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“What’s happened?” Rowdy beat the others to the question.
“Just after you left the office, Tracker contacted me. He says he accepted the contract on Lyrica some months ago with the express purpose of learning who offered the contract. The hit was attempted and deliberately botched. He’s certain he can flush the backer out, but once again, he’s been pressed to make another attempt or the backer will rescind the agreement and put the contract out for bids once again.”
The muttered, explicit curse that slipped past Dawg’s lips didn’t surprise any of them. Rowdy plowed his fingers through his hair with restless concern. Natches’s gaze iced over, its cold emerald depths stone hard.
Tracker.
No one knew his real name, where he came from, or his true loyalties. All they knew was his apparent disinterest in getting in Natches Mackay’s crosshairs. There was a strange sense of loyalty from the other man toward the Mackays, though a confusing one considering the fact that the Mackays hadn’t even known of him until long after they’d gotten as far out of DHS as possible.
“Son of a bitch,” Dawg whispered as the women who stood behind the men held on to them as though to steady themselves.
Rowdy could feel the trembling fear in Kelly’s grip and reached up to hold her hand in assurance.
“Send the girls to Texas.” Natches looked around the room, the hard-eyed assassin he had once been clearly apparent now. “Bliss, Laken, Erica, and the others. Send them to Cade and Marly. Cade, Brock, Sam, and their boys will make damned sure they’re safe. They’ll take care of them. See if we can get Zoey to go with them. They’ve been begging to visit again since last year.”
“I’ll have John Senior dispatch his plane immediately for the trip,” Timothy said quietly. “We get the girls as far away as possible until we know what the hell is going on and who’s behind the contract.”
“I’ll contact Alex and the others,” Dawg said. “We’ll meet with them this afternoon. They’re not going to send their kids with ours without an explanation.”
Dawg wasn’t just a brother now; he was a weapon honed by years in the Marines and having to make choices that required he set his emotions and his fears aside.
“I’ll contact Tracker and set up a meeting, then call Graham once we have a time and a place,” Timothy injected, eyeing them all steadily. “Keep him in the loop this time. Lyrica’s life is more important at this point than anything else.”
“And we’re supposed to let Graham help us, how?” Dawg growled as he rubbed at the back of his neck. “Dammit, my stomach is burning. I’m getting too damned old for this shit.”
“I told you days ago to get her out of sight and none of you wanted to listen,” Natches snapped. “Your indigestion and my acid reflux acting up at the same time? No way in hell. We listen to our guts, Dawg, like we used to, before we lose her.”
“Graham will do what no one would ever believe we’d allow him to do.” Timothy’s gaze hardened, causing each of them to watch him in narrow-eyed suspicion. “Place Lyrica back with him for protection. If, as Tracker and I suspect, the backer is someone in Somerset, then they’d never expect us to deliberately place her there. They won’t suspect we’re searching for them.”
“What do we tell Lyrica?” Natches was the one to ask the question they were all avoiding.
“The truth,” Mercedes declared, her tone commanding, the strength her daughters had inherited echoing in her voice. “You will tell her the truth.”
—
Tracker was six feet, five inches of hard, merciless power. Rumor had it he’d been a Navy SEAL before arriving on the soldier of fortune scene eight years before, though no one could confirm the rumor.
He’d been approached by damned near every security firm in the world, offers had been made to back a security company led by him, and the leaders of several different countries had met with him, willing to pay any price to have him head their emerging forces.
He’d turned down every offer, as had the six-member team he led.
Whoever he was, wherever he came from, no one could deny he was a force to be reckoned with.
Stepping into the darkened offices across from Lyrica’s apartment to face the man, Graham couldn’t help but feel a familiarity when he looked into the striking blue eyes of the man leaning casually against the wall, facing not just the Mackays, but also their extended male family members as well.
Among them were Alex Jansen, chief of Somerset Police and husband to Natches’s sister, Janey; Brogan Campbell, the FPS agent who recently married Daw
g’s sister Eve; Jed Booker, Brogan’s partner and the fiancé of another of Dawg’s sisters Piper; and Zeke Mayes, a close friend and the former Pulaski County sheriff, who had turned over the reins to his son, Shane, in the last election and now ran an electronic security firm headquartered outside Somerset with his wife, Rogue. Shane Mayes was there as well. Though unmarried and unrelated, the younger man, who was closer in age to Graham than to the Mackays, stood sure and confident at his father’s side. John Walker Jr., Zeke’s brother-in-law and one of Timothy Cranston’s unofficial agents, was there as well, along with Timothy himself.
Cranston was the man they all had in common. He’d first commanded the group the Mackays were a part of through DHS about twelve years before. He’d manipulated and tricked the Mackays and their friends in various ops that eventually built them all into an intelligent, unbeatable force. Then he’d met Dawg’s sisters and fell in love with the woman who had given them life. He was now bringing men into the Mackay females’ lives as though he were born to direct their destinies.
What part Tracker would play in the schemes that filled Timothy’s head, Graham wasn’t certain. What plans the former agent had for Lyrica, Graham intended to learn. What he did know now, though, was that Tracker was a man of many talents, and though his reputation suggested he could be convinced, for the right price, of course, to kill a man, that wasn’t exactly the truth.
“Graham.” Tracker nodded his shaggy dark head as Graham locked the door behind him and stepped fully into the room. “Good to see you again.”
Stepping forward, Graham accepted the mercenary’s handshake with a nod.
“You, too, Track. And I’m damned glad you’re the one we’re facing rather than another party.”
