“Because I’m leaving for my honeymoon,” Eric said harshly. “We wait.”
“Oh. Yeah. Right,” Mace said sourly. “The honeymoon you absolutely could not delay.”
“I’m done delaying,” Eric said. “We’ll start when I get back. You only get a honeymoon once. If you put it off, it’ll never be the same.”
“Jesus,” Mace muttered. “Who knew you were such a sentimentalist.”
Eric and Anton exchanged glances. “He doesn’t get it,” Anton said to Eric. “He can’t get it. So there’s no point in trying to explain it to him.”
“Damn right,” Eric agreed. “His time will come. He’ll eat his words.”
“I fucking hope not, at least while all this shit is happening,” Mace grumbled. “And I hope it never does, if it fries my brain like it has for you two bozos.”
Eric shrugged. “Be that as it may. I have to go make our grand entrance to the party with Demi. Who’s covering the approaches?”
“Kamal’s in the trailer covering the monitors,” Jim Wong said. “We’ve got two men patrolling outside, and two inside.”
“Good, then,” Anton said, his voice resolute. “Let’s do this thing.”
Eric gave him an ironic glance. “We’re not going into battle,” he said. “It’s just my wedding reception, okay? Lighten the fuck up.”
Anton just looked at him. “I still have a bullet hole healing in my shoulder. Fiona had to shop all over town before she could find a dress that didn’t show the stitches on her back. And you’re telling me to lighten up?”
Eric looked defensive. “I couldn’t wait for this one second longer,” he said. “Kimball is never running my life again.”
“Let’s skip this conversation,” Mace suggested. “We’ve got good people covering us. Let them do their job. Let’s get drunk and dance the night away.”
Eric strode away, shaking his head. Tension radiated from his broad back.
Mace turned to Anton. “Was that necessary today?” he asked. “It’s too late to change his mind about this. The guests are here, the food is prepped, the champagne’s poured. Why second-guess him now?”
Anton blew out a frustrated breath. “It’s fucking self-indulgent,” he said. “They could have just gone to City Hall rather than this big production. We could have toasted them with tequila shots at the roadhouse and called it good. But no, we have to do a big party, with embossed invitations and a notice in the paper. For fuck’s sake, Kimball is probably reading our lips right now via satellite linkup.”
“Let him sweat,” Mace said. “That’s what we want, right? It’s part of the plan.”
Anton rubbed his shoulder. “I just don’t want anyone to get hurt.”
“Me neither,” Mace said. “So we need to go on the offensive. Draw that motherfucker out. Make him think we’re getting cocky. He’ll panic, and make a dumb move, and we crush him. Then we’re free, and the Prophet’s curse will be broken.”
“I know,” Anton growled. “Don’t lecture me.”
“And at this point, it’s not just for us,” Mace pressed on. “It’s this whole fucking town, even though most of them don’t deserve it. It’s Otis, and Demi’s folks, and Terry Cattrall. And all the other people who were killed by this thing. And who knows? There might be more at stake that we don’t even understand yet. Maybe more people. Maybe all people. We don’t know how infectious it is yet, how it spreads.”
“I know,” Anton repeated. “I know all that. I’m just fucking tense, that’s all.”
Mace nudged his shoulder. “So go relax. Get a drink. Chill.”
“I can’t, and neither can Fiona,” Anton said. “She won’t relax until she sees Kimball’s corpse on the ground at her feet. And I don’t fucking blame her.”
“Oh, fine,” Mace snapped. “Go be miserable together, then. Go hover over Fiona in the ballroom and spit nails at the wedding guests, if that’s your jam.”
“Stop breaking my balls,” Anton retorted. “You haven’t seen the woman you love stabbed in the back in front of you. It changes your perspective. Trust me.”
“I know! I just want to make all that go away!” Mace protested. “So you can live your best lives. True love, picket fences, the pitter-patter of little feet—”
“Is this just a joke to you?” Anton demanded.
“I am dead serious,” Mace snarled. “And I’m also right! Hiding and cowering and trying to play it safe will just prolong the agony.”
Fiona came out onto the patio, her hair catching the light as it blew in the wind. She beckoned to them imperiously.
“There’s your cue, big brother.” A hint of amusement crept into Mace’s voice. “Your ladyship calls. Jump to it if you know what’s good for you.”
Anton turned and strode away without another word.
“Oh, come on! Don’t be mad. You’ll spoil the party!” Mace called after him.
Anton raised his middle finger without turning.
Nate studied his friend. “You were begging for that,” he observed. “From both of them. You know that, right?”
“Their asses are so tight,” Mace complained. “No sense of humor at all.”
“Yeah. Getting shot does that to you,” Nate said.
“Yes, I know, from bitter experience. The difference is, I always get it back eventually. Not those guys. They have no discernible sense of humor at all. Their dour GodsAcre upbringing burned it all out of them. What a fucking bore.”
“It didn’t seem to work on you, though,” Nate observed.
“Yeah, funny thing,” Mace said. “The more hard-assed the people around me get, the more of a smart-ass I become. I imagine it’ll get me killed someday. But whatever. So be it. I can’t change it now. It’s baked in.”
“Don’t bug them at the reception,” Nate said. “They’re primed to explode, so don’t light the fuse. It’ll ruin the party, and too much has been ruined already.”
Mace lifted an inquisitive eyebrow. “Since when did you get invested in how well my brother’s wedding reception goes?”
“Elisa worked really hard on this,” Nate said, feeling self-conscious. “She wants Demi to be happy with the party, the catering. So ease up. Don’t spoil it for them.”
“Ah, the fair Elisa again. What’s good for her is good for you, eh?”
“Don’t bug me,” Nate growled. “My sense of humor isn’t in the greatest shape right now either.”
Mace rolled his eyes. “You guys are all hopeless. Fine. If we can’t tease my brothers, we can tease Kimball. Let’s make the guy shit a brick. We can mutter about finding a chunk of an old centrifuge machine in the wreckage. That’ll get him going.”
“Don’t rouse him while Eric is gone,” Nate warned. “Anton isn’t up to speed, and Fiona’s back is still healing. We’re stronger together. Eric pounded Kimball’s first team by himself. If Kimball comes at us, you’ll want Eric to help.”