“They’ve grieved for ten years,” Slade replied as he sat back in his chair and regarded the rest of them. “Especially Cord. Kenni was his shadow while she was growing up and he was damned proud of her. Every year on the anniversary of what he believes is her death, he gets skunk-drunk and doesn’t talk about anything but Kenni and his mother. He feels guilty for not being there for them. It was one of only a few times he hadn’t accompanied them.”

“Chances are pretty slim then.” Lara nodded before looking down at her papers and making another note.

“Chances are zero,” Jazz sighed. “But I swore not to contact him. She’s adamant that her family not be told she’s still alive.”

“Fear they’ll be hurt? Or is she really convinced one of them is involved?” Zack questioned.

“I’m not sure.” Running his hands through his hair before rubbing the back of his neck in frustration, Jazz tried to make sense of the woman Kenni had become. “We have less than two weeks left before Cord comes looking for answers, though. I have that long to convince her to trust him.”

“Well, good luck on that one,” Kate sighed. “She really didn’t seem inclined to trust anyone the other night or now, let alone family. Thankfully, we don’t need her to initiate the investigation into who ordered her mother’s death.”

“Kin won’t trust the two of you,” Jazz warned them. “You’re not from Loudoun, nor are you blood-related to anyone tied to the Maddox family.”

Kate smiled. One of those soft, seductive little smiles that he’d seen entrance men when she turned it on them.

“Now, sugar,” she drawled as sweet as any southern belle. “Don’t you know men talk, too? I just have to find the right one, at the right time, who’s had just the right amount to drink. That’s not as hard as you think it is.” The deliberately suggestive wink had him almost feeling sorry for whomever she chose as prey.

The door to the porch was pushed open hurriedly and Kenni stalked inside. Anger and accusation filled her brilliant-green eyes. The look only made him harder.

“You called Cord,” she hissed, that anger transforming into rage as she stood glaring at him. “Why would you do that, Jazz? You promised.”

“I didn’t call Cord,” he denied, his arms crossing over his chest as he narrowed his gaze on her. “Trust me, if I had, the whole fucking clan would be here.”

A little trust wouldn’t hurt, he thought mockingly. She could give him her virginity, but she refused to trust him. Now, wasn’t that some shit?

“Well, he just pulled in,” she snapped, fear and a haunting ache shadowing her gaze. “I swear to God, Jazz, tell him who I am and I promise you, you’ll never find me when I run.”

Before he could counter the threat she turned and raced through the house, returning no doubt to the bedroom.

Son of a bitch, could this get any more fucking complicated?

Turning to Kate and Lara, he nodded toward the direction Kenni had taken in an indication that they retreat as well. If the twins were going to be investigating the Kin, he didn’t want Cord knowing who they were before the investigation started. No doubt he’d run their backgrounds the second he caught sight of them, but those two were damned good at covering themselves. Better to let them establish whatever cover story they came up with before Cord knew they were there.

No sooner had the twins disappeared from sight than Marcus let out a warning woof to alert Jazz that someone was crossing the yard and heading for the house. The yard and pool was his territory as far as he was concerned, and he didn’t care much for trespassers.

“Easy, Marcus,” he called to the Rottweiler before turning to face the windows looking out on the back porch. Hell, it wasn’t even noon yet. No one should have to deal with Cord Maddox before evening at the earliest.

Seconds later Cord stepped onto the porch. Six two, lean, powerful and glaring at the world, ready to take it on. He’d been trying to take it on for ten years, too. The loss of his mother and baby sister had been too much for the other man’s overdeveloped sense of responsibility and love.

He’d never stopped blaming himself, and Jazz knew he never would.

Cord didn’t bother to knock. The stares leveled on him as he stepped into the house couldn’t have been comfortable. Like a bug under a microscope he was pinned by all of them, assessing, suspicious, and wary.

“Maddox, what the hell do you want?” Jazz bit out, irritation threatening to spill over in the other man’s direction. He hadn’t tamped down the anger from their last little meeting, and adding to it might not be a good idea. For either of them.

A dark-blond brow lifted with lazy arrogance while cynical humor curled at the corner of his lips.

“Not in the best of moods this morning, are you, Jazz?” he observed as he moved to the coffeepot, found himself a cup, and poured the last of the steaming liquid into it. “Get up on the wrong side of your little schoolteacher?”

Cord knew she was here. They’d expected that. Still, the comment didn’t sit well.

“Wrong direction to go in, Cord.” He’d end up teaching the other man his manners with a fist at this rate.

“Interesting.” There was no amusement in Cord’s expression, despite the smile that quirked his lips as he opened a cabinet door and pulled out the creamer Jazz kept hidden.

“Just make yourself at home,” Jazz invited, the heavy mockery in his tone fully intended as Cord stirred a heaping spoon of the creamy powder into his coffee.

“I thought I was.” Turning, Cord faced the room, sipped at the coffee, and waited.

What the hell he was waiting for, Jazz didn’t even want to guess.

“Miss Mayes doing okay?” Cord asked when no one volunteered to guess at what he wanted. “I heard there was an accident in town the other day?”

Jazz knew why he was there but wasn’t going to make it easy for Cord. A surefire way to make a Maddox suspicious? Make something easy for them.

“She’s doing fine,” he growled. “She thinks it was some drunk driver.”

That drew Cord’s attention long enough for the others to unobtrusively slide their papers and files beneath laptops or tablets.

“Hmm,” Cord murmured before sipping at the coffee once again. “A drunk driver, you say?”

“Are you saying anything different, Cord?” Slade asked before Jazz could voice the question.

Cord leaned back against the counter, stared at the slate floor for long moments before lifting his gaze once again and meeting Jazz’s.

“The driver of that car doesn’t drink,” he stated, his eyes narrowed as they met Jazz’s, suspicion now filling the emerald orbs and making them brighter.

Jazz tensed.

“You know who it was then?” he questioned the other man. “You here to tell me who he is, or just trying to piss me off?”

“Probably both,” Cord drawled lazily, his lips thinning in obvious irritation. “Which do you want first?”

“The name.”

All he needed was the name.

“The driver was Joe Fallon,” Cord stated. “But you’re not going to get to question him. See, this is where I get to piss you off. Or you get to piss me off.”

Adrenaline was building, pulsing in his blood with a demand for action.

“What makes you think I’m not going to question him?” He’d tear that fucking mountain apart if he had to.

For the briefest moment rage flickered in Cord’s emerald gaze before disappearing as though it had never been there.

“Because he’s dead.” Lifting the cup to sip again, Cord watched him too intently. “Deacon, Sawyer, and I went up the mountain to his cabin this morning to ask him about it. It appeared he’d been shot just as he came through the door into the kitchen of his cabin.” He set his coffee cup on the counter before turning back. “Now, I just gotta ask, Jazz, you kill him?”

Jazz, Slade, and Zack had an agreement with the Maddoxes. Anything that demanded action against Kin, they’d notify a Maddox. Any action against anyone Slade, Zack, or Jazz was known to affiliate with, and the brothers came to him. Just as they had with Kenni.