She looked around.
All the men. Her tummy tightened.
Maybe, maybe he was taking her back to the lady.
She stiffened.
Please, please, don’t let the mean lady get her again.
He studied her, frowning. “What’s wrong?” he asked her in Russian.
She darted looks around, saw the old man scowling at her, and tucked her face into Ian’s neck.
That man looked mad.
Again, Ian pulled back. “What’s wrong?”
She looked over her shoulder at the men behind them as the others started talking into those things in their hands. Voices coming from the strange boxes.
But the new men—they were all big. Tall and serious. Though two looked alike. They were brothers, she realized. Brothers who looked alike.
Like her and Zoy.
Zoy—she tucked her head down again.
“No one here will harm you,” he whispered to her. “You’re safe, Darya.” His big hand rubbed her back like he did when she woke up thinking the monsters were after her.
He said she was safe, but what if there were monsters here?
At least she had Ian, who was nice, and Rori, and Mr. Bear. Mr. Bear would keep her safe. She knew it.
The big man with white and gray hair started talking, loud—he sounded like he was barking.
She could understand some of what Rori, Ian, and John said. She understood some English. But this man was angry. She could hear it in his tone, even if she didn’t understand the words.
Ian’s voice said something and the old man quieted.
He set her on the couch, but she didn’t want to let him go. Her head hurt.
“You’re safe here,” he repeated in English and Russian.
She wanted to talk to him. To ask him where her sister was. But she wasn’t ready yet to talk. She had to be quiet, quiet or the monsters would get her.
Rori watched as Ian tried to pull the small arms from his neck, but Darya was having none of that. He sat beside the little girl and Rori perched on the arm of the couch, running her hand along the cushions to rest it on his shoulder. Felt like a bleeding brick under her hand. She rubbed it, felt it stiffen even more, and watched as he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye.
For now, she’d play the wife bit.
Ryan—cute freckled kid—hurried over and sat on Ian’s other side.
No one spoke.
Rori saw the old man’s gaze harden as he looked at his son. What the hell was the man’s problem?
Tall, still well built, his hair was gray and white, his face a bit tan and ruddy all at once. He had the same hardened angles that Ian possessed. The same dark eyes. That same unforgiving look about him.
Bet he was just jolly fun. And their scowls were identical she decided, looking from one to the other. Well, not identical. Ian was a frozen mask. No real anger behind it. One wouldn’t know what the hell he was about. Or planning.
But the old man. Now, he simply looked angry.
Mr. Aiden—she was certain it was Aiden—was still grinning, and the twins were quiet.
The door opened and both Snake and Roth reached out to snatch it.
The other one—the youngest, Quinlan—walked in, raising a brow at the two men beside the door as he gave them a once-over and said at the same time to the room at large, “Mom will be here in less than five minutes.” Quinlan unclipped his cell phone and punched a button. “The shower was over.”
“Shower?” Ian asked.
“You know, baby shower, gifts for the soon-to-be-parents,” one of the twins—Brayden?—said. Then he smiled, walked to the couch, leaned down and gave Ian a hug. “Thanks. I never got a chance to thank you before.”
She watched Ian stand and slap his brother’s back. “Well, looks like Chris pulled through fine. Her family still doing well in New Orleans?”
Brayden’s jaw worked a minute. “Yeah, they’re doing fine. Her brother was up last week, in fact. She wants to go down there for the holidays.”
Ian nodded, then shifted his gaze to the other twin. “Guess Taylor’s about to pop. Would have figured you’d have started on the second one by now.”
Gavin just shook his head and grinned.
The little boy jerked on Ian’s sleeve again. “Mr. Roy—er . . . Mr. Kinncaid?”
Ian squatted down and ruffled Ryan’s dark auburn hair. “Yes, Ryan?”
“What do I call you?” the boy asked, frowning.
Gavin, dressed in dark slacks and a pullover, placed his hands on his son’s shoulders and said, “Why not Uncle Ian.”
