“Just a taste of what’s coming,” Natches snapped. “Because Dawg hits a hell of a lot harder. And don’t doubt we have her ass covered. Well enough to know how often you follow her, how long you hang around outside her apartment, and just how many questions you’re asking. Back the fuck off. She doesn’t need you.”

Graham narrowed his eyes on the other man, fury pumping hot and strong through his system as he felt ice begin to spread through him. Natches had been a hell of a sniper, but he wasn’t the only hunter the Marines had created. And he wasn’t nearly as desperate as Graham was becoming.

“That one was free, Mackay,” he rasped, his voice harsh, the need to hit back swirling through him. “For Lyrica, only because I know she likes that pretty face of yours.” Her most handsome cousin, she called the other man fondly. “The next time that fist goes rabid on me, though, I hope you know how to duck. Fast.”

Natches chuckled. “I guess we’ll see, won’t we? Because if you don’t stay the hell away from her then you’re going to get the chance to try for it.”

The other man turned and strolled casually back to the door, pulled it open, and stepped into the hall before closing the door behind him and leaving Graham in the dark. Leaving him with the memory of that brief moment when her taste had burned through his senses like nothing he’d known before.

Maybe he just needed to get laid, he thought as the music from the party below intruded on his thoughts. But not here, not tonight. Not until he could escape the memory of her kiss, of her touch, and the hunger for more that was only burning brighter than ever.

Reaching up, he probed at the rapidly swelling flesh of the left side of his face. Fucker! Natches couldn’t just hit the eye or just pop him in the mouth. Hell no, the bastard had to take out the whole side of his face. He’d remember that if the chance ever came around to return the favor.

He couldn’t blame the other man, though. If it were Kye that some bastard resembling Graham was sniffing after, then he knew he’d do the same.

Or worse.

Maybe, if he was lucky, the blow had knocked some sense into his head.

Hell, he just wasn’t that lucky.

Son of a bitch. He just hadn’t needed this.

TEN

The next morning, Lyrica pulled into the parking lot of Mackay’s Bed-and-Breakfast Inn, incensed.

She was furious. She couldn’t believe the gall of her cousin Natches. It wasn’t bad enough that she had to listen to the gossip for two hours straight at the spa. Hell no—when she called Kye to confirm the rumors, her best friend wouldn’t even speak to her. In fact, she’d informed Lyrica that she wouldn’t speak to her again until Graham’s face had healed from Natches’s blow.

“Really, Lyrica.” Kye sniffed tearfully. “Graham wouldn’t even tell me who hit him. I had to find out myself from some little twit who was actually at the party.”

“You act as though I can control Graham or Natches,” Lyrica protested. “For god’s sake, Kye, you know better than that.”

“I know I can’t stand to see how horrible his face has been bruised.” Kye had been furious. “I refuse to even speak to a Mackay until it’s healed, and that includes you.”

“Kye . . .”

“Not until it’s healed,” Kye snapped angrily. “Every time I see his face I just get more furious.”

She hung up the phone. Lyrica was still staring at the device a moment later when a text with an incriminating photo popped up: Graham, glaring at his sister as she snapped the picture. And the left side of his face was bruised so horribly she gasped.

The second she left the spa she headed straight to her mother’s inn. God knew she loved her cousins and her brother, but this was going too far.

Stomping up the steps, she pushed into the foyer, eyes narrowed, searching for Tim. There were very few people who could even attempt to talk any sense into a Mackay. The only one she knew of was Tim.

The sound of voices in the common living room, a shared space for the guests and family, had her turning and stepping into the large room.

Her mother, Mercedes, sat at the round café table next to an open window and sipped coffee as her guest and new friend Carmina spoke in soft, sweet tones.

Mercedes’s head turned as Lyrica came into the room, her eyes widening as she hurriedly set down the coffee.

“Excuse me,” she told Carmina distractedly. “I’ll be right back.”

Anger was churning so hard, so hot inside Lyrica that it was all she could do to hold it back as her mother gripped her arm and steered her quickly from the common room and across the foyer to the dining room, then into the kitchen.

“What in the world is wrong?” Mercedes demanded, her voice low as her gaze swept over her daughter. “Are you okay? Is Zoey well?”

“Oh, I’m fine,” she bit out roughly. “But Natches Mackay is another story, Momma, because I’m going to brain him.”

Mercedes stepped back, staring at her daughter in shock. One hand propped on a still-shapely hip, she lifted the other to her face, her fingers covering her lips and chin thoughtfully for a few long seconds.

“Oh, dear,” she murmured. “What has Natches done now?”

“What has he done?” Lyrica all but snarled. “Not only can I not attend any party that goes on in this stupid county without being carded, having my brother called, or being asked politely to leave, but I guess whenever one of their know-it-all friends decides to pull me out of one, instead of waiting on permission, Natches thinks it’s perfectly acceptable to plow his fist into the man’s face. My best friend’s brother’s face, actually, and now Kyleene isn’t speaking to me at all.” Fists clenched, she lifted her hands and pressed them to her temples as a vicious groan rasped from her throat. “He’s insane.”

Mercedes was still staring at her in shock. Her mother evidently couldn’t believe Natches would stoop so low, either.

“Oh, dear.” She breathed out softly. “So Kye is angry with you?”

Lyrica breathed out roughly, shaking her head at the futility of what she seemed to be facing before answering. “Kye’s furious. And I can’t even blame her.”

“How can she blame you for what transpired between her brother and your cousin?” Her mother sounded confused now. “Dear, it wasn’t your fault. It seems a misunderstanding, nothing more. You know how they get when they believe the wrong sort of man is paying attention to you and your sisters. He likely simply misconstrued the situation . . .”

Lyrica flushed heatedly. She couldn’t help it.

The moment her mother even hinted that Graham was attempting to seduce her, she flushed so brilliantly there was no hiding the truth from her too-perceptive mother.

“Oh.” Her mother drew out the word slowly. “So, exactly what did Natches see, Lyrica, that made him so irate that his fist and Graham’s face became so well acquainted?”

Oh, didn’t her mother have a way with words? And tones. She was speaking to Lyrica as though her daughter was five and had been caught attempting to distract attention from her own actions.

“Momma, whatever Natches may have seen, he saw because he invaded the privacy of a room that was off limits. I am over twenty-one. I am not mentally deficient, and neither am I in any way unable to decide for myself who to take for a lover,” Lyrica stated, calmer now, but no less furious. “And I won’t lose my friendship with Kye because Natches got a little pissy over the fact that I kissed Graham. Not the other way around.”