She did that to him sometimes, he thought. Made him feel as though he were touching a woman for the first time, feeling things he hadn’t felt before.

“Everything’s in place.” Elijah entered the bedroom, carrying the medic bag he kept with him whenever possible.

“I’m okay,” Lyrica assured Graham, her voice still trembling as she glanced at the bag.

“I have to be sure, baby.” He touched her cheek with the tips of his fingers because he couldn’t help himself. Because he had to touch her, to feel her warmth, to be certain she was alive.

She was silent as he moved back, her gaze following him, holding his gaze, as Elijah began his own examination.

Elijah was gentle, his expression, his actions showing no hesitation, no personal emotion as he touched her. His hands went over her arms and legs, his fingers pressing into her belly, her sides. His voice was quiet as he questioned her. Checking her temple, he then ran his hands over her head and through her hair before sitting back.

“I’d still prefer she be x-rayed and checked over by a physician,” Elijah finally announced as he rose from the side of the bed and packed the blood pressure cuff and stethoscope back into the bag. “So far, though, she appears fine.”

“Dawg’s Jeep is built like a tank,” she stated, her voice still weak. Too weak to suit Graham. “I had enough warning to twist the wheel before they hit, though. The moon was shining on the chrome. They had their lights out.” It would seem Tracker’s backer had taken matters into his own hands without giving the mercenary a chance to complete the contract after all.

“They made a mistake,” he assured her.

It shouldn’t have happened this time.

His fists clenched at his sides as guilt struck at his chest. If he’d heeded his own instincts, then it wouldn’t have happened. If he hadn’t trusted her brother’s precautions and instead done as everything inside him had demanded and kept her with him, then no one would have had a second chance to attempt to take her from him.

She looked away from him before turning on her side and drawing her knees up slightly. She looked lost, forlorn. As though this attempt on her life had somehow drained the hope that the first one hadn’t touched.

Waving Elijah from the room, Graham locked the door before turning back to her, his eyes tracking over her slender figure.

She was dressed in white shorts and a sleeveless shirt. White leather sneakers covered her feet, though her clothes and the shoes were dirt streaked now. Her fragile arms and legs were scratched and heavily bruised, the sight of them striking a match to the rage already simmering inside him.

“Dawg and the others will be here soon,” he told her, striding across the room to stand beside the bed. “Are you leaving with them, Lyrica, or are you staying here?”

He didn’t expect her family to demand she leave, but with Natches, anything could happen.

She looked up at him, vulnerability darkening the emerald depths of her eyes as her lips trembled momentarily.

“Answer me,” he growled, his fingers curling into fists at his sides at the thought of her being taken from him again. “If they demand you leave, Lyrica, what will you do?”

She licked her lips nervously, the resigned fear that filled her eyes slowly evaporating as that sparkle of determined will began to return.

“What do you care?” she demanded mutinously, color beginning to return to her pale face as she pushed herself into a sitting position.

Before he could answer, a determined knock at his door sounded.

“Graham, let me in!” Kye cried out. “I know she’s in there. Let me in.”

Grimacing at his sister’s demand, he turned away from Lyrica’s question and moved to the door instead. As soon as he unlocked it and pulled it open, he was all but run over by his sister in her haste to get to her friend.

“Oh my god.” Coming to a stop in front of Lyrica, Kye rocked back on her feet, staring at her friend in shock. “Lyrica, sweetie, you have to stop getting into trouble,” she demanded, her voice thick with tears. “I don’t know if my nerves can take much more.”

His sentiments exactly, Graham thought with a spurt of affection for his sister.

“Yeah, I’ll get right on that—promise,” Lyrica said with heavy irony. “Why don’t you be a real friend, Kye, and get me some clothes or something? I really need a shower.”

Kye glanced back at him in question.

Nodding, Graham let his gaze move over Lyrica one more time. She wasn’t shaking now, and the terror that had held her in its grip seemed to be relaxing marginally. Not that he could blame her for any of it, but he needed her fighting.

“In a minute, I’ll do just that,” Kye promised as she turned and dragged the chair Graham kept by the bed into place where she could face Lyrica.

Graham watched in resignation as his sister sat down, crossed her jean-clad legs, and stared at her friend like a prosecutor prepared to drag a statement free.

“Ah, Kye,” Lyrica groaned, her head hanging as she braced her hands on the mattress beneath her. “Don’t look at me like that. I don’t have any answers for you. I swear I don’t.”

Graham leaned against the door frame, almost grinning at the mutiny in Lyrica’s voice. His sister could be a demanding little wretch when she wanted answers, and that look on her face was well-known.

“I haven’t asked any questions yet,” Kye snorted. “I was more concerned with how you’re feeling.” Concern filled her face as she reached out to push back Lyrica’s hair and check the scratch on her face. “Lyrica, I told you not to be out driving at night, didn’t I?”

“You did.” Lyrica sighed.

“You didn’t listen to me, though, did you?” Kye demanded almost angrily.

“Kye, regardless of what you think, I don’t obey your every whim.” Amusement mixed with the exasperation in Lyrica’s voice. “Come on, I’m okay, right? Let’s just focus on that. And once you get me some clothes, I can get a shower and face my brother and cousins and god only knows who else before they arrive here soon.”

Kye’s head lifted, her eyes narrowing as she turned on Graham then.

“I’m not leaving again,” she stated stubbornly.

Graham frowned back at her. “You know the rules, Kye,” he reminded her. “You can stay with Sam, or I’ll have you flown out to California. It’s your choice.”

He didn’t leave room for argument.

“I hate this,” she snapped. “Lyrica’s my friend, Graham. She shouldn’t be stuck here alone.”

His eyes widened at the outburst as a deliberate chuckle left his lips. “What am I? She’s not alone, Kye. I’ll be here and god only knows who Dawg Mackay will try to force me into allowing to stay. I won’t have you endangered by this, and besides, how am I supposed to seduce her if you’re here to run interference? Think about that one, since it was your damned idea.”

Whatever argument was brewing in her sharp mind was thrown into reverse as Lyrica suddenly swung her head around to look at him, her eyes narrowing as he turned and stalked from the room.

He might as well put it out in the open now, he thought. He’d be damned if he’d let Kye’s little rule about being her friend affect his chances of keeping her in his bed any more than he’d let her brother’s objections.

She was his. He’d already made his mind up, and by god everyone else could step the fuck back or else he’d just push them aside. As of tonight, her objections could go to hell. She wanted him just as damned much as he was aching for her, and he was damned well about to do something about it.

—

Lyrica turned and stared back at Kye, who seemed to look at everything in the room but her.

“What have you done?” she asked her friend wearily. “Kye, dammit, I thought we agreed that sleeping with your brother was against the friendship rules or something.”

Kye’s gaze swung back to her then, the militant light gleaming there making Lyrica’s neck itch in warning.