both oddly hollow and self-righteous all at once, she turned, opening her front door to let him out.
“Wait.” Instead, the man actually pushed the door closed, shoving her up against the wall.
Once again she raised her gun. “I’ll shoot you,” she warned.
To her stunned disbelief, he dared to reach out and touch her bare arm with his cold, wet fingers, ignoring the weapon. She felt a shock go through her, an electrical jolt, which she knew must be because his unusual masculine beauty attracted her. Living alone for so long, she was nothing if not honest with herself. Looking at this man made her desire him, which of course infuriated her. Not now. Especially not now, while Bonnie’s life was at stake.
Shaking her head, she bared her teeth as she shook off his grip. “Back off or I’ll shoot.”
“I hope you told the truth when you said you have silver bullets in that thing,” he drawled. “Otherwise, you know as well as I do that you’re wasting your time.”
“Of course I have silver bullets.”
“Why resort to violence? You could at least let me talk, listen to what I have to say.” He shrugged. “For me, violence is always a last resort, to be used when all other avenues are exhausted and I’m at the end of my rope.”
Again, truth. This man was nothing if not truthful. Mostly.
“If you’ll talk to me, I won’t report this to the authorities,” he said.
Blackmail. Still, it was effective. Since he had a point, she lowered the gun. Of course she had no intention of trusting him or letting him pretend to help her find her sister, but she could listen to his spiel, and then send him on his way. They always said the same thing, with very little variance. She’d listen and pretend she’d never heard any of it before. And she’d keep her pistol ready.
“I’ll give you ten minutes,” she said. “If I let you say your piece, after that you have to go. Agreed?”
Instead of answering, he moved on past her. Startled, she followed right behind him into the foyer of her small ranch house, trying to ignore the fact that he was dripping puddles of rainwater on her clean tile floor.
From the bedroom, one of her dogs started barking, prompting the others to join in.
“What do you have in there, a kennel?” he asked, one brow raised.
She didn’t even crack a smile. “My personal pack. Canine pack,” she elaborated, crossing her arms. “Start talking. Your timer is running.” Glancing at her watch, she met his gaze. “Right about now.”
Instead of jumping to do her bidding, he simply stared at her, one corner of his sensual mouth curved in the beginning of a smile.
Short of manhandling him—and really, as if she could—there was little she could do. They were getting smarter and more brazen, these faceless shifters who made up this Pack of Protectors. Prior to this, they’d always sent females, probably in the hopes that she would bond with them. This time, sending a hot man to try to coerce her, aware that she lived alone, without companionship or sex … Nothing short of brilliant.
That is, brilliant if she were anyone else. But Kelly McKenzie didn’t need anyone. Ever. She was fine on her own.
As the seconds ticked past, she felt a flash of fury.
“If you’re not going to speak, then go. Leave me alone,” she growled, holding herself stiffly in a classic lupine warning, knowing he’d recognize it.
“I can’t leave you alone,” he said, his deep voice ringing with both sincerity and desperation. “As you’ve said, your sister’s been taken. So have my children. I’ve come to bargain with you, Tearlach. Yours for mine.”
Staring at him, she narrowed her eyes. He dared to confirm what she’d only suspected? The Protectors truly had been the ones who’d captured Bonnie?
Disbelief mingling with fury in her gut, Kelly brought her weapon up to bear on his heart. “Don’t use that word. Your kind only defile it. I should shoot you where you stand.”
Either unwilling or unable to see how close to the edge she was, the stranger stood his ground, meeting her gaze dead-on. She could have sworn rage rather than fear simmered beneath his calm expression.
“Look,” he said. “I know your family split up. I’m not saying we have your sister, only that we can help you find her. What I am proposing is a trade for a trade. Your people have something of mine, my kids. I want them back.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said distinctly. “I don’t know anything about any kids.”
His clear gaze never wavered. “You might have had the luxury of lying once. But not now, not to me. The stakes are too high. Don’t tell me you don’t know who I am.”
She should just shoot him. But something about him—maybe his firm belief that he spoke the truth—interested her. “I’m sorry. I don’t.”
Briefly, he closed his eyes. When he opened them again, the deep blue startled her. “Then let me educate you. I’m Mac Lamonda.”
The name sounded vaguely familiar. But still, she couldn’t place him. “Okay, Mac Lamonda. Now tell me what you mean that I have your kids. If you’d bothered to take a look around here, you’d see there are no children, yours or anyone else’s.”
His jaw set, he stared her down. “I think you know I don’t mean you personally,” he spat. “You Tearlachs. Your people. When my mate died, your father came and took them. Without my permission, without my knowledge. I want them back.”
Then it clicked. This couldn’t be him. He should have been dead. “You’re Maggie’s husband,” she whispered. “The one who … I’m so sorry.”
“You ought to be,” he snarled. Then, while she was puzzling over this new development, he jumped her, knocking her gun from her hand and twisting her arms behind her back. And then, just before he began to speak, her front window exploded.
Chapter 2
The blast slammed them to the ground. Instinctively, she covered her face with her arm, breath temporarily knocked out of her. She’d hit her head, hard enough to see stars, and thought she might be bleeding.
What the—?
As she struggled to suck in air, she remembered the man. Mac Lamonda. Her cousin Maggie’s widower. Lifting her head—the only part of her she could move at the moment—she saw he’d landed half on top of her. He was motionless, his sooty-lashed eyes closed. She was so stunned and shocked that for a moment she thought he was dead.
But then he moaned and she realized he was only unconscious. Dead weight. Shifting her legs, she managed to heave him off them.
From outside, thunder boomed, startling her. She was hot, too hot. And surrounded by smoke, clogging the thick damp air, making it difficult to breathe. Dimly she became aware that fire roared nearby. Hot. Too close.
One of her dogs barked. Another howled
