SEVEN

“You’re not calling Dawg out of spite,” Lyrica said accusingly to Graham as he put away the remainder of the sandwiches and chips.

“You think?” Lifting his brows with heavy mockery, he pulled his cell phone from the holster at his side and placed it in the center of the table. “Bastard didn’t even let me know I wasn’t part of the group anymore. Damned inconsiderate if you ask me.”

She wasn’t certain if she should be amused by his consternation at being left out or outraged that it was the only reason he wasn’t contacting her brother.

“Dawg’s going to kick your ass, Graham. If Natches doesn’t beat him to it.” Crossing her arms on top of the table, Lyrica watched him worriedly.

The grin that tilted his lips was a little too playful. He sat back in the chair and watched her closely. Lyrica was trying damned hard not to think about the invitation she could see in his gaze.

“Natches isn’t going to take a bead on me for not calling nor will he kick my ass. He’ll throw his fist. Once. Dawg will get his turn and it will be over.” He seemed far too calm about it.

Lyrica shook her head. “That might be true, but you’re not considering one thing.”

“Oh, yeah?” His grin was confident, self-assured.

“Rowdy.”

Graham’s eyes narrowed back at her as though considering her answer. “Rowdy’s pretty laid-back. He lets Dawg and Natches get the bruises.”

“It all depends on how far you push him,” she informed him. “And I’m pretty certain that neglecting to let his wife know one of Dawg’s sisters, who she claims as her niece, is safe, would push him to that limit. Rowdy can be dangerous.”

“Rowdy also has the amazing ability to understand simple logic. Something Dawg and Natches aren’t so good at,” he snorted.

She couldn’t argue that one.

“But we’re not discussing Dawg and Natches.”

“Lyrica.” He leaned forward slowly, his amber eyes suspicious now. “Don’t you trust me to protect you?”

It had nothing to do with trust, Lyrica knew. It was desperation. If he was determined to do this, then he might need help.

“Backup never hurt anyone when guns are involved, Graham. You should know that,” she pointed out archly. “My family makes good backup.”

“Your family’s full of control freaks,” he snorted with a laugh. “Baby, you and I both know there would be no backup. They’d rush you out of here so damned fast it would make both our heads spin. And I think that’s what you’re counting on. Now, I’ll ask you again.” His voice lowered, his expression becoming more serious. “Don’t you trust me to protect you?”

She did.

Lyrica knew Graham would be a hell of a force to be reckoned with, just as she knew that if she stayed with him, she would end up being owned by him.

“I trust you to protect me, Graham.” She finally nodded as she clasped her hands on the table and stared down at her nails for a long minute. “I don’t doubt for a second that we’ll both survive and when the smoke clears, just like Dawg and the others, you’ll be victorious.” Mockery edged her voice as she lifted her gaze then. “But why do I have a feeling that if it wasn’t for the fact that they are my family, you would have called them the second you had a chance?”

“Of course I would have,” he answered, his gaze gleaming with unabashed laughter. “There’s no one I’d rather have at my back. But they’re not the only game in town and they aren’t even in town at the moment. Remember? I have other friends. And I have other friends just as well trained and just as adaptable as the Mackays are.”

She looked around the kitchen slowly before arching a brow and meeting his gaze once again. “Are you hiding them in the closets?”

“That’s as good a place as any,” he informed her with a little wink before leaning forward and pulling up the recorder program on his phone. “I’ll see if they want to come out and play after we go over everything that’s happened.”

She knew he was going to ask about that. From the second she’d seen him standing in the doorway to Kye’s room, she’d known he was going to make her go over everything.

“I’d rather just forget it.” She’d lived through it, wasn’t that enough?

“Are you always this difficult, sweetheart?” The expression on his face became more wicked, hungry, as his voice lowered, his gaze darkening. “I have a cure for all that energy.”

“Stop.” She couldn’t handle it. She didn’t want to handle it.

Leaning her weight on her arms, she let her gaze meet his fully. “I’m not one of your damned flavors of the month, Graham. I refuse to be. And I sure as hell refuse to lose Kye’s friendship so I can share your bed for a few weeks. And I really don’t appreciate your insistence on making sure your sister and I are never friends again.”

His gaze narrowed once again. “Kye has nothing to do with this, Lyrica. And trust me, you two are far too close for her to drop you as she has others.”

“But you’re just fine with taking that risk, aren’t you?” Lyrica pushed back from the table and flashed him a disgusted look.

“Do you think I’m going to force you into having sex with me?” he asked her carefully.

“You don’t have to force me and we both know it.” Keeping her back to him, Lyrica walked to the entrance of the sunroom, taking in the closed shades and the cool, dim shadows that washed over the heavily padded furniture.

