by Jaycee Clark
He wore more black clothing, a gun strapped in a holster crossing his back and shoulders. His features were chiseled and hard, unforgiving. And those blue eyes held no laughter, no mischievousness that Jock had always thought of through the years when thinking of Ian.
God, he’d made a mess of things.
What the hell had he pushed his son to? What had Ian become?
Would things have been different if only he had swallowed his misguided notions all those years ago?
He took another deep breath, pushed away from the wall, met Aiden’s stare as the newcomer walked into the room and only said to Ian, “We need to talk.”
“You’ve got that fucking right, Pete.” A radio buzzed on Snake, who answered it.
But they all heard. The woods were clear.
Whoever had caused all the hell tonight was no longer here.
• • •
Ian followed Pete out of the room, ignoring everyone but the one man he wanted answers from. He led Pete down to what was once his father’s office and saw that it still was. The smell was the same and memories wanted to flood him.
He didn’t let them. He waited until Pete came in and then he slammed the door.
“Look, I know you’re upset—”
“Upset?” he asked softly, shaking his head. “No, Pete, I’m not upset.” He didn’t move, tried to go past the pain in his head. “I’m past upset. I’m fucking pissed.”
“I know—”
“No, you don’t know,” he hissed. “You have no friggin’ clue, but you better by God get one.” He walked behind his father’s desk and stared at Pete. “You knew of my plans, my men knew of my plans, and my family.”
Pete’s hazel eyes watched him, sharpening. He sank down into one of the chairs facing the desk and steepled his fingers, his elbows resting on the arms of the chair.
Ian waited.
Pete waited.
Fuck it. He turned and looked out the window.
For a moment, neither said anything.
Then, Pete’s voice asked, “Are you done?”
Ian rubbed the back of his neck, wishing the headache away. Headaches were bad, and whether this was a warning that he needed a break or from tonight, he didn’t know, didn’t want to even guess.
“You need to come in for a physical tomorrow.” Pete sighed. “I’ve got people working on this, I’ve increased the number of guards and I want—”
“I want my family safe,” Ian said.
“Yes. That’s a given.”
Ian waited but Pete didn’t say anything else. Finally, he turned and faced his boss.
“You look like shit,” Pete said.
He grunted, walked around the desk and sat in the other chair, leaning his head back. Closing his eyes, he asked, “Is it you, Pete? Have I become expendable?”
He waited, didn’t open his eyes.
“I should be insulted, but I’m not.” Pete cleared his throat and Ian heard his clothing shift as he moved in the chair. “I would come to the same conclusion if I were you. Without a doubt, the leak is in my office. We just have to find it.”
No kidding.
“What do you want to do?” Pete asked him.
Ian opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling, still white, same wooden trim around the top as it had always been.
“Don’t have a clue.” God, he was so fucking tired. A log popped in the grate.
Neither spoke again.
Pete broke the silence. “You know, the local authorities are now going to be watching your family as well. I haven’t figured out if this was a good thing or a bad thing.”
“Local authorities knowing of our presence is never good.”
Pete chuckled. “True.”
“But the extra eyes will be a plus.” Ian wondered if he could just pack up his family and move them elsewhere.
“I thought about just putting your entire family under protection and moving them to a secure location,” Pete commented, standing. “But, considering, I don’t know that it would do any good.”
Ian thought about the firestorm that would cause. “Probably wouldn’t do any good anyway. I don’t know that any of them . . . Well, my brothers might, with their wives.” His hand fisted. “My life, our lives are so fucked up compared to everyone else’s, Pete. Ever thought of that?”
Pete cocked a brow at him. “I’ve always thought that everyone else simply lives in blissful ignorance.”
“I don’t know what that is.”
Pete tilted his head. “You know, I honestly thought I could talk you into staying with us, give you time and another assignment. Maybe bring you in out of the field and into the office.”
Ian was already shaking his head.
“But,” Pete continued, “I can see I was wrong on that score. You really are ready to call it quits.”
Ian sat up and rubbed a hand over his face. “Is there ever really such a thing as ‘quits’ for guys like us?”
“Sure”—Pete smiled, a full-fledged one—“when you’re dead.”
“Isn’t that a cheery fucking thought.”
“What are you going to tell your family?”
He shook his head. “Don’t have a clue.”
Pete leaned back. “We’ll run the bullets the boys are getting from around the scene and see what we come up with.”
Would it be for or against Pete? For or against him? Elianya? One of the other families that wanted him dead? Whoever the damn mole was.
• • •
Rori watched all the goings-on with a sort of detachment. She was part of this, and yet not. A feeling she was rather familiar with. Darya was tucked up to her side and she thought about taking the girl upstairs, but decided to wait to see what Ian wanted to do.
If it were her, she’d remove Darya to a safer place, make certain the girl at least was out of harm’s way. Then again, knowing Ian, he’d want to make certain everyone was safe. Two or three people they could hide. A family this large—probably not.
Mrs. Kinncaid was walking around, asking people if they needed anything—the perfect host. It fit her. Jesslyn and Aiden were playing with their boys in the hallway just outside one of the doorways of the living room. Two of the other brothers were with their wives. She hadn’t seen a sign of Quinlan yet, but figured Gar was with him, or someone. Had Ian thought of him?
