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Chaz came after her. “Honey, this may not be a good idea.”
“I think it’s an excellent idea.”
She shoved open the door to the kitchen. Jumbo sat on a bar stool that fronted a huge, long counter. Standing at the sink, his back to her, was the giant of a man she recognized as the infamous Mojo. He made Jumbo look like a shrimp.
“Hello,” she said brightly.
Mojo’s spine went rigid. Apparently, with one simple word, she’d managed to say the exact wrong thing. “That the missus?” he asked his brother.
“Yeah. That’s her.”
“What does she want?”
“I don’t know.” Jumbo eyed Shayne. “What can we do for you, missy?”
“I though Mojo and I should become better acquainted.”
“Mojo doesn’t get acquainted.”
Shayne folded her arms across her chest. “He does now.”
Ever so carefully, Mojo set the frying pan he’d been cleaning on the draining board and wiped his hands on his apron. He turned, revealing a face slashed into pieces and just barely stitched back together again.
She didn’t flinch as she suspected every other person confronted with Mojo’s disfigurement did. Instead, she openly studied the vivid red scars. Then she crossed to his side. Ignoring the way he stiffened at her approach, she stood on tiptoe and pushed aside the thick black hair covering his brow, exposing a particularly nasty cut shaped like a Harry Potter lightning bolt. It split his brow in two before racing toward the corner of hiseye.
“Boy, were you lucky,” she commented. “A fraction of an inch lower and you could have done a great pirate imitation. Black patch, snarl and all. What happened? Car accident?”
“Let’s just say my horse doesn’t have a windshield anymore.”
Shayne choked. “Horse?”
Jumbo chuckled. “It’s a joke. Me and Mojo don’t ride.”
“Maybe because there isn’t a horse born willing to carry you,” Chaz offered from the sidelines.
Mojo scowled. “We get by with our Jeep.”
Shayne managed to figure out the punch line on her own. “I assume you named your Jeep Horse?”
Jumbo looked impressed. “You got it. One day Horse decided to toss ol’ Mojo on his face by running itself off a mountainside and into a big ol’ spruce.”
“That sounds familiar.”
Shayne moved to the nearest countertop and lifted herself onto it. She peeked at her husband from beneath her lashes, wondering how he’d handle this next part. Well, he’d have found out sooner or later. Better sooner. Better still, she could show him her secret someplace where they weren’t alone and he’d be forced to control his reactions. She unbuttoned the left sleeve of her blouse. While the men watched curiously, she rolled it up, exposing a faint, jagged scar of herown.
“It goes right up to my armpit,” she announced. “I’m lucky I can still lift my arm. Istill get odd tingles when the weather changes.”
Chaz inhaled sharply and Shayne glanced his way, nerves strung taut. He looked gut-punched.
Mojo whistled. “Nice.”
“That’s nothing.” She yanked the blouse from her the waistband of her jeans and revealed a network of silvery lines along her ribs. She managed a flippant grin. “I’ve got them all over this side of my body. I’d show you some more except my husband might object.”
“What the hell happened?” Chaz demanded.
“Car accident. Same as Mojo.”
“How? When?”
