She finished dressing quickly, as he advised, wondering at the Mackay family that John seemed to have made friends with so quickly.

He hadn’t been a man that made friends easily before. She had seen when she met Rowdy that John was close to these people, though.

His sister, Candace, said that John had found his roots. That he had finally found a place where he felt he belonged. Sierra wanted to see that place. She wanted to meet those people.

Moving down the staircase moments later, she could hear the murmur of conversation, the sweet, melodic gurgle of infants. Not just one, she saw as she stepped into the kitchen area and looked into the living space, but four. Four approximately twelve-month-old toddlers with thick, thick black hair and varying shades of devilish green eyes. And all four turned to stare at her, just as their protective mothers and fathers did.

What a very interesting group. The women were so diverse at first glance, ranging in height, hair color, as well as expression. Of the four men, only one didn’t have black hair, but he looked just as hard, just as arrogant, as the other three.

“Sierra.” John’s voice held an odd tone, one she had never heard when he spoke her name before. “Come, meet my friends.”

The introductions were made easily as John placed his hand firmly at her lower back and led her into the thick of the group to the empty recliner that faced the sectional couch where Chaya, Kelly, and Christa Mackay sat with Janey Jansen. Janey was a Mackay before she married Somerset’s Chief of Police, Alex Jansen, the man who stood beside his wife’s seat, his gray eyes watching Sierra curiously as the Mackay cousins watched her with varying degrees of curiosity and, strangely, acceptance.

It was the tiniest of the four babes who drew her attention, though. Barely walking, her spring green dress flaring around her fragile body, she toddled over and offered Sierra a bite of a baby biscuit that she held in her hand.

The biscuit was well gnawed, gooey at the tip, and the smile the little girl aimed up at her stole her heart.

“Do you have goodies, sweetheart?” Sierra whispered as she leaned close, her arms crossed on her knees as the little girl chortled up at her. “I bet it tastes very good.”

It was offered again, this time more solemnly.

With a grin, Sierra leaned close, pretended to take a bite, then grabbed a quick little kiss from a chubby cheek.

And the child was well satisfied. She laughed, held on to Sierra’s knee, and turned back to her mother as though she had just undertaken a miraculous feat and jabbered a string of unintelligible words with lots of “ma-ma” mixed in.

“And that little charmer is Janey and Alex’s, Erin Jansen. She’s the baby of the family. Behind her is Natches and Chaya’s daughter, Bliss.” Bliss looked back at her solemnly, as though she were considering every nuance of the moment before she went back to the toy she was playing with. “In the yellow dress is Dawg and Christa’s little tomboy, Laken.” The baby playing with the little toy truck. Sierra couldn’t help but grin. “And the lazy one over there sleeping is Rowdy and Kelly’s, Annette.” Rosy cheeks, black hair, and a perfect little baby face, Annette was snoozing through all the commotion from a padded spot at her mother’s feet. “And here’s Faisal and Timothy Cranston. Faisal is Natches and Chaya’s adopted son, and Timothy is the pest no one can seem to get rid of.”

Sierra smiled back at the young man of Middle Eastern heritage, who looked perhaps twenty-three or -four years old, but it was Timothy Cranston that held her gaze the longest.

He looked rumpled, his thinning hair mussed, his brown eyes somber and intense yet shaded with a hint of mockery. He was older, she guessed late forties, and the lines at his mouth, forehead, and lips bespoke a man who had known far too much grief.

“Mr. Cranston, it’s nice to meet you.” He reminded her of her father.

Timothy’s head tipped to the side as a small smile played about his lips. Stepping carefully over babies, diaper bags, and toys, he offered his hand.

The handshake was gentle, his gaze respectful.

“John’s mentioned you a time or two,” he stated. “He didn’t tell us how pretty you are.”

Erin jabbered again in excitement before Sierra could reply, her arms reaching up as her animated little face creased into one huge smile.

“And there’s my girl.” Cranston’s voice softened, became filled with emotion as he picked the little girl up off her feet and cuddled her against his chest. “Unca Timmy missed you, sweetie.”

Unca Timmy?

Sierra looked around and saw the looks the others were giving him.

“You’d have to know Cranston to understand,” John chuckled. “You’ll figure it out.”

She rather doubted it, but she let the memories soak in rather than fighting them. The women were a friendly bunch, talking easily about far more than babies. The conversations shifted until she found herself locked into a lively political debate as she noticed John and the others slipping out to the deck then up the outside staircase.

“Ignore them,” Kelly, her blue eyes shimmering with laughter, advised her. “They always escape when we all get together.”

“Unless there’s food involved.” Chaya rolled her expressive, dark gray eyes as Christa laughed over the comment.

“John says he’s known you most of your life,” Chaya commented. “He’s told us your favorite food, favorite drink, favorite movie, and how you came by those bruises. Tell me, Ms. Lucas, are you using our John for safety then running out on him, or do you have something more permanent in mind?”

Sierra blinked back at her. The woman looked like an interrogator now rather than a mother, a friend, or a wife.

