by Lora Leigh
“Why were you in New York, Piper?”
She’d wondered how long it would take him to get to the one question she knew he wanted to ask.
Forcing back tears of disappointment and humiliation, she let a bitter smile pull at her lips. “I thought I was going to get an offer for a showing of some of my designs,” she finally admitted.
“Thought you were?”
“It didn’t work out.” Staring down at her hands, she wondered whether he would consider it no more than she had deserved for the childishness she had displayed in the deceptive way she left.
“What happened, baby?”
The gentleness in his voice and the fact that he hadn’t told Dawg when the hospital had called him had her raising her eyes as she shifted in her seat to look at him.
Thank God it was dark. The last thing she wanted was for him to see the tears she had to blink back.
“There’s this famous designer sponsor,” she told him, clearing her throat to hide the hoarseness of the hurt she fought to hide. “He showcases several designers a year, helps them put on a show, and he’s never had one who didn’t become successful. I received a letter from him last week that he wanted to meet with me after seeing some of my designs that I sent in.”
He nodded, showing he was listening as they moved ever closer to the inn.
“I could have had the show and sponsorship if I’d agreed to be his little sex toy until he got tired of me.”
As though revealing that much opened a floodgate, Piper told him about Eldon Vessante, and the fact that his pants and his opinion of himself were overstuffed.
His expression never changed; the tension in his body didn’t visibly increase. None of the signs of vengeful anger that Dawg and her cousins were known to display were present.
“Two attacks in one day then.” He breathed out heavily, the concern in his voice easing something inside her she hadn’t known had been knotted with tension.
Piper nodded. “Fortunately, his butler or whoever he was, was there. Some guy named Broken or something. A hell of a name for a person. He kept Eldon from actually hitting me and helped me get away.”
“Do you think this Vessante guy was behind the attack at the hotel?”
Piper shook her head. “I don’t remember what was said, but he wanted something.” She wished she could remember, wished the harshly grated demand would come into focus within her memories. “I can’t remember what he said, Jed, or what he wanted, but it didn’t have anything to do with Eldon Vessante.”
Broecun.
Fuck.
The security field was a close-knit one, especially for those agents of John Broecun’s caliber. Jed knew Piper had taken the sound of the name literally, but Jed knew the other man, as well as the spelling of his name. And he knew if Broecun was with this Eldon Vessante, either the man was important to some very influential government types, or he was under investigation by them.
At least he had a place to start, and a face to shove his fist into. Eldon Vessante may not have been behind Piper’s beating, but the only reason he hadn’t been was because Broecun would have stopped him.
Broecun wouldn’t stop Jed from teaching the other man how to treat a woman. And blackmailing Piper with her dream of a big-time fashion show and an exclusive sponsorship was something Jed would exact a little atonement for.
“Well, you’re home now.” He pulled into the Mackay Inn’s lot, parked the truck, then shut it off. “Let’s see if I can sneak you into the house and get you settled before Dawg gets his first report that you’re home.”
He sure as hell didn’t need Dawg around right now, or Timothy Cranston. He’d talk to them both in the morning instead. Dawg and his cousins were going to have to step back a pace or two, regardless of whether or not they liked it. If they wanted to know the trouble—or potential trouble—his sisters got into or were headed for, then the girls couldn’t be afraid to let him know what they were doing.
Her fear of being smothered during what she believed was an important event had almost cost Piper her life; he wouldn’t allow it to harm her more in the future.
“I’m scared for him, Jed,” she whispered as he cut the engine, then turned back to her, confused.
“Scared for whom, honey?”
“For Dawg.” He could see the tears in her eyes, the faint tremble of her lips in the dim light of the moon.
“Dawg and his cousins take care of themselves and one another just fine, Piper,” he promised her.
She shook her head at his statement. “That’s not what I mean.”
“What do you mean?”
“He’s going to be very alone,” she told him softly. “He’s becoming out of control, Jed. He makes me frightened of him when he starts standing over us like guard dogs. He can’t keep telling us what to do or how to live. I know Lyrica and Zoey, too. If he doesn’t stop, I swear, we’ll all end up leaving. We talk about it more and more often. He may well be headed for a stroke, but Lyrica, Zoey, and I are headed out of town if it keeps up.”
“He worries, Piper.” His hands clenched on the steering wheel in an instinctive protest at the thought of her leaving.
“I would have been in your bed a year ago if he hadn’t been watching us all like hawks. I’m terrified to show any interest in a man, and God forbid I should actually consider taking a lover after the grief he gave Eve.” The words were out of her mouth before she could hold them back.
A wave of heat flushed through her at the sudden, brilliant gleam of lust that lit his gaze.
He may not have tightened with the information she’d given him about Eldon’s attack, but the moment she mentioned being in his bed, his entire body seemed to jerk in abrupt interest.
Or perhaps “interest” was far too tame a word. It was as though every thought, every emotion, every particle of his being was suddenly intently, greedily focused on her.
