Chapter Twenty-One
“Can’t a man even come visit his goddamned daughter without being attacked? She’s my kid, I have a right to know if she’s alive or not.”
Roni came to a dead stop halfway down the stairs that led to the entrance hall as her father’s booming voice echoed up to her, coarse and blustering. Taber stopped behind her, still and silent, watching her carefully.
She was too tense, almost frightened, wary. Like a deer sensing danger but not certain which direction it was coming from.
Reginald Andrews was one of the worst fathers Taber had ever known. His only saving grace, the only reason he still lived, was the fact that he had never laid a hand on Roni. Otherwise, Taber would have killed him years ago.
“Mr. Andrews, that doesn’t explain why you were trying to sneak into the grounds. Why not just press the call button on the gates?” Callan’s voice was as cold and crisp as a winter night. He was flat furious.
Reginald was, as always, making excuses. Loudly.
Taber watched as Roni drew in a deep, hard breath. He could almost feel the distaste that filled her and the reluctance that held her still and silent. But he could sense more than that. The morass of emotions that seemed to rush from her overwhelmed him. He moved closer to her, determined to protect her.
He laid one hand at her waist, leaning close to her, his chin settling against her shoulder. “We could go back to the room. Ignore him. If you don’t go down there, Callan will take it as silent permission to have the bastard thrown out.”
He whispered the words so softly that only she heard him. He kept his body close enough to be certain his warmth and silent security enfolded her. He would protect her, no matter what it took.
She swallowed tightly and he could literally feel her fighting for the strength to face the man raging in the hallway.
“No.” She finally shook her head as she reached back, tucking the revolver he had given her into the waistband of her jeans. “I’ll deal with him.”
But she didn’t want to. Taber was getting the distinct impression that there was something about her father that literally terrified her now. Before he could question her about it, she was moving gracefully down the stairs, her hand retaining a light grip on the balustrade, her shoulders straight and erect. As regal as a princess and so determined to be strong it brought a lump to his throat, made him want to shelter her that much more.
“Why are you here, Reginald?” She had to raise her voice to be heard over his furious tirade concerning the welfare of his beloved only child. The sound of it made Taber sick.
Reginald had aged severely in the time since Taber had last seen him. His dark hair was almost fully gray and thinning. He tried to make up for that fact by growing one side longer than the other and combing it over the opposite side, giving him an off center, clownish appearance.
His brown eyes were dull, his cheeks ruddy from drink. He was barely six feet tall, and overweight, not nearly as muscular as he had been even five years before.
As Roni stepped into the entry hall, all eyes turned to her. The Feline Breeds filling the marbled entrance to the house were on alert, their hands on their weapons, their eyes sharp and missing not a move that the older man made.
“Roni.” Reginald’s smile was more calculating than loving.
Callan had noticed it as well, if the narrow-eyed look of dislike was anything to go by.
Taber watched him closely, seeing the flash of hatred the other man tried to hide as he glanced at his daughter. Taber moved quickly, insinuating himself between Reginald and Roni, every instinct inside him screaming that he protect her from whatever threat her father represented.
Roni stopped as he stepped in front of her, confronting her father rather than allowing her to.
“Taber.” She laid her hand on his arm as he pressed it back, stilling her attempt to move in front of him.
At his movement, the others stepped into protective positions as well, their eyes narrowing on Reginald, hands now gripping their weapons in preparation.
“Why are you here, Reggie?” Taber didn’t bother with the formalities. Roni was upset, his own instincts were kicking into overdrive, and he would be damned if he would allow it to continue.
“Well, she’s my daughter.” Reginald’s voice softened, but he couldn’t hide the stench of his own lies. He wasn’t there to assure himself of Roni’s safety, which made him an immediate threat to her.
“Fine time to remember that,” Taber growled, making certain to show the canines that he knew would gleam menacingly at the sides of his mouth. He was pleased to see a bit of the ruddy color dim in the other man’s face as he paled at the sight. “I don’t remember it bothering you overmuch before.”
“I can handle Reginald, Taber.” Roni pushed at his heavy body, attempting to get him to move aside. There was no going around him as the other Breeds had aligned themselves in a way that would keep her clearly out of the other man’s reach.
“Taber, you should at least let me see my little girl.” Reginald’s voice was too soft, too intentionally non-threatening for Taber’s peace of mind.
“Taber, dammit, I can handle this.” Roni kicked his shin. And it sure as hell wasn’t a love pat. The damned woman had dangerous feet.
He turned back to look at her warningly.
“Don’t you give me that look,” she snapped, frowning back at him in determination. “Get out of my way so I can deal with this, then you can send him packing.”
She was going to kick him again and he knew it, he could see it in her eyes.
Damn, he loved it when she got physical with him. He smiled at her. A slow baring of his teeth, a sexual reminder of retaliation. He was pleased to see the slight widening of her eyes, the ripple of response that was barely detectable, the scent of sweet, clean arousal that suddenly bloomed from her body.
He stepped back slowly, his arm going behind her, his hand clasping her hip to be sure she stayed close and well out of reach of the threat he was sensing.
“Hmph. I can see you’re getting along fine.” Reginald couldn’t hide the small telltale hint of vindictive displeasure in his voice. The insult that had Taber flexing his muscles in preparation to take the bastard apart, limb by limb.
“Broke already?” she asked him softly. Her voice was smooth and mocking, but Taber sensed the anger he could feel building inside her.