The boy’s face split into a grin so wide his freckles looked like they’d leap off his face. “Cool. Uncle Ian.” Then the face sobered. Those summer eyes looked for a long silent moment at Ian. He leaned forward and whispered something in Ian’s ear, the gangly arms coming up around his uncle’s neck.
This man and kids. He killed people as regularly as she did, yet the children flocked to him. But then she’d seen the fury he could unleash when a child was harmed. Maybe it was some instinct that they knew he’d keep them safe. Their own guardian angel.
The little boy pulled back, still grinning, yet it didn’t reach his eyes. A muscle bunched in Ian’s jaw, up near his ear.
“You’re safe and happy now.” Ian cleared his throat and looked up at his brother. “That’s all that matters.”
The gaggle of female chatter and giggles floated through the door seconds before it was opened. Again the guards stiffened.
Rori grinned. Yes, these women looked very dangerous. Then she looked closer and remembered what Ian had told her of them. These were no weak females. They fought when the need arose.
What a strange and motley crew, she thought. The gruff old man. His smiling, dimpled wife walked through the door, took one look around the room, and stumbled to a halt.
“Oh, my God!” she said, turning sheet-white.
Roth caught her before she hit the floor.
Chapter 14
Ian was at Roth’s side before anyone moved. Jock, raking a hand through his white hair, said, “What? What the hell’s wrong with her?”
They laid the woman, dressed in a copper-toned pantsuit, on the floor, her red hair curled and soft on the rug.
The men stood over her. Ian, Jock, Snake, and Gavin.
Gavin shoved Snake out of the way and said, “I’m a doctor.”
Very calmly, Snake replied, “Medic.”
“Really?” Gavin asked, taking his mother’s wrist as Snake opened her eyes and checked their dilation. “For some reason that occupation never crossed my mind.”
Rori hid a grin. She couldn’t fault Gavin for his question to Snake, who looked liked a bouncer or gangbanger. Baldheaded and lanky, and a black and green snake slithered over the top of his head. Normally, he had the tattoo covered with a cap, hat, or do-rag. But not today.
Today he looked like a kick-ass bodyguard.
“Yeah, I get that a lot,” Snake said.
“A trained medic?” Gavin asked, smiling.
“By the best in the Commonwealth of Virginia.”
“Who cares,” the big man boomed, all but looming over the prone woman. “Kaitie lass! Wake up, damn it. You’re scaring the boys.”
Like he wasn’t just as worried.
“She only fainted, Mr. Kinncaid,” Snake said. “We could put her on the couch.”
“I’ll get her.” Ian moved in and easily scooped the woman up, as if she weighed nothing.
Rori quickly moved and reached over, picking up Darya.
When Ian laid her down, she saw his face pulled tight. First time home, his father doesn’t speak to him, and his mother fainted.
She looked at John and raised a brow even as Gavin shouted for Mrs. Kinncaid to wake up.
John shook his head, slapped Ian on the shoulder and said, “Well, at least your brothers are happy to see you. Not all a complete waste.”
“I’m happy to see him,” Ryan said. “He
saved Tori’s life and mine.”
John’s lips twitched. “Right ya are, boyo.”
Tori tilted her head and looked at John. “I remember you from Colorado. Aunt Jesslyn called you Mr. John Nolastname.”
John bowed and offered his hands to the kids. “Glad someone is happy to see me, sweets. How about we wait over here out of the way.” Tori took his hand and he led them over to the head of the conference table. She watched. Mr. Kinncaid knelt on the floor by his wife. Each son seemed to be joined by his wife, with the exception of the doctor and his obviously pregnant wife, who leaned back against a wall rubbing her enormous stomach. She smiled, showing dimples, her red hair pulled into a braid. Her eyes met Rori’s. “Hi, I’m Taylor. Figured I’d be the one passing out. Woman’s been stuffing water down me all day. All week, truth be known.”
Rori took Darya’s hand and led her over to the woman. “I’m Rori. This is Darya.” She pointed to the woman’s belly. “When’s the big day?”
“In two weeks, which means anytime in the next month.” Taylor Kinncaid had a slight Texas twang and was lovely.
