by Lora Leigh
Natches chuckled. “I guess we’ll see, won’t we? Because if you don’t stay the hell away from her then you’re going to get the chance to try for it.”
The other man turned and strolled casually back to the door, pulled it open, and stepped into the hall before closing the door behind him and leaving Graham in the dark. Leaving him with the memory of that brief moment when her taste had burned through his senses like nothing he’d known before.
Maybe he just needed to get laid, he thought as the music from the party below intruded on his thoughts. But not here, not tonight. Not until he could escape the memory of her kiss, of her touch, and the hunger for more that was only burning brighter than ever.
Reaching up, he probed at the rapidly swelling flesh of the left side of his face. Fucker! Natches couldn’t just hit the eye or just pop him in the mouth. Hell no, the bastard had to take out the whole side of his face. He’d remember that if the chance ever came around to return the favor.
He couldn’t blame the other man, though. If it were Kye that some bastard resembling Graham was sniffing after, then he knew he’d do the same.
Or worse.
Maybe, if he was lucky, the blow had knocked some sense into his head.
Hell, he just wasn’t that lucky.
Son of a bitch. He just hadn’t needed this.
TEN
The next morning, Lyrica pulled into the parking lot of Mackay’s Bed-and-Breakfast Inn, incensed.
She was furious. She couldn’t believe the gall of her cousin Natches. It wasn’t bad enough that she had to listen to the gossip for two hours straight at the spa. Hell no—when she called Kye to confirm the rumors, her best friend wouldn’t even speak to her. In fact, she’d informed Lyrica that she wouldn’t speak to her again until Graham’s face had healed from Natches’s blow.
“Really, Lyrica.” Kye sniffed tearfully. “Graham wouldn’t even tell me who hit him. I had to find out myself from some little twit who was actually at the party.”
“You act as though I can control Graham or Natches,” Lyrica protested. “For god’s sake, Kye, you know better than that.”
“I know I can’t stand to see how horrible his face has been bruised.” Kye had been furious. “I refuse to even speak to a Mackay until it’s healed, and that includes you.”
“Kye …”
“Not until it’s healed,” Kye snapped angrily. “Every time I see his face I just get more furious.”
She hung up the phone. Lyrica was still staring at the device a moment later when a text with an incriminating photo popped up: Graham, glaring at his sister as she snapped the picture. And the left side of his face was bruised so horribly she gasped.
The second she left the spa she headed straight to her mother’s inn. God knew she loved her cousins and her brother, but this was going too far.
Stomping up the steps, she pushed into the foyer, eyes narrowed, searching for Tim. There were very few people who could even attempt to talk any sense into a Mackay. The only one she knew of was Tim.
The sound of voices in the common living room, a shared space for the guests and family, had her turning and stepping into the large room.
Her mother, Mercedes, sat at the round café table next to an open window and sipped coffee as her guest and new friend Carmina spoke in soft, sweet tones.
Mercedes’s head turned as Lyrica came into the room, her eyes widening as she hurriedly set down the coffee.
“Excuse me,” she told Carmina distractedly. “I’ll be right back.”
Anger was churning so hard, so hot inside Lyrica that it was all she could do to hold it back as her mother gripped her arm and steered her quickly from the common room and across the foyer to the dining room, then into the kitchen.
“What in the world is wrong?” Mercedes demanded, her voice low as her gaze swept over her daughter. “Are you okay? Is Zoey well?”
“Oh, I’m fine,” she bit out roughly. “But Natches Mackay is another story, Momma, because I’m going to brain him.”
Mercedes stepped back, staring at her daughter in shock. One hand propped on a still-shapely hip, she lifted the other to her face, her fingers covering her lips and chin thoughtfully for a few long seconds.
“Oh, dear,” she murmured. “What has Natches done now?”
“What has he done?” Lyrica all but snarled. “Not only can I not attend any party that goes on in this stupid county without being carded, having my brother called, or being asked politely to leave, but I guess whenever one of their know-it-all friends decides to pull me out of one, instead of waiting on permission, Natches thinks it’s perfectly acceptable to plow his fist into the man’s face. My best friend’s brother’s face, actually, and now Kyleene isn’t speaking to me at all.” Fists clenched, she lifted her hands and pressed them to her temples as a vicious groan rasped from her throat. “He’s insane.”
