by Lora Leigh
“They will just show up, unannounced,” she groaned. The thought of it scared her spitless.
Who are your “parents” to have allowed you to live this life?
You didn’t have parents, you had commanders . . .
Your parents should be shot . . . were some of the nicer comments.
She did not need her mother and the woman that had tried to mother her coming together.
“Angel, it’s not that bad.” He actually had the nerve to laugh. Complete with real, genuine amusement, he laughed right in her face.
“You are a damned menace.” She forced the words past clenched teeth as she pointed a finger back at him. “You can deal with them when J.T. and Mara show up. I’ll leave.”
That would solve it right there. Just wouldn’t hang out for that little get-together. She was smarter than that.
“You can’t just leave.” He shook his head, grinning up at her as though there was nothing at all to worry about.
Well, there was plenty to worry about.
“You make me crazy!” She felt like pulling her own hair out, that was how insane he was, how impossible to deal with. “I’m going to go fix breakfast. You better pray they don’t show up before I’m finished.”
She might have to shoot someone.
Jeez, she couldn’t believe he’d done this to her. She knew he was smarter than that.
At least she’d thought he was—that was what she got for thinking, wasn’t it?
Stalking from the suite she was all set to expend her anger on breakfast when she entered the kitchen and came to a hard, horrified stop.
It wasn’t anything so merciful as J.T. and Mara.
Bliss stood at the kitchen table, one hand covering her mouth, silent tears rolling down her devastated face to drip onto the pictures spread out before her.
Confusion filled Angel. Bliss hadn’t actually seen the men that had died, and those weren’t corpse pictures. Why was she crying as though her world had just shattered?
Angel stepped around the table, but she doubted her sister saw her, or even knew she was there.
“Bliss . . . sweetie?” Gripping the girl’s shoulders she turned her to face her, the fear hardening to ice inside her at the realization that something was horribly wrong. “Bliss.” She firmed her voice, terrified that her sister had yet to acknowledge her.
“Angel?” Duke stepped in the doorway, Ethan behind him, their gazes concerned.
“Find Mom and Natches. Now,” she demanded, barely glancing at them.
Bliss’s face lifted, her green eyes still overflowing with tears.
“You called . . . her . . . Mom.” Her voice hiccupped with strangled sobs, the sound of it so hoarse and filled with pain that Angel wondered how long her sister had been standing there alone.
“Yeah? I’m sure she’ll forgive one lapse, right?” she asked gently. “Are you hurt, honey?” She ran her hands down Bliss’s arms and let her gaze go over the girl quickly for any obvious injuries.
Bliss swallowed as though trying to push back the sobs she refused to allow free. “Can your heart break”—she breathed in raggedly—“at fifteen?”
If it could break at three, then it could break at fifteen.
“I think it can break at any age. Who broke your heart, honey?” Because she’d kill them painfully. Make them beg to die.
Bliss turned away and Angel felt her heart sink to her stomach, where it lay like a heavy weight filled with dread, when her sister pulled two pictures from those spread out over the table.
Viktor and Rastor Davinov. “That’s . . .” A sob nearly broke free from the teenager. “That’s Bran’s brother.” She pointed to Viktor Davinov. “And that’s his uncle.” She pointed at Rastor. Tears fell harder from her eyes and a shudder raced through her body. “Bran’s the guy at the marina,” she clarified, though Angel knew who Bran was. “The one I told you about.”
Angel nodded, remained calm, kept the killing rage that began to burn inside her carefully contained.
“When he smiled, Angel, I felt it in my heart,” Bliss whispered. “Why would I do that? Just for him? Why, when he wants to hurt me?”
Angel had to admit it didn’t sound like the young man she’d followed that day along with his friends to their favorite fishing hole.
“We’re not sure Bran’s even a part of this.” She pushed the long, silky black curls from her sister’s face. “We don’t assume, we get proof. Remember that, Bliss. We don’t get angry . . .”