“Just as we both know Kyleene won’t drop your friendship and Natches won’t really put a bullet in me for it.” He was closer.

That quietly, that smoothly, he’d left the table and she hadn’t even known it. She hadn’t heard so much as a creak of the chair or his shoes on the wood.

Turning quickly, she found herself staring at the white material covering his broad chest as his hands lifted to cup her upper arms.

“All you have to do is say no,” he whispered, his head lowering until his lips were at her ear, brushing against the far too sensitive lobe erotically.

She was losing her breath.

Lips parting, Lyrica fought to take in oxygen as her hands pressed against the tight plane of his abdomen. She tried to swallow against the tightness in her throat.

Suddenly her whole body was too sensitive. Her breasts swollen, nipples aching. The skin over her stomach remembered the brush of his fingers, the dampness between her thighs reminding her far too much of his lips and tongue tasting her there, throwing her into such a rush of pleasure that the need for it was almost addictive now.

“Do you want to say no, Lyrica?” Those diabolical, far too experienced lips moved to her neck as her head tilted helplessly for him.

Fiery, electric fingers of pleasure tore across the nerve endings just beneath his lips to the swollen, aching bud of her clit as it pulsed between her legs.

She couldn’t say no. Did she want to? It was for the best and she knew it. Saying no was the smartest thing she could possibly do at this point.

But she couldn’t.

When his lips moved to hers, she was waiting for them. Hers parted, a moan slipping past her throat as his lips covered hers in a kiss that rocked her to her soul.

One hand gripped the back of her head; the other lifted her closer to him, wrapped around her lower back as he bent to her, then lifted her as her knees gripped his hips instinctively.

There.

A trembling cry escaped the kiss as her fingers speared into his hair to hold him to her, to immerse herself in the pleasure rushing through her senses like a tidal wave. How had she ever kept herself from begging for this? How would she keep herself from begging for it when her time was up? When the few fragile weeks he allowed his lovers came to an end?

Tightening her thighs around his hips, Graham cupped the curves of her ass and clenched erotically, sending another swift strike of sensation to her clit. The heavy length of his erection rubbed her jeans against the sensitive folds of her sex and sent damp warmth spilling out sensually. His lips plundered hers, his tongue stroked, rubbed, and tasted hers, and each caress, each flash of heat, made her weaker, pushed her deeper into the pleasure overtaking her.

She knew now what was awaiting her. She knew the lashing flames and spearing bolts of ecstasy that would consume her, and she ached for it. She hungered for it.

For him.

The thick support of one of the cushions that covered the lounge chairs met her back. Graham covered her, his hips pressing and rubbing into the vee of her thighs.

“Damn you,” he growled, his lips moving from her mouth to her neck, placing stinging kisses as the short length of his beard rasped against her flesh.

The erotic abrasion had her lifting to him, needing more. Fingers tightening in his hair, she held his lips to her neck, encouraging his teeth to scrape against it. His lips and tongue drove her insane as they stimulated the oversensitive nerve endings and responsive flesh.

“Damn clothes,” he snarled suddenly. Lifting his weight from her he pushed the silken top over her breasts.

Unbound, her nipples pebble hard, the swollen curves felt too tight, too sensitive as he cupped one with his palm and lifted it to his lips.

The sound of AC/DC’s “Highway to Hell” sang from the kitchen, the ringtone instantly pulling Graham’s attention from the needy tip of her breast.

“Fuck!” he bit out.

Jumping up from the lounge chair, his jaw tight as his gaze raked over her in hungry regret, he rushed to the kitchen.

—

Every cell in his body was screaming in outrage as Graham stomped to the kitchen and jerked the cell phone from the table. Activating the call, he brought the device to his ear with a sharp, “What?”

“You have friendlies entering the driveway,” Elijah hissed. “And don’t cuss me. I just found out myself when Cranston called Doogan. Now call Doogan and get me the hell out of here.”

“And how did they know where she was, Elijah?” Graham asked carefully, anger tearing through him. “Just how loud did you squeal?”

“Hell no,” Elijah retorted, the denial sharp. “I didn’t tell them shit. But I’m pretty damned sure Doogan might have texted Cranston. I saw him texting. Twenty minutes later the alarm coming into your property activated an image of Campbell’s truck racing past. Now get me the hell out of here.”

Graham disconnected the call.

Staring back at Lyrica as she stepped into the kitchen, her expression questioning, he couldn’t help but wonder if it wasn’t for the best.

“You’re about to be rescued,” he stated as he shoved the phone into the holster he’d taken it from earlier. “Your brother-in-law and god knows who else is pulling into the drive now.”