Mercedes was still staring at her in shock. Her mother evidently couldn’t believe Natches would stoop so low, either.
“Oh, dear.” She breathed out softly. “So Kye is angry with you?”
Lyrica breathed out roughly, shaking her head at the futility of what she seemed to be facing before answering. “Kye’s furious. And I can’t even blame her.”
“How can she blame you for what transpired between her brother and your cousin?” Her mother sounded confused now. “Dear, it wasn’t your fault. It seems a misunderstanding, nothing more. You know how they get when they believe the wrong sort of man is paying attention to you and your sisters. He likely simply misconstrued the situation …”
Lyrica flushed heatedly. She couldn’t help it.
The moment her mother even hinted that Graham was attempting to seduce her, she flushed so brilliantly there was no hiding the truth from her too-perceptive mother.
“Oh.” Her mother drew out the word slowly. “So, exactly what did Natches see, Lyrica, that made him so irate that his fist and Graham’s face became so well acquainted?”
Oh, didn’t her mother have a way with words? And tones. She was speaking to Lyrica as though her daughter was five and had been caught attempting to distract attention from her own actions.
“Momma, whatever Natches may have seen, he saw because he invaded the privacy of a room that was off limits. I am over twenty-one. I am not mentally deficient, and neither am I in any way unable to decide for myself who to take for a lover,” Lyrica stated, calmer now, but no less furious. “And I won’t lose my friendship with Kye because Natches got a little pissy over the fact that I kissed Graham. Not the other way around.”
Mercedes breathed in deeply, a frown forming at her brow as she slowly straightened the hem of her blouse over her jeans. “Lyrica, you know how very protective he and the others can be. Perhaps Natches didn’t see you initiate the kiss …”
Lyrica gave her head a hard shake as she turned from her mother and paced to the window looking out on the backyard. “He knew. He knew and it didn’t matter to him, Momma.”
Of course, there had been the way Graham had been holding her, his hips so obviously wedged between her thighs. The scene her cousin walked in on had been incredibly intimate. Incriminating.
“It’s not as though either of us is married or breaking any sort of rule.” She turned back and glared at her mother. “I’m a grown woman, not a teenager with no understanding of the word ‘sex.’”
Her mother winced. She couldn’t imagine any of her daughters having sex yet, Lyrica knew. As far as her mother was concerned, they were all still virgins.
“Lyrica, you know how the Mackay men can be. If Kye is truly your friend, then she will forgive you. She will understand the ways of men such as these.”
“Momma, that is not good enough.” Lyrica dismissed the idea that this could be fixed by simply understanding how her brother and cousins worked. “I won’t live like this. I warned Dawg I won’t. I want Natches to stop this now.”
“Lyrica, you cannot control Natches …”
“Where�
�s Tim?” She was tired of discussing it.
“How is Tim supposed to fix this?” Mercedes asked, surprised.
How the hell was Lyrica supposed to know?
“He can threaten him,” she snapped, incensed, “say man things the moron understands—I don’t care, but he better fix it before I fix it myself.” She glared at her mother. “They won’t like how I fix it, Momma. None of them will.”
“I’ll speak to him, I promise,” Mercedes swore. “You know how the boys are, though, with such men, Lyrica. At the moment, Tim and Rowdy are trying to—”
“Rowdy’s here?” Her eyes narrowed dangerously. “Wonderful, because I have something to say to him as well.”
“Lyrica, wait.” Her mother followed after her in concern. “This is not Rowdy’s fault any more than it is Tim’s.”
“Really?” Gripping the stair rail as she took the first step, she turned and threw her mother a glare. “He was there, too. Who do you think made sure I went to my car while Natches threw that punch? Surely you didn’t think he was alone. They’re never alone. When it comes to me and Zoey now, they’re like coyotes. They harass us in pairs.”
