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“Zoey?” Rowdy stood at her bedroom door, his worried expression causing her breathing to hitch painfully.
“Why are you guys even here, Rowdy?” Rubbing her hands over her face, she wondered if her life would ever come close to making any sense at all.
“Because you’re in trouble,” he answered her without hesitation. “And like him, we’ll always be here whenever you’re in trouble, Zoey, whether you want us to be or not.”
Whether she wanted them to be or not.
When it came to her family, she had no idea what she wanted and what she didn’t. Staring beyond Rowdy’s shoulder, she glimpsed Doogan as Eli stepped to him. The secrets those two probably shared would make grown men shudder. Eli resented it sometimes, felt anger in it other times, but watching them now, Zoey could see the innate trust the younger man felt for Doogan, despite his anger.
“I need a few minutes,” she told Rowdy. “Please don’t let them hurt him before I get back.”
“So you can have that privilege?” Rowdy grinned.
Zoey shook her head, sighing deeply. “No, so I can protect him from himself and that death wish I’m still convinced he has. Why else would he ever consider taking on a Mackay?”
Why would anyone choose such a completely irrational battle?
—
Doogan was furious, and he knew it was a mistake to allow the anger to grow inside him as it was. He wasn’t at his most rational when he couldn’t control the dark, building fury that could burn deep and far too hot. And when dealing with a Mackay, a man had to be at his most rational, with no anger marring the logic he had to use to keep them under control.
Not that anything or anyone completely controlled the wayward impulses that came with that particular bloodline.
“Tell me where you lost your mind, Doogan, because this is going to get you killed.” It was Graham who approached him once he stepped into the living area, preparing himself to face the less than rational male family members.
Graham was a good man; Doogan had known that the first time they met, in their early twenties. And he was a hell of an agent. Of the three agents to have married into the Mackay family, Graham was the one Doogan had depended upon the most.
“What is the ‘this’ you’re talking about?” Doogan questioned, wishing Eli would hurry with the files he’d been sent for.
“Zoey,” Graham answered, his voice low. “Letting her remain in danger . . .”
“From the moment I learned she’d been targeted, she was protected far more than you know.” Doogan’s head snapped up, that anger he always fought to keep chilled with logic slipping its leash a bit. “Never doubt that for a moment, Graham. And remember one damned thing, it wasn’t my security those bastards slipped past to threaten her to begin with.”
“No, it wasn’t. That failure’s mine.” Timothy Cranston’s admission as he stepped to them earned him a glare from Doogan.
As much as Doogan liked the other man, they still clashed as often now as they had in the past.
Dammit, he hadn’t meant for Timothy to hear that. This was why he fought to control his temper rather than letting it free.
Doogan sighed wearily, rubbing at the back of his neck. “What do you know, Timothy?” he asked as he let his hand drop, glimpsing Eli moving from the guest room with the box of files and written reports he’d kept over the past year.
The others were now standing around the dining table, Dawg and Natches glaring while Brogan and Jed watched him suspiciously.
“Not nearly enough, it seems,” Dawg answered for him. “According to an anonymous phone call this morning, there’s plenty you know, though.”
Anonymous phone calls, a man had to love them.
“Such as?” The box Eli set on the table drew the interest of the other men now.
“Why Zoey’s about to be arrested for murder.” Natches watched him
with murderous intent. “You know we’re not going to allow that, right?”
Doogan guessed that was a rather mild statement. His lips quirked at the thought while he faced Zoey’s family.
“If I intended to arrest Zoey, I would have already done so rather than giving even the weakest lawyer a perfect defense instead,” he assured them all, sliding his hands into the pockets of his slacks while watching them closely. “Are you aware Johnny Grace had a son before he was killed?”
The looks of shock on their faces assured him they were unaware of it. “He was perhaps ten when Johnny died, well hidden by Dayle and his sister Nadine Mackay Grace and raised by a couple Dayle chose himself.”
