by Lora Leigh
Elegant. So handsome he made her heart break every time she saw him. The one man she’d prayed she could avoid just a little while longer.
The day of reckoning was here, though. She couldn’t hide from it any longer. She couldn’t fight it any longer.
He may have betrayed her. He may have lied to her in the worst possible way, but it was her fault. She had no one else to blame.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered at Dawg’s back, laying her forehead against him as a sob tore through her. “I’m so sorry, Dawg.”
“Doogan, what the fuck are you doing here?” The sound of his voice was savage, like a predator determined to protect its offspring.
“Ask your sister, Dawg.” Doogan’s voice was quiet, intent. “Ask her why I’m here.”
“Dawg, do we have a problem?” Natches asked the question.
“Doogan, this is a family party,” Rowdy stated calmly. “You weren’t invited.”
“And you’re sure as hell not family,” Timothy, the man she often wished had been her father, stated with that razor edge of innate arrogance he always carried whenever he felt his family was being threatened in some way.
“Thank God,” Doogan drawled then, the amusement in his tone causing her to shake. He was at his most dangerous now, his most cunning. “Why not tell them why I’m here, Zoey? Or are you going to force me to do it?”
“No.” Pushing away from Dawg she forced herself out from behind him, trying to move in front of him, trying to stop the tide of destruction before it began. “Stop this,” she demanded, anger raging through her now, shaking so hard now she wondered how she was still standing. “Don’t do this, Doogan. Don’t turn this into a war.”
“Natches.” Dawg’s tone was the warning. Unfortunately, she wasn’t fast enough.
Natches pulled her to him, against his side, holding her firmly as she struggled against him, staring back at Doogan, begging him silently, knowing it wouldn’t do her a damned bit of good.
“Go to the house with Natches, Zoey,” Dawg ordered firmly, never taking his eyes off Doogan “We’ll discuss this there.”
“Where you can surround me with Mackay males, and the agents you so carefully pulled away from me?” Doogan chuckled as though amused by them all. “That was an excellent move by the way, arranging to have my agents fall head over heels for the women they believed they couldn’t have. What better bait than to make a man think he can’t have a woman he desires? Ah Dawg, you’re good. You, Rowdy, and Natches are really good . . .”
“Better than you know,” Natches assured him as Zoey stopped struggling, shocked by her cousin’s declaration. “Good enough to have already figured out exactly what you’re doing here and why Zoey was terrified to come to us when she realized she was in trouble.”
“Really?” Doogan drawled. “And why is that?”
Zoey shook her head slowly, holding his gaze, bitter, hollow rage destroying her from the inside out.
He was destroying her and he knew it. He would destroy her and her family and there was nothing she could do to stop it.
“Get the hell out of Somerset, Doogan,” Tim demanded then. “Don’t turn this into a fight. It’s one you won’t win and you know it. Not against me.”
Chatham smiled. “Perhaps, perhaps not.” His gaze never left hers.
“You know this is wrong.” Helpless, desperate, she knew begging wouldn’t help. Doogan would only see weakness in a plea. “We had a deal . . .”
“But you reneged on your side, sweetheart.” He stepped forward slowly, his gaze pinning her, forcing her to remember, forcing her to make a choice.
“I didn’t renege,” she all but screamed back at him, hating him, hating herself more. “You lied to me, Doogan. You lied.”
“Don’t do it, Doogan,” Dawg warned him softly. “You’ll regret it.”
Doogan only stared back at her mercilessly. “Zoey Mackay, you’re under arrest for the murder of Harley Perdue . . .”
Then all hell broke loose.
—
Zoey came awake with a hard, brutal punch of awareness, her breath catching, the dream so surprising, so shocking it made very little sense.
Why would she dream something like that?
It made even less sense than the nightmares she so often had.
Hell, it made about as much sense as her life had in the past year. She would call it a comedy of errors, but there had been far too little comedy and far too many errors for the description.
