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“You had a few strays.” Turning to Graham, Elijah’s gaze hardened while his voice remained easy, almost teasing. “This one little shit slipped away from me on the upper end of the lake, though. I’ll go out later and see if I can’t pick its trail up again.”
As he spoke he tapped an icon on his phone and pulled up a picture.
There was no way to tell much about the watcher, except the fact that it sure as hell wasn’t a poacher, hunter, or lone fisherman. The figure was dressed in black, with a black military face hood in place and dark glasses. Male or female, who the hell knew?
“Was it off the farm when you caught sight of it?” Graham asked.
“Naw, I saw the little critter just ahead of that outcropping of boulders up the ways a bit.” Elijah tapped the phone again to point out the fifth of a dozen cameras spread around the house. Five was just above the back of the house, the same side Graham’s bedroom was on.
“I’m confident you’ll track it down,” he murmured, glancing over at Lyrica.
Leaning against the counter, she watched them in amused interest, though the expression on her face was frankly skeptical. The last gurgle of the coffeemaker indicated the brew’s completion, prompting her to turn, fill three cups, then slide the pot back into place.
“Here, you two drink your coffee and talk about your ‘bovines’ in peace,” she said. “I figure they’re kind of like Dawg’s ‘cows’ when he doesn’t want Christa to know he and Natches are out checking for trespassers. The two-legged variety.”
“Huh?” Elijah turned back to her, frowning as though confused.
Lyrica only laughed. “Natches uses a similar expression whenever he’s lying through those disgustingly healthy teeth of his, Eli. Save it.”
“Those are his teeth?” Poor Elijah, she distracted him so easily, Graham thought in disgust. “He’s too old for teeth like that.”
“He’s forty-three, not fifty-three,” Lyrica laughed. “Now, Rowdy just hit forty-five. And those are indeed his natural teeth as well.”
Graham frowned. Elijah’s gaze flicked to those pretty, sun-kissed legs as she set the two cups on the table.
“Hell, none of them look forty,” Elijah said with a grunt as she moved back. “They’re aging well at least.”
“Let’s see if I let them live to see their next birthdays,” Lyrica
suggested, her smile tight as she turned away from them, collected her own coffee, and moved for the doorway.
“Lyrica.” Graham watched as she tensed at the doorway before turning back to him.
“Yes, Graham?” The saccharine sweetness of her smile didn’t fool him in the least.
“We’ll finish our discussion, soon.”
“Of course we will.” She shrugged as though not in the least concerned. “Until then, you have twenty-three hours.” Then she flashed Elijah a bright smile. “See you later, Eli. Tell Timothy and Dawg I said hey when you see them later.”
She left the room, the little skirt flirting just below her thighs as she turned the corner and headed back through the house.
As Elijah turned, his arched brows and the grin on his lips assured Graham that the other man found the situation immensely funny.
“Poor Graham,” he murmured.
Bracing his elbows on the table, Graham directed a focused, narrow-eyed look on the younger man. “You have something to say?”
“An observation, perhaps,” Elijah murmured.
“And that would be?” Graham doubted he really wanted to hear it.
“You obviously have twenty-three hours to fix the situation or she’s leaving.” Leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest, Elijah watched him knowingly.
“So?”
He shook his head pityingly. “Or twenty-three hours to give her a reason to hope it takes her brother a while to figure this mess out.” Dropping his arms, he rose to his feet, his gaze flashing with something more than pity as the amusement dropped away. “If you don’t want her, Graham, let her go—give someone else a chance to make her happy. Or finish what you started and see what you’ll be throwing away when it’s over. If you let her go now, she might have a chance of finding happiness later. That would be the humane way to handle this.”
Graham rose slowly to his feet. “Interested, Elijah?” he asked softly, his fingers curling into fists at his sides at the very thought of the bastard touching her.
