“Ava, we need to talk,” Mark said softly.

Ava glanced up at him, and for just a moment, Davis could have sworn he saw a flash of longing in her eyes, too.

Hell. He stepped forward, aware that his brothers were all following his lead. They knew about Shayne’s last words, but they hadn’t told them to Ava. Not yet. They wanted to do more digging first.

But it looked as if they might have just run out of time...

Because Mark appeared to be done with waiting.

Davis stepped in front of Ava. “Stay away from her,” he told his friend.

“What?” Mark looked at him as if Davis had lost his mind.

Maybe he had, but Davis wasn’t about to lose his sister, too.

“We know, Mark,” Davis said. “Shayne told us.” It was a deliberate push, to see what Mark would reveal.

But Mark just shook his head. “You don’t know anything.” He leaned in close to Davis. “And you aren’t going to keep me away from Ava. I’m done waiting.”

The words were a threat, and Davis tensed, more than ready to do battle.

“Not here,” Brodie said, grabbing his arm. “Not now.”

He’d almost forgotten they were at a cemetery and the grieving were all around them.

Mark stepped back. He gave a curt nod, then turned on his heel and stalked away.

Ava yanked Davis around to face her. “What are you doing? Are you crazy?” she demanded. Ava was small, delicate, an exact opposite of her brothers. But she had the McGuire eyes—green and glinting with emotion.

“Ava...” Hell, he didn’t know what to say then. “Mark isn’t... He may not be the man you think.”

Her gaze hardened. “And maybe he is.” She stepped back from him. “Maybe he’s exactly what I need.” Her voice was determined.

Then Ava straightened her shoulders. She turned away. Walked slowly and carefully and left him behind without a backward glance.

“We’re going to have trouble,” Grant muttered.

Yes, they were.

But no one was going to hurt Ava. Davis would keep her safe, no matter what.

Even if I have to battle another friend...I will. I will protect my sister, at all costs...

* * * * *

Keep reading for an excerpt from DECEPTION LAKE by Paula Graves.

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Chapter One

The weather was warm for March in the Smokies, or so the woman at the diner counter informed Jack Drummond when he commented on the heat as he took a seat at the counter and scanned the large menu board behind her. She was a broad-shouldered woman in her late thirties, with work-worn hands and a plain but pleasant face devoid of makeup. The name tag over her left breast read Darlene.

“Won’t last,” Darlene warned in a hard-edged drawl as she pulled a pen and order pad from her apron pocket. “We’ll get another frost in time to kill off all the daffodils that’ll be blooming.” She shrugged. “Spring in Tennessee.”

Jack could tell Darlene a few stories about spring in Wyoming that would curl her lanky brown hair. Late-season snowstorms piling up in feet, not inches. Winds so strong and cold they seemed to blast the skin right off your face. But he refrained, ordering a steak sandwich and a sweet tea, his gaze sliding past the beer menu without snagging for even a second.

Progress.

The bell on the door behind him tinkled as another customer came in from the March sunshine. A woman’s voice called out, husky and lightly tinted with a Texas twang. “Darlene, do you have the to-go orders for The Gates ready?”

The skin on Jack’s neck prickled, and he swung his head slowly toward the newcomer, certain he’d imagined the familiar tones he’d heard in the feminine voice. She’d be too old or too young, too tall, too short, hair too red or not red enough, wrong eyes, wrong face, wrong build.

But not this time. In the middle of Purgatory, Tennessee, on an impromptu fishing trip with his brother-in-law’s family, he’d finally tracked down Mara Jennings.

He’d been looking for her for four years to make amends.

It was one of the twelve steps, one he hadn’t taken where Mara Jennings was concerned. But now that she was standing right in front of him, so close that he could lean forward a few inches and touch her arm, his tongue felt like lead and his pulse began to roar in his ears.

She must have felt his scrutiny, for her cool blue eyes flicked his way, her own gaze resting a brief moment on his face before sliding back to the waitress at the counter.

She hadn’t recognized him.

Was that possible? He’d been a little lax about getting his hair cut since he left the rodeo circuit, and he’d put on ten pounds now that he wasn’t shooting through gates on the back of a thousand pounds of pissed-off beef and trying to hang on for eight seconds of sheer adrenaline. But it wasn’t his face that had gotten crushed under Coronado’s rolling body. His looks hadn’t changed that much.

Then her gaze snapped back, her brow creasing slightly as her eyebrows dipped to a V over her nose.

He managed to find his voice. “Hi, Mara.”

She froze in place for a moment, her expression going completely blank. Then she gave a short nod. “Hi.”

“So, this is where you disappeared to. I wondered.” He licked his dry lips. “I was so sorry to hear about your sister.”

A flicker of pain darted across her still face, so brief that he wondered if he’d imagined it. But when she spoke, her voice came out on a soft rasp. “Thank you.”

“I’m sorry about everything, really. Especially the way things ended.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Forget about it, Jack. I have.”

The hardness in her tone shouldn’t have come as a surprise, given how badly he’d messed up the last time they saw each other. And the cool indifference should have been a relief, a reassurance that his selfish stupidity hadn’t crushed her spirit completely.

But he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was very, very wrong with Mara Jennings.

“I know it’s been a long time, but I’d really like to talk to you a little more, try to explain a few things. Could you make some time for me?”

She shook her head. “Jack, I’ve moved on.”

“There’s still the matter of the money.”

Her brow furrowed again, her eyes darting toward him before sliding away. “This is about money? Really?” She sounded confused.

Now he knew something was wrong.

“Seven thousand dollars, Mara. Plus four years of interest?”

Her lips pressed to a thin line. “Was there anything in writing?”

He stared at her, unease twisting a knot in his gut. “No, of course not. You know there wasn’t.” He took a step closer to her, unable to stop himself. “Are you okay?”

Alarm flickered in her eyes before she turned toward the waitress, who’d just returned to the counter with a box filled with individual brown paper sacks. She didn’t answer his question as she pulled out a credit card and handed it to the waitress to process.

While Darlene was running the credit card through the system, Mara continued to ignore him, her small, round chin lifted with a hint of haughtiness he’d never seen in Mara Jennings during the year he’d known her.