As she rolled to her back, a little moan left her lips at the unique tenderness of her body that reminded her far too well of the hours past and the sexual exhaustion that had gripped her somewhere in the early hours of the morning.
She glanced at the bed beside her, and a folded square of paper had her reaching out. Picking it up and unfolding it, she couldn’t stop the pleasure that tightened her chest.
Had a few meetings this morn. Will be back to work on the cycle. As well as another project I’m considering.
She bit at her lower lip; still, a smile curved it and she couldn’t help but reread the letter and wonder what he had in mind for another project. She couldn’t imagine he’d top the night before. The things he’d made her feel, the pleasure that had exploded through her, still amazed her.
So why the dream? What was it that made her dream such a thing after experiencing such ecstasy at his touch?
As she glanced at the clock, her eyes widened.
Damn, Lyrica would be arriving in only a matter of hours. Zoey had promised her sister the painting she’d finally completed of her family. Graham, Lyrica, and their three-month-old twins. She had the painting ready and she knew her sister wouldn’t accept putting it off. Dammit.
Forcing herself from the bed to the shower, she made a mental note to make certain to inform everyone she was painting for the next week or so. That would keep them away; it would make certain no one bothered her while Doogan was there. She doubted he’d be there long; she couldn’t afford for him to stay long. But she wanted every touch she could take as her own, every moment she could steal with him before she had to let him go.
—
Elijah could feel the bullet Natches was going to put right between his eyes, bearing down on him. He was so dead and he knew it. The Mackays were going to kill him. It was his job to keep Zoey safe, no matter what she got into, or if he couldn’t do it, then he was to call one of them.
Her brother, Dawg, knew he was pushing Zoey away from him by being so overprotective with her older sisters. He was trying desperately to give her the freedom they hadn’t had, and to keep her from running from Somerset. She was the only one who didn’t threaten to do so, and the only one who withdrew from the family completely whenever she went head to head with her brother or cousins.
And they were right. She would leave. She wouldn’t run, she’d simply pack up, tell everyone good-bye, then be gone. That was why he’d agreed to help them. That was why he’d accepted her invitation to use the guest room when she’d offered it.
Then Doogan had called that night, just days after the Mackays secured his promise to watch out for her. And he’d seen what could happen to her, even while she was living within one of the most secure homes in the county.
Drugged, convinced she’d killed a friend, her mind so vulnerable, so open, he and Doogan had to remain completely silent, communicating with hand signals alone while slipping her back into her suite at her mother’s inn.
He’d watched her hold on to Doogan as he laid her back in her bed, heard her quiet sobs as Doogan eased her arms from around his neck.
“Don’t leave me,” she’d begged him, as though aware Doogan was more than the dream she’d been told he was. “Please don’t leave me.”
And he’d seen Doogan’s face too. That tormented, dark regret that creased the other man’s face and filled his dark eyes. He’d never seen that look on Doogan’s face before, and he’d known the older man nearly all his life.
Eli knew him wel
l enough to know that Zoey had somehow taken a hold on him, and it was one Doogan hadn’t been able to free himself from in the past year. But that didn’t mean Doogan wouldn’t shred her heart and leave her broken.
Eli had become fond of Zoey in the past year. And he’d found more than one reason to regret the promise he’d made her brother. If he betrayed Zoey, she would hate him. There would be no forgiveness. And if he didn’t? What would happen to Zoey if he didn’t find a way to protect her from Doogan and the enemies now focused on the woman someone had realized the other man cared for?
Hell, Eli knew Doogan was already in her bed. His truck had been in the garage, but the spare guest room was empty and Doogan hadn’t been anywhere else. As Eli had stood in the living room, he’d heard the faint sounds from Zoey’s bedroom. It was as well soundproofed as most of the bedrooms; still, the slightest sound had escaped and Eli had made himself leave the apartment entirely.
Hell, he’d ended up dozing in his truck until daylight. Now, he had to figure out what to do.
