Page 51 of Royally Ruined

Detective Stapler. A member of the local PD and very familiar with me and my family.

“You,” he choked, backing into the coffeepot on the counter. “What the hell areyoudoing in my sister’s house?”

Ever so slowly I looked over at Scotch. She was sitting straight as a razor, her hands clasped together on the table. Her smile was huge and fake. “Uh,” she said, clearing her throat. “Costello, this is my uncle Jimmy. Uncle ... this is Costello Badd—”

“I know who he is!”the detective interrupted.

“My boyfriend,” she finished.

Watching the cop turn purple took the edge off my anger. Not enough of it, though. “Boyfriend!” he gasped, clutching his chest. “Heather, what—You know who this man is! I know you know! How could you possibly datehim?”

Margie swung back into the room, her round cheeks glowing with joy. “Jimmy, you’re here. I was just getting more plates when I realized I needed more dessert for everyone, too, so I went to grab cupcakes from out in the van and that snow is really ... Jimmy, why do you look like you’ve got the flu?”

Gina’s eyes were darting all over like Ping-Pong balls. She’d known from the start that I wouldn’t appreciate this; so had the woman beside me.

“Scotch,” I said politely, “can we talk outside for a second?”

Her teeth could have cracked with how tight her smile went. “Why, no, because my sweet mother is about to bring us dinner, and it’d break her heart to have it go cold.”

Stapler was still leaning on the counter. “Margie ... did you know your daughter was dating the oldest son of the Badds?”

All color drained from the larger woman’s face. “So that’s why his name was familiar. I thought ... with that scar, but ... but there’s no way ...” She bit her lip. “Your father is going to kill you, honey bun.”

“Her dad’s an ex-cop,” Gina explained helpfully.

Everyone was staring at Scotch. One by one she met their gazes; then, breathing through her nose, she rose to her feet. “I’d love to explain myself,” she said, “but Costello mentioned something about stepping outside, so ... I’ll just go do that.”

It took all of my control to rise up and follow her. Stapler had his eyes fixed on me the whole time.

- CHAPTER EIGHTEEN -

SCOTCH

I pushed the back door open, leading him into the chilly, snow-covered yard. There was a huge tree nearby, a busted wooden fence that was mostly hidden by white frost, and a doghouse that had stood empty for years.

We moved deep into the yard, having silently agreed to keep away from the windows so no one could spy on us. “How could you do this to me?” he snapped.

“Dowhat?”

“This!” He threw his arm out at the side of my mother’s house. “You brought me right into a den of filthy cops!”

Clenching my fists at my hips, I said, “Those filthy cops are my family.”

Costello came at me, a wolf ready to tear me to shreds. It took all I had not to shrink away. “Exactly. Why didn’t you tell me you were ... were ...”

“What? A cop’s niece? An ex-cop’s daughter?” My eyes tracked to his scar, my voice softening. “Because you told me so many times you didn’t trust the police. I stayed quiet at first because it wasn’t important. By the time it mattered, you ... I couldn’t handle the idea of you hating me the way you hate them.”

I dropped my eyes to the snow. For a heavy minute we were both quiet. Costello’s shoes entered my vision; I was determined not to look at his face. But when he tilted my chin up, I forgot why. “You’re not a cop. I couldn’t ever hate you.”

Sourness entered my veins. It came out in my response. “So that’s the catch. As long as I’m notone of them, I’m okay.” His eyebrows slid into crinkled shapes. “I’ll tell you something you might find funny. Growing up, I admired my uncle. He told me I had a natural gift for solving mysteries. I had every intention of joining the force like him.”

Costello released me, his hand drifting to his side.

“Yeah,” I chuckled bitterly. “Nothing to say to that, huh? You don’t even want to touch me now.” I turned and headed for the back door. The snow made me slower; I didn’t get far.

“Wait.”

I shot a withering glare over my shoulder. “Why, so you can tell me some more about how awful my family is? People who were willing to feed you, people you barely know?”

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