“Did Dawg order you to stay away from me, Piper?” he asked her calmly, but what she saw in his gaze was anything but calm.
She shook her head slowly. “No, but who I sleep with isn’t up for debate, Jed. And I won’t let it become a family point of interest that I’m fighting my brother over the man I want for a lover because he disapproves of him as he did with Eve. It shouldn’t be like that, and I can’t stand the thought that Dawg would turn it into such a battle.”
He’d nearly broken Eve’s heart.
Her sister had finally told her of the fight she’d had with Dawg when she had taken Brogan as her lover. Dawg had gone so far as to use the worst sort of emotional blackmail to keep her from giving in to the man she’d been fascinated with for years.
Piper had been terrified he would try the same tactics with her. If he had tried such a guilt trip with her, she would have gone ballistic. Eve had had far more patience than Piper could have ever found in the same situation.
“I was beginning to wonder if you even wanted to find yourself in my bed.” He reached out, his palm cupping the uninjured side of her face.
“I didn’t say you wouldn’t have to seduce me now,” she informed him tartly, despite the heat rushing through her body at his touch. “I simply said I may have ended up there sooner.”
“You call that little tease a month ago being in my bed?” He came closer, his gaze focused on her lips as Piper brushed her tongue over them, wishing her attacker had kept the back of his hand away from them.
“You call that a little tease?” she whispered roughly. “I’m going to have to show you a real tease, Jedediah Booker, so you’ll know the difference.”
“And exactly what would you call a little tease, Piper?” he asked, his lips moving close, oh, so close to hers.
“What you’re doing right now, maybe?”
She could barely breath
e.
Okay, she was sore, swollen, but her lips weren’t really that swollen. Most of the blows had actually been against the side of her head, according to the doctor. Not that she remembered a whole lot after she had been slammed into the dresser, due to the concussion.
“This is a tease?” His lips were only a whisper against hers.
“Please, Jed,” she sighed his name roughly. “Don’t tease this time.”
Don’t tease this time.
Jed stared down at her, seeing the shadow of bruises against one side of her face, the faint swelling of her eye and her lower lip.
“I don’t want to hurt you, Piper.” He sighed, drawing back. “And I don’t want you coming to me out of fear. When the bruises have healed, then we’ll talk.”
Before he could change his mind, Jed forced himself from the truck and strode to the passenger side of the pickup. Pulling her door open, he did as he had at the hospital: Rather than allowing her to walk to the inn, he simply scooped her from the seat and carried her to the front porch.
Turning from the front door, he was heading for the side of the house when a shadow detached itself from the corner and the front door opened.
“God, no.” Piper buried her head against his shoulder as he recognized the height and breadth of the shadow before he actually glimpsed the hard lines of the savagely hewn male features in the dim light of the moon.
“Well, at least they’re not trying to run,” Natches drawled as he moved to Dawg’s side.
“I don’t know; I think I’d rather he’d run.” Amusement filled Rowdy’s voice as Jed let his gaze lock with Dawg’s.
“Now’s not the time, Dawg,” he warned the other man. “Let her rest first. Morning’s soon enough.”
Piper grunted against his shoulder. “Good luck with that one,” she muttered, her voice so low it barely reached his ear.
“Yeah, Jed, good luck with that one.” The low, slow cadence of Dawg’s voice had the hairs at the back of Jed’s neck lifting in warning.
Dawg was pissed, and he was suspicious. His gaze slid to Jed’s hold on her slight body, narrowed and intent, his look taking in the protective hold and Piper’s determination to hide her face.
“Put her down, Booker,” Dawg ordered, his voice dark and warning.
“Don’t do this, Dawg.” There was no weakness in Piper’s voice as her head lifted quickly, her obvious sense of security with the darkness surrounding them apparent.
Jed could have told her the mistake she was making, if he had had a chance.
What he saw instead was Dawg’s face.
The widening of his eyes, the paling of his flesh, the immediate awareness that one side of his sister’s face wasn’t shadow, but swollen and obviously bruised.
Just as quickly, Piper saw the reaction as well, if her sharply indrawn breath and the tension invading her body was any indication.
“No.” The harsh order that left her lips as Dawg stepped forward surprisingly had him stopping in his tracks. “It’s none of your business, Dawg.”
Rowdy and Natches were quick to move around them, their reactions no less as shocked as Dawg’s.
“None of my business?” Dawg all but wheezed, his expression tortured, as his cousins, positioned for a much better view, stared at her in horror as the sensors on the motion lights caught the movement and flipped on overhead.
“Oh, my God, Piper . . .” Agonized, Dawg’s voice roughed to a harsh, gut-clenching rasp.
Anguish filled the three men’s gazes and tightened their expressions as they stared down at her, obviously fighting to process the bruised condition of her face.
As though in one movement, their heads jerked to Jed, their gazes piercing as they stared at him.