“We get even.” Those Mackay green eyes flashed in pure vengeance.
“No, baby, we get smart,” she said gently, desperate to ease her sister’s pain. “I’ll fix this, Bliss. I promise.”
And her baby sister tried to smile as though to ease Angel’s worry for her.
“Now you sound like a Mackay,” Bliss whispered.
That sad little smile that shaped her sister’s lips was killing Angel.
“Close proximity to Duke. It’s contagious.” She brushed Bliss’s hair back again, those silent tears breaking her heart.
“And no cure . . .” Those little half sobs in her voice sliced at Angel’s soul.
Catching her attention from the hall entrance Duke quickly indicated that Natches and Chaya were coming in. Good thing he’d warned her. The back door slammed open and Angel barely had time to get out of Natches’s way.
“Daddy . . .” Bliss cried out, sobbing the second Natches picked her up in his arms as though she were still five and strode quickly to the living room, where he sat on the couch with her.
Chaya settled in beside them facing her daughter, her arm around Bliss, her head on Natches’s shoulder as he bent his head over his daughter and rocked her gently as she sobbed.
Angel stepped to the doorway and found her throat tight, her chest aching at the sight. Bliss was where she needed to be, and the thankfulness Angel felt that her baby sister would never know the life Angel had filled her. But there was that demon spark of envy as well.
She’d never known that. A father’s love, his caring. She hadn’t known what it felt like to sense a measure of security, or something right in her life, until Duke. But still, it wasn’t the same as a parent’s love. Of being fifteen and brokenhearted and having a father hold her.
She turned away from the sight of them and moved to the refrigerator for the ingredients for breakfast. She was aware of Duke and Ethan there, armed with coffee, their voices low as they stood near the back door talking.
She doubted much of the food would be eaten, but she needed fuel, and she knew Duke and Ethan did as well. If there was information to be gained on why the Davinov family was in Somerset, then Tracker would find it, and he’d contact Duke as soon as he had it.
She wasn’t waiting on Tracker, though. She knew the boy, Brannigan. She’d made certain to check him out when she’d seen how strong Bliss had taken an interest in him.
At twenty-one, he was too old to be hanging around a fifteen-year-old kid. It hadn’t taken Angel long to learn that Bran was staying at Lucas Mayes’s place. Lucas Mayes was a retired Navy SEAL and was now Zoey’s landlord. Angel was sure she could find Bran there and ask him about the others she’d seen at the fishing hole.
He would often stop at the marina for gas and drinks, always with his fishing gear in tow. And when he was there, he never flirted with the cute girl behind the register. He was patient and polite with Bliss, but then paid for whatever he purchased and left quickly.
Bliss talked to him nervously, excitedly, but too shy to flirt. A greeting, a comment about the weather or what he’d caught that day. It had been interesting watching Bliss try to hide her attraction to the boy.
Brannigan seemed like a good boy, but as Angel peeled and cut potatoes, fried bacon, and put on biscuits, information, relationships, and resemblances flowed through her mind. She was
pouring the eggs into a hot skillet to scramble when Bran’s maturing features finally slid into focus with a kid she’d seen long ago.
Nickolai, Grecia Davinov’s youngest son.
She’d seen him once when she was in Russia. He would have been about fourteen. The strength of his features hadn’t been apparent then. The height he’d attain nowhere in sight. But it was the same boy, she was sure of it.
What in the hell was Grecia Davinov’s heir doing playing lake bum in Kentucky? Why was he calling himself Brannigan?
Putting the food out on the counter, she made her own plate, fixed her coffee, and moved to the table, where Ethan and Duke joined her, their own plates filled.
Fuel. Food was fuel, she reminded herself. She needed the energy even more than she had before to recover from the infection, but she also had a job to do today.
She was going after that kid and bringing him back here. She was going to find out what the hell was going on and waiting didn’t seem like a good idea.
