“What’s to understand? I’m still the same person I was when you met me.” Their tires crunched along the drive as they slowly drove up to the house. The car’s headlights behind them cut through the trees and something glinted. He looked but saw nothing. Something prickled along the back of his neck.
The turn slid his phone off the console and onto the floor at his feet. He slowed even more, almost to the circular drive, and reached down to get his phone.
His window shattered and something thunked into the dashboard.
“Jesus. Stay down,” Rori said, pulling her gun free.
He grabbed the gun wedged between the seat and console. Another shot shattered the back window.
“Darya,” he said, jerking the wheel, and floored the car toward the house.
He burst through the hedge, branches screeching down the side of the car, and hoped to hell no one stood in the yard. Rori scrambled over the front seat into the back and unbuckled Darya, covering her on the floorboard. He thought about driving around to the back. But Aiden . . . Who knew if there were more.
Checking his rearview mirror, he saw the car behind them blocked the driveway.
Another car pulled in behind that one, the headlights clearly belonging to an SUV.
Shit.
Aiden.
His phone rang.
“What the hell’s going on?” John asked.
“Get them out of here. Get them out now—”
The windshield exploded.
“Goddamn it.” He slid over the console onto the passenger’s floorboard. “Rori! Is Darya hit? Is she all right?”
“No, I don’t think she was hit.”
He took a deep breath. He had to think. Who knew he was coming here? His family, their guards, and Pete.
Damn it.
“Rori, hand me the bag. Better yet, get me the damn goggles.”
John was still yelling at him through the phone. He scanned the trees, but saw nothing.
Shots peppered across the hood. God, if they hit the gas tank.
“We’re fucking sitting ducks,” Rori muttered. “He’ll go for the petrol tank next.”
Weighing his options, he said, “Cover Darya and your ears.”
He punched out the interior light above him and shot the one in the back.
“That was helpful,” Rori muttered.
“What the hell was that?” John asked.
“Interior lights. We can’t sit here. You know that.”
Bastard was playing with them. Just waiting.
“Rifle shots. How many do you think?” Rori asked.
“Ian!” John yelled.
Fuck. “Where the hell are our guards? I’ve got to get Darya and Rori out of here!”
John was barking something in the background. “I’ve called Pete. I don’t know what the bloody hell—thanks, Aiden.”
“I told you to get them home.”
“I will.”
Damn it.
More shots ripped across the hood. Darya screamed.
“On three, I’m opening the door and we’re going to try for the house,” he said.
“All right.”
“One. You’ve got my goggles?”
“Yeah, and the rest of the bag with the ammo.”
“Good. Toss it here and get her.”
She slid the bag to him. He slung it over his arm. “Two.”
He took a deep breath.
“Three,” they both said and shoved their doors open, scrambling out of the car. The lighted windows from the house slashed across the lawn.
Ian grabbed Rori’s hand and ran. He felt her jerk, slip from his grasp.
He whirled to make certain they were both behind him.
He heard the impact of the bullet before the world exploded.
Chapter 18
7:39 p.m.
Fire trucks and ambulances littered the driveway of the Kinncaid home in Seneca, Maryland.
Ian paced inside.
He remembered the explosion, but more, the gut-wrenching fear that he’d failed them.
Rori sat on the sofa holding Darya. As he walked to them one of the cops asked him another question.
“Why do you have bodyguards, Mr. Kinncaid?” one of the detectives asked.
He ignored the question as he had the others. He’d evaded answering the policeman’s questions and the paramedics, the fire chief.
Until Pete Jones walked in—let that bastard clean up the mess.
Pain slashed ruthlessly through his head. Darya’s hand sported a bandage, as did Rori’s back, where a flying piece of metal scraped her. The paramedics wanted to take them all to the local hospital.
He wasn’t that fucking stupid. They all declined medical attention.
The windows nearest the wreckage on the east lawn were gone. Luckily no one was in those rooms.
Everyone was now here, in the living room. Jesslyn clutched the toddler twins to her as if something would happen to them if she let them go.
He knew the feeling. He reached down and picked Darya up, closing his eyes as her arms came around him.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered in her ear. God, those moments. He took a deep breath and gently set her back beside Rori.
The woman had to be in pain, he could see it in her eyes, but she refused to go upstairs. Not that he could blame her. He cupped her face and ran his thumb over her cheek. “You should be upstairs in the shower or lying down.”
She snorted and grinned at him. “I’ve had worse. Besides, we both know this is going to be a bloody long night.”
Too true.
Three of his men were out in the woods—Tanner, Roth, and John—and the locals were not at all happy about that. Snake should be arriving with Gavin any minute.
What if the bastards had gone for the house? He looked again at Darya, who no longer had her bear. He’d have to get her another one. She picked on the blanket Rori tossed around her small shoulders. Her blue eyes met his.
God, what if . . .
Shaking off the thought, he turned and paced back to the window.
Everyone talked in hushed whispers.
The night rotated. Red. Blue. White. Red. Blue. White.