Another one of the women joined them, blonde hair straight to her shoulders, sharp brown eyes, wearing a pantsuit. She was a bleeding little thing. Woman’s head only came to Rori’s chest, maybe her shoulder.
“I’m Jesslyn, Aiden’s wife,” she said, offering a hand. “Hi.” Jesslyn’s twang was so wide it made Taylor’s seem almost nonexistent.
“Rori. And this is Darya.”
The woman smiled. “A Brit. How refreshing. Are you John’s wife?” She leaned in. “What’s the man’s last name? Annoys the hell out me.”
Rori chuckled. “I’m not at liberty to say.”
Jesslyn rolled her eyes. “I just knew you were going to say that.”
A motion behind them made her turn. Kaitlyn Kinncaid, still a bit pale, sat up on the couch, muttering to her husband that she was fine, her hand to her forehead.
“You should go to the hospital. Might be your blood sugar,” Mr. Kinncaid was saying. “Or maybe your blood pressure. You never know, Kaitie. Or it might—”
“For the love of God, Jock. Stop.” She patted his hand. “I’m fine. Just fainted.” Then she smiled and turned her head. For a long moment, she simply stared at Ian, who was kneeling in front of her. Her head slowly shook and she released her husband’s hand to reach up and cup Ian’s face.
His expression barely changed, but Rori saw the flicker of regret flash through his eyes—regret or something like it—but then he froze his expression. The man could mask easier than anyone else she knew.
“Hi, Mom.”
Kaitlyn Kinncaid’s shoulders jerked and then she pulled him to her, rocking. “Where have you been?” she strangled out, tears tracking down her face. “Where have you been?” Then she shook her head. “I don’t care. You’re home. You’re home now. I’ve prayed for this for years. For so long and finally, finally I have my whole family back.” She looked over at Jock, whose brows were beetled into an inverted V.
Man was just bark, no bite, Rori decided.
“Look, Jock. Look, he’s home. He’s finally home.”
Jock only nodded and stood, sitting on the arm of the couch by his son. The feeling of seeing something she wasn’t supposed to crawled over her.
Home. She shook her head. She personally had no idea what the hell that was other than her London flat with the two betas, who were probably dead if Nikko hadn’t fed them.
Maybe she’d get a cat, and move to Ireland. Grow flowers or some such blarney.
John cleared his throat.
Ian heard John and looked up from his mother. “What?”
“Your Yanks say the place is clean, Tanner says the attendants haven’t seen anything off, but he’s checking the security tapes.”
“What the hell is going on?” Jock asked, his voice reflecting the bafflement on his face as he noticed the number of people in the room.
Ian ignored him and kissed his mother on the check before standing and telling John, “Have them check the ballrooms, basement, and the family apartments upstairs. I want a list of all the staff members that have access to the family penthouses.”
John merely raised a brow and stepped outside, leaving Tori and Ryan standing near the doorway.
Everyone was silent.
Aiden asked, “Who wants lunch?”
No one answered. Aiden took another tactic, his face losing its humor. “All right. Must be big. Why all the checks, what’s with the entourage? And what happened to bring you back home as Ian Kinncaid and not as . . .” He stopped and cleared his throat.
Their mother pierced Aiden with a look Ian remembered all too well, yet there was hurt and the pain of betrayal in those beautiful green eyes. She shoved her red hair back. “You knew where he was?”
Aiden’s expression slightly shifted. “Uhm—well . . .” Jesslyn coughed.
Mom was no longer pale, that faint telltale blush warned. “How dare you!”
“Mom,” Ian tried.
“How could you . . .” Her eyes filled with tears again as she looked at Aiden. Then they shifted back to him. “Do you have any idea what it was like . . . what—what I thought? Worried? God, I was so worried. I—I pr-prayed for God to w-watch over you.” Her tears trickled down those flawless cheeks, cutting straight to his heart. “Do you know . . .” She shook her head. Jock put his arm around her.
“Kaitie, calm down.”
She shook her head. “I just . . .” Closing her eyes, she opened them again and stared at him.
Ian’s heart hammered in his chest.
“Wow, darling,” Rori said behind him. “And here you’ve always said how bloody wonderful your family was. Seems you left a couple of things out.”
