by Lora Leigh
“Kin.”
Three pairs of differing shades of emerald turned on her with such intensity, it felt cutting. The sensation was distinctly uncomfortable.
She turned her gaze to Cord. She hated seeing the pain in his eyes increase, the grief and rage that hollowed his already savagely hewn expression.
“Kin,” Cord repeated softly before breathing out heavily, rubbing at the back of his neck, and running his hand along the side of his face. “Fuck!”
The expletive didn’t come close to expressing everything she knew that answer represented to him.
“Kin break into the house in town then?” Sawyer questioned, dragging her gaze back to him.
“I’m not sure yet.” Turning, she stared at the mess she’d made during her confrontation with Jazz. She’d made a hell of a mess. “I’m waiting for Slade and Zack to realize they might need me to break the encryption on the DVR. The programs on my computer. Once I view the video I’ll know more.”
Cord moved slowly, heavily, to where the pictures littered the hard floor and stooped to pick a few up, studying them intently.
Many of the pictures were six to eight years old. She’d begun taking them with disposable cameras until Gunny had managed to procure a real one with a zoom lens.
“Kin.” Holding one particular picture, he lifted his gaze to her. “David Mobley and Aaron Blake.”
“Gunny killed Aaron, but David managed to get away. I have another picture of him in there somewhere. One I took last year at the school. I believe his youngest enters third grade this fall.”
He nodded. “I’m her godfather.”
She hadn’t known that, but it didn’t surprise her. David had been close to the family since they were children. A distant cousin, his father best friends from childhood with their father.
Slowly, Cord gathered the pictures together from the floor, straightened them, seemingly paying little attention to the individuals in them, but she knew him better than that. His memory was exceptional. He’d be able to name every person he saw in them years later.
“You can’t strike at them, Cord,” she told him softly when he straightened and set the stack of pictures on the table.
He stared at the stack of photos, his fingertips stroking over the table next to them for long moments.
“Dad threw this table out of the house just after the funeral,” he said softly, still stroking the wood before he lifted his gaze to her once again. “Did you know it was the same kitchen set?”
She hadn’t.
Swinging around she stared at Jazz where he leaned against the door frame, his arms crossed over his chest.
“You have a big mouth, Maddox,” he growled.
Cord nodded to that as well. Lifting his hand he rubbed at the side of his face again, his expression so heavy Kenni’s heart clenched in pain for him, as well as herself.
“I’m sorry, Kenni,” he whispered, his gaze meeting hers squarely, the regret so heavy in his eyes she could only stare back at him silently. “I failed you.”
“No, Cord…”
“You were seen the night of the fire escaping with a marine, still in uniform. An old homeless soldier saw you running and heard the gunshot that put a bullet in your shoulder, he said.”
“Yes,” she affirmed tightly.
“We looked for you,” Deacon snapped, dragging her gaze to him. “For almost eight years, Kenni, we searched for you.”
“I found out about our uncle Charles—Gunny, you called him.” Cord’s voice didn’t change, but his expression grew heavier. “We met a few friends who were searching for him. They lost him in Chicago.”
“He’s dead,” she said, answering the question in Cord’s voice. “He sent me to collect a vehicle we were going to use to leave town. He was supposed to meet with someone who could tell him who was giving the orders and sending men out to kill me. When he didn’t show up at the meeting place, I went back to the warehouse.” Jazz moved then, shifting from the door frame, his arms coming around her comfortingly. A move that brought a glare to each of her brothers’ faces. “I only found his blood…” Gripping Jazz’s forearms tightly she broke off, her lips trembling despite her dry eyes. “I’d taken several pictures over that week of men that resembled those I’d known in Loudoun. I matched a couple once I arrived.”
“Who?” The question was soft, the sound so nonthreatening Kenni watched Cord warily.
“Later, Cord,” Jazz said as the sound of a vehicle coming up the drive could be heard. “Slade’s here and I want to see that video. And I think the three of you need to do more than focus on who to kill. Focus on who’s alive instead.”
“They’ll pay, sunshine,” Cord promised, that too-soft, too-gentle voice sending a shudder racing up her spine. “I promise you, they’ll pay.”
CHAPTER 15
The DVR was still encrypted when Slade and Zack arrived.
“I want that program,” Slade growled as he handed her the device, his gray eyes gleaming with amused irritation, his expression rueful. “Or I want to play with cracking it.”
“Not hardly,” Kenni drawled, turning back to the table where her laptop was waiting and taking the chair in front of it. “Gunny spent two years building the security encryption just for me. I think I’m rather possessive of it.” Slanting a thoughtful sideways look for a second, she added, “I might give you a shot at cracking it, though.” Just to see how long it would take him.
Turning to her brothers Slade nodded warily, obviously waiting for Kenni to pull up the video.
Deacon and Sawyer moved around the table to see the computer screen, arms crossed over their chests, their glowering expressions giving them a savage cast.
They were furious. Kenni could feel the waves of rage pulsing around them. They were doing nothing to hide it, but it was Cord’s silent, icy expression that had everyone’s nerves on edge.
Even Kenni’s.
