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“Angel.” Annette’s face lit up with pleasure. The girls moved to the other woman, delight filling their expressions as she was pulled into one of the group hugs the Mackay daughters were prone to bestow. “I thought you left.”
For a moment, Angel’s face softened and Rowdy swore he glimpsed relief on her face.
“We were on our way.” Her voice was so damned gentle Rowdy was taken aback. “When I heard the report the four of you might have some trouble I thought I’d come back and check on you.”
She touched Annette’s hair so softly Rowdy doubted his daughter felt it, then touched each girl in the same manner. The action appeared completely subconscious, as though to assure herself they were all safe.
Rowdy lifted his gaze to Tracker. The other man was hiding it well, but he was furious, no doubt with Angel’s determination to be there.
“How can we help?” The chill in his voice nearly had Rowdy smiling.
“I don’t know if I can afford you and your group, Tracker,” he began wryly.
“There’s no charge, Mr. Mackay.” That comment brought Angel’s attention to him immediately.
Rowdy saw the roll of Grog’s eyes as he leaned against the doorframe and the look of suffering patience on Tracker’s face as he slid a glance to Angel.
“Tell him, Tracker.” Not once did Angel glance back at him nor did her expression change.
Tracker turned his gaze to Rowdy and nodded firmly. “No charge. She won’t leave until she’s certain the girls are safe. We may as well have something to do while we’re here.”
Oh, they were going to have a talk soon, Rowdy decided. Angel wasn’t known for her soft heart or compassion toward little children. She wasn’t known for her compassion or mercy to anyone or anything.
“I assume you’ll be keeping the girls together?” Angel spoke softly, but it was the girls’ mothers whose gazes she sought. “If you do, I would like to spend some time with them.”
She wanted to protect them.
“Angel.” Tracker’s muttered warning was quiet enough Rowdy didn’t hear it; he only saw the other man’s lips moving.
“Zoey, why don’t you and your sisters take the girls to the other room, get them some drinks or something,” Rowdy suggested. “Give us a few minutes here.”
The four sisters were moving instantly and pulling the girls from the office. As though sensing their wives were leaving the protection of their brothers and cousins, Eve’s, Piper’s, and Lyrica’s husbands along with Doogan, stepped into the store with them, placing themselves in defensive positions.
As soon as the girls were herded from the room, regret flickered in Angel’s gaze for a moment before her shoulders straightened and she was staring back at them with cool unconcern.
“Why are you so concerned about our children?” Chaya, always suspicious, but no doubt in full paranoid mode now where her daughter was concerned, voiced the question.
“I apologize.” Ice dripped from Angel’s voice now but Rowdy caught the look of regret, of pain, that haunted her gaze for just a moment. “On second thought, I’m certain you have this covered . . .”
“You have insisted on placing yourself in a position to gain our daughters’ trust and affection,” Chaya continued, furiously, and Rowdy doubted she caught Angel’s subtle flinch. “And I want to know why. Because I know women like you and I know it’s not for the sake of those kids out there.”
Rowdy watched Angel’s face and for the briefest moment, he saw the soul-deep hurt flash in her eyes. Chaya had just wounded the younger woman far deeper than she would have believed.
“Chaya, that’s a little harsh . . .” Christa objected.
“Women like me.” Angel seemed to muse on the comment, her voice soft, without ice, without emotion, as she faced Chaya. “What kind of woman do you assume I am, Mrs. Mackay?”
“My damned name is Chaya,” she was informed, a snap in Chaya’s normally pleasant tone. “You’ve been here for a year, and I see you at least once a week. You’re no child nor an employee so you cut the Mrs. crap right now.”
Rowdy hadn’t heard that tone since she’d first come to Somerset over a decade before.
As Chaya spoke, Angel stared back at her, unblinking, her expression even more emotionless, if possible. The starburst blue of her eyes went from sapphire to chipped ice, though.
“What kind of woman do you think I am?” Angel asked again.
“Chaya.?
? Rowdy stepped forward, laying his hand on her shoulder easily. “We’re all upset . . .”