She didn’t speak; she just watched him. Damned if he could read that look, either. Somber, intense, expectant. What the fuck was he supposed to say or do? He was so damned hard he could drive spikes with his dick. The need to fuck her was like a hunger that burned and raged through his senses.

“Don’t leave, Lyrica.” He forced the words past his lips, and dammit, that was more than he’d ever given any other woman. He’d never regretted seeing one leave before, and he’d never wanted to ask one to stay longer.

“What would staying accomplish?” she asked softly. “I’ll end up in your bed and you’ll break my heart. Is that something either of us wants or needs, Graham? Do we want that between us?”

“And you think you can just walk away from it?” he asked, almost amused at the idea of it. “Son of a bitch, you really are too damned innocent for this, Lyrica. Otherwise you’d know it’s simply not that fucking easy.”

A frown pulled at her brow as she pushed her hands into the pockets of the jeans she wore and stared at her feet for a long moment. As her head lifted, her lips parting to speak, a hard fist landed on the front door.

“The cavalry,” he said, mocking her softly. “You’ve been rescued, baby.”

Turning, he strode from the kitchen and along the hall to the front door. Checking the security monitor at the entrance, he glimpsed Brogan Campbell’s hard features as well as Chief of Police Alex Jansen. Behind them, former special agent Timothy Cranston of the Department of Homeland Security.

He could sense Lyrica behind him. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw her at the kitchen entrance, still watching him with those dark, solemn emerald eyes. She wasn’t going to say a damned thing, was she? No protest, no regret. She was ready to leave, plain and simple.

Turning back, he jerked the door open and stepped back.

“There she is, safe and sound,” he snarled back at the men, ignoring their surprise. “Take her the fuck home and see if you can’t keep her ass out of trouble long enough to find out who the fuck is trying to kill her.”

He’d be damned if he’d watch her walk out of his house. Hell, he didn’t know if he could watch her walk away. He’d end up throwing her over his shoulder like a damned captive and trying to hide her away until he could get his fill of her.

Instead, he turned, moved to the stairs, and stalked up them quickly.

“Graham.” The sound of her voice stopped him just before he reached the last step.

He couldn’t help but turn. She stood in the foyer, staring up at him, her expression tightening his chest even though he had no idea why it should fucking hurt.

“Thank you for saving me,” she said softly, her hands pushed into the front pockets of those damned jeans again. “For not hesitating.”

“It’s no more than I’d expect one of your family to do for my sister,” he stated coldly, his hand lifting to the banister, his fingers tightening on it furiously. “It’s what friends do. Right?”

Pausing, heavily lashed lids blinked over damp emerald eyes before she finally nodded. “Yeah, it’s what friends do.”

Graham slid his gaze to the men standing behind her.

They knew. He could see it in their eyes, in the narrow-eyed suspicion and the gleaming anger reflected in them.

“Stop glaring at me, gentlemen,” he said derisively. “I promise, she’s not in the running for flavor of the month. She turned me down flat. You’d be real damned proud of her.”

They could see themselves out now.

Turning his back on them, he finished the final steps before striding quickly to his bedroom. Hell, he didn’t have time for this bullshit anyway.

The crack of the bedroom door slamming into the frame wasn’t nearly as satisfying as he thought it would be.

—

Lyrica flinched at the sound of wood crashing into wood as she stepped from the front door, her heart jumping into her throat at the sight of a half-dozen police officers standing at attention, rifles held ready in their hands as sharp gazes swept the area carefully.

Alex was in front of her, blocking the view of her, Brogan behind her, while Timothy and Jedediah Booker each covered a side.

“Brogan?” Pure terror crashed into her system at the sight of the security they’d left outside.

“It’s just a precaution, sweetheart.” Tim was suddenly there, his voice amused, affectionate. “Come on, we have to do the drama thing or Dawg would think we weren’t taking this seriously. You know what a damned bitch he can be when he thinks we’re not watching after his baby sisters.”

He was holding her close to his side, though, the four men keeping near to her as they escorted her to the waiting black SUV with the back door open at the bottom of the rock-lined steps that led to Graham’s front door.

She was shaking.

As Alex stepped aside from the open door and helped her into the SUV, his expression was far too serious and intent. This wasn’t just precaution.

Timothy followed her as she slid in, pushing her to the passenger side of the seat as Jed and Brogan moved into the front seats and Alex slid into the back row, directly behind her. She should have stayed in Graham’s house, she thought. If she had, then her sisters’ men and her mother’s lover wouldn’t be here protecting her and risking their safety.

“Did Graham call?” she asked Timothy, rubbing at the fingernails of one hand.

