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But she’d known. She had known this woman wouldn’t care.
“Bliss—” she whispered.
“Is none of your concern.” Natches’s voice was hard and cold. “Don’t keep pushing this. Don’t keep pushing me.”
“Angel.” Tracker said her name again as Natches shifted subtly behind his wife, the mask of a killer hardening in his face as a small almost-cry whispered from Chaya’s lips.
He was becoming more dangerous by the second. She could sense it, feel it.
Her breathing hitched just enough to warn her she might be losing control of the emotions she kept so tightly reined.
She’d tried, hadn’t she?
And she’d failed.
“I’m so sorry I’ve upset you and your family,” she forced herself to whisper even as she shattered on the inside, and shattered, and shattered. “I promise I won’t bother you anymore.” Turning her head, she looked up at Tracker, saw the pain he felt for her and the anger he felt because of her. “I’m ready. I guess we’re heading out after all.”
“Thank God. Fuckers,” Chance snarled beneath his breath as Tracker wrapped his arm around her and swept her from the marina. “Assholes. I guess I’ll just have to pray for the lot of ya.” The sarcastic statement was more of an insult than they could imagine.
“Can you ride?” Tracker’s voice wasn’t pleasant. It was guttural, grating.
“I’m fine, Tracker,” she promised as they stopped next to her cycle. “I’m tough, remember?”
Taking her helmet she pulled it on, secured the strap, and mounted her cycle as Tracker and Chance followed suit. Within seconds they were riding away and far too quickly they were on the road, the marina not even in her rearview mirror any longer.
Dry-eyed, her throat tight and raw, she felt as though she were on autopilot, outside herself and unable to find her way back.
She hadn’t expected rejection.
She hadn’t expected that complete icy, silent denial of her identity.
Chaya hadn’t even asked for DNA. Angel had expected that much at least. She was even prepared for it.
“Angel, we can wait a day or so to leave,” Tracker said through the communicator’s link, his voice gentle.
“No. I’m fine,” she lied. “And the plane’s waiting. It’s time for you and Chance to leave.”
“Dammit, Angel!” he began to protest.
“The job in Rio won’t wait,” she reminded him. “It’s not like I can do much there anyway. I’m just going to hang around, watch, and make certain she’s safe. That’s all.”
Silence met her promise, but she knew he and Chance couldn’t afford to cancel the Rio job this late. The fee was extraordinarily high and they were known for not canceling out, for always getting the job done. And she really did know how to hide. He’d taught her how.
“You’ll call if you need us?” he finally questioned her, his voice harsh. “Promise me, Angel.”
“The very second, if you’re needed,” she promised. “Come on, Tracker, I won’t risk her safety by not calling. You know that.”
She’d do whatever she had to when it came to protecting her baby sister, to ensuring Bliss never knew the nightmares Angel lived with. It was all she had to give the girl who would never know how much her sister loved her.
“I’ll have our contact rent you a room, and I’ll send your gear back from the plane,” he finally promised. “Don’t try to take that family on alone.”
“I’m not going to try to take them on, period,” she assured him, blinking past her tears and concentrating on keeping the cycle at a reasonable speed. “I told you. I’m going to hide and watch. That’s it.”
“Hide and watch,” he repeated, though she wasn’t entirely certain he believed her.
She wasn’t entirely certain she believed it herself.
“I’ve got this, Tracker, I promise.” She kept her voice easy, confident. “Get the Rio job done and come back and pick me up. You know the Mackays. They’ll have Bliss’s would-be kidnappers buried within a week. But I know me. I’ll worry. . . .”
