Page 51 of What Doesn't Kill You…

"I know." He took the bag from her hands and hung it back in the closet. Carefully, he put an arm around her shoulder and steered her through the bungalow to the dining room. "Why don't you sit here while I get ready. I'll be fast. Then we can get some food in you before you go postal. Did you secure your gun?"

"Yes," she snapped.

"Sunscreen on?"

She growled.

"Then all we need is for me to get dressed," he said, jogging to the bedroom. "Don't leave without me."

"If only we could," Violet muttered.

Abasi had finagled his way into the role of their breakfast waiter. He stood beside the table, a look of wry amusement on his face as he watched her family argue over what to eat. With a slow, delighted smile, he turned to Violet and lowered his voice.

"This is adorable," he said. "The whole family turned out for your special day. Bet you're thrilled."

Violet wished her gun wasn't hidden in the bungalow.

"Don't you have someone to serve?" she asked with a heavy dose of snark.

"Your wish is my command," he said sweetly. "After all, you are the bride."

Oh, he was so cruising for a bruising. He grinned wider as she scowled at him.

"Excuse me, waiter," her mother called from the other side of the long table. "Can you tell me, is the breakfast buffet worth the money?"

"Absolutely." Abasi was effortlessly charming. "And it's also the only way to get a decent, English-style, cooked breakfast around here. They don't do one on the menu, so you have to cobble it together from the buffet. They've got pretty much everything over there, except black pudding, but I talked the cook into adding baked beans."

"That's for me." Harvey shot to his feet, beaming through his ginger beard. He thought the beard gave him a hipster vibe. Violet thought it made him look like a clichéd, cartoon version of a Scot

"I think that sounds good too," her dad said, following Harvey, only doing a better job of hiding his eagerness than his son-in-law.

"Remember your cholesterol," her mother called after him.

Violet's grandmother patted her mother's hand. "Let the boys have their fun. This is a time of celebration. Tomorrow, we worry about things like cholesterol."

And just like that, guilt swamped Violet. She had no problems keeping the rest of her family in the dark, after all, it was for their own good. But she was going to hell for lying to her grandmother. Worse, it wouldn't take much for Lian Ferguson to become suspicious, and then she'd simply stare Violet down until she blurted out her crimes.

Note to self: avoid grandmother until this whole thing is over.

As if Violet's thoughts could be read on the air, Lian suddenly looked over the table and straight into Violet's soul. She flashed her grandmother an innocent smile. It was a rookie move. Lian saw through fake innocence like Superman saw through walls. Fortunately, her mother started talking again and drew her grandmother's attention away from Violet.

"You look familiar," her mother said to Abasi. "Have you ever been to Glasgow?"

"Not officially, no," Abasi said making her mum frown in confusion. "I had a business acquaintance who lived there but sadly he died recently."

In other words, Abasi had sneaked into the city in the dead of night and killed the man. Just more James Syndicate clean-up for the mobster who was attempting the weirdest amends she'd ever seen.

Before Abasi could say anything else to arouse her mother's curiosity, Violet waved her menu. "I'll have the fruit platter," she told Abasi.

Discussion forgotten, the rest of the table gave him their breakfast orders. When Abasi rounded the table to Rodrigo, he cast a quick glance at Violet's family before raising his eyebrows at Violet. Obviously, he had stuff to say and wanted some privacy. Which meant, she had to make small talk. Which was not her skill. That’s when it suddenly struck her—Max liked to talk. Why not use his ability for good instead of evil?

With a satisfied smile, she waved a hand at her mother. "Mum, you haven't asked Max about the kind of stories he writes. It's fascinating, isn't it Max?"

His sparkling eyes told her he knew exactly what she was doing, but he seemed game to be the distraction her team needed. He instantly launched into a dramatic tale of how he infiltrated a maple syrup smuggling operation. After her mother and sister got over their amusement that the story revolved around maple syrup, they seemed engrossed by his recounting of the tale. Violet had to give him credit. He was easy to listen to when he wasn't asking lots of stupid questions.

She cast a glance in Rodrigo's direction and saw he'd finished his discussion with Abasi. He indicated his phone before tapping at the screen. Hers buzzed in the pocket of her only pair of shorts. She took it out and read the message: Problem planting bugs. Team meeting after breakfast. Make an excuse for you and Max.

Easier said than done, Violet thought but nodded his way.