"Nerazumnym zemleroyka," he popped back.
Her mouth dropped open as he answered in the language of her childhood.
"An unreasonable shrew?" she asked, her voice pitching higher on the last word. "An unreasonable shrew?"
She spat back in a tirade of back-alley Russian that would have made her grandmother proud. Her body was hot all over, and she figured she probably looked like a teakettle ready to blow, complete with steam coming out of her ears.
His brows rose high and he said, "Pretty talk."
"I haven't even gotten started," she said, blocking his attempts to get around her. "And since we're on the subject-"
"No we're not," he said, picking her up by the elbows and lifting her to the side.
She wasn't deterred. "I was told you all were experienced employees and mortuary assistants. You've always helped when help was needed, but none of you know Jack squat about digging graves or your way around an embalming table. Or even what to do with the fluids for cleanup. The first time Axel assisted with an embalming I thought he was going to vomit. I've never seen a man gag like that."
A definite twinkle came into his eyes at that bit of information.
Tess crossed her arms. "I'm not stupid, so I know there's a specific reason she put you here. I don't know what it is, and I don't care. Okay, maybe I care a little, but only because I'm curious. What I really care about is my reputation and whether or not it gets damaged. Whatever the real scenario is with the body in the embalming room, it doesn't play out well. You were surprised he was alive. Which begs the question, did you try to kill him or try to save him? And when did you learn to speak Russian? I feel like I'm in the Twilight Zone."
"I'm never surprised by anything," Deacon said, expertly ducking all her questions. "Being surprised usually leads to being dead."
"That's very philosophical. But it still doesn't explain the very alive man on the embalming table."
"Like I said, he'll be out of your hair in a couple of hours. You'll be seeing him around once he gets used to this place. We've all gotten along just fine. Don't start sticking your nose places it might get cut off."
"Like I said, I'm tired of being kept in the dark. I'm not even sure what I'm still doing here, other than it's the only thing I've ever done. I'm about this close to walking out of here for good and letting you explain to the nosey people in this town why you can't bury their loved ones because you don't know a vein expander from a hole in the ground."
"You think you're irreplaceable?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.
"Of course not." It was the first time she'd voiced her thoughts of leaving out loud, and it felt powerful. Or maybe that was her temper. Either way, she was bound to say something she'd regret later once her good sense returned. "Everyone's replaceable. But I won't be bullied into doing things I don't agree with. And I won't be steamrolled by the five of you because you're taking orders from Eve Winter instead of me. I'll do my job the right way or I won't do it at all.
"So if this is the way you plan to do things, you can relay my resignation to your boss. Don't ever underestimate the people in this town. They're nosey as hell, and if I leave here they're going to invade your personal space like you've never imagined. They're going to ask questions, no matter how personal. And then they're going to take their business into the city, because they're not going to let an outsider they don't trust handle the bodies of their loved ones. Only there's just one problem with that."
"And what would that be?"
She moved in a step closer, so her chin almost touched his chest. "It's going to be pretty difficult to explain to the feds why enough income for ten funerals a month comes in consistently when we're lucky to do one. The money has to come from somewhere, right? Maybe they can find out whatever scam it is you're running and using the funeral home to do so. Maybe I should go wake the John Doe on the table in there and ask him what he knows before you get your hands on him."
"That would be a mistake," he said gravely. "A big one."
"I don't appreciate being used to take the fall for whatever kind of fraud you're involved in. I don't know what scheme you're running, and I don't care. But I'll be damned if I'll have the IRS or FBI looking at me as the responsible party because my name is on the account and I write all the checks."
His eyes went frigid and she hoped to God he couldn't smell her fear. Because once she'd started talking she hadn't been able to shut up. It was like the pseudo-dead guy on her embalming table was the last straw, and something in her had cracked. Up until this point it had just been her gut telling her something was off with her sexy and secretive employees. It hadn't stopped her imagination from picturing them as part of a prostitution ring or black-market baby scheme, but she figured most of that had to do with the fact that she read a lot of romance novels. The body on her table was a different story. She deserved some answers.