Where the hell was the bastard?
The woods beyond were dark, as they had been after arriving. He knew his three men wore night-vision goggles and were scouring the area for any sign of whoever it was that wanted them gone.
He looked over his shoulder, and for a moment his eyes met his father’s, but then he moved on and zeroed in on Pete.
*****
Jock looked across the living room. Kaitlyn was talking to Taylor, who looked ready to pop. Pregnant women didn’t need this kind of excitement. Ryan stood beside her, more quiet than normal, his other hand holding Tori’s. Those two were practically inseparable.
Both Brayden and Gavin had called, pissed because the road was blocked, but . . .
He looked into the entryway, where policemen gathered and talked to the men in suits who were quickly filing past.
Brayden, holding Christian’s hand, and Gavin both shoved through the crowd, scanning the living room until they found who they wanted.
Jock knew he’d have that frantic look in his eyes as well if he’d been told something happened but had no idea what.
He hated, hated things like this. This was his home, and he still had not a fucking clue what the hell was going on.
They’d been in the back family room when an explosion had rocked the house, breaking glass.
When they’d hurried into the front entryway, it was to see Ian and his family scattered on the lawn, a car on fire, and men with guns firing into the trees and hurrying to them.
For a moment, his heart froze in his chest. That fear that there lay one of his children dead . . .
He took a deep breath and rubbed his chest. He never wanted to see that again.
Kaitlyn had come up behind him and then flown out the door, but their guards, Tanner and Roth, had jerked them ba
ck, not letting either him or his wife leave.
Tanner, brave lad, had picked Kaitlyn up and hurriedly got them both into the bathroom near the bottom of the stairs.
Tanner had stayed with them and Roth had run back out front, barking into some sort of radio device, a gun in his hand.
Up until that point, Jock had thought it was all on the dramatic side. Ian pulling some prank or stunt like he had as a boy.
But this . . .
He shook his head and watched his son. Arms crossed over his chest, he watched a man who stood talking to one of the policemen.
There was no boy before him in the man who stood at the window glaring across the way at a man with salt-and-pepper hair, a shoulder harness strapped to his muscled frame.
If Jock Kinncaid had met this Ian Kinncaid on the street, he would never have recognized him.
He wore more black clothing, a gun strapped in a holster crossing his back and shoulders. His features were chiseled and hard, unforgiving. And those blue eyes held no laughter, no mischievousness that Jock had always thought of through the years when thinking of Ian.
God, he’d made a mess of things.
What the hell had he pushed his son to? What had Ian become?
Would things have been different if only he had swallowed his misguided notions all those years ago?
He took another deep breath, pushed away from the wall, met Aiden’s stare as the newcomer walked into the room and only said to Ian, “We need to talk.”
“You’ve got that fucking right, Pete.” A radio buzzed on Snake, who answered it.
But they all heard. The woods were clear.
Whoever had caused all the hell tonight was no longer here.
*****
Ian followed Pete out of the room, ignoring everyone but the one man he wanted answers from. He led Pete down to what was once his father’s office and saw that it still was. The smell was the same and memories wanted to flood him.
He didn’t let them. He waited until Pete came in and then he slammed the door.
“Look, I know you’re upset—”
“Upset?” he asked softly, shaking his head. “No, Pete, I’m not upset.” He didn’t move, tried to go past the pain in his head. “I’m past upset. I’m fucking pissed.”
“I know—”
“No, you don’t know,” he hissed. “You have no friggin’ clue, but you better by God get one.” He walked behind his father’s desk and stared at Pete. “You knew of my plans, my men knew of my plans, and my family.”
Pete’s hazel eyes watched him, sharpening. He sank down into one of the chairs facing the desk and steepled his fingers, his elbows resting on the arms of the chair.
Ian waited.
Pete waited.
Fuck it. He turned and looked out the window.
For a moment, neither said anything.
Then, Pete’s voice asked, “Are you done?”
Ian rubbed the back of his neck, wishing the headache away. Headaches were bad, and whether this was a warning that he needed a break or from tonight, he didn’t know, didn’t want to even guess.
“You need to come in for a physical tomorrow.” Pete sighed. “I’ve got people working on this, I’ve increased the number of guards and I want—”
“I want my family safe,” Ian said.
“Yes. That’s a given.”
Ian waited but Pete didn’t say anything else. Finally, he turned and faced his boss.
“You look like shit,” Pete said.
He grunted, walked around the desk and sat in the other chair, leaning his head back. Closing his eyes, he asked, “Is it you, Pete? Have I become expendable?”
He waited, didn’t open his eyes.
“I should be insulted, but I’m not.” Pete cleared his throat and Ian heard his clothing shift as he moved in the chair. “I would come to the same conclusion if I were you. Without a doubt, the leak is in my office. We just have to find it.”
No kidding.
“What do you want to do?” Pete asked him.
Ian opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling, still white, same wooden trim around the top as it had always been.
“Don’t have a clue.” God, he was so fucking tired. A log popped in the grate.