He should have never obeyed Doogan’s order to bring her to Louisville with him. He should have told the bastard to get fucked. It wasn’t like Doogan could really fire him for it. But Eli hadn’t been able to get the memory of the torment on Doogan’s face that night out of his mind.
And now, Eli told himself furiously, he was fucking paying for it in spades.
He liked to think he was a fairly intelligent man most days. He might not agree with Dawg and his cousins where Zoey’s protection was concerned, but he understood why they did the things that so enraged the sisters. Over the past several years he’d seen the danger Zoey’s sisters had faced. If it hadn’t been for Dawg and his cousins’ determination to protect Dawg’s sisters, then they would have died.
He didn’t always agree with how they did it.
This time, someone needed to know what was going on, though. He was going to have to tell someone, some way. Warn them and at least make sure someone suspected she could be getting into trouble.
Unfortunately, if he told, Doogan had the power to lock him in a deep, dark hole and throw away the key.
Damn, this whole situation was making his guts cramp. Zoey had been vulnerable enough after the man determined to kill Lyrica a year ago had broken Zoey’s arm while trying to force her to betray where her sister was hiding. The arm had barely healed before Sam found Zoey huddled in front of Lyrica’s apartment, drugged out of her mind and convinced she’d killed someone she considered a friend.
A year. He and Doogan had investigated the incident for a year, and still they didn’t have a single suspect. And they hadn’t been able to find Harley after Sam’s meeting with him that night, after Zoey showed up outside her apartment.
Harley was alive, Eli knew he was alive. But proof was another thing entirely.
This wasn’t a motorcycle race or a little backwoods party where Zoey’s presence was more amusing than a reason to call the Mackays. This was Zoey’s life. And whoever, whatever had tried to destroy her a year ago, Eli suspected was trying to get to her again. That was why Doogan was there. Because of the two attempts to break Zoey’s security and Eli’s certainty she was being watched.
He shouldn’t have called Doogan. Dammit, he should have just told Dawg.
And Zoey would have hated him. She would have given him that look of broken trust and he would have always wondered if there had been another way. If Doogan would have been the better choice.
He was so screwed.
“You’re pacing, Elijah,” Graham announced, entering the kitchen, a twelve-week-old twin cradled in his arm. This infant was wearing a dress. The girl was actually more active than her laid-back brother. A scary indication of the future, Eli thought.
God, the kid was a Mackay, despite being Graham’s kid. Eli was ready to fucking leave Somerset. Mackays were a pain in the ass, pure and simple and that boy was a future pain in the ass. He just didn’t need the headache.
“So why are you pacing?” Graham probed again when Eli forgot to answer him the first time.
Did he dare? God, Doogan would murder him.
Zoey would hate him and the Mackays would skin him alive. A terrifying thought no matter which he considered.
“A new security design.” Elijah pushed his fingers restlessly through his hair.
“I see.” Graham just stood there watching him as though expecting more. He suspected more, Eli thought. Could he somehow at least warn Graham?
“I think we need to update the security systems now that the rug rats are here.” He tried to grin as he nodded to the infant in her father’s arms. “Make certain everything’s working right.” Fuck, surely he could have come up with something better than that?
“Hmm,” Graham murmured. “You know, Elijah, the only time I see you that nervous is when Doogan’s around.”
“Doogan’s here again?” Had the bastard arrived at Graham’s and Eli hadn’t seen him? Fuck. Surely it was too early for the bastard to be lurking around again. And Graham had promised to warn him first.
“I don’t believe so,” Graham chuckled. “Keeping up with Doogan isn’t exactly easy, though.”
Oh, Eli knew where he’d been until daylight at least.
“Bastard,” Elijah muttered, resignation churning his gut. If he kept his mouth shut and Zoey got hurt, then he’d hate himself.
“Come on, Eli, what’s got you wearing tracks in my kitchen floor? New security designs just make you hyper. Get it off your chest, you’ll feel better.”
Feel better? He wouldn’t go that far.