Hell, his face was likely to take the brunt of six fists pounding on it before the night was over, because he was damned if he could give them what he knew they were silently demanding.
An explanation.
Now.
“She’s your sister,” he told Dawg, his gaze connecting with the other man’s, knowing he could make an enemy of him in this second. “You want answers, you’ll have to get them from her.”
“Let me down.” Piper struggled in his arms.
Put her down? Was she insane? The second Dawg saw her limping, he’d go damned ballistic.
“Fuck! I’ll be damned if I will.” Tightening his hold on her, he moved forward, more than surprised as the Mackays parted and allowed him to pass.
Pulling her keys from where he’d tucked them into his jeans at the hospital, he called back to the three men following them, “Her bags are in the truck, if you want to make yourselves useful and bring them in.”
At least one set of footsteps paused behind them.
“Like hell,” Dawg growled. “She can have them later.”
Jed shrugged.
“I should have stayed where I was,” she whispered. “Why didn’t I stay where I was?”
“They would have found out,” he warned her. “Want me to tell you how many contacts Timothy has on the police force there?”
“Where?” Dawg snapped behind him. “I thought you were just the fucking chauffeur?”
Holding her securely as he unlocked her door, Jed glimpsed her expression from the corner of his eye and restrained a sigh. She was shutting down fast. He could feel it, and he hated it. When Piper shut down, her rational and logic went out the fucking window, especially if she was dealing with her brother. She didn’t do confrontations well, though he knew she would never admit to it. She buried her fear instead and faced the world with a brutal ice that sliced her deeper than it did those she was facing, once she had time to think and consider what she said during those moments.
Stepping into her bedroom, he strode to the bed in the center of the small suite, laid her on it, then watched in resignation as she jumped from the mattress to face the three men entering the room behind them, the moment he placed her on it.
“Go home, Dawg.”
The lights flipped on, and for the first time Dawg had a full, unobstructed view of her face.
“God, Piper.” It was Natches who breathed out the protest. “Sweetheart, what the hell happened to you?”
Dawg looked like he had taken a blow to the balls and was having trouble catching enough breath to even fold to the floor.
“Don’t the three of you have wives and children of your own to torment?” She questioned them harshly as she tugged at the soft cotton material of the blouse she had worn home.
The light, neutral tone of the gray blouse did nothing to hide the damage done to her fragile face, or where it extended along her shoulder and into the scooped neckline of the garment.
It was one of her creations, he knew—one she was exceptionally proud of. Unfortunately, the light color only emphasized the darkness of the bruises.
“Who did this?” Dawg grated, his voice harsh.
Piper drew herself up, the last hint of any emotion leaving her face.
“I said leave.” The demand in her voice was impossible to miss.
Just as arrogant, just as condescending as Dawg could be himself, she faced him with icy refusal, her gaze never flickering beneath the fury in his.
“Dawg, let her rest.” Jed placed himself between them. “Ordering her isn’t going to get you anywhere.”
Dawg’s fists clenched at his sides, the need to strike out, to take vengeance, clear in his expression and the tension in his large body.
“Get out of my way, Jed.”
“Get out of her room!” Jed countered, determination hardening his voice. “You’re not going to yell at her, and you’re sure as hell not going to attempt to force answers from her. Just go home and see if you can’t ask nicely next
time.”
Who was more surprised, he wondered, when the three Mackays did just as he ordered—turned and left without another word—himself or Piper?
“This isn’t good,” Piper muttered, suddenly aware that she could have pushed her brother right over an invisible line none of them had known existed. “Dawg never just leaves.”
Jed turned back to her. “I think you should have told him, baby. But we’ll see what hardheadedness gets you first.”
The smile he gave her was as chilly and polite as her tone was to her brother, but far more mocking.
She stood there staring back at him, the vulnerability he could see her fighting—and the need and the hurt hiding behind the chilly facade—breaking his heart.
He turned and left, just as the Mackays had. He had no other choice. Because as pissed as her brother and cousins were, she had no idea he was even more so.
She had left without him, faced danger without him, and been determined to handle it all on her own—without him. And now, even knowing he would have to face the full force of the Mackay fallout, she wasn’t volunteering enough information to her brother and cousins to even give him hope that Dawg, Rowdy, and Natches wouldn’t try to kick his ass to hell and back.
And he still couldn’t imagine betraying the trust she had placed in him. Even knowing the enemies he could make, the budding friendships that could be destroyed. The Mackays were strong friends to have, but they could be brutal enemies, too. But, Jed had realized the second he had walked into that fucking hospital room that nothing mattered more to him than being with Piper. Protecting her, touching her, having her.
Nothing else mattered.
No matter what.
EIGHT
Dawg stood next to the pickup, his wrists hanging over the edge, his head bowed, and he had no idea how to unknot the burning fist growing in his chest.
Where was Christa? God, why hadn’t he brought Christa with him? She could have talked to Piper, could have made her understand that he had—he had—to make certain whoever hurt her never—fucking never—hurt her again.