Once that expression would have meant Kin arriving from three different states then disappearing with Cord for days at a time. She understood now that the groups were more than just friends of her brothers or some ordinary hunting trip. No doubt, blood had been shed on each of those excursions.
It took only seconds for the computer to recognize the DVR’s hard drive and pull it up. Clicking on the decryption program, she opened the video file within it then sat back and watched the status bar as the file loaded. It opened with a request to choose the file needed.
Motion-activated indoor cameras automatically recorded until all movement had stopped for five minutes. Choosing the first recorded file for that day she watched as it opened, revealing the two black-garbed figures entering the back door of the rental house.
They began there, systematically tearing it apart with no regard for neatness, just as they began talking without considering who or what may be listening.
“Do you really think if she’s that Maddox bitch, she was stupid enough think she could stay hidden?” the shorter of the two man team murmured.
She knew that voice.
Frowning, Kenni watched their movements, the shape of their bodies, and their stride as they moved around the kitchen.
“Oh, she’s Kendra Maddox. The DNA tests confirmed it. Why do you think the boss is so desperate now?”
Kenni straightened in her chair. DNA?
A muted chuckle sounded then. “Wouldn’t Colter be pissed to know we have his lab contact? She keeps telling him the results haven’t come back yet. It’s all I can do not to thank him whenever I see him, for being the nosy bastard he is.”
Slade.
The blood she’d gotten on the kitchen towel at his house. Evidently Jazz hadn’t rinsed and bleached it as he’d led her to believe.
Behind her, Slade cursed under his breath, the sound rife with anger. Served him right for stealing her damned blood. But it didn’t serve her right, because his actions had been the catalyst for the renewed attempts against her.
“Before or after Cord let you know I w
asn’t really Annie Mayes?” she asked her friend’s husband.
“After,” he growled. The knowledge that his lab contact had sold him out must not be sitting well with him. “The background you came in with actually satisfied me,” he added, the rueful irritation in his tone almost amusing.
“Marriage is making you lazy,” Cord accused him disgustedly. “It didn’t satisfy me for a minute.”
But then Cord had been born suspicious.
“She has cameras,” one of the men on the video stated as they entered the living room, staring at the picture she’d hidden the lens behind.
Striding across the room and reaching up, he jerked the frame from the wall. Thankfully the camera on the other side of the room activated and began recording.
Bastards. They snapped the camera from its connection before following the wires through the wall, busting drywall and pulling them free as they went.
“Damned bitch,” one of them breathed in irritation. “I have half a mind to feed her to my damned cat once she’s dead.”
Her eyes narrowed on the video. The way he’d spoken had triggered a memory not yet fully formed.
The silence behind her was deafening.
The threats continued as they traced the wires to the next camera in the bedroom, once again missing the backup there. Finding the decoy box they ripped it from the wall and packed it and the cameras into a black pack. Then they proceeded to destroy the bedroom.
“Don’t forget to destroy the clothes.” The order was given with an air of amusement. “Boss says it’s about the worst thing we could do to her. I guess she likes her pretty clothes more than most women.”
No, it wasn’t that she liked her clothes more than most; she just wouldn’t have had the cash to replace the quality of clothes she did have. Two years without being hunted like a rabbit and she’d managed to purchase a few of the more fashionable items she might have had if her world hadn’t exploded on her ten years ago.
They took a lot of enjoyment in destroying them as well. As they ripped, tore, and cut the material, they also found a lot of enjoyment in discussing the “boss.”
But what were they looking for?
Nothing in particular had been mentioned, though they systematically went through every drawer, looked beneath them, tore at the carpeting, checked the vents.
“Nothing.” The announcement was made as one of them exited the bathroom after destroying it as well. “She doesn’t have anything.”
“Boss says there’s rumors she’s been taking a lot of pictures,” the other reminded him. “She should have at least had a camera.”
“Or her cell phone?” the first retorted, scoffing at the idea of a camera. “You know what gossip is like around here. She probably said she wanted pictures and someone took it and ran with a camera.”
That was always a possibility, Kenni thought in amusement. Gossip in small towns tended to be like that.
“They were after your files,” Sawyer murmured then. “Any indication that you were investigating who was giving the orders or recognized anyone who’d been sent after you in the past.”
“Where were they hidden?” Deacon question softly, indicating the pictures and hard copy of the few files she’d printed.
“Beneath her box springs.” It was Cord who answered the question. “That’s where she used to hide everything. Then she hid under the bed herself.”
Well, one point for the older brother, she thought painfully. He’d paid attention when she was a child when she hadn’t thought he had. Had he been even remotely involved in the attempts on her life, he would have told whoever was sent to search the house to be certain to check there.
“All kids hide under the bed,” Deacon snorted doubtfully. “That doesn’t mean anything.”
“Not like Kenni. If there was something she valued she made a slit beneath the box springs and hid it inside there,” Cord stated softly. “She would hide under the bed herself whenever she thought she was in trouble. We let her think she was pulling it off. She never learned she wasn’t, evidently.”
“She learned. She was just out of options when you stepped in with the boob squad.” She nodded to Deacon and Sawyer. “I hope you at least use a muzzle whenever you take them out on jobs with you.”