Maybe she should ask Nikko to watch him.
And what the fuck did she really care? Was this her job? No. Was this her family?
No.
So why drag Nikko into the mix if she didn’t have to. Nikko.
She looked at Snake and said, “Let me borrow your phone.”
He unclipped it. “Why?”
“I need to call someone, and if I don’t, they’ll start to worry. Since my mobile is in little melted pieces, be a chap.”
He handed it to her. “Who you calling?”
“Don’t be a nosy parker, Snake.” She took the phone, walked to a quiet corner so she could still keep an eye on Darya, who slid off the couch and addled up to her side. She rang Nikko.
He didn’t answer.
She called again.
Then again.
Finally, he picked up. “Who the hell is this?”
“It’s me.”
His sigh was filled with relief and anger. She could tell. “Where the bloody hell are you?” he muttered in Italian. “Do you have a clue how long it’s been since you checked in? You always check in.”
She was tired. “I’m fine. Just busy.”
“You quit.”
“Not exactly,” she said, and scanned the room. Snake still watched her, his thin black brow cocked.
“What does that mean?”
She sighed. “It means I’m doing a new gig now and things have become complicated. I’ll ring you back later. I just wanted you to know things are fine.”
“When you take the time to let me know things are fine, they rarely are, cara. What is going on?”
She sighed. “I can�
�t get into it now. Just know I’m fine.” She looked around this group of people Ian cared so much about, saw the worry on all their faces. “Nikko, have I ever told you thank you?”
“For what?”
She grinned. “Never mind. Take care, luv.” She clicked the phone shut, and returned it to Snake. Picking Darya up, they sat back on the sofa.
Jock rubbed his chest again and walked toward her. He sat down on the other side of Darya.
“All right?” she asked him.
He nodded. No smile, no grimace, just a nod.
“I see where your son gets it.”
He frowned. “Gets what?”
The man was worried, she could see it in his eyes, in the etched lines of his face. “Ian’s attitude and inflexibility.”
“I’m not inflexible,” he scoffed.
She merely raised a brow. He lifted his hand to place on Darya’s head, but faster than a blink, she scurried into Rori’s lap, her thumb firmly in her mouth.
His frown deepened.
“Is she okay?” he asked.
“Do you honestly care?” Rori returned, leaning down to kiss Darya’s forehead. The bear was nowhere to be found and it had become a security blanket.
“She’s missing her bear,” he mumbled.
Rori tried to hide her grin.
“I bet we can find another,” he added, hefting his weight up and walking from the room. She watched him go and wondered where he was off to.
Kaitlyn joined her and took her husband’s seat. “Has she said anything?”
Rori shook her head and Kaitlyn studied her.
“What?” Rori asked. Too damn many people around for her peace of mind.
Kaitlyn took a deep breath and closed her eyes. “I just thought . . .” She closed her mouth, looked down, and picked a nonexistent piece of lint off her pants. “When we got to the window. You and she were closer to us, Ian a bit away . . . And just for a moment, I thought . . .”
Damn.
Rori reached out and covered her hands. “Your son saved our lives.”
Kaitlyn nodded and shoved a coppery curl behind her ear. She shook her head. “There’s so much I want to ask him, so much I’ve missed, so much I want to know, and earlier none of that mattered. I just wanted him alive and you alive. I thought I’d kill that boy that picked me up and carried me to the bathroom.”
Tanner as “that boy” brought a smile to Rori’s face. “They were following Ian’s orders. Their primary duty is to protect their charge.”
“Why do we need protecting and who’s after my son?” Those green eyes narrowed, sharpened to hard emeralds. “A car explodes on my front lawn, almost killing my son and his family, and by God, I’ve a right to know.”
Rori tilted her head. Woman had a point. She squeezed Kaitlyn’s hand, seeing again the plain gold band topped by a diamond anniversary band. “It’s up to Ian to let you know. If you ask questions now, he won’t tell you. After everyone clears out, he might.” At the determined look on the woman’s face, Rori added, “And I stress might more on the probably not side.”
“Oh, he’ll tell me, I’m his mother.”
“Which is the reason he probably won’t.”
Kaitlyn’s chuckle drew attention.
Jock strode up to their side and in his hand was a bear. An old blond and ragged bear looking as if he’d been in a battle or two. Kaitlyn’s smile grew and turned tender as she looked at her husband. “I’m glad you thought of that.”
Jock squatted down in front of them, his knees creaking and popping. Rori winced. That had to bloody hurt.
He held the bear out to Darya, who merely stared at him, not moving, barely even breathing.
“This was Ian’s. Ian’s, when he was a boy.”
He held it aloft and still the girl didn’t take it.
“He’s yours now.” He frowned, looked at the bear, then at Rori. “How do I say that in Russian?”
“I have no idea.”
And then she felt him, directly behind her, only a second before his graveled voice said the words in a language no one but the little girl understood.
Darya didn’t even turn to look at him.
Rori heard him sigh, but then Darya pulled her thumb from her mouth with a loud pop and tentatively reached for the bear.