“Perhaps that’s a question you should ask John,” she stated as she stared back at the other woman directly. “Funny, the only proposal I’ve ever heard come from his lips was for another woman.”

“And I understand you took care of that one right quickly,” Chaya pointed out as the other women looked on in amusement.

“She was cheating on him.” Sierra narrowed her eyes at the other woman. “Do you have a problem with me, Mrs. Mackay?”

“Only if you intend on breaking John’s heart,” Chaya informed her.

“Then, we may all have a problem with that,” Kelly chimed in.

“And if he breaks mine instead?” she asked. “Excuse me, ladies, but I truly don’t think you have anything to worry about where John’s concerned. He’s a really big boy, and trust me, he takes care of himself very well.”

She wondered at these new friends of John’s even as she wondered if anyone had cared when he had broken her heart.

“We would care if your heart was broken as well, Sierra,” Christa stated then, drawing Sierra’s attention. “We know John, though. We know how he’s spoken of you over the past year, and we know you’re important to him. Forgive us for being protective.”

Sierra stared back at her and for a moment wished she had friends such as these four women. Women who might have understood, who might have supported her those months when losing John had hurt so much.

“I have no designs on your friend,” she told them all clearly. “He’s the one that left Boston, not me. Now, I think it might be a rather good idea if we change the subject.”

John eased away from the open doorway and glanced back at the men who had followed him down from the top deck, intending to move to the office by the quickest route of straight through the room.

Instead, he turned, moved quickly to the side of the houseboat, and made his way to the back.

Son of a bitch, he’d heard the pain in her voice and he hated it, just as he was certain the others had heard as well. He was coming to the conclusion that something more than he remembered had definitely happened that night in Boston when she had come to his apartment.

He knew Sierra. He knew her like he had never known another woman, and he knew a simple case of him passing out on her wouldn’t have produced this result.

“Boy, you have something to fix with that girl,” Timothy muttered as John pushed open the glass sliding doors off the back deck.

“Let it go, Cranston,” he ordered.

“We’re going to back him this time, John,” Dawg stated, his deep voice quiet, intense. “That girl sounded as lost as a whipped puppy, and you know that’s not going over real well.”

The four men behind him were protective, especially of women. As John understood it, they always had been, even during their wild, often lascivious pasts.

“Let’s concentrate on finding out who the hell is trying to kill her, then I can concentrate on making damned sure I don’t lose her,” he growled as he turned back to the other six. “Can you give me that much?”

They stared back at him with varying degrees of suspicion.

“We’ll give you that time, JW,” Cranston drawled. “And if she runs back to Boston in tears, then we’ll see just how hard we can kick your damned ass.”

John didn’t doubt that in the least.

“Here’s what we have,” Dawg stepped in. “There were definitely prints on the shoreline, though someone tried to brush them out. By the position our watcher was sitting in, they were watching your boat, and they were there for a while. One set of prints, definitely male, I’d say about a size ten maybe eleven, it was hard to be sure with the deliberate attempt to erase them.”

“Ms. Genoa is still in town as well,” Timothy informed him. “She was going into the Mackay Café for lunch as I headed here.”

“She’s been there every day for the past four days,” Faisal broke in, his tone hushed. “She asks questions about John Walker and if he has a lover, who his friends are, though many simply shrug, and others tell her to ask him herself.” Faisal was likely one of those “others” if his mocking smile was anything to go by.

“No one knows you have anyone on the boat with you, that I can tell,” Rowdy told him. “There’s no gossip about it at the marina. Most people here really don’t give a damn, but I doubt they’d lie if asked, if they have seen her.”

John shook his head. “She’s been inside so far. The doctor should be here later this afternoon to check her out, then maybe it would be a good idea to pull out for a while.”

“Not yet.” Natches shook his head then. “Dawg and Christa are keeping Bliss for me tonight, Chaya and I are going to do a little midnight hunting. Just keep her inside, keep the curtains pulled, and we’ll do the rest.”

“I hate this.” He pushed his fingers restlessly through his hair. “I want to catch the bastard myself, but damn if I want to leave her alone long enough to do it.”

He would trust the other men to look after her at any time, but he knew Sierra would start asking questions if they did. And he didn’t want the fight that would come with it. He had a very bad feeling she would head straight back to Boston if she knew the trouble had followed her there.

“Let us take care of this, John,” Natches stated, his voice hard. “If things start to look dangerous, we’ll reassess then. Right now, we’re just watching. Agreed?”

At any other time, John would have never trusted that statement from a wild-assed Mackay, but he knew since they’d found the women who held their hearts, each of them was more careful.

He nodded slowly.

“And while we’re all watching your back, why not see what you can do to hold on to that girl,” Dawg ordered him in a slow, lazy drawl. “She suits you, John. She suits you real good.”

And she did. That was something John knew all too well. Sierra suited him far too much.

NINE

She had always suited him.

John watched Sierra with the wives and children of the friends who were more like brothers to him. He’d always fought that knowledge, and now, he simply couldn’t understand why. He’d wasted so many years of his life running from the one woman he knew now was meant to be his world, and he didn’t even know why.