The man lifted his gaze to Liam’s. “Ouch. Haven’t yet convinced her, have you, Liam?”

Liam curled his lip, winced at the cut. “Shut up,” he said, lifted the back of his hand to his mouth, pulling back to see blood. “You split my lip.”

“I owed you one.”

“I think your memory has taken a turn for the worse, frère.”

Their eyes were narrowing at each other, fists curled and ready for another strike. Which I was not going to allow. I grabbed an old cowbell from the bookshelf, shook it to send a metallic clang in the air.

“Everybody shut up!” I yelled.

This time, they both jumped back. I returned the bell to the shelf, glanced back to realize Mrs. Proctor stood in the doorway, her petite frame in soft pants and a matching top, a silk scarf knotted around her neck. She always dressed up for a trip to Royal.

I rushed forward. “I am so sorry, Mrs. Proctor. We’re just—”

She grinned, white teeth against dark skin. “Oh, don’t stop on my account, dear.” She gave Liam and the interloper a very naughty grin. “That’s the best thing I’ve seen in seven years.”

I put a gentle hand on her arm, pointed her toward the display of new merch. “Yes, ma’am. Maybe you could check out the soap we just got in while I take care of this?”

She didn’t look thrilled that I was taking away her entertainment. She walked into the right-hand part of the store, but kept her admiring gaze on Liam’s butt.

It wasn’t a bad butt, I thought, before snapping back to attention and striding back to the guys. I put my hands on my hips. Since I didn’t want to jump in the middle of whatever this was, I hoped it made me look authoritative. “Are you done being idiots?”

“You don’t mince words,” said the stranger.

“This is my place. I don’t have to mince words.”

“It’s all right, Claire.” Liam had pulled a bandanna from his jeans, daubed it against his mouth before pocketing it again. “This is Gavin. My younger brother.”

“Yeah, I had enough high school French to get ‘frère.’” And it made sense physically. They both had the same dark hair, the same blue eyes. Gavin would have had the same nose, but for the spot on the bridge where it had obviously been broken, probably in another fight.

But that didn’t explain what had just happened—and was currently being enjoyed by Mrs. Proctor, who was peering at us from behind the bookshelf, eyes wide.

“Mrs. Proctor,” I warned, and she disappeared again.

Gavin choked back a laugh.

I skewered him with a glance. “Why did you punch your brother?”

Gavin kept his gaze on Liam. “There’s not enough time for that list of grievances. Who are you?”

“Claire Connolly,” Liam said. “It’s her store.”

“That’s what I hear. Hello, Claire Connolly.”

“Hi.”

“How did you find me?” Liam asked.

“A mutual friend,” Gavin said.

“Nix?”

“Maybe.” Gavin’s gaze shifted to Liam, then back to me. “And how did you two meet?”

“Wraith attack last night. Couple of blocks from here.”

“She looks healthy,” Gavin said.

“I’m right here. And I’m fine.”

Liam lowered his voice. “She fought back. She has some . . . skills.”

He’d used the code word, I guessed, because we weren’t alone. But Gavin seemed to get it, and nodded.

“You’ve been gone for nearly a year this time,” Liam said.