A Wolf at the Door

Before I could answer, Estéban barreled through the room, scooping Anna up and bolting out the door with her, leaving only shrieks of little girl laughter behind. Chunk followed with a surprised “growf!” leaving Mira and me alone. I slid the door shut behind them to keep the cold air out.

Mira was still looking at me expectantly, so I handed over the plane ticket. “Los Angeles? What for?”

“Some bodyguard work. I’ll only be gone a week, he said.”

“He said. That thing.” She slapped the ticket down on the table and planted both hands on her hips. I was in so much trouble. “You’re going out there for that thing.”

“I owe him, baby—”

“Don’t you ‘baby’ me!” Her green eyes flashed. “Dammit, Jess! You promised to spend this week with Anna and Estéban. I need to be at the shop, remember? You promised Anna you were going to do all kinds of things this week!”

“Estéban can watch her…”

“That’s not the point, Jesse! Explain to me just why your promises to him mean more than your promises to us.”

That hurt. That hurt a lot. “Mir, he saved Cole. He saved Marty and Will. I owe him.”

“Never make a deal, Jess. Isn’t that what you always said? What Ivan taught you? One small deal, one harmless little arrangement…”

“Should I have let them die? I’d be without three of the most important people in my life, but gee whiz, my soul would be lily-white spotless!” Instantly, I regretted snapping. She didn’t deserve that from me.

Mira just glared at me, grinding her teeth together for a few moments. Finally, she shook her head. “Go. Just…go run your errands or whatever. I’m too angry to talk to you right now.”

I started down the hallway, then came back to try to kiss her. She turned her head and it landed on her cheek instead. “I love you.”

“Mmf.”

Ouch.

She was right, though. We weren’t going to get anywhere in this discussion if we were both pissed off. One of those things you learn as you try to get through married life.

See, I was the hotheaded one, quick to anger, quick to forget. Mira was the calm pool, the steady force. Once she got angry, though, we were gonna be there for a while. Truthfully, as I got dressed, I had to wonder if the emotional response was maybe an indicator of something off-kilter with her. Y’know, something like pregnancy hormones. Guys, even if it’s true, never suggest that to a woman’s face. You will end up dead.

Mira had gone outside with the kids by the time I got back out front, and I poked my head out the door. “Kid! Saddle up!”

Estéban obediently abandoned the snowball fight, though he took one in the back of the head as he trotted to the door. He turned long enough to stick his tongue out at my daughter, then darted inside when he was answered with a barrage of snow from my two lovely ladies.

Mira just looked at me through the sliding door and didn’t say a word. Later. We’d discuss this later. At much length, no doubt.

The kid waited until we’d pulled out of the driveway at least before he offered his two cents. “You should apologize to her.”

I shifted gears roughly, and my truck gave a little jerk. “For what?”

“For whatever you did. Just say you’re sorry.” Wise words, but somehow I didn’t think that was gonna cut it this time. When I didn’t answer him, he dropped it. “So where are we going?”

“Marty’s. I need to pick up my new sword.”

About four months ago, I’d broken my katana in a bad fall that nearly broke my neck, too. I’d also nearly broken the friendship with the man who had made the sword for me. Marty hadn’t signed on to get chased by zombie demon minions. He didn’t volunteer to risk his life. I’d done that. I’d forced that on him.

He’d promised me a new sword, but I wasn’t sure if I rated a new friendship, too. I guess we were about to find out. To be perfectly frank, I’d asked Estéban to come, ’cause I wasn’t sure I wanted to have this showdown alone.

For his part, the kid pulled out his new cell—a gift from Mira and me for Christmas—and started texting.

“So…how’s old what’s-her-name?” Instantly, he flushed red, and I grinned to myself. I had no idea what Estéban’s girlfriend’s name was, or if he even had one. But mentioning “old what’s-her-name” was guaranteed to get a blush out of him, so I did it whenever possible.

Marty’s Suburban was in the driveway when we pulled in, so at least he was home. His wife was due to go into labor any second now, and I’d half imagined missing them as they left for the hospital or something. But no, he was there, and he stepped out his front door as we pulled up in front of the house.

“Stay in the truck, kid.” He grunted acknowledgment and never looked up from his phone. Yeah, I didn’t want to be here alone, but I also wasn’t sure the kid needed to hear all the gritty details. He’d missed out on last fall’s debacle.

I stepped out into the snow, nodding to the man on the porch. “Marty.”