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“A killer,” her mother continued. “What makes you think my daughter is any of your concern?” The sneer wasn’t hidden, not on her face nor in her voice.
“Fuck,” Chance cursed, shocked, behind her. “Let’s go. Now.”
She couldn’t go. She couldn’t move.
Agony was rupturing inside her, tearing her apart, shredding dreams, needs, and a lifetime of so much hope. She was being laid bare, sliced open. She’d tried, she’d tried so hard to be polite, to be good. . . .
“As I said”—she forced herself to speak—“I obviously stepped out of line in my concern.” She felt dazed with the pain, so off-balance she couldn’t quite make sense of it. “I didn’t consider my words.”
“And what is your concern?” The fury . . . Her mother was so angry and the pain tearing through Angel was brutal.
“Easy, Chay.” Her husband’s arms wrapped protectively around Chaya, his green eyes watching Angel. Suspicion filling them. She focused on the way he held her mother and she suddenly wished Duke were there. That his warmth surrounded her and he could see what she’d tried to tell him. This woman would be horrified to learn Angel was the daughter she believed to be dead. The daughter she hadn’t wanted.
“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, demanding they see the killer she saw in Angel.
That was what she saw, Angel knew, just trying to breathe. Her mother saw a ruthless killer, not the little girl she’d thrown away so long ago.
“Rowdy. Natches.” Tracker stepped in front of her, Chance moving protectively behind her. “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.”
Angel wanted to howl in denial. No, she couldn’t leave yet. Her mother was so angry with her. . . .
“This is the wrong time to leave, Tracker,” Dawg told him as Angel stared at her foster brother’s back. “The question’s easy enough.”
“The question shouldn’t have been asked,” Chance snapped, his ruined voice furious. “We were here when your family needed us, without charge or question. We could have refused the contract on your sister Lyrica instead of trying to find out what the hell was going on and we could have gone on with our lives. No one the wiser.”
“And I want to know why you didn’t.” Pain filled Chaya’s voice, and torment. “Three mercenaries? By the very definition of the word you don’t work for free. What do you intend to demand later? What does she want?” That finger pointed back at Angel accusingly.
Someone had tried to take the daughter she’d raised, the sweet, polite little lady Angel wasn’t. “Tell me, Grog.” Chaya used his codename, the pseudonym Chance was known by. “Tracker?”
All her mother wanted was answers? The truth? What would she do with the truth? Angel wondered. It wasn’t as though her rejection of her could be worse. And maybe, maybe her mother would at least let her be a part of her sister’s life if Angel told her. She could live with Chaya not liking her, as long as Bliss was safe.
She could live with that, couldn’t she? God knew she wouldn’t be able to live, though, if anything happened to either of them and she could have stopped it.
The tension in the room thickened to the point that it was nearly visible in the air itself. Smothering, it had adrenaline leaking into her system, preparing her, pumping her instincts to fight or flight, and she couldn’t seem to make herself do either.
“Rowdy, we’re walking out of here. We came to help and it was obviously a mistake.” Tracker tried again to find a graceful way out of the confrontation Angel could feel brewing in the air.
“Chaya has a point, Tracker,” Rowdy argued. “We’ve all been asking ourselves ‘why’ since you showed up. If you walk out of here without answering that question, it’s just going to make all of us nosy. You know what happens when Mackays get nosy.”
“Don’t turn this into a war,” Tracker warned him, and Angel knew well the lengths both Tracker and Chance would go to protect her. “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, then you’d be asking the same questions.” Rowdy’s tone, despite its softness, resonated with danger.
Angel couldn’t allow this and she knew it. Tracker had warned her so many times and she’d refused to listen. This was her fault and she would not allow her foster brothers to pay for her mistake.
Besides, a war with these men would only draw Duke into it and she didn’t think she could bear the choice he’d make when faced with the need to do so.
“I don’t need your protection, Tracker.” Stepping from behind him, she faced the Mackay family again, steeling herself to hold the pain inside no matter how bad it became, no matter how cruel her mother’s words became.
“I wasn’t trying to protect you,” he assured her, though she knew he was lying. “I merely wanted to get back on the road.”
She was aware of Rowdy watching her closely. Too closely.
He didn’t trust her either; none of them did. They didn’t like her and they never would. Not that she had expected them to.
How much worse could they strike at her?
Turning, she faced Chaya Mackay once again, knowing she’d run out of time.
