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“Do you think I haven’t already considered all this?” Graham snapped out, running his fingers through his hair and turning away to pace to the wide bank of windows along the wall.
Looking down, he stared out at the darkened lake, his mind in turmoil as he fought against the need to follow after Lyrica rather than remain there with her asshole cousin.
“You’ll break her, Graham,” Natches stated then. “She doesn’t deserve it and it will only add to your nightmares.”
He knew that, too.
“I have no desire to hurt her.” He turned slowly to face one of the most dangerous men he knew. “But I won’t see her hurt, either. We both know that report is bullshit. By god, I was there for her when no one else was. I saved her ass, and I’ll be damned if I’ll stand by while some son of a bitch finishes the job.”
Before he could anticipate the move, Natches’s fist flew out with what felt like a cement two-by-four plowing into the side of his face. Graham stumbled back, only barely managing to keep from landing flat on his ass.
“Just a taste of what’s coming,” Natches snapped. “Because Dawg hits a hell of a lot harder. And don’t doubt we have her ass covered. Well enough to know how often you follow her, how long you hang around outside her apartment, and just how many questions you’re asking. Back the fuck off. She doesn’t need you.”
Graham narrowed his eyes on the other man, fury pumping hot and strong through his system as he felt ice begin to spread through him. Natches had been a hell of a sniper, but he wasn’t the only hunter the Marines had created. And he wasn’t nearly as desperate as Graham was becoming.
“That one was free, Mackay,” he rasped, his voice harsh, the need to hit back swirling through him. “For Lyrica, only because I know she likes that pretty face of yours.” Her most handsome cousin, she called the other man fondly. “The next time that fist goes rabid on me, though, I hope you know how to duck. Fast.”
Natches chuckled. “I guess we’ll see, won’t we? Because if you don’t stay the hell away from her then you’re going to get the chance to try for it.”
The other man turned and strolled casually back to the door, pulled it open, and stepped into the hall before closing the door behind him and leaving Graham in the dark. Leaving him with the memory of that brief moment when her taste had burned through his senses like nothing he’d known before.
Maybe he just needed to get laid, he thought as the music from the party below intruded on his thoughts. But not here, not tonight. Not until he could escape the memory of her kiss, of her touch, and the hunger for more that was only burning brighter than ever.
Reaching up, he probed at the rapidly swelling flesh of the left side of his face. Fucker! Natches couldn’t just hit the eye or just pop him in the mouth. Hell no, the bastard had to take out the whole side of his face. He’d remember that if the chance ever came around to return the favor.
He couldn’t blame the other man, though. If it were Kye that some bastard resembling Graham was sniffing after, then he knew he’d do the same.
Or worse.
Maybe, if he was lucky, the blow had knocked some sense into his head.
Hell, he just wasn’t that lucky.
Son of a bitch. He just hadn’t needed this.
TEN
The next morning, Lyrica pulled into the parking lot of Mackay’s Bed-and-Breakfast Inn, incensed.
She was furious. She couldn’t believe the gall of her cousin Natches. It wasn’t bad enough that she had to listen to the gossip for two hours straight at the spa. Hell no—when she called Kye to confirm the rumors, her best friend wouldn’t even speak to her. In fact, she’d informed Lyrica that she wouldn’t speak to her again until Graham’s face had healed from Natches’s blow.
“Really, Lyrica.” Kye sniffed tearfully. “Graham wouldn’t even tell me who hit him. I had to find out myself from some little twit who was actually at the party.”
“You act as though I can control Graham or Natches,” Lyrica protested. “For god’s sake, Kye, you know better than that.”
“I know I can’t stand to see how horrible his face has been bruised.” Kye had been furious. “I refuse to even speak to a Mackay until it’s healed, and that includes you.”
“Kye . . .”
“Not until it’s healed,” Kye snapped angrily. “Every time I see his face I just get more furious.”
She hung up the phone. Lyrica was still staring at the device a moment later when a text with an incriminating photo popped up: Graham, glaring at his sister as she snapped the picture. And the left side of his face was bruised so horribly she gasped.
The second she left the spa she headed straight to her mother’s inn. God knew she loved her cousins and her brother, but this was going too far.
Stomping up the steps, she pushed into the foyer, eyes narrowed, searching for Tim. There were very few people who could even attempt to talk any sense into a Mackay. The only one she knew of was Tim.
The sound of voices in the common living room, a shared space for the guests and family, had her turning and stepping into the large room.