Damn. He’d forgotten about . . .
“Who are you?” Jock asked.
Kaitie elbowed Jock in the ribs. Wiping her eyes, she looked past him to Rori, and then to his side, where Darya had moved, silent as a shadow.
His mother narrowed her gaze at him. “Right now, I don’t care. Not really. I’m just glad you’re home. But later, my boy, we will discuss a few things.” Her eyes flashed.
He couldn’t help it, he grinned and nodded. “I love you, Mom.”
She sniffed and looked back to Rori and Darya.
Everyone waited expectantly. Rori walked up to stand behind him. “Luv, they don’t seem all that happy to see you.”
Ian caught the sarcastic edge to her voice even as evenly as she’d spoken.
His mother frowned and stood, shaking his father off. “Of course we are. It’s just a shock. I’d thought . . . I’d feared . . .” Her eyes drifted back to him and asked questions she wouldn’t voice, and even if she did, he would lie.
He’d have to. As much as he didn’t understand his father, he wasn’t going to come between his parents.
“Mom,” he said, taking Rori’s hand, putting his hand on top of Darya’s head. “This is Rori.” He looked at her, and she cocked one perfect brow. She was without a doubt beautiful. He smiled and narrowed his gaze on her. “My wife.”
Her eyes flashed even as she smiled at him. “Wondered if you even remembered what with all the hoobaloo going on.”
Hoobaloo?
Ian glanced back at his parents.
His father’s jaw dropped, his mother smiled, and he heard Jesslyn’s, “Cool. A Brit in the fam.”
“Jesslyn, shut up, honey, now’s not the time,” Aiden said.
“Well, I think it is. Entirely too serious when everyone should be celebrating.” He looked at his short sister-in-law, who met his eyes straight on. “I know if I was ever given a second chance with the children that I’ll never get back, I sure as hell wouldn’t question the whys or how-comes. It’s a time for celebration. More than one. Babies, pregnancies, and now marriages.” Her head jerked to Darya. “And Darya . . .” She left the question open-ended.
Ian looked at Aiden. “Is she always like this?”
“Yes
,” his brother answered him, pulling his wife into his side and kissing the top of her head even as he put his hand over her mouth. She shrugged him off.
“I like her,” Rori said, and then added, “little Darya is our daughter.”
What the hell was the matter with him? He couldn’t think. His chest felt tight as hell and he just wanted . . .
It was like an attack but not. He needed some air. He unbuttoned the top button of his shirt and took his coat off.
At his mother’s gasp he realized his jacket had shifted and she saw the shoulder holster.
“Are you a cop?” Mom asked.
Snake coughed and Roth chuckled.
“Close enough.”
“What the bloody hell does that mean?”
The phone rang and Aiden answered it. Then he held it out to him. “It’s for you, some guy named Pete Jones.”
Ian frowned. Grabbing the phone, he barked the one word they always greeted each other with. “What?”
“I’ve tried your phone and Brasher’s and can’t reach either of you. Have you seen the damn news? CIN. Christ.”
Ian put the phone between his jaw and shoulder and looked over at the television on some documentary. “Where’s the remote?”
Ryan said, “Here,” and handed it to him.
“What’s the channel?” he asked Pete.
“Fifty-four. Local. Are you alone?”
“Nope.”
He grabbed the remote from his nephew and clicked on CIN.
“. . . authorities are still investigating why a string of arsons are happening in Prague.” Behind the news announcer flames and smoke shot up into the afternoon sky. “Luckily, no one was injured as the club was empty this time of day. This is the second club to be targeted since early this morning. Both clubs are reputed to have belonged to the late Viktor Hellinski, who was murdered here last week.”
Ian leaned closer. Damn. Nero’s.
Pete said, “And Hellinski’s other club and . . .”
“Shh—” he told his boss.
“Investigators are also trying to learn if the fire in Prague’s Lesser Quarter is related to this one. The apartment was empty as well. Reasons as to the motivations behind the fires are speculated to be related to the Czech underground.”
Deadly Games Page 16