She ate mechanically, speaking only when she had to. When she finished and placed her dishes in the dishwasher, she waited for Ethan and Duke to do the same before meeting Duke’s gaze with a look she knew he couldn’t mistake.
Her mind was set. Softly, she told him she was going to track down the youngest Davinov and refusing to accompany her wouldn’t stop her. When he finally nodded she felt something loosen inside her soul. She’d expected him to refuse, to count all the reasons why it wasn’t a good idea.
Instead, it seemed Ethan was determined to be the naysayer of the group.
“Hell no,” he hissed, glaring at her, disbelief twisting his features before he turned to Duke. “Dammit, her leg isn’t ready for that kind of stress.”
Duke’s expression didn’t change nor did the ready tension that had gathered in his body.
“Then be ready to fix it,” he suggested. “Call Saul and Seth into the house. We’ll be out of here as soon as we’re ready.”
“Oh, I really don’t think so,” Chaya drawled from behind her, causing Angel to grit her teeth at the sheer lousy timing her mother displayed.
“So you can instead?” Turning slowly Angel faced her, seeing in her mother’s face the same resolve she felt herself.
Chaya stood, apparently relaxed, though Angel could sense the tension in the other woman’s body.
Chaya shook her head. “Saul and Seth can go after the boy,” she stated. Her voice was low but it didn’t change the demand she was making of Angel.
“I know the boy, they don’t,” she argued. “I can find him faster.”
“You’re not the only one that knows him,” Chaya informed her, weariness flitting over her features as she glanced over at the living room doorway. “I know him as well. Trust me, after losing one child, I made certain there wasn’t a part of Bliss’s life or anyone in it that I didn’t know.”
“But you didn’t know he was a Russian billionaire’s son,” Angel pointed out. “And you don’t know anything about the family; I do.”
“No.” Chaya stared back at her with icy eyes. “I will not have that between you and Bliss if anything happens to Bran. I will not have Bliss stare at you, or me, with the look in her eyes that you had in yours that first time I saw you at Graham Brock’s.”
Angel blinked back at her in surprise.
“How did I look at you?” she exclaimed, her hands going to her hips in frustration. “Like we were meeting for the first time?”
The look her mother gave her was both chiding and filled with mockery.
“Ever heard the expression ‘don’t try to bullshit a bullshitter’?” Chaya drawled, tilting her head to the side curiously as she spoke. “Well, honey, don’t try to snow an interrogator. You’re lousy at it, BeeBee.”
“Oh for God’s sake,” she muttered at the nickname, shooting her mother a warning glare.
“BeeBee?” That pure, unholy amusement in Ethan’s voice had her glaring back at Chaya again in irritation.
“Thank you so much, Mother,” she ground out between clenched teeth as Ethan poked her in the back with a whispered, “Buzzz.”
The look Chaya shot Duke’s brother instantly filled with heavy, disapproving suspicion.
“Duke.” The snap in her voice had even Angel looking at her in surprise. “Please tell me you and your brother don’t practice the same wild ways my husband and his cousins used to practice. Because I wouldn’t be happy. I’d be very unhappy over that.”
Wild ways?
Angel blinked back at her mother as the meaning of her statement sank in.
“What?” she hissed, horrified. “With both of them?” She glanced between Ethan’s shock and Duke’s dark scowl. “That is so nasty. . . . Motherfu—” She bit the word off as Chaya leveled a sudden frown on her. “I’m gonna be sick,” she muttered. “That is just sick.”
She backed closer to the door of the suite, needing to escape, staring at her mother as though she had never seen the woman before. To compare Duke and Ethan to the deviants her husband and his cousins had been in their youth was criminal.
“That’s like accusing me of sleeping with my brother.” She was certain she was going to throw up.
“Well, that wasn’t unheard of in the family,” Dawg announced from the doorway. “Though, not in our generation.”
Rowdy was behind him, the long-suffering look on his face a clue that Dawg was just as crazy as Chaya.