Neither spoke again.
Pete broke the silence. “You know, the local authorities are now going to be watching your family as well. I haven’t figured out if this was a good thing or a bad thing.”
“Local authorities knowing of our presence is never good.”
Pete chuckled. “True.”
“But the extra eyes will be a plus.” Ian wondered if he could just pack up his family and move them elsewhere.
“I thought about just putting your entire family under protection and moving them to a secure location,” Pete commented, standing. “But, considering, I don’t know that it would do any good.”
Ian thought about the firestorm that would cause. “Probably wouldn’t do any good anyway. I don’t know that any of them . . . Well, my brothers might, with their wives.” His hand fisted. “My life, our lives are so fucked up compared to everyone else’s, Pete. Ever thought of that?”
Pete cocked a brow at him. “I’ve always thought that everyone else simply lives in blissful ignorance.”
“I don’t know what that is.”
Pete tilted his head. “You know, I honestly thought I could talk you into staying with us, give you time and another assignment. Maybe bring you in out of the field and into the office.”
Ian was already shaking his head.
“But,” Pete continued, “I can see I was wrong on that score. You really are ready to call it quits.”
Ian sat up and rubbed a hand over his face. “Is there ever really such a thing as ‘quits’ for guys like us?”
“Sure”—Pete smiled, a full-fledged one—“when you’re dead.”
“Isn’t that a cheery fucking thought.”
“What are you going to tell your family?”
He shook his head. “Don’t have a clue.”
Pete leaned back. “We’ll run the bullets the boys are getting from around the scene and see what we come up with.”
Would it be for or against Pete? For or against him? Elianya? One of the other families that wanted him dead? Whoever the damn mole was.
*****
Rori watched all the goings-on with a sort of detachment. She was part of this, and yet not. A feeling she was rather familiar with. Darya was tucked up to her side and she thought about taking the girl upstairs, but decided to wait to see what Ian wanted to do.
If it were her, she’d remove Darya to a safer place, make certain the girl at least was out of harm’s way. Then again, knowing Ian, he’d want to make certain everyone was safe. Two or three people they could hide. A family this large—probably not.
Mrs. Kinncaid was walking around, asking people if they needed anything—the perfect host. It fit her. Jesslyn and Aiden were playing with their boys in the hallway just outside one of the doorways of the living room. Two of the other brothers were with their wives. She hadn’t seen a sign of Quinlan yet, but figured Gar was with him, or someone. Had Ian thought of him?
Maybe she should ask Nikko to watch him.
And what the fuck did she really care? Was this her job? No. Was this her family?
No.
So why drag Nikko into the mix if she didn’t have to. Nikko.
She looked at Snake and said, “Let me borrow your phone.”
He unclipped it. “Why?”
“I need to call someone, and if I don’t, they’ll start to worry. Since my mobile is in little melted pieces, be a chap.”
He handed it to her. “Who you calling?”
“Don’t be a nosy parker, Snake.” She took the phone, walked to a quiet corner so she could still keep an eye on Darya, who slid off the couch and addled up to her side. She rang Nikko.
He didn’t answer.
She called again.
Then again.
>
Finally, he picked up. “Who the hell is this?”
“It’s me.”
His sigh was filled with relief and anger. She could tell. “Where the bloody hell are you?” he muttered in Italian. “Do you have a clue how long it’s been since you checked in? You always check in.”
She was tired. “I’m fine. Just busy.”
“You quit.”
“Not exactly,” she said, and scanned the room. Snake still watched her, his thin black brow cocked.
“What does that mean?”
She sighed. “It means I’m doing a new gig now and things have become complicated. I’ll ring you back later. I just wanted you to know things are fine.”
“When you take the time to let me know things are fine, they rarely are, cara. What is going on?”
She sighed. “I can’t get into it now. Just know I’m fine.” She looked around this group of people Ian cared so much about, saw the worry on all their faces. “Nikko, have I ever told you thank you?”
“For what?”
She grinned. “Never mind. Take care, luv.” She clicked the phone shut, and returned it to Snake. Picking Darya up, they sat back on the sofa.
Jock rubbed his chest again and walked toward her. He sat down on the other side of Darya.
“All right?” she asked him.
He nodded. No smile, no grimace, just a nod.
“I see where your son gets it.”
He frowned. “Gets what?”
The man was worried, she could see it in his eyes, in the etched lines of his face. “Ian’s attitude and inflexibility.”
“I’m not inflexible,” he scoffed.
She merely raised a brow. He lifted his hand to place on Darya’s head, but faster than a blink, she scurried into Rori’s lap, her thumb firmly in her mouth.
His frown deepened.
“Is she okay?” he asked.
“Do you honestly care?” Rori returned, leaning down to kiss Darya’s forehead. The bear was nowhere to be found and it had become a security blanket.
“She’s missing her bear,” he mumbled.
Rori tried to hide her grin.
“I bet we can find another,” he added, hefting his weight up and walking from the room. She watched him go and wondered where he was off to.
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