Jock didn’t move, let her take it.
She snatched the bear, then burrowed back into Rori.
Ian’s hand rested on her shoulder. Jock looked at her for a long moment, then his eyes rose to look beyond and above her. “What happened to Darya, to make her so distrustful?”
Rori’s stomach tightened and she cleared her throat.
Ian’s voice hardened. “You don’t want to know.”
Chapter 19
November 16, 2:14 a.m.
Quiet like a mouse. She walked down the hallway, her fingers brushing the side of the wall, the paint cool, the carpets beneath her bare feet thick. She stopped, listened, and wiggled her toes.
It was so big here. Not like at the hotel where they stayed before. This was different. People in and out all the time. The same men she remembered from . . .
She shook her head. Here things were safe. She looked at the back of her hand, to the white bandage there, and remembered the pops, the shattering glass, the fire that backhanded them across the lawn.
The house was dark and quiet, for the most part. She heard a saw whirr to life near the back of the house.
No one moved up here. The others had left, she remembered the boy leaving with his parents. The other little girl was in bed asleep down the other hallway.
She’d had her bath. Rori and Ian’s mother had given it to her. The lady with the red hair singing and squirting water while Rori washed her and talked.
Darya frowned. She had lain in bed, but something woke her up. She looked down at her other hand, where her new bear hung by one arm.
Ian’s bear. She smiled and brought the bear up to her nose. He didn’t smell like Mr. Bear. This one smelled dusty and she wanted to sneeze. But she liked him. He didn’t have a name yet.
Maybe she’d call him . . . She didn’t know. For now, he’d be Mr. K. They’d told her, her new name was Darya Kinncaid.
She didn’t know why. She liked her old name. And if they changed her name, then what? But she didn’t want Ian or Rori leaving her, or getting mad. What if she didn’t like her name, so they gave her away like Aunt Sonya had?
Darya shook her head and clutched Mr. K to her. He needed a bath. She’d had a bath, she needed to give one to Mr. K.
A noise at the end of the hallway jerked her head up.
The old man with white hair stood there looking at her, his hands in his pockets, something under his arm.
He smiled, and his eyes wrinkled up. He said something to her, his voice deep and calm.
Not like it had been back at the hotel, sharp and angry. Slowly, he walked toward her.
Her heart beat fast and faster, and she looked over her shoulder, but no one was there.
Darya didn’t move as he stopped in front of her. He said something again, that soft rumbling voice, like the sound of water filling the tub when she lay in the bottom and the water covered her ears.
He held his hand out to her and she only looked at it, then at him.
Where was Ian? Where was Rori?
She frowned. His bushy white brows rose and he pointed back down the hallway, the way she’d come from. Again, he held his hand out.
He wouldn’t hurt her. Not here with Ian. Ian would get him if he did. Taking a chance, she put her hand in his big one and walked with him down the hallway.
The room softly glowed from the lamp over on the side table. The bed was scrunched where she’d lay on it. The doors to the balcony were locked up high. She couldn’t reach it, she’d tried. She wanted to open them and breathe the air.
He walked her to the bed and pulled the covers back. She looked up at him. Rori and Ian did it like that too. He wouldn’t hurt her.
She climbed in bed and he pulled the blue cover up over her. She tucked it under her arms and stared at him.
He grinned back and looked around, then he looked back at her and wiggled his brows, saying something.
From under his other arm, he pulled out a book.
She tilted her head and watched him.
Ian had read her a story earlier, but she’d understood it. He sometimes talked like she did.
This man didn’t. This book was different, with beautiful pictures. She sat up and looked as he opened it and held it on his lap. Darya ran her hand down the page the book was open to. A picture of a princess, the painting so real, she expected to see the lady in the dark red gown move, or see her long wavy hair blow. The edge of the page was all swirly gold and blue. It was the most beautiful thing she’d seen.
Smiling, she looked up at the old man.
He chuckled and pulled the book toward him and started to read.
She had no idea what he was saying, and she tried. Tried until her eyes grew tired and she leaned back against her pillows. His voice was gruff, but she almost felt as safe with him as she did with Ian. His voice rumbled over her, through her, lulling her back to sleep.
• • •
Jock looked at the little girl sleeping in his son’s old twin bed. She was pale, her dark hair contrasting against the pristine white sheets.
So small, so . . . haunted. Yes, the girl was haunted.
He had no idea from what, Ian wouldn’t say, but he could see it in little Darya’s round blue eyes. Ryan had possessed that same look when Jock first met the boy over a year ago.
Since then, rarely, if ever, did he see it in the smiling, rambunctious boy Ryan had become.
Darya. He closed the book on his lap, glad he’d thought to get it from the library. He’d planned to check in on her and leave the book, not that he’d told anyone downstairs that. Kaitlyn had given him her “are you feeling all right, you should go to bed” look.
He was tired. Tired physically and emotionally, tired in soul like he hadn’t been in a long long time.
“You’re safe here, princess,” he whispered, brushing a hair back off her forehead. “You’re a Kinncaid now and I don’t know if your daddy’s told you, but we Kinncaids . . .”