“Industrial-strength glue,” Cord snorted.
“Yeah, I always said they were untrainable,” she remembered, her voice softening at the insult she would throw at her brothers when she was younger.
Keeping her gaze on the video, she frowned as one of the black-garbed figures stood at the doorway and turned back to the room. His head tilted, his gaze circling with narrow-eyed intent.
He didn’t even pause as his gaze swept over the hidden eye of the backup camera she’d placed next to a nail hole in the scratched, aged trim of the window. The lens blended in perfectly among the other blemishes, the trim replaced without so much as a scuff mark to indicate it had been removed at any time.
He sensed it, but he just wasn’t good enough to know what it was he was sensing.
“Let’s go, bro,” the other urged. “Daylight’s coming in.”
Turning, the would-be assassin/burglar strode quickly across the kitchen without disturbing the cereal thrown across the floor.
“I know them.” Frowning at the video as the two left by the back door, Kenni could feel the answer to their identity teasing at her mind.
“So do I,” Jazz murmured. “I just can’t place it.”
Her brothers didn’t comment either way.
Closing the file she pulled up the file log, saw that the only recording remaining was the time she’d arrived at the house and disconnected the encryption program.
“Like Slade, I want a chance to crack that program.” Sawyer was all but rubbing his large techie hands in excitement at the chance to get into Gunny’s program.
“Gather your things, Kenni,” Cord said then. “We’ll leave as soon as I can discuss a few things with Slade.”
The shocking statement had her head jerking up, her gaze meeting Jazz’s as he came from behind her.
He stilled next to the table, his eyes meeting hers slowly.
“I’m not going anywhere, Cord.” Setting the electronic lock on the laptop, she closed the lid and slid it aside with deliberate care. “I’m fine where I’m at.”
“Like hell…”
She rose to her feet and turned to face him.
“Didn’t Poppy tell you, this is home,” she told him softly. “As long as Jazz allows me to stay, it’s home.”
A heavy frown creased his brow. “Think Poppy won’t head straight here when we tell him?”
Kenni turned to Jazz with a mocking smile. “How many others will have to know, I wonder?”
“God, Kenni, Poppy’s never recovered…” Sawyer whispered in disbelief, his voice hardening at the thought of keeping their father in the dark.
“There’s no coming back from dead, Sawyer,” she reminded him painfully, turning back to them. “Poppy would be easier to get to than even the three of you. He’s cemented in those he trusts, and he trusts David. He always has. How many other Kin does he trust that far who are aligned with whoever killed Momma?”
“Kenni, you need to come home,” Cord growled despite the arguments as he glanced at Jazz. “Just because Poppy gave him a few things he knew you loved and Jazz built your dream house doesn’t mean it’s happily-ever-after. That was then…”
“And this is now,” she replied, her voice sharper perhaps than she’d intended. “And I’m not going anywhere, Cord.”
“Those are Maddox eyes, and Slade’s lab contact may have identified her DNA as Maddox, but I’m not convinced she’s Kenni,” Deacon said then, his tone icy. “Kenni wouldn’t have hidden for ten years, she wouldn’t have denied her family the truth that she was alive, and she wouldn’t endanger the man she thought she was in love with ten years ago.”
“And Deacon would have known better than to think I’m so easy to maneuver,” she sn
orted as she began pushing the laptop, DVR, pictures, and files into the leather bag. “The three of you need to figure that one out now.”
“You’re not protected here, Kenni,” Cord argued. “Slade has his own family to think of, that just leaves Zack to help…”
“She said she’s not leaving.” Jazz didn’t raise his voice or issue a threat, but the tension in the room intensified significantly.
She knew how the bone felt between two dogs now.
“Kenni’s not one of your playthings, Jazz. It’s been ten years since you asked Poppy to let you see her, don’t try to convince us whatever you felt for her then still exists now,” Deacon argued, his expression glowering.
Kenni didn’t think she could bear to hear the answer to that accusation.
“Enough, all three of you.” Slapping her hand to the table, she turned to her brothers and let them see the outrage surging through her.
“Kenni, you’re still our sister,” Cord bit out before she could say anything more. “Our baby sister. The thought of losing you again—”
“Is one of the reasons I didn’t want you to know,” she cried out. “Do you think I’m not aware of how the three of you and Poppy hurt? Did you think I wanted you to have to suffer any further?”
“Then come home,” he demanded, his tone low. “Come home, Kenni.”
But she was home. She could feel that truth in every fiber of her being. It wasn’t just the house, the pool, or the gazebo. It was Jazz and part of her soul refused to let the dream of belonging to him go as so many other dreams had been lost.
* * *
It had to be her choice.
Jazz kept reminding himself that he couldn’t make her stay, and he couldn’t place his fist in any of her brothers’ faces, unless they tried to hit him first. He rather doubted he could push them into hitting him first right now.
That didn’t keep him from glaring at them.
Son of a bitch, he was almost scared they were going to talk her into leaving.
Cord would be the one to persuade her, he thought. She’d always been closer to him than the others. For years she’d been his shadow, trying to follow him everywhere he went.