“Don’t you ever sleep, Dawg?” she questioned him, hearing the roughness in her voice, feeling the heat that still flushed her body, and terrified he’d realize what she had been doing.

The look in his eyes sent guilt tearing through her.

He looked as miserable as she had felt at the bar. His celadon eyes were a shade darker, still such a light color it was hard to tell whether they were green or a very light blue or gray in the dim light of the room.

A heavy frown pulled at his brow as he reached back, rubbed at his neck, and sighed wearily.

“I couldn’t go home without checking on you,” he admitted. “I had to make sure you were okay.”

“I’m fine, Dawg,” she said with a sigh, her chest tightening with such regret and pain that the ache actually tugged at her heart. “But isn’t it a little late for a married man such as yourself to be running the roads?”

A heavy expulsion of breath met her question. “Some things can only be done at night, it seems.” He grinned back at her. “But this couldn’t wait.”

“Well, as you can see, I’m fine.”

He shook his head, ran the fingers of one hand through his hair, then propped both hands at his hips before sliding them into the back pockets of his jeans.

Damn, her brother was nervous. She had never seen Dawg nervous.

“You know,” he finally said roughly, “I was damned proud of you tonight at the bar. You kept your head and didn’t let Sandi goad you with her insults. But once she struck, you took care of things damned well, Eve. I worry, you know.”

He looked away from her for a second, clearly not finished.

“Why?” she asked anyway.

“I worry about you and your sisters,” he admitted. “That somehow you’ll get hurt, seriously hurt, because I might not be where you need me. Or because someone decided to go on a rampage wherever you are. Knowing you have the ability to defend yourself makes me breathe a little easier. I’ll sleep a little better.”

God, he was serious.

The surge of thankfulness that he even thought about her while she wasn’t in his sight rushed through her. It was almost as strong as the guilt tearing her apart now that Brogan was no longer touching her.

“Dawg, I try to be careful,” she promised him. “And I know Piper, Lyrica, and Zoey do as well. You, Rowdy, and Natches have taught us to fight and how to use our heads. The rest of it is up to us. You can’t watch us twenty-four/seven.”

He nodded slowly, looked away again for long moments, then turned back to her.

He cleared his throat. “About Brogan—”

“No.” Eve gave her head a hard shake as her hand clenched on the side of the door. “I can’t talk about Brogan, Dawg. Please.”

This was tearing her apart. It was destroying her as nothing ever had. As nothing ever could. Guilt at her deception, at the knowledge that Brogan was standing just on the other side of the door between her bedroom and the sitting room, dug into her heart. It was like a lance piercing her soul, the knowledge that she was breaking her word to the only person who had ever given a damn about her besides her mother and sisters.

* * *

Dawg knew guilt when he saw it. Just as he knew the agony of thinking, believing something that should have been his never would be.

The day Christa had told him she had lost their baby when she had been little more than a teenager, that summer she had run from Somerset. He’d felt it then. Felt his soul being sliced in two with a jagged blade.

That was the pain he saw in Eve’s eyes now as nervous guilt darkened them.

How could he tell her he hadn’t meant for her to believe she was betraying him with Brogan without effectively giving her permission or the go-ahead to have a man he knew would endanger her?

She would become a weakness to Brogan as well. A man doing what Dawg suspected Brogan was doing couldn’t afford such a thing. A woman like Eve could break a man’s soul when she was harmed because of his job or something he was doing. But even more, it would destroy Dawg and ensure that he killed Brogan himself.

“You know, Eve,” he finally said, “I’ve always been proud of you, and I’ve always been proud to call you my sister.”

She stared back at him, the pain in her expression only intensifying as she looked away from him, blinking.

“You’ll always be my sister, Eve,” he tried again, knowing he was failing.

“Thank you, Dawg,” she whispered, nodding as she stared back at him. “That means more to me than you know.”

He pushed his hands deeper into his pockets. Maybe he should have brought Christa with him.

“I’m really tired, Dawg.” Those were tears in her voice.

He sharpened his gaze on her face, catching the glitter of moisture in her eyes, and cursed himself. He could kick himself if he could reach his own ass, he thought. Son of a bitch, what was he doing to her? Was this the kind of father he was going to be?

His sisters were practice, he’d always said. Lately, all he’d done was make them cry.

“I don’t want to see you hurt, Eve,” he tried again. Pulling his hands from his pockets, he laid them on her shoulders, forcing her to stare back at him. “Sometimes, just because our instincts might be right about the person, they’re not always right about whether or not we can trust our hearts to them, you know?”

“Please, Dawg.” She stepped back from him slowly. “Go home to your wife and daughter. Get some sleep. I’m all tucked into bed, safe and sound. No one’s going to hurt me tonight.”

No, she didn’t understand.

He breathed out in irritation and self-disgust.

Yeah, this was a job for Christa.

“I’ll do that.” He sighed. “Get some sleep, Eve.”

“Good night, Dawg.”

Stepping back, she closed the door, and a second later the sliver of light at the side of the heavy curtains covering the glass blinked out.

Dawg shook his head, paused, then turned on his heel and forced himself to walk to the main porch entrance where he’d parked.

Once he reached the steps, he paused.

Eyes narrowed, he looked around slowly.

Something wasn’t right. . . .

* * *

Brogan stepped back into the room, finding Eve as she stood by the patio doors. Her head was lowered, the midnight black silk of her hair falling around her face as he watched her shoulders tremble for a second.

He could shoot Dawg.

The son of a bitch just didn’t know when to leave well enough alone.

“I can’t keep doing this.” Eve shook her head as she lifted it before moving across the room to where he stood.

Walking past him, she jerked the door open and stalked into the other room of her suite before turning to face him.

“Afraid he’ll be watching for me?” he asked, unable to keep the mockery out of his voice.

“He’s suspicious.” She lifted her shoulders in a shrug. “I don’t want him to know I broke my promise to him, Brogan. Until I decide what’s more important, how my brother feels or what you want from me, then I can’t keep doing this.”

Crossing his arms over his chest, he frowned down at her. “Have you asked me what I want from you, Eve?” Hell, no, she hadn’t. But she didn’t have a problem making decisions about what he wanted from her without his input, it seemed.

“I’m not ready to know,” she admitted, and that only pissed him off further. “But I do know that Dawg has never asked me or my sisters and mother for anything. Not a damned thing, Brogan, for taking us in and securing our lives and our futures. Everything we have and everything we are, we owe to him. And all he’s ever asked is that I stay away from you until you can prove you’re not the man his contacts say you are.”

There, it was all out in the open now.

His jaw clenched in anger as he glared back at her, wondering whether she believed the rumors or believed in herself and her instincts.

“And what kind of man do his contacts report I am?” he asked carefully.