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Why was that?
Why hadn’t he ever felt the hunger and need for another as he did for Lyrica? She wasn’t experienced. She was far too innocent, far too delicate. His women were usually more sta
tuesque, better able to meet and participate in the sexual games he preferred.
Games that would no doubt shock the hell out of her. He’d already shocked her. He’d sent her running from him. She could use whatever excuse she needed to, but it was fear that had her pulling back from him.
It had to be.
Love couldn’t exist for him. Lyrica was letting herself be fooled by it. Sexual intensity, uncertainty, and fear combined, creating a response she was inventing excuses to avoid until she could handle it.
So what was his excuse?
He couldn’t stop thinking about her. He couldn’t stop hungering for her. The hunger was like an addiction, one he couldn’t get a fix for without Lyrica.
The door opened and Kye climbed into the truck, closing the door behind her slowly.
Graham had to force himself to slide the truck into reverse. He didn’t tear his gaze from Lyrica until he had no other choice, until he couldn’t do anything but check to ensure he wasn’t hitting anything.
Or anyone.
Mistaken identity.
He couldn’t get the results of the investigation out of his mind. The details of the file were burned into his brain. He couldn’t forget it, not a detail of it.
That was not a case of mistaken identity. Professionals that well prepared with the advanced electronics they used did not make those kinds of mistakes. And no doubt the Mackays were well aware of it, because Lyrica had a shadow watching her.
The mistaken identity conclusion could be made plausible. If Graham had been any other man, he might have suspected it could be true. But he wasn’t any other man. He was damned suspicious. He didn’t believe in coincidences. And he sure as hell didn’t believe in fairy tales.
That fucking “mistaken identity” claptrap was a fairy tale and nothing more.
“She’s scared,” Kye said softly as he turned the corner and headed to the end of the street.
Of course she was scared. Lyrica wasn’t a moron, and neither was Dawg or his cousins. But in the absence of an answer, or even a solid shadow of a threat, after two weeks, they couldn’t keep her hidden any longer.
“I know she is,” he answered.
He’d seen it in her eyes, in her face. In the way she couldn’t break his gaze and held on to him until he’d forced himself to look away.
She hadn’t been that scared at the house while she had been in his care. Her expression hadn’t been drawn, her eyes hadn’t been shadowed with that same fear.
“Graham, what are you going to do?” Turning in her seat, Kye faced him demandingly now. “You can’t just leave her there.”
He shot her an amazed glance before focusing on the road once again.
“She has a brother, two cousins, a brother-in-law, a future brother-in-law, and myriad friends and other relatives, Kye. They showed me the fucking door and politely asked me to keep my nose the fuck out of it.”
“And you started listening to morons when?” she demanded loudly, her expression belligerent. “That’s my best friend, Graham. You have to do something.”
“Like what, Kye?” he demanded as the truck came to a hard stop at the light.
Turning his head he glared back at her, furious with her as well as himself, the Mackays, and Lyrica.
“What do you want me to do, Kyleene?” he asked her again, the hard rasp of his voice causing her shoulders to tighten in reaction as she stared away from him.
“I don’t have the answers either, dammit. So stop yelling at me.”
The light turned green. Graham accelerated through the intersection.
