Chapter 7
“Does that mean that Audrey’s moving in too?” Zack asked innocently.
Jordan took a deep drink of his brandy, letting it burn the bad taste that thought left in his mouth.
“She qualifies,” Greg shrugged.
Jordan refilled his glass and took another long drink. He looked sideways at Tiara who was also taking in large quantities of whatever he’d poured for her. Things were getting blurry enough that he didn’t remember what he’d poured for her. That was okay since she was refilling her own glass now.
“It’s an awfully long drive to go get her clothes and such,” Marcus argued, enjoying Jordan’s discomfort but also feeling sorry for him.
“I have plenty of clothes in my bag,” Audrey drank red wine. “It’s bigger than it looks.”
They all mulled over their drinks for a few silent minutes, imagining how they would coax that spell out of her.
“I would take a look at Zack’s little house that he said he’s renovated, except that I really hate Las Vegas,” Audrey slurred.
“I’d buy you that house if you’d remove the Assassin’s mark,” Damian tipped his glass toward Audrey.
“You’re just another dumb schmuck that got banished for being smart, aren’t you?” Audrey slurred her words just a bit.
“I wouldn’t have said dumb, but schmuck is about what I feel like,” Damian admitted reluctantly.
“See?” Rianna snapped brightly. “They didn’t just send us their killers. They sent us their scrupulous schmucks too.” Rianna raised her glass. “To scrupulous schmucks!”
No one could pronounce scrupulous schmucks at this point, but they all tried and ended up sprawled on the couches from laughing at all their attempts. It was a wonder that they didn’t burn down the Lair as inebriated as they were throughout the week of Thanksgiving. They’d rolled with the punches through a serial killer, kidnapping murderers, and nightmares of insane blood, but the mother-in-law who was out of this world was one straw too many. They emptied Jordan’s bar that week…twice.