Turning onto it with a spray of dirt and gravel, he was forced to fight the steering wheel for a precious second before the Viper was racing toward its location once more.
The direct route to the inn would alert Davis and his fiancée, if she was involved, that he was coming. The back road that ended just behind the tree line behind the house would hide his arrival. Something warned him that slipping into the house might be all that saved Lyrica.
Some inborn sense of danger, a warning he didn’t dare ignore, tightened in his gut. This was why a move hadn’t been made. Someone had known she would make her own move.
Davis couldn’t have known her that well. But the fiancée had been at the inn for months. Long enough to have gotten to know Lyrica. Long enough to know how close each girl was to her mother.
Damn, he should have seen this coming. Lyrica had called her mother just after leaving her apartment that night. She’d told Mercedes she was coming, that she’d just left. Carmina would have known Lyrica was on her way. If Davis was just waiting for a chance to get to her, then he could have easily been in place to force the Jeep off the road.
If Lyrica’s vehicle hadn’t been so well reinforced, she would have been dead. Whoever had driven that van—Davis, he was guessing—hadn’t been expecting the steel reinforcements Dawg had welded into the frame just in case something like that had happened during the years he’d driven it.
It would have taken far more than a van ramming the passenger side to hurt the driver. If he’d rammed the driver’s side, then he’d have accomplished his goal. The sheer force of the blow would have killed her.
But he’d hit the passenger side, expecting the Jeep to crumple and fly over the edge into the depths of the ravine.
He hadn’t been wrong about Lyrica making an appearance on her own sooner or later, though. But was he expecting it this soon?
He couldn’t know Graham knew he was alive. He was suspected to be dead, and there was no way anyone could know Graham had even tied this to Betts Laren.
Unless Carmina Lucient’s presence at the inn had enabled her to learn far more than even Graham feared.
TWENTY-ONE
Lyrica remembered the years in Texas, before Timothy had found them and saved them. Before he had brought them to Kentucky and given Dawg the chance to show them what family really meant. She remembered the fear whenever Chandler had arrived, his strict, icy presence filling the house with a heavy, fearful tension.
And she remembered those few times she and her sisters had been separated from their mother.
Mercedes hadn’t sat at home worrying or pacing. She had searched for her children while they were in foster care. She had fought Chandler. She had even risked her own safety by threatening to report her daughters as missing. She had put her own life, her security, and her need to provide her daughters with a better life on the back burner to ensure their safety.
And Graham expected Lyrica to wait, knowing her mother could be in danger soon? Knowing her mother was worrying for her? She hadn’t even been able to talk to her mother or Zoey in the time Graham had kept her hidden. She had only seen her two older sisters because their fiancés were working with Graham on the investigation.
Pulling the pickup into the driveway of the inn, she was relieved to see that Carmina’s car wasn’t in the driveway. Timothy’s pickup was there, as well as her mother’s sedan and Zoey’s beat-up, too-fast, older-model Mustang.
Guests were normally absent through the middle of the day. Sightseeing, shopping, and other activities kept them busy, which left the inn reasonably quiet.
She was already throwing open the door to the pickup as it rocked to a stop. Running the short distance to the steps leading to the wraparound porch, she was certain she would hear the Viper racing behind her at any second.
Pulling open the door and rushing into the foyer, she quickly moved through the dining room to the kitchen.
It was empty, and that was unusual. Her mother was normally in the kitchen in the afternoons with whichever daughter was helping her that day, going over the next morning’s menu and preparing a light dinner for guests returning that evening.
The realization that she wasn’t there had fear sending Lyrica quickly to the other end of the kitchen, where Timothy kept a handgun holstered beneath the wide lip of a prep counter. Reaching beneath the counter, she found the holster empty.
Ice formed in her veins.
Secondary.
He’d placed a secondary in the kitchen after the trouble her sisters had faced the year before. Her mother was usually in the kitchen and Timothy wanted a backup that no one was aware of. Lyrica had been there when he’d placed it, but her mother hadn’t been. He’d warned her not to tell her mother because Mercedes tended to be very nervous in the areas where the weapons were hidden.
Moving silently, her gaze returning often to the dining room entrance, she went to her knees, quickly opened the lower cabinet doors hidden behind the prep area, reached up, and found the smaller-size Glock holstered there.
Extra clip, god love Tim’s over-prepared heart. Still kneeling, she pulled the weapon and ammo clips free and shoved the extra clip into her back pocket. Watching the entrance from between the boxes of dry supplies stacked beneath the prep counter, she chambered the first round as quietly as possible before rising to her knees and pushing the weapon into the band of her jeans.
Smoothing her T-shirt over the gun, she fought back the fear as she had when she was younger. She buried it beneath the knowledge that if she didn’t act, if she didn’t do what had to be done, then the consequences could be more than she could bear.
Before she could begin straightening, a scraping at the back door caused her to freeze. She eased back to retrieve the weapon she’d tucked into the band of her pants. Holding it in a two-handed grip, the barrel pointing to the floor, she peeped around the counter, her heart thundering in her chest as she watched the door slowly ease open. Mouth dry, her throat tight with the knowledge that whoever was coming in was coming in way too slow assailed her.
