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Oh, someone had so many questions to answer. And this time, she wasn’t going to allow anger, arousal, or loyalties to hold her back. And if she didn’t get her answers, then everyone she suspected of withholding them would regret it. She wasn’t a Mackay for nothing.
THIRTEEN
She wanted answers, did she?
Lyrica had forgotten that demanding answers from the men in her family was like trying to force nature to reverse course.
And it was just as effective.
Definitely more confusing.
And boy, did those answers have the power to kick her ass once they were forced out into the open.
Lyrica sat silently, furiously, in Graham’s living room just before dawn, glaring at the men who were watching her warily.
Sometimes, she thought, a person was just better off not asking, because a Mackay and his schemes were way too confusing at the best of times.
This wasn’t the best of times. And that meant life was beginning to border on the ridiculous.
“So, the man who shot at me in London wasn’t really trying to shoot me, he just wanted the person who hired him to think he was trying to shoot me.” She really needed to get it all in perspective. “And he knew all along where I was hiding behind the Dumpster, just as he knew Kye would be trying to call me and would eventually tell Graham the problems her phone was having when she dialed my number. He also knew Graham would head out after me, and that same hired assassin was meeting with you tonight across from my apartment when I left for the inn, and my so-called neighbor is actually a member of his team. Have I gotten all this straight so far? Tell me, Dawg, have any of you wondered yet if that enterprising would-be assassin is possibly related to the rest of you game-playing, calculating, manipulating, overdramatic Mackays?” Her voice rose as incredulous disbelief overwhelmed her.
She wanted to get the facts out in the open before she exploded. That way, there were no mistakes or misunderstandings as to why she was furious with every one of them, excluding Graham, who had been just as much in the dark as she was.
After all, that was an important part of understanding exactly how insane her life was becoming, and the toll it was taking on her and her sisters when it came to dealing with their brother and his related sidekicks.
“Your perception is amazingly accurate.” Graham spoke up for them with a hint of mockery from where he stood with his shoulder braced at the side of the fireplace. “And your self-control is astounding under the circumstances.”
Shooting him a silencing glare, she turned to her brother again. “And you knew all along that the whole ‘mistaken identity’ thing was bullshit. So much so that you had a bodyguard who was supposed to be following me? Except he wasn’t following me tonight as I left home because whatever floozy he’d picked up knocked him out and left him unconscious by the side of the road. How am I doing so far?”
“Your sarcasm excels, as always,” Natches pointed out as Dawg wiped his hands over his face and blew out a weary breath. “It even rivals your exceptional memory skills, it seems.”
“Natches, stop,” Rowdy hissed.
“And you. I thought better of you.” She flicked Rowdy a scornful look. “I never imagined you would allow yourself to become mired in the schemes those two manage to get themselves stuck in.” She flicked her fingers at Dawg and Natches as she leaned forward, anger burning hot inside her as understanding hit her like a slap in the face and seriously undermined her trust in her family. “All three of you were hiding the fact that you didn’t believe that bullshit mistaken identity story any more than Graham did, yet you still let me skip along as though I were as safe as ever.”
“Oh hell no, that’s not how it worked,” Dawg protested instantly, his expression creasing in angry defense. “Instinct and evidence are two different things, little sister. And if you recall, I tried to get you to either move in with me or stay with your mother and Timothy. You insisted on returning to your apartment.”
“Did you tell me you didn’t believe it?” she demanded, glaring back at him fiercely. “Did you even warn me?”
“And terrify you on the off chance I was wrong?” he argued, the strong, determined lines of his face tightening in conviction. “It’s been a lot of years since my gut has had to guide my life, little girl, and I’m getting older. How was I to know it wasn’t indigestion?”
She blinked back at him in disbelief.
“Indigestion?” She was amazed that he’d even come up with such a far-fetched excuse.
“It could have been,” he growled in defense. “You remember Natches had that acid reflux thing year before last? He was convinced it was his gut warning him something was wrong and he all but boarded up the house until Chaya and Bliss threatened to shoot him with his own rifle.”
“That wasn’t acid r
eflux,” she snapped, shooting Natches a disgusted smirk. “That was because he found that hunters’ stand in his woods and he was convinced everyone in the known world knew better than to hunt on his property, so of course it had to be a sniper instead. His own paranoia was his damned problem.”
Her cousin straightened in his chair in outrage, emerald eyes gleaming like hard, cold gems between lashes so thick and lush most men would be embarrassed by them. Instead, Natches used them shamelessly, whether he was charming his wife or issuing one of his icy promises.
“The acid reflux thing is the reason I was out in the woods to begin with,” Natches pointed out—and she so knew better than to trust that innocent expression on his face. “I felt the need to check out the property just in case it was a warning of danger. I’ve made a few enemies, you know.”
“Deliberately,” she charged sharply.
“Deliberately?” Those thick lashes surrounded eyes that widened in supposed outrage. “Come on, Lyrica, I’ve been a good boy for a lot of years now. Chaya’s a damned good keeper, I’ll have you know. I can even move about in society without too much trouble,” he informed her with deliberately insulting amusement.
