That explained the animosity. Maybe Liam was pissed his brother had bailed on New Orleans, or maybe on their grandmother. And if the punch was any indication, Gavin had bad feelings toward Liam, too.

“I had a job,” Gavin said.

“Oh, I’m sure you did.”

“Bec mon tchu.”

I didn’t recognize the Cajun, but I got the gist from Gavin’s spitting tone, and it wasn’t polite.

“Where’d the wraiths come from?” he asked.

“Near the Supreme Court building,” I said. It was my story to tell, after all. And I was getting pretty good at telling it.

Gavin smiled grimly. “Demons in the Supreme Court. Seven years ago, that would have been a pretty good joke.”

“It was a pretty good one last night,” Liam said. “How long will you be here this time?”

Gavin’s face went blank. “I’m here for a job. Then I’m leaving.”

“Commitment never was your forte.”

Gavin glowered. His voice, quiet given Mrs. Proctor’s apparent interest, was still fierce. “Some of us have lives in the real world.”

“The Zone is the real world,” I said. “And we have lives.”

“All evidence to the contrary.” He glanced at me, gaze appraising. “One day under your tutelage and she’s already insulting me like a pro.”

“I’m not under his tutelage.”

“No,” Liam said, and I caught the gleam in his eye. “But she needs tutelage from someone. We talked to Eleanor, and she brought out the catalogue.”

“How is Eleanor?”

“Good, not that you’d know. You should visit her.”

Gavin shook his head, looked away. “My being there doesn’t do her any good.”

“You’re more of an idiot than I thought if you truly believe that. In any event, you’ll want to talk to her. She matched Claire with Nix.”

Gavin’s gaze snapped back to Liam. “No. I won’t put her at risk.”

Liam had guessed right about Gavin’s reaction. His brows lifted. “It’s not your choice. It’s hers. And she’s already agreed to meet.”

Gavin’s voice went quiet, cold. “She didn’t mention that. And she won’t understand the danger. She never does.”

“I don’t want to be in danger, either,” I offered with a raised hand, but they both ignored me. This was a brotherly testosterone battle that clearly had nothing to do with me.

“There has to be someone else.”

“There isn’t.”

Gavin opened his mouth to retort, changed his mind. He walked to the front window, crossed his arms, gazed outside.

“I presume Nix is a love interest?” I asked quietly.

“Not at present.”

“Ah,” I said. “Not at present” could cover any number of sins or breakups or infidelities. “He doesn’t seem to be happy about that result.”

“He is not. And he’s jealous. It’s an awkward combination.”

“I would imagine so.”

Gavin walked back, anger tightening his shoulders. He moved with a swagger, and I wondered who Nix was to have knotted him up so tightly—and what had happened with them.

Mrs. Proctor emerged from a set of secretaries with a box of powdered milk.

I waved a hand at the Quinn boys, brushing them aside. “Customers, gentleman.” This time, the grumbles were unanimous. That was probably progress. Anyway, they moved over.

I took the milk from her, marked my receipt pad, put it in a small paper bag with a handle. “Mrs. Proctor, we got butter today. Would you like some?”