The house was too quiet. A heavy sense of impending danger seemed to slide through the air like a bad smell. Even the slight breeze that slid through the door as it swung slowly open couldn’t dispel the heaviness in the air.
No one stood in the doorway, though. For a moment, it looked as though a ghost had opened it.
“Lyrica, shoot us and I’ll crack your ass.” It was all she could do to hold back her sob at the sound of Dawg’s voice.
Dawg wasn’t the only one who stepped quietly into the kitchen. He came in, his stance watchful, covering the two men who moved in behind him.
Straightening slowly, she did nothing to hide the weapon she was carrying.
“Timothy’s spare weapon is missing,” she whispered, knowing Dawg was aware of the hidden positions of the guns. “The backup he placed beneath the cabinet last year was still in place, but I was the only one here when he placed it.”
Dawg nodded, his pale green eyes watching the dining room doorway carefully. “And he told you to keep it to yourself.”
She licked her dry lips nervously, all too aware of the fact that Graham’s eyes had flickered to the weapon she still held.
“Timothy, Mercedes, and Zoey aren’t answering their cell phones,” Natches stated softly. “Have you seen them? Heard anything?”
She shook her head. “There was no way to miss the fact that I arrived, though.”
Dawg’s gaze moved to her for a moment before turning back to the dining room entrance.
“Then you’re the only one he’ll expect,” Dawg murmured.
“Timothy’s security system has every room covered, except bedrooms,” Graham stated softly, his gaze still locked on her. “They’ll know we’re here.”
Dawg shook his head at that. “When I couldn’t reach him, I instigated a fail-safe he has installed.”
“Paranoid bastard,” Natches muttered. “Especially since hooking up with Mercedes.”
> “Love does that to a man,” Dawg growled, glancing back for a second, his expression hard, his gaze furious.
Graham remained silent.
“Zoey’s not screaming,” she whispered, moving closer to them. “You know Zoey, Dawg.”
That terrified her. Zoey would rush hell with a bucket of water for their mother. And she would do it loudly. She may be a recluse, she may try every excuse in the world to avoid family, but she never avoided her mother, and now that her older sisters were no longer at the inn, she was there every morning and every evening to help Mercedes.
“I know Zoey,” he agreed. “But she’s not foolish, either.”
“Let’s get this taken care of,” Graham ordered then, his own voice still below a whisper. “I have other things to do.”
He had another flavor to find, no doubt.
Flicking him a contemptuous glance, Lyrica turned back to her brother, aware of Natches watching her carefully.
“If you ask me to leave, then I might shoot one of you.” Her first choice wasn’t family, either.
Dawg grunted at that. “Give things time, little girl. We have other interested parties moving into place. I’m just waiting for them to get ready.” He touched his ear, revealing the small, almost invisible Bluetooth earbud he wore, which she knew was linked to a central radio.
They were moving through.
Natches moved slowly into the room and the door was closed silently before he and Dawg moved to either side of the door leading to the dining room. The dining room would be their warning, she thought as she watched them from the side. Anyone coming from the stairs would be within sight of the doorway leading to the foyer, directly across from the kitchen. Anyone coming from the hallway entrances to the guest suites had to pass by the dining room.
“Plan?” Natches murmured then.
Dawg’s eyes narrowed. “We spread out and find them.”
“Timothy would be in his office right now,” Lyrica stated. “Mom should have been here in the kitchen with Zoey. If someone has them, then they’ll be together upstairs.”
Dawg nodded slowly as he said, “Did you get that?” His gaze narrowed. “Check it out.”
Lyrica’s eyes narrowed on Natches then. Shifting her weapon to a one-handed grip, she held out her other hand demandingly. She wanted her own link.
His gaze flickered icily, and a second later he gave a negative movement of his head.
They were going to push her out. The hard flash of pain that seared her chest was surprising. It shouldn’t have been.
Before she could pull her hand back, Graham reached out and dropped one in her palm, the almost clear bud lying innocently in her hand as he glared down at her.
Natches’s curse was a sibilant hiss as she curled her fist around the earbud, maneuvered it between her fingers, and tucked it in her ear. Once it was in place, she pressed the activation button at the end and waited.
“Angel can’t get eyes in the office,” Tracker stated softly through the link. “Rowdy, can you override the window darkening?”
“That’s all internal,” Rowdy answered soberly.
Lyrica tucked the Glock in the back of her pants, listening as Rowdy and Tracker discussed the best way they could possibly override the controls for the window darkening.
It wasn’t possible, Lyrica knew that. Timothy had always felt that whatever trouble came inside the inn couldn’t be as dangerous as what could be waiting outside the window of his office on any given day.
But there was another direct line of sight into the room that would afford a view of everything but the exact area where his desk sat. Should anything happen, Mercedes and her daughters knew they were to stay behind that line. If they came upon the office and the sliding doors that led to it from the hall and from the attached bedroom were open, then they were to get out of the house.
Fast.
