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“And you’re in love with him,” Sierra said softly. “Aren’t you?”
Eve sighed wearily. “I don’t know. I know I can’t stand the thought of denying myself something I want this badly. But I also know that if that’s the problem, then he’ll break my heart. There’s no doubt in my mind he will. And in turn, I’ll break my brother’s heart. ”
Brogan might not mean to. He may hate it, but it wouldn’t stop it from happening.
“Do you think you can keep that promise, then?” Sierra asked her.
Eve gave a bitter laugh. “Dawg saved us, Sierra. And I hate myself. I hate myself until I’m sick to my stomach with the fact that the one thing he asked of me seems to be the very thing I can’t give him. And he deserves so much more. ”
* * *
Dawg hadn’t meant to eavesdrop.
He’d been in the parking lot when Timothy had come around the side of the bar and called him back, bringing him through the side entrance to meet with him and John. What the hell Timothy was doing there, he hadn’t yet figured out.
He’d heard Eve’s voice as they passed the partially closed door, and stopped just to make sure she was okay.
Now, as he heard the pain in her voice, aching regret filled his chest, he felt like a traitor himself. Hell, he hadn’t meant to hurt her, or to make her feel as though she had disappointed him.
He rubbed at the back of his neck again as he turned and followed Timothy up the hall to John Walker’s office. Once Timothy closed the door behind him, Dawg leaned against it, crossed his arms over his chest, and glared at the former—he was doubting the resignation story now—Homeland Security special agent and the supposedly unassuming bar manager.
There was too much going on here, he thought.
Suddenly Timothy was lurking in the back offices of Walker’s Run, no doubt because that was one of the only two rooms in the lower levels where the s
ecurity cameras could be viewed.
When Timothy had texted earlier to meet him there, Dawg had assumed they were meeting in the actual bar, not hiding in the back. And that made sense only if Timothy was conducting an operation.
“What are you up to, you little fucker?” Dawg growled.
Timothy grinned at the insult as though it were a compliment.
Little bastard.
At least he didn’t look like a reject from the CIA anymore. His clothes were actually pressed, his hair combed. And he did smile more now than he had before Mercedes and the girls came into his life. Though Dawg admitted that the thought of Timothy Cranston with then svelte, model-beautiful Mercedes Mackay was just freaky.
“Why do I always have to be up to something?” Timothy asked.
“The last time I asked you that question you called me a suspicious little bastard who needed to go home and get fucked so I wouldn’t be so paranoid,” Dawg pointed out thoughtfully.
Timothy grimaced good-naturedly.
“Do I have to ask again, or send you home to your girlfriend minus some very important equipment?”
Timothy chuckled at that. “You are too paranoid, Dawg. Even your cousins tell you that. ”
They did.
“That doesn’t mean you’re not up to something,” he pointed out. “Now, tell me what Brogan Campbell has to do with whatever the hell you’re up to, and how do I keep him away from my sister?”
Timothy sighed, then leaned forward, clasping his hands on the desk in front of him.
“Dawg, do you really think it’s possible for your sister to be interested in a traitor? Doesn’t that go against the Mackay DNA or something?”
“Are you saying he’s not a traitor?”
Timothy’s eyes widened innocently.