Turning back, she climbed quickly up the stairs before moving along the main hall until she came to her mother’s private suite of rooms and Tim’s office.
The door was open, and when she stepped inside the roomy office, she found Tim sitting behind his desk while Rowdy stood at the far side of the room, watching her expectantly.
She focused on Rowdy first. “That rabid cousin of ours hit Graham,” she told him furiously. “He had no right, Rowdy.”
“He had every right, Lyrica.” Rowdy was patient, his voice bringing her to a hard stop as she stared at him in shock. “Graham knows the score here—don’t think he doesn’t. And Natches warned you the other day he wasn’t going to back off.”
“Knows the score?” she ground out in disbelief, moving behind the nearest chair to give her hands something to grip besides his neck. “Are you crazy? What score is there to know? If one of Dawg’s sisters kisses you, then you’re going to get punched? Natches didn’t punch Charlie Miller when he caught me kissing him last year.”
“Charlie Miller hasn’t left a string of mistresses behind him, the last eleven of which were given bimbo numbers by the gossips in this town.” Rowdy argued patiently as his arms went across his chest in a classic Mackay stubborn pose. “His opinion of marriage is extremely low and his sexual exploits extremely high. Natches was just letting him know that he’s risking more than losing a damned good woman if he breaks your heart. If he—or any other man—thinks he can just play with your heart and get away with it, then we’re going to break body parts. The message was delivered and understood.”
Lyrica stared at him in disbelief for a long, silent moment before turning to Tim.
“Is he serious?” she asked, astounded.
A heavy sigh as Tim’s hand passed over his face was her answer. When he stared back at her, she could see it in his eyes.
Lips parted, she could only stare between the two men in outrage.
“The thought of being called bimbo number twelve is almost overshadowed by the fear that the brother and cousins I love so dearly will swallow me whole into some black, blank void where nothing or no one can touch me,” she finally whispered, painfully. “Realizing the lengths the three of you will go to in ensuring everyone abides by your rules and by your arrogant determination of the life I will or will not live hurts more than realizing exactly how little I meant to the father who should have loved me.”
“Lyrica, that’s uncalled for.” Tim rose abruptly from his chair as Rowdy’s arms fell slowly from his chest, his gaze becoming heavy as he stared at her.
“Is it uncalled for, Tim?” she whispered. “The Mackay cousins entertained this whole county, probably the entire state, with their sexual exploits when they were younger, but Dawg Mackay’s sisters have to hide their lovers or deny them to ensure they’re not attacked.” She shook her head, her chest tight with the knowledge that was staring her in the face. “Do you think it would matter, Rowdy, that I already know Graham’s past, and I’ve stayed as far away from him as long as possible despite the fact that I can’t bear the thought of another man touching me? Did it even count that the second he knew I was in trouble, he was there? No questions. He just found me and made sure I was safe until the decision was made that he wasn’t good enough to keep me safe.”
“Lyrica, it’s not like that.” Rowdy grimaced with a heavy breath. “Trust me. I know it’s hard to understand. I know you don’t like it. None of you have liked it or understood it. But there are certain rules men obey only when their brains get rattled a bit. I’ve been there. Dawg and Natches were there. Graham is cut from the same cloth.”
A pain-filled facsimile of a laugh left her lips as she slid her hands slowly from the back of the chair and turned to Tim. “I’m sorry I disturbed you,” she forced herself to say. “I’ll leave now.”
“Lyrica, dammit, wait,” Timothy called, moving out from behind the desk as she turned to the door.
Lyrica shook her head and kept going. There was nothing left to say. Natches, Rowdy, and Dawg weren’t going to relent, and they weren’t going to let this go.
She had laughed at Eve when she’d learned how she’d fought against Brogan. Everyone had known Brogan was crazy for her. The same with Piper and Jed. The two men weren’t even liked by the Mackay cousins at the time. They were distrusted and watched with suspicion. Lyrica had thought it so amusing at the time. Both of her sisters had refused to talk to Dawg, refused to try to make him understand what they needed.
