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as soon as possible. Sunday lunch was always a probe
into when she could start planning a wedding. Belinda’s had been the fourth the
family attended in as many months. Wren’s mum was the only one of her siblings
not to have a married son or daughter.
    “The only snag is Gareth Sutton’s a barrister.” Her mum
winced.
    Wren stifled a smile. In any other family that would be a
huge plus. With two brothers and a father in the police, the Ellis family had a
thing about lawyers. “I guess he’s not a prosecutor,” Wren said.
    Her mum sighed. “No.”
    “Wren’s not seeing him,” snapped her father.
    Anyone who defended the criminals her family fought to put
in prison was never going to be suitable as a son-in-law.
    Her mother stared at Matt and James. “I don’t know why you
two can’t find Wren a nice man.”
    After all she’d been through, of course Wren wanted a nice
man, though she wasn’t going to fall for any more charmers. Being nice wasn’t
as important as being a sex fiend with the body of a god, a guy who could make
her come with a look or a couple of fingers, though she wasn’t going to share
that with anyone. Nor that she’d actually like two of them. She drooled.
    A coughing fit followed and Wren grabbed a glass of water.
    “We’ve offered to find Wren a guy,” James said.
    “But Wren hates policemen,” Matt added.
    “Except us,” James said.
    “Including you,” she muttered, which, the moment their
mother’s back was turned, earned her another scoop of mashed potato from James
and a spoonful of carrots from Matt. The bastards. Clearing your plate in the
Ellis home was compulsory. Getting her own back—easy.
    “So how’s Jennifer?” she asked. “When are you going to bring
her home to meet us?”
    Matt glared but it was too late.
    “Jennifer?” Their mother pounced like a lioness. “Is she
new? What does she do? Where did you meet her?”
    Wren relaxed. Now her mother had something to sink her teeth
into, she was safe. Although Matt would kill her later. She looked round the
table at her family and smiled. She was so lucky. Her parents treated her as if
she was no different to their sons, but she was different. They’d
fostered her when she was a thirteen-year-old ball of fury and made her their little ball of fury. Wren’s childhood up to that point had been…difficult, but
after the Ellises had taken her in, she felt as if she’d gone to heaven without
dying, though it had taken her a few months to accept that love and kindness could
come without strings.
    The twins had won her round. They stood up for her when no
one else ever had and changed her life. The only disappointment for them all
was that they hadn’t been able to adopt her as an Ellis. Her birth mother
wouldn’t allow her name to be changed and Wren Monroe she’d stayed. By the time
she’d been old enough to do something about it herself, it hadn’t seemed to
matter anymore.
    Wren gazed at her plate and winced. Matt had managed to slip
a brussels sprout on there without her seeing. Even one made her heave.
    * * * * *
    Tomas pulled up in the driveway of Marco’s opulent detached
house, exited and slammed the car door harder than he should have. It was one
step forward, two steps back with Marco. Just when Tomas thought the guy was warming
to him, the bastard stuck him with some menial task like shopping for toilet
rolls. Tomas wasn’t sure if Marco didn’t trust him, or liked to show him
exactly where he stood in the pecking order, or just wanted beer, salted nuts,
loo rolls and the rest of what was on this damn list, and his had been the
first face Marco saw.
    He hauled the bags from the back of the car, carried them to
the front door and rang the bell.
    Veton opened it.
    “ Si jeni? ” How are you , Tomas had asked in
Albanian.
    “ Mire. ”
    He was fine. That was a pity. Tomas lived in hope Veton
would develop some debilitating disease or get knocked down by a bus or just
conveniently drop