“No, Graham didn’t call.” Tim couldn’t hide the steely anger in his voice as he spoke. “He should have.”

She swallowed tightly. “Someone messed with my phone. And Kye couldn’t call me from hers. She used Graham’s because hers was acting so weird when she tried to call last night. He was afraid the numbers on my contact list might be compromised.”

Immediately phones were pulled. Brogan tossed Jed his phone and Lyrica watched silently as the back of each phone was opened, batteries were pulled, and the phones inspected carefully. Finally, they were put together again, turned on, and rechecked.

“Phones are clear, Lyrica,” Tim promised her, turning to watch her somberly.

“Mine wasn’t, Tim,” she informed him. “Graham wouldn’t lie to me and he wouldn’t lie to Kye.”

“I never imagined he would.” Running his hand over the top of his head, Tim blew out a hard breath. “Graham’s partner checked in with their boss and the boss notified us of your whereabouts. We’ve been trying to get hold of you since last night. We’ve had damned near every cop in four counties looking for you as well as countless DHS agents in the area. We were about to call Dawg when I received the text informing me of your whereabouts.”

“Graham’s boss?” Lyrica frowned back at him now. “Graham joined DHS?”

Kye had been certain over the past few months that something was up with her brother, that he was acting far too secretive. Evidently, she was right.

“No, he hasn’t joined DHS.” Tim sighed, glancing away from her momentarily. “I spoke rather loosely perhaps. Graham doesn’t work for DHS, but sometimes, he reports any anomalies he sees. He reports this to another agent who then reports to D.C.”

“I hate it when you lie to me.” And he was lying; she knew all the signs. Her mother had laughingly relayed those signs to all her daughters to ensure that, in his efforts to protect them, Tim didn’t keep needed information from them. “And I’m telling Mom as soon as I see her. Maybe you’ll tell her the truth.”

Tim grimaced before wiping his hand over his face in irritation. “Dammit, Lyrica. I swear to god, the Mackays are going to drive me to an early grave and that’s the damned truth.” He cursed under his breath.

“Graham’s not officially an agent, Lyrica, and his work with whatever agency he’s with can’t be mentioned. Especially to his sister, Kye.” Brogan met her gaze in the rearview mirror then. “Give us time to get you back to your mother’s place and we’ll explain everything.”

She rather doubted they would explain anything more than they absolutely had to. She knew these men, and she knew their protectiveness and determination to keep the true extent of their work from those they loved. How much her sister Eve knew of Brogan’s work, she wasn’t certain. But Piper laughingly claimed that as far as she could tell, Jed was no more, no less than the contractor he claimed to be, even though she knew he and Tim locked themselves in Tim’s office far too often to “discuss” things.

Tim only did that when he was gathering information on things that were going on in the county that he needed to report back to DHS.

Retired, her ass.

Her mother as well as her sisters all knew Tim wasn’t nearly as retired as he pretended to be.

“Your mother’s beside herself with worry,” Tim told her softly as he reached over and patted her shoulder gently. “We’ve all been damned worried.”

“I know. I’m sorry, Tim. I tried to call.”

“I guess Graham has the phone?” Brogan growled then. “I’ll head back and pick it up later. We’ll need it.”

Lyrica lifted her head, turned, and stared through the darkened window of the SUV rather than answering.

Yes, Graham had her phone, but she’d left more than that at his house. She could feel everything inside her longing to return, to assure him she didn’t want to leave. That she didn’t care which flavor he wanted her to be that month, as long as he tasted her again.

How pitiful was she? How desperate?

Just as she had always known she would be.

If Tim and the males of her extended family hadn’t shown up, she would be in his bed now. She didn’t have the strength to deny him again. Nor did she have the strength to shock him into stopping as she had that morning.

She’d known it had simply been a reprieve. Staring into his eyes after he’d pulled back from fucking her mouth, the taste of him still lingering on her tongue, she’d been shocked by her own response, by the acts she’d already shared with him. Rocked by the pleasure and hungers she hadn’t known she could share with any man, she’d needed time to come to terms with it. Or a chance to deny herself what she wanted most.

As she’d lain beneath him on the lounge chair in his sunroom, she’d known there was no running, no denying. There was no way she could walk away from him.

Until Tim had arrived with a protection detail to rival the president’s.

Seeing the police officers stationed to cover her exit from the house, the way she was escorted to the SUV, and how she was blocked by large male bodies now, she knew every iota of freedom she’d wrested from Dawg over the past few years was over. Once he found out about this, she’d probably be locked up so tight and so deep that she wouldn’t taste sunlight for days on end.

Dawg was too protective.

But, she admitted at the moment, she was terrified, too.

And all she wanted was to run and hide in Graham’s arms again.