If Rowdy and Tim knew what Natches had done, then there was no reason to go to Dawg—he would know as well. And, like Tim, he no doubt agreed with his actions. Dawg was usually more determined to protect his sisters than even his cousins were.
They were always in agreement in these matters.
Moving quickly down the stairs, she pushed through the front doors and hurried down the front steps to the Jeep. She didn’t even stop to say good-bye to her mother. She couldn’t.
It hurt too bad, and tears weren’t something she did well.
Tears were something she’d sworn years before she would never shed again.
—
“Better call Dawg.” Rowdy breathed heavily as he stood next to Timothy and watched the Jeep accelerate away from the house. “He’s not going to be happy.”
Timothy breathed out roughly before rubbing at the side of his nose and grimacing heavily. “That damned deal he made with her,” he snorted as he dropped his hand and shoved it into the pocket of his slacks. “I warned him he was making a mistake.”
Rowdy stared down at the shorter man again, still amazed by the transformation Mercedes Mackay had wrought in him. He was no longer the dark, miserable special agent on a fast track to a stroke. He was actually pleasant most of the time now. And he smiled.
Rowdy still found that really weird, too.
“Stop staring at me, Mackay,” Timothy growled. “It’s unsettling. Now, which of us gets to call Dawg?”
“I should let you,” Rowdy said in disgust. “But no doubt you’d blame it all on Natches.”
Timothy looked up at him, highly offended. “Seems to me it was his fault. If he hadn’t hit so hard then Lyrica wouldn’t be so hurt. Hell, I saw Graham’s face this morning, Rowdy. Natches damned near broke it.”
“He didn’t even knock the bastard off his feet,” Rowdy snapped in disgust. “He’s stronger than he looks.”
“His sister was still crying. She almost didn’t let me in the house until Graham stepped out from the kitchen and sent her upstairs.”
Rowdy stared outside thoughtfully as Timothy moved back to his chair and sat down.
“How’s Graham taking it?” Rowdy asked, turning in time to catch Timothy’s quick grin.
“He’s damned disgusted by Kye’s reaction and the fact that anyone even learned the identity of who hit him to
begin with.” Timothy chuckled in amusement. “He’s a good man, Rowdy. And as much as I don’t like what Natches walked in on myself, it doesn’t change the fact that I don’t believe Graham would play with her. I think he cares about her.”
Rowdy was prone to believe it as well, but if Graham didn’t start using his head instead of his dick, then he’d break Lyrica’s heart anyway.
“Graham likes his bimbos, Timothy.” He breathed out heavily. “Lyrica’s no man’s toy or his bimbo. He needs to establish that, not just to Lyrica, but to everyone who might believe otherwise before they realize there’s anything between them. Otherwise, Lyrica’s going to be hurt whether he cares for her or not.”
Timothy just stared back at him silently.
“You don’t believe me?” he asked as Timothy sat back in the chair, his arms resting comfortably on the armrests.
“I actually think he deserved to have his face busted if he really was all but fucking her against the window of that lake house,” Timothy stated. “But, gauging by Lyrica’s fury, I’m going to assume Natches might have overreacted to whatever he saw. I know him and I know Lyrica, and I know she’s Natches’s favorite. Just as I know he and Graham have had a disagreement for years over something. Something deep, Rowdy. And that resentment just may end up being what breaks her heart.”
Rowdy frowned in confusion. “Natches doesn’t have anything against Graham.”
“Yeah, he does, Rowdy,” Timothy stated somberly. “He’s kept it to himself and that was a good thing. I had hoped it wouldn’t end up affecting Lyrica, though. I could have been wrong.”
If Natches was pissed at Graham over something, especially something he’d carried alone for a number of years, then the chances of him overreacting rose considerably. Natches wasn’t a man who dealt well with resentment.
The very fact that he’d kept whatever it was hidden concerned Rowdy.
“Get the details we need from the surveillance cameras across from that apartment, and let’s see if we’ve missed anything,” Rowdy told the former special agent. “I want this threat against Lyrica erased immediately. I’ll talk to Natches. Better yet, call everyone together, we’ll just meet at his place.”
