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“Then you’re not near as smart as I thought you were.” Chaya crossed her arms over her dark T-shirt. “Is Doogan sleeping with Zoey? And if so, why?”
“Why would any man sleep with her?” Sam shrugged, trying to ignore the little flare of cutting jealousy. Not that she’d ever had a chance with the black-haired little imp, but hell, she cared . . .
“Sam.” Chaya’s expression warmed for a second, compassion shadowing her eyes. “Don’t you think I know how much you care about her? And we both know Zoey’s in trouble. A trouble you can’t fix for her.”
No, she couldn’t fix it. God knew she wished she could. Hell, she’d even tried to. Wished it had been her Zoey had responded to, that those pale green eyes had lit up at the sight of her, rather than the sight of Doogan.
“Something happened last year,” Chaya continued, her tone softer now. “Something that’s eating Zoey alive and causing you to camp out in your car and watch her place far too often. Now Doogan’s here apparently, sleeping with her. I want to know what’s going on.”
“So you can tell Natches and her brother?” Sam snarled. “So they can lock her down so deep and bury her in so much protection she runs from all of us? That would get her killed faster than keeping my fucking mouth shut.”
Chaya’s expression never changed. “You know better. But push me on this and I will go to Natches. Trust me, and I’ll do what I always do with her. Ensure her protection myself without alerting the men in the family. And before you play so charmingly dumb, I know about Zoey’s little hijinks with Clay’s group of bikers. I know about the races, the motorcycle, the black leather, and the fact that she has horrible nightmares of killing a friend.” Fury flashed in her gaze. “Now tell me what the fuck
is going on before I kick your ass myself.”
The problem was, Chaya Mackay, despite the fifteen years she had on Sam, could probably do just that. Kick her damned ass.
Sam pulled free the last bottle of wine and jabbed the corkscrew into the cork. God, she should have bought that bottle of whiskey she was considering just after Doogan showed up.
Rather than using a glass, she tipped the bottle to her lips and took a long drink. Setting the bottle carefully on the counter, she stared back at Chaya silently, thoughtfully for long minutes.
“She was drugged last year,” Sam stated then. “A hallucinogen used to brainwash the victim into believing they had done something they hadn’t done, according to Doogan.”
Chaya stiffened, her expression turning completely emotionless.
“Go on.” She nodded.
Sam swallowed, the action difficult as her throat tightened with remorse and regret.
Briefly she explained the state she’d found Zoey in at her sister’s patio door that cool spring night. Icy cold, dressed in a pair of pajama shorts and brief sleep tank. Her suspicion that Zoey had been drugged had her calling her father rather than an ambulance. The Mackays were like royalty to DHS. She had no doubt they could pull diplomatic immunity if they put their minds to it.
Her father’s orders to hold tight, that Doogan would be there, had infuriated her. But Zoey had been adamant that she had to confess to murdering Harley Perdue. An act Sam knew Zoey simply wasn’t capable of committing.
The blood Doogan had taken from Zoey that night had affirmed his certainty of the drug used on her. Sam’s meeting with Harley at the convenience store had assured her Harley was indeed alive. Then he’d disappeared and Sam hadn’t been able to reach him since.
“He has breakfast with us at least twice a week,” Chaya revealed. “Though Natches doesn’t even tell Dawg and Rowdy about it. When we found him, probably just before daylight after you met him that night, he was barely alive. Someone had tried to carve his insides with a knife. And came damned close to doing it. They also managed a few hard blows to his head. He barely remembers what happened. Two men attacking him, the knife slicing him up, but little else.”
“Wonderful.” Sam pushed her fingers through her hair, her fear for Zoey increasing. “Chaya, he has to show himself to Zoey. She has to know he’s alive.”
“We have to figure this out first,” Chaya retorted. “Why is Doogan sleeping with her?”
That one, Sam was really hesitant to answer.
“Don’t play with me, Sam,” she snapped. “Why is he sleeping with her?”
She blew out a hard breath, stared over Chaya’s shoulder a long minute, then met the other woman’s eyes.
“Probably because he’s in love with her and too damned stupid to realize it,” she stated heavily. “Crazy in love with her. He’d kill for her, Chaya. But I also think he’d die for her.”
And she couldn’t blame him.
The problem was, Doogan refused to see what he felt for Zoey. The past six years hadn’t been easy ones for him. The bitter years of his marriage had caused him to shut down. With the death of his wife, his daughter, and brother two years ago, Sam had feared Doogan would never let anyone past his defenses again.
Chaya tipped her head to the side thoughtfully.
“And you know this, how?” she asked.
Sam shook her head. “I guess you’d just have to know Doogan. I know Doogan. And trust me, I’ve never seen him mark a woman’s neck, and hearing that he has shocks the hell out of me. Even during his wilder days, he never left a mark on a woman’s skin. He claimed it was a very intimate, very primitive way of shouting ‘mine.’ And he wasn’t stupid enough to ever claim a woman as his. It was like asking her to shred his guts.”