Grimacing, he faced the other man, more a friend than his superior. Graham had always known when to hold his tongue and when to act. Maybe . . . “Graham, do you think the Mackays, or anyone for that matter, has the right to protect their sisters the way they do?”
Graham paused as he opened the refrigerator door, then glanced back at Elijah. “Zoey hurt herself at the race last night?”
Amusement lit Graham’s gaze as Elijah just stared at him. How the hell had Graham known about the races?
“No.” Elijah drew the word out, waiting to see how much his commander knew. “She wasn’t hurt.”
Graham pulled free several bottles of water before closing the door and facing Elijah again.
“As for your question.” The other man leaned against the counter, watching Eli carefully. “I think they go too far. They’re intelligent women and have enough sense to know when they need help. It’s Dawg’s habit of going too far at times that’s made the girls seem a little wild. Especially Zoey. She’s always wanted more, loved the adrenaline too much for his comfort level. It’s going to backfire on both of them one of these days.” His gaze sharpened on Eli then. “If it hasn’t already?”
Zoey’s sister Lyrica chose that moment to step into the kitchen, her son resting against her breast as she took the water Graham opened for her.
She shot Eli a hard look, and he knew he was in a shitload of trouble if he said anything more.
“Don’t be tattling on Zoey, Elijah. She’ll make you pay for it,” she advised him, lifting the water for a drink. “And trust me, I’ll narc you out so fast it’ll make your head spin.”
This was such fucking bullshit. He was damned no matter what he did.
“What if someone has taken an interest in her . . .” he tried.
Lyrica glared at him and he swore he felt his balls shrink at the promise of retribution in her gaze.
“Unless he’s a suspected criminal element, let it go. If he is, then talk to Zoey first,” Lyrica advised him, her tone warning. “Of all of us, Zoey will be the one to hate you for tattling on her, and you know it. She doesn’t keep friends she can’t trust.”
And Zoey already didn’t have many friends, especially those she felt she could trust.
It always amazed him how the sisters never, ever seemed the least bit interested in knowing what the others were doing. They loved each other and were incredibly loyal. But they never seemed to
question anything the other was doing.
As Elijah glanced at Graham, his lips thinned as the other man gave a small shake of his head. Keep his mouth shut? Fine, he could keep his damned mouth shut, and when she ended up hurt then he’d remind them all that he’d tried.
“Fine. Whatever. I have work to do.” Turning, he jerked the door open and left the kitchen. Stepping onto the back deck, he let a curse slip past his lips. “Don’t blame me when it all fucking backfires,” he muttered, though there was no one to hear him.
Dammit. Doogan was trouble by himself. Having him and Zoey in the same place was like throwing a match on gasoline. It was guaranteed to start a fire. Or in this situation, a fucking catastrophe.
He couldn’t just remain silent. He had to find a way to tell her cousins or Graham what Zoey was facing. Before she ended up dead.
—
“So who’s interested in Zoey?” Graham watched his wife, his fascination with her as strong now as it ever had been—no, stronger.
Lyrica laughed at his question. “I really have no idea. She hasn’t told me yet.”
But she would, Graham knew. He, Brogan, and Jed were aware of what Lyrica and her sisters’ brother hadn’t seemed to guess yet. The sisters kept very few secrets from each other. Actually they probably kept no secrets from each other.
“And if she tells you?” he asked curiously, watching her expression closely. “Would you tell me?”
She was at least considering the option, he could tell, as her emerald eyes stared back at him thoughtfully.
Taking a seat at the kitchen table, she cradled their son close to her breast and pursed her lips for a moment before speaking.
“Give me the name of one man you know who is not a criminal, but one you’d kill if he became interested in Kyleene. Unmarried, but completely unsuitable.”
“Doogan,” he growled, remembering the other man’s apparent interest in her other sister, Eve, and Brogan Campbell’s reaction to it during the first days of his relationship with Eve.
Lyrica grimaced at the name. “Fine, as much as I dislike him myself. Doogan. If I told you Zoey was seeing Doogan, would you find a way to tell Dawg or someone who would tell him?”