Reginald grunted. “They burned the house. Your mom’s pictures, the quilts, everything’s gone.”
Roni flinched noticeably. Taber speared the man with a look that promised retribution, a rumbling growl of warning sounding from his chest. He was deliberately hurting her now, choosing his words carefully, striking where she was most tender. Reginald eyed him warily.
“You used to be nicer than this, Taber,” he sighed, as though the reception he was receiving disappointed him.
“And you used to be smarter than this, Reggie,” Taber retorted softly, barely restraining his violence. If only he could figure out why the other man was sending his instincts off the scales, then he would feel more comfortable.
“You’ve seen her. She’s fine. You can leave now.”
“Roni, you gonna let them throw me out?” Reginald turned to his daughter, the whine in his voice grating on Taber’s ears. “Things are real tough right now. With our pictures flashing all over the television screens and your association with this . . . ” Reginald paused insultingly, “ . . . man being reported all over the world, I can’t even get a decent job from the old sources anymore.”
The “old sources” no doubt being illegal.
“You should have spent your last payment more wisely, Reginald.” She tried to sound unfeeling, cool under pressure, but Taber could hear the pain in her voice. “This isn’t my home. Mine burned to the ground, remember? I have no right to determine who stays and who goes.”
Reginald cast Callan a calculating look. “You gonna throw her daddy out on the street? You know how much trouble this has caused me, Callan?”
Callan watched Roni as closely as Taber did.
“You have family,” Roni reminded her father almost desperately. “I’ll give you the money, Reginald . . . ” She stopped. Taber could hear her breathing in harshly.
“I don’t have my purse, but I’ll call the bank. I’ll get you the money . . . ”
“No, Roni honey, you know none of those brothers of mine are going to let me bed down in their fancy-assed houses. You know how they always turned their backs on us.”
It was no less than the truth. Just as it was no less than Reginald’s own fault that his family had literally disowned him.
“The house is full at present, Reginald.” Callan finally stepped forward. “We can put you up at the barracks on the other side of the house grounds. There are a few empty bunks there.”
Reginald’s gaze never left Roni’s. He stared at her the way a snake did an intended meal. Cold, deliberate, unflinching.
“That’s right friendly of you, Callan,” he finally said softly. Taber felt a chill chase down his back as Roni stilled a flinch.
She was frightened. He could feel it, almost smell it radiating from her body.
She tensed, holding herself rigidly erect as she stared back at her father.
“Don’t make trouble here, Reginald,” she finally warned him, her voice low, resonating with barely throttled anger. “I won’t be held responsible for what they do to you if you try to.”
Taber looked down at her, holding back his surprise. He had never heard Roni threaten anyone other than him personally. And certainly never her wayward, mercenary father.
“Why, Roni, shame on you, making these good people think I’d cause trouble.” He hadn’t even blinked at he stared at her. “You know I’m a right social person. They won’t have a peep of trouble out of me.”
Taber tensed at the veiled threat directed at Roni. It pulsed in the air around them and caused the fine hairs on the back of Taber’s neck to lift and bristle in response.
Taber wanted to order the son of a bitch off the estate, cast him out into the streets and tell him to fend for himself. For as long as Roni had been old enough to hold down a part-time job the bastard had leeched every penny she could make. There had been no protecting her from him then, but by God, he could do it now.
“Escort Mr. Andrews to the workers’ bunk shed, Merc,” Callan ordered one of the burly guards.
Mercury was six and a half feet of muscle with a face so closely resembling that of a cat’s that there was no way the man could walk down a public street without inciting riotous panic among the citizens now. He was stern, cold, a killing machine and one of the most loyal, honorable men Taber had ever known.
“He can have the bunk nearest mine.” Thin lips spread into a cold smile as eerie amber eyes glittered with cold knowledge. Merc wasn’t a fool.
“We need to talk soon, Roni.” Reginald smiled thinly as Merc gripped his arm firmly. “Catch up on things, ya know?”
“I think we said enough last week, Reginald,” she replied firmly, her voice cold enough to chill an iceberg. “Enjoy your stay. But I doubt I’ll have time to visit.”
“You might want to make time.” Reginald tried to pull his arm back from the soldier escorting him from the house. “Think about it, Roni. Think hard.”
The door closed on his parting words.
Taber continued to watch his mate closely, his mind working, turning over possibilities and threats and only coming up with more answers.
“You want to explain that little meeting to me, Roni?” he asked her softly, aware that all eyes had turned to them.
Her gaze lifted to his slowly, but not slow enough for him to miss the flash of fear that she fought to hide.
“Sure, Taber.” He didn’t like that slow, tight smile that crossed her lips. “I’ll be more than happy to, the very minute you answer my earlier question. Turn-about, baby.” She nudged his waist with her elbow in a deliberately forced playful mood. “You just let me know when you’re ready to talk.”
She turned then, taking the stairs with quick, almost running steps. She was fighting to escape, to hide, just as she had always done when she was younger and rushed into the night with only her senses to guide her. Taber found her lost and frightened each time.
He wondered what he would find when he followed her this time.
“Taber, we might have a problem.” Callan stepped closer, pulling a small, ultra-sensitive receiver from the pocket of his slacks. “I picked this up from the office when Merc informed me who he had.” The receiver was a handy little bug locator given to them by the U.S. military. “Good old Reginald was wired for sound to hell and back. Our only problem now is figuring out who hired him.”