Page 12 of Lawbreaker

He chuckled and bent to kiss her cheek. “Just my style,” he teased. “You look lovely.”

“Thanks,” Stasia replied, smiling up at him.

“This the adopted daughter you tell everybody about?” the man with Tony asked, staring at Stasia. “What a dish!”

The man was tall and athletic, with too many teeth, a smile that was just short of arrogant, and a face that was pleasant but not pleasant enough to attract any but a truly desperate woman.

Stasia just stared at him, unsmiling.

It was so unlike her that Odalie’s eyes widened.

“Yes,” Tony said shortly. “You need to sample those cakes Mrs. Murdock made, Burt,” he added curtly. “Over on the canapé table.”

So that was the infamous Burt Donalson, Odalie thought. He looked like what he was, a slick predator who thought he was God’s gift to women.

“You can’t banish me without formal introductions, Tony, not after I drove Tom all this way,” he added, nodding toward an elderly man in a tux standing at the drink table demanding something nonalcoholic.

Tony had to grit his teeth at the way Burt was already looking at Odalie. But it was a party and he had to be nice. No good thinking about where his bullets were...

“This is Stasia Everett,” he introduced, “my adopted daughter. She’s married to an ex-merc, and she’s pregnant, so hands off,” he added coldly.

“Who, me? I’m married, you know, Tony,” Burt said in a sleazy tone.

“Yeah, I know. Do you?” Tony shot back.

But the man had industrial-strength skin, and it showed. “And this is?” he asked Odalie.

“Stasia’s sister-in-law, Odalie,” he replied curtly.

“So nice to meet you,” Burt said and moved a step closer.

Odalie moved a step back, smiling politely. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Donalson,” she said in a hostess-type voice. “Oh, look, isn’t your friend motioning to you?” she asked, looking over his shoulder.

In fact, Tom actually was, and emphatically. It was a stroke of luck.

“So he is. I’ll talk to you later, then,” he told Odalie, and smiled at her warmly before caressing her with his eyes. He left with obvious reluctance.

Her smile was beginning to hurt. The minute he turned his back, it left her.

“Nice manners,” Tony remarked without wanting to.

“My mother raised me that way,” she said. “Sadly, there’s never a latigo handy when you really want one!”

“A what?” Tony asked.

“Sorry,” she apologized. “It’s a long strap on a saddle, attached to the pommel, that you use to adjust the cinch,” she explained. She grinned. “Or, in Spanish, if the accent is on the first syllable ofluchador, which also meanslatigowithout the accent, it’s a Mexican wrestler.” She wiggled both eyebrows.

He raised both eyebrows. “What would you know about wrestling?” he asked unexpectedly.

“Are you kidding?” she asked. “Monday Night Raw? The Rock? Nature Boy Ric Flair? The Undertaker? Vince McMahon...?”

Tony was almost gasping.

Odalie gave him an exasperated look. “I grew up watching wrestling with my brothers. I got my first broken bone trying to take John down into a leg lock!”

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Tony said slowly.

“You might be, but what does that have to do with wrestling?” Odalie asked pertly.