“I need a drink,” she whispered faintly.
“It’s only eight in the morning,” Chaya reminded her. “You’ll have to wait awhile.”
Only eight? It felt like she’d been up all day. Wasn’t that what mattered?
“Its five o’clock somewhere.” Angel backed out of the kitchen and through the open doorway into the suite, still staring at the Mackays in disbelief. “This place is insane. I swear to God . . . insane.”
“Duke didn’t give you deets on the family history?” Dawg laughed as she felt like finding a hole to crawl into. “That was remiss of you, Duke.”
“Not much on family history, I guess.” Duke didn’t look any happier than she did at the moment.
Angel glared at Dawg. His sense of humor was completely tacky this morning.
“Oh, I know the family history,” she assured them. “All of it. I just can’t believe she’d think . . .” She swallowed again. “I really think I’m gonna be sick.”
• • •
Duke managed to hold his laughter in until the door slammed behind Angel, drowning out her outrage.
“Very good,” he complimented Chaya with a tilt of his head in true admiration. “You never would have talked her out of going after that kid. At least you’ve delayed her for a while.”
Talking Angel out of anything when she had that look on her face was impossible.
“With her leg in that shape?” She stared at the door Angel had gone through, shaking her head in disbelief before pushing her fingers through her hair and breathing out wearily. “You keep her here. I’ll fill Dawg and Rowdy in and they can tell Saul and Seth what’s going on. The twins can take care of collecting Bran and my stubborn daughter can keep her rear in place and let that leg rest.”
She was good; Duke had to give her credit. She’d picked something that immediately shocked Angel and distracted her for a moment. But that didn’t mean it would keep her from going after the Davinov boy before Seth and Saul could leave.
“I think your plan worked,” he told her with a nod. “Ethan, you can update me after they leave.”
His brother nodded as Chaya went to the table and stared at the pictures, her expression hardening. She wanted to exact vengeance herself, Duke knew. She was sending the twins rather than heading out herself with Natches so that if there were any problems, Bliss wouldn’t blame any of them. As much as she needed to hurt someone for Bliss’s pain, she didn’
t want that between her and her youngest daughter. Or between Bliss and her sister.
Drawing her attention, Dawg nodded toward the living room, where Natches still held Bliss, their low voices reaching into the kitchen.
“She okay?” he asked softly.
“She will be,” Chaya answered, looking up from the pictures. “As soon as Saul and Seth find the Davinov boy. He’s staying with—”
“Lucas Mayes.” Dawg nodded. “The twins are coming now. We’ll join them and get him here fast.”
Chaya stared into the living room a long moment, her expression as hard as granite, her brown eyes burning with anger and pain.
“Hurry, Dawg,” she finally told him, her gaze worried now. “I don’t have a good feeling about this. I don’t have a good feeling at all.”
He and Rowdy stared at her for a long moment, and Duke had seen that expression too many times to mistake it. It was the knowledge a soldier has that the shit was going to hit the fan, and when it did, it might not be pretty.
It was the same feeling Duke had felt himself since first hearing of the attempted abduction.
“Got it.” Dawg nodded. “We’ll go now. Call us if you need us.”
The door closed behind the two men as they left, leaving Duke, Ethan, and Chaya alone in the kitchen.
“Make sure Angel stays,” she told Duke, a hint of fear resonating in her voice. “Don’t let me lose her again, Duke. I couldn’t live with losing her twice. . . .”
TWENTY
Duke knew Angel.
If there was anyone in the world that he knew better than he knew his brother, then it was his wild, fierce lover.
Stepping into the bedroom he found her next to her duffel bag, tightening the tactical belt to her snug camo mission pants. The army green T-shirt she wore was tucked into the pants, and over that she wore a camo vest.
Hell, he was hard. Harder. His cock hardened even further, thickened more, throbbed in desperation, and there was no way in hell he could have her right now. The effect she had on him might be an addiction.