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His eyes narrowed on her.
“I know Tim’s ex-DHS,” he said so softly it was all she could do to hear him. “Something’s wrong. He wouldn’t leave his private office open otherwise.”
“This is his home,” she said warily. “Why shouldn’t he?”
The look on his face and slow movement of his head from side to side was knowing, but there was a cold gleam to his eyes as well.
“Whatever you say. I just want to find Carmina. That’s all that matters to me.”
And she believed him.
“Careful, Lyrica,” Natches warned her softly. “Angel detected movement in the basement. See if you can get him to head downstairs and we’ll take over.”
“Have you checked the basement?” Something was wrong here. She couldn’t figure out what it was, but something was wrong.
He shook his head slowly, his head turning to look down the hall.
“I’ll check it.” And she prayed he would follow.
An exasperated curse sounded behind her.
“Dammit, this doesn’t feel right,” Kevin muttered. “What are you doing?”
“Looking for my mother, evidently,” she muttered, starting down the stairs.
“Get the hell out of the way.” Gently, but firmly, she was pushed aside as the much taller soldier, dressed in fatigues and a T-shirt, moved ahead of her.
Trailing behind him, knowing Dawg and Natches waited below, she was still shocked at how quickly it happened. Before she could blink, Graham had the other man against the wall at the bottom of the stairs, a wicked, too-sharp blade at his throat as Dawg and Natches moved behind him.
“Hello, Davis.” Graham’s voice was cold, hard, his expression savage. “You don’t look near as dead as I heard you were.”
Kevin’s gaze moved to hers, slowly, deliberately as his hard lips quirked just a bit. “Very good, Ms. Mackay,” he murmured. “Very, very good.”
“Where’s my family?” Lyrica kept her voice low, but there was no hiding the anger that filled it.
Frustration flashed in his eyes, savagery shadowing them as he stared back at Graham in sudden fury.
“Where’s my fiancée?” he growled.
—
Where was his fiancée?
What the fuck was going on here?
Graham glanced up the stairs to where Lyrica stood, her gaze thoughtful, her body tense, prepared for whatever else may happen.
“Well, it appears the gang’s all here.” A new voice entered the fray, one that had Graham, Natches, and Dawg turning quickly to face a threat they had never expected.
Jimmy Dorne.
He was leaning against the doorway to the guest living room, cradling one of the short, thick-barreled automatic weapons used by the security company he once worked for.
“Come on now, Lyrica.” He waved her down the stairs. “Come chat with us, before I kill your boyfriend in front of your eyes.”
His blond hair was still cut short, so short he may as well have just shaved it and gotten it over with. Cold, pale blue eyes watched them with amused intent.
Thin lips tilted into a jeering smile as he sniffed in disdain, giving the thick, once-broken bridge of his nose a heavily flared appearance. With flat cheekbones and narrow eyes, he was a man Graham had never been able to trust.
