?!” he sputtered in horror.
“Nope.”
“This sounds like a breach of my human rights.”
“Be grateful you’re not Aidan. We know more shit about his cock than I’m sure he does. Though, not today. Vana was pouting.”
“Yeah, he’s been in a crappy mood all day too.”
“Anything I can help with?”
“Nah. I’m working on it.” He peered at my handiwork. “You sure that’s not a bomb?”
“I’m fucking sure. Jesus, Conor.” I flipped down my loops. “Fuck off if you’re going to ask irritating questions.”
“So… you’re making the popper?”
“Yes.”
“Can’t you just buy that stuff?”
“Where’d be the fun in that? Potassium nitrate—”
“Gunpowder?!”
“Yep.” I pointed to the strips I was carefully dousing in my solution. “These detonate the explosive when you pull them apart and the rapid combustion makes the pop.”
“Sounds like a bomb to me.”
“It’s a miniature explosion. Don’t exaggerate.”
His lips pursed. “If you’re making these, then they won’t be so mini. I know you. You wouldn’t make them if you weren’t hoping for a bang.”
“You’re half-right. I do want a bang, but I’m not going to have anyone lose their hands. Well, unless Aidan keeps on pissing off Savannah…”
“This sounds like a lot of work.”
“Nah. I like it. Good times—reminds me of chemistry and my boner for Mr. Wensley.”
“Nerd.”
“You can’t judge.”
“True.”
“Who was your teacher crush?”
“I had a couple. Madame Ducharme was my favorite French teacher—”
“You had a native speaker?”
“French Canadian. Know what the French Canadians call a blueberry?”
“Nope.”
“A bleuet.”
I cackled. “Why is that funny?”
“Probably because it sounds like the cartoon dog.” Grinning, Conor got to his feet. “You sure I can’t help?”
“Nope.”
“Who’d you pick for Secret Santa? Savannah?”
“That’d be telling. But warn Aidan that I’ll make sure he gets one of my creations if he doesn’t make it up to my sister from another mister.”
“Duly noted,” he said wryly before strolling over to his desk, depositing Butthead in the bed that Beavis had already fled to, then bribing them both with those stinky-ass dried bull cocks they adored.
“Everything okay with Jake?”
“Yup. Finn just came by to pick him up.”
“Good. The others?”
“Niall’s out for the count.”
“Figured as much. Hasn’t uttered a peep on the security system. One advantage to him, Roman, and Third being the same age is they exhaust each other when they’re together. Plus, putting up his tree was hell so that had to take away his wings. Benjamim’s still with his English tutor, right?”
“Yup, and Kat’s throwing imaginary daggers at a textbook.”
“Goooood.”
We’d expected to adopt a baby a couple Januaries back, but instead we’d been gifted a six-year-old Brazilian boy who we’d spared, within fucking days, from a child brothel in Rio.
I still shuddered to think about how close it had been. Conor, despite his dislike of planes, had flown in to get him across to the US, and we’d dealt with the paperwork afterward.
Two years in, my beautiful Benji spoke English perfectly and understood everything after being indoctrinated by Kat and LyLy, my cousin, in the ways of Cartoon Network, but he needed extra help for classes, as reading/writing were his weakest skills.
As I carefully applied my solution to the strip, I asked, “You the reason that Eoghan was watching us today when Inessa, Camille, Savvie, and I took the kids to Aoife’s bakery?”
His head whipped around so fast, it was a wonder it didn’t fall off. “What? Who? When?! Why?! I mean. No.”
Not suspicious. At all.
“Hmm.”
“I’m not!”
Inessa had only managed to sneak off because I’d seen his scope and fucked with his visibility.
I had no idea where my sister-in-law went, nor was it any of my business, but fuck if I’d let Eoghan get away with being a creep.
“Is he still blackmailing you about your ma’s stuffing?” At his silence, I drawled, “Because I can make him regret the day your da gave Lena—”
“Don’t even finish that sentence.” Conor scowled. “And he isn’t blackmailing me.”
“You’re surveilling her for him, aren’t you?”
“Hardly.”
“Liar.”
“It isn’t surveillance. Not when you can do the same on your phone.”
I hummed. “If you say so.”
Fucking dipshits.
With the kiddos occupied/asleep, and without Conor and the gruesome twosome distracting me, I worked steadily through the strips I was creating.
My signature blend had been a party favor when my dad had toured. Just enough bang to make your ears pop but with a twist.
The techies had ended up adapting it and using it in the shows. Controlled explosions, FTW.
Whistling under my breath once I finished an hour later, I pushed them to the side and checked a couple of my programs. None of them were showing any results as of yet, and while I was virtually stalking two people in Riga, one in Johannesburg, and another in Helsinki, I figured they were in bed because of the time difference.
Stretching my shoulders, I twisted my hips a little then got to my feet. It was my turn to stroll over to Conor’s desk and check out his current project.
Thankfully, both hellhounds were snoring and chasing imaginary rabbits in dreamland.
As I scanned through his directives, my brows lifted.
“What the fuck are you looking for?”
“Someplace big enough to host fights.”
“Is Acuig diversifying and you just never told me?”
“Nah. Savannah heard a rumor, and Aidan wants me to check it out. So far, it’s looking like it’s hearsay.” He twisted his chair around and encouraged me to sit on his lap. “Kat got detention yesterday. Did she tell you?”
I looped my arms around his neck. “Little shit. No, she didn’t. She’s been pumping me for cash all day too.”
“Don’t hate the player, hate the game.”
“I could strangle you for teaching her that saying.”
He chuckled. “It’s true though.”
I just sniffed. “What did she get detention for?”
“Misbehaving in class.”
“The lessons aren’t stimulating her.” I pulled a face. “Not just a little shit, but a clever one.”
“Too clever. For her own good. Think we need to discuss her moving up a grade?”
“She already has and she isn’t settling in well. You know she hates most of the kids in her class.”
“I don’t blame her. They’re horrible little fuckers. We can tutor her—”
“No. I told you. No homeschooling! She needs some normalcy and neither of us are that. I work in my PJs, you don’t sleep when you’re in the middle of a project, and we’re the literal poster children for people with zero work/life balance.”
“Maybe additional tutors then.”
“She already has four!”
“More won’t hurt. She’s understimulated.”
I wiggled my head. “That’s an idea, I guess, but you watch her prioritize the subjects she’s interested in.”
“Of course.” He dropped a kiss on my lips. “I hated school. It never stimulated me, and I struggled to find a baseline that worked. If we can help her, I want to.”
“Be a mom, they said. Best job in the world, they said. No one told me I’d have to make decisions like an adult!”