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“Someone just attempted to abduct my daughter.” Her voice broke causing her to swallow tightly before going on. “To know why a grown woman is trying to ingratiate herself into four teenagers’ lives. A mercenary, she sells herself to the highest bidder, along with those two.” She flipped her hand to Tracker and Grog. “A killer. What makes you think my daughter is any of your concern?”
“Fuck. Let’s go . . .” Grog hissed behind Tracker. “Now.”
“As I said, I obviously stepped out of line, and in my concern didn’t consider my words . . .”
“And what is your concern?” Chaya cried out, the sound of her voice causing Natches to wrap his arms tighter around her.
“Easy, Chay,” he whispered gently, but his eyes were on Angel, just as Rowdy’s were.
Rowdy wondered if his cousin saw that flash of complete devastation in those odd eyes as she glanced away for a second before meeting Chaya’s gaze again. She was just standing there, taking Chaya’s fury on her slender, young shoulders as though she deserved it for some reason.
“Don’t any of you pretend you haven’t asked yourself why she’s so interested in our children.” Chaya’s gaze went around the room, fierce and demanding.
“Rowdy, Natches.” Tracker stepped forward, easing himself in front of Angel as Grog stepped closer as well. “We’ll be going now. If you need our assistance, please don’t hesitate to call the service. They’ll get a message to us.”
“This is the wrong time to leave, Tracker.” Rowdy sighed, pushing his fingers restlessly through his hair. “The question is easy enough.”
“The question shouldn’t have been asked.” Grog’s gravelled voice, rarely heard whenever Tracker was around, came with the broad soldier’s step to the other man’s side. “We were here when your family needed us, without charge or question. We could have refused that contract on Lyrica instead of trying to find out what the hell was going on and gone on with our lives. No one the wiser.”
“I want to know why?” Chaya demanded, her voice rising as Natches stared back at Tracker and Grog coolly. “Tell me, Grog. Tracker.” She faced them with a strength and confidence that came from years as a DHS agent working with Timothy’s maniacal temperament.
“Rowdy,” Tracker stated softly. “We’re walking out of here. We came to help, and it was obviously a mistake . . .”
“She has a point, Tracker.” He breathed out roughly. “We’ve all been asking ourselves why since you showed up last year. If you walk out of here without answering that question it’s just going to make all of us real nosy. You know what happens when Mackays get nosy.”
“Don’t turn this into a war,” Tracker warned for his ears alone. “Wrong move.”
“If it becomes a war, then you’ll start it. I’d hate it, we all would. But if Mackays were suddenly in your business without so much as an introduction, you’d be asking the same questions.” Rowdy had his suspicions, they all did, but they’d pushed them back, ignored them, hoping Tracker would explain his actions before their patience was worn too thin. The attempted abduction had placed their security in the forefront of all their minds, though, and the question of friendly or unknown enemy was now imperative.
The knowledge of that was in Tracker’s eyes. He was a smart man, a damned intuitive man; he had to have known this was coming, and still, he’d remained in the area.
“I don’t need your protection, Tracker.” Angel pushed herself between the other two men, her expression still, her eyes like fractured sapphires frozen forever in whatever catalyst had shattered them to begin with.
“I wasn’t trying to protect you,” Tracker assured her. “I merely wanted to get back on the road.”
And he was lying. Rowdy saw it in his eyes. And she knew he was lying. Lowering his gaze to stare into hers Rowdy saw her knowledge as well. She knew the man she followed had placed himself between her and the Mackays as though concerned for her welfare.
“Why do you think I give a damn about your kid?” Angel faced Chaya without so much as a hint of anger, reserve, or concern. “You’re not a stupid woman, Chaya.” Pure confidence cloaked her, the appearance unmarred by so much as a hint of doubt.
Chaya’s nostrils flared as suspicion narrowed her eyes.
“Come on kids, let’s play nice on the playground.” Dawg stepped forward as though anything could break the tension at this point.
“Stop.” Natches’s gaze went to Dawg instantly.
He knew what his cousin was doing. Dawg would always stand before Natches and the world if his cousin would allow him to do so. What Dawg didn’t want was the truth . . . Not right now.
“You’re not answering me, Mrs. Makay,” she said softly, a shadow of bleak, hollow pain turning her voice from ice to a whisper of beauty.
“Girl, you’re testing my patience,” Chaya informed her disdainfully. “And you don’t want to do that.”
“Bliss is my sister . . .” Angel stated. “I care, because she’s my sister.”
“Whoa. Fuck me . . .” Dawg stepped back, his eyes huge, going from Angel to Natches with the same shock reflected in his voice.
Natches laughed. Genuine amusement. It was frightening for the very fact that nothing said was the least bit funny.
“Good try, sweetheart,” he drawled. “I was a bastard, but I was a careful one.”