“There’s two other views in if there’s trouble,” Lyrica stated softly, quickly explaining the line of sight into the office.
“Checking.” Hard, without emotion, a female voice came over the line.
“I have sight from the west,” a male voice answered. “Sliding door retracted, no one in sight.”
“Sight from the south,” said the female long moments later. “Door retracted, no one home.”
Lyrica shook her head.
The small area where it was possible to hide would have been large enough for Timothy, her mother, and Zoey. It would have been crowded, but very possible. Of course, no enemy would have much of a chance if they were that close to Tim.
She swallowed tightly.
Someone was there. Wherever her family was being held, they were no doubt being held. She knew it from the absence of the weapon normally hidden under the prep counter, the doors left open to create the view into his office, the utter silence in the house.
She waited.
Dawg, Natches, and Graham were too focused on the doorway at the moment.
“Options?” Tracker asked.
Graham’s gaze shifted to Dawg’s, Natches shook his head, and he blinked.
Lyrica moved quickly, rushing through the doorway into the dining room and sliding out of their reach.
“Wait!” she hissed when Graham moved to follow her.
He paused, but his expression assured her that only surprise had him pausing.
“They don’t know you’re here.” She kept her voice at a breath of sound then tapped her ear. “You’re with me. Cover me.”
Graham was shaking his head.
“Can you do this, little sister?” Dawg asked somberly. “Are you sure?”
“No.” Before Graham could pass through the doorway, both Dawg and Natches were blocking him.
“Back off,” Natches hissed.
“Lyrica?” Dawg asked again.
“You two taught me,” she whispered. “You taught me how to do this, just in case. Right?”
They’d taught her and her sisters how to help them protect or rescue them. Dawg, Natches, and Rowdy had also taught them how to play the decoy if they had to.
This was a have-to, she thought.
“No,” Graham growled again as Dawg stared back at her for long, tense seconds.
If he didn’t agree with it, then Natches would make sure it didn’t happen.
“Did you think she was a little china doll we just wrapped up in cotton and sat on a shelf to look pretty, Graham?” Dawg asked then, his gaze still holding Lyrica’s.
“No, I didn’t,” Graham snarled, furious. “She’s not a soldier, either, nor is she a trained agent.”
Turning to him slowly, she saw something in his expression that had her throat tightening. He was concerned, furious, worried. She might be more than a flavor, but still, she was far less than what she needed to be to him.
“It’s not your choice,” she whispered.
His jaw jumped in rage. “Get hurt, and it won’t be your choice when I kill these two fuckers!”
Natches and Dawg glanced at each other, concern flickering across their expressions, urging her to move, warning her that they were no more than a second or two from changing their minds.
And didn’t that make sense?
Why would Graham’s threat bother them when he hadn’t concerned them until now?
Turning, she moved quickly away from them and strode through the dining room and into the foyer.
“Mom? Tim?” she called out, as though confused. “I need to talk to you. Where are you? Zoey?”
Her sister. Her baby sister. Zoey had suffered the most at Chandler’s hands, though none of them had ever understood why. She was the one he had struck at every opportunity. The one her mother had had to wait the longest to have returned to her when they were taken away. But Zoey was a fighter. She was the temperamental one, the one most likely to spit in the face of an assailant.
“Zoey? Dammit, where the hell are you?” she called out, anger covering the fear as she started up the stairs.
“Easy,” D
awg murmured at her ear. Graham wasn’t speaking.
Where was he? Had he left?
Would he desert her now?
“Lyrica,” the voice announced as she reach the top of the stairs and Kevin Davis stepped from the family’s private living room.
“Kevin.” She forced herself to smile, to stare back at him as though pleasantly surprised. “Where is everyone?”
He frowned, scratching his head, his brown eyes giving a damned good impression of confusion. “I’ll be damned if I know, Lyrica. I made it back early and wanted to surprise Carmina.” Propping his hands on his hard hips, he looked around, frowning. “No one’s here.”
“Did you check Tim’s office?” She moved past him to stride up the hall, expecting him to stop her at any minute.
“I’ve been through every room, Lyrica,” he announced from behind her. “Even the office. Do they usually leave the house unlocked when they leave?”
“Something’s wrong,” Natches muttered, whether to her or to the others, she wasn’t certain.
The office was empty. “Did you open the other doors?” she asked, moving to the retractable door between Tim’s office and the personal suite Tim and her mother shared.
“They were all closed.” He sighed. “I left them open just in case there was a problem.”
She turned to him slowly. “Did you expect problems?” she asked.
“The last time I was here there was a weapon hid in the living room and one in the dining room,” he said. “They’re not there now.”
He didn’t mention the kitchen.
“Mom’s, Tim’s, and Zoey’s cars are outside,” she said.
“Carmina’s is parked in the back,” he told her, his expression hard, suspicious. The type of look her brother or cousins got when they were concerned.
What was he up to?
She could hear Dawg and the others in the background, their voices hushed as they discussed the situation and Kevin’s part in it. He was a damned good actor if nothing else, because if she didn’t know better, she would swear he was innocent.