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“Mellie,” Joshua warned as Dylan bristled and moved in close.
Cupping my chin, Dylan zoned in on my eyes. Compassion and anger swirled in his aqua blue pools. “You should be. Ian and I are both expert marksmen. It might be what keeps your smart-ass alive.”
And didn’t that make me feel like a total raging bitch?
“I’m sorry, everyone,” I exhaled on a heavy sigh. “I know you all are here to help me and I’m acting like a spoiled child.”
“It’s okay, Mel,” Sanna whispered. “You’ve earned the right to. After reading the stuff Davis is sending you, I don’t know how you’re still keeping it together.”
I gave Sanna a little shrug. Gratitude warmed me as I scanned the faces of those who had put their lives on hold to come and protect me. I paused on Joshua and smiled.
“I’m getting by with a little help from my friends.”
“Good girl.” Dylan nodded solemnly. “Just keep your shit wired tight. We’ve got the rest.”
“I’ll do my best.”
Joshua guided me out of the kitchen while everyone grabbed a suitcase and my boxes of files before we headed upstairs. Once inside the room, I smiled. It was massive with a king-sized four-poster bed along the west wall. Tall, wide windows lined the north side of the room. The sheers had been pulled, concealing the forest outside.
Dylan stepped up next to me as I inched the creamy fabric open and glanced outside. “Keep away from the windows as much as you can. Ian will close the hurricane shutters at dusk.”
“Okay.” I nodded then stepped back as the fabric fell back into place.
“You two get unpacked. Dylan and I are going to start dinner soon,” Nick informed us as he paused and darted a look at Joshua and me. “Glad you both made it here safely.”
“Me too. Thank you, both of you, for taking such good care of Sanna.” My chin began to quiver as I looked at both Nick and Dylan. Biting back my tears, I inhaled a deep breath. “I’m sorry I never told you two that before. You’re the loves of her life and everything she’s ever needed to be complete.”
“She needs you too, girl,” Nick reminded with a soft smile.
But I left her. Guilt spooled, playing the same worn-out tapes that had sung in my psyche for years.
Ian’s cell phone rang. All heads turned expectantly as he answered with an unusually serious tone.
“Fantastic,” he smiled. “Give me a sec. I’m heading to the office now to pull it up.”
My brows tugged together as Ian turned and walked out of the room. Dropping my purse on the bed, I followed him back down the stairs and into a large study. The relaxing room had been overrun with computers and printers all linked by coils of power cords snaking across the floor.
Ian slid into a tall leather chair before rolling up to a large desk and pounding on a keyboard. Peering over his shoulder, he gave me a cursory glance before opening a document.
Side-by-side images of the unknown stranger appeared on the screen. One was the picture Pruett had e-mailed to Joshua, the other a mug shot. The facial features were identical. I didn’t need to see behind the sunglasses of the original image to know it was the same man.
Ian scrolled down further, and we both scanned the information his source had provided. The man stalking me was Gordon Tideway. Forty-seven, six-foot-one, 285 pounds, brown hair, hazel eyes. His address was in a sketchy part of Chicago, and he had a long list of breaking and entering charges, as well as several for vandalism. He’d served a short stint in the Cook County jail for assault with a deadly weapon in his early twenties. Gripping the back of Ian’s chair, I continued to read. Tideway had spent the past seven years in Statesville Correctional Center—a maximum security prison in Joliet—for statutory rape, extortion, and murder for hire. He’d been released just sixty days ago and was currently on parole.
Chapter Twelve
My heart hammered in my ears as I shook like a sapling in a hurricane. Glancing up from the monitor, I locked eyes with Joshua. Neither of us said a word. He simply strode into the room, pulled me away from Ian’s chair and led me to a long leather couch.
“Hey, Drake. Do you mind getting Mellie a drink, please?”
“Not that Scotch shit. Vodka. I’ll take vodka if there’s any around.”
“Sure thing.”
With a concerned nod, the big, tattooed Dom poured me a healthy shot of vodka as everyone filtered into the study. Slamming back the alcohol, I exhaled as the burn warmed the back of my throat.
“Thanks.”
After reciting Gordon Tideway’s extensive criminal career, Ian steepled his fingers to his lips, sat back in his chair, and frowned. “No doubt if he discovers our location, he’ll be armed. I know Savannah doesn’t know how to shoot, but do you?” Ian looked at me, and I shook my head.
