With that he turned and moved quickly from the room, his footsteps heavy, his warning ringing in her head.

“No one said a Mackay was easy to talk to.”

Lyrica swung around to face Rowdy as he stepped through the back door, his handsome face creased in concern as he stared at her quietly.

Rubbing at the chill that raced over her arms, she stared back at the cousin they always said was the logical one. The one who could be reasoned with. Today, none of them knew the meaning of the word “reason.”

“He’s irrational,” she whispered, shaking her head. “All of you are.”

His lips quirked into a gentle, understanding smile.

“Not irrational, simply determined to protect family.” Moving to the counter, he poured a cup of coffee from the heated coffeepot and sipped at it before leaning against the counter and watching her with the solemn concern he seemed to approach every problem with.

“How can you agree with this, Rowdy? It’s wrong.”

He turned to face her slowly.

Sunlight slanted through the window at his back, striking at his black hair and his forest green eyes, warming the white short-sleeved shirt he wore tucked into belted jeans.

“Whether or not I agree with him is beside the point.” He shrugged. “I understand how he feels, though.”

“Am I wrong, Rowdy?” The logical one, Rowdy rarely let his own personal opinion of someone cloud his actions. “Do I see a good man where something else exists?”

“I believe Graham’s a good man, Lyrica,” he finally said. “I believe he’s an honorable man. But a man’s lust is rarely driven by his honor. And a man like Graham has buried the kind of vulnerability that would let him love a good woman, so deep he doesn’t even believe it exists anymore. The question then becomes, does he want you enough to revive it? Because that’s the only way he’ll have you without all three of us coming down on him like a nuclear explosion the first time someone calls you one of his bimbos.”

She flinched at the reminder that she and Kye weren’t the only ones who noticed the women, or the type of women, Graham went through so casually.

Maybe she did need to move just far enough away that the Mackays couldn’t oversee every move she made or every man she became interested in.

“You know, if you were like your sisters, dating regularly, doing all the crazy shit they’ve gotten into over the years, maybe Natches wouldn’t be so extreme,” he told her gently. “But you don’t. You sneak in a party here and there, knowing you’re going to be dragged out, but that’s about it. It’s never serious for you. And Graham Brock is the only man you’ve ever focused on. That scares us. Because we know Graham, and we know that even good men are capable of bad things.”

“And all three of you evidently lost touch with reality a long damned time ago,” she told him roughly. “My life or who I sleep with is nobody’s damned business.”

His face hardened. “And that’s where you’re wrong. You’re a Mackay, Lyrica. Whether you like it or not you’ll always be a Mackay. And trust me, trouble and Mackays go hand in hand, to the point that we’ll never, at any time, turn our backs if you’re getting involved with a man who has the same ability to find danger as we’ve always had. If you want to have a nice, quiet, sane affair then find a nice, quiet, sane man to have it with and I promise you, I’ll stand in front of Dawg and Natches myself to make certain you can have it in peace.”

An instant, instinctive response came over her. Her lips thinned; her eyes narrowed.

“Why, Rowdy,” she drawled, “where would the fun be in that?”

Turning on her heel, she pulled the back door open and stalked from the house, outrage trembling through her body. Her cousin watched her with thoughtful focus until she disappeared.

Rowdy listened, heard her Jeep start and, seconds later, pull from the drive.

He snagged another coffee cup from the cabinet and poured it full before lifting it and carrying it with his own to the breakfast table that sat on the other end of the kitchen.

Natches didn’t disappoint him. He was there within seconds of Rowdy taking his seat, from where he watched nature at its finest just outside the window as a doe and her spotted fawn bounded through the forest.

“She’s too damned stubborn,” Natches growled as he jerked a chair out and straddled it furiously. “If we’re not careful, she could end up devastated.”

Rowdy turned and gave his cousin a firm look. “Keep Trudy retired.”

Trudy was Natches’s modified rifle, the same one he’d used to kill the cousin who’d threatened them all. With the additional threat Lyrica was facing, Natches may not keep his promise to keep his first instincts in check.

“I’ll let Trudy sleep,” Natches assured him with a grin. “For now.”

Rowdy breathed out at the statement, relieved, then turned at the sound of the door opening again.

Dawg stepped inside, a scowl on his face as he tromped over to the coffeepot and poured his own mug.

None of them mentioned the fact that no one knocked before entering the house. They did that at one another’s homes, just as their wives did. They were home, no matter which house they sat in, and that was how they liked it. Sometimes, it was as though they were triplets rather than first cousins.

Rowdy watched both of them with narrowed eyes. “I’m going to assume Graham Brock made the same visit to you two that he made to me this morning?”

Dawg made a sound somewhere between a growl and a snarl.

Natches crossed his arms over his chest and grunted in irritation.

Rowdy breathed out heavily. Lyrica had missed Graham by only moments when she’d arrived at Timothy’s office earlier.

“Suggestions?” he asked when neither of them commented.

“Shoot him!” Natches and Dawg spoke at once.

“We have a plan, remember?” Rowdy growled, then he glanced at them both thoughtfully. “How long would she grieve for him, do you think?” Rowdy asked as though he were actually considering the prospect.

“Would the three of you really like a suggestion or are you just considering it for appearance’s sake?” Chaya asked as she, Christa, and Kelly stepped into the room.

Rowdy bit back his grin as the other two gave him a long-suffering look.

“A suggestion we could live with would be nice.” Dawg was the one who answered, his voice morose as he lifted his coffee to his lips.

“Do what you always do,” his wife said softly as she bent to kiss the top of his head lovingly. “Track the danger, keep a close eye on it, intercede if you have to, torture the hell out of Graham, and keep to the original plan. Just make sure he realizes the future discomfort he’ll face if he breaks her heart. But let Lyrica make the choice, and if the fall hurts, then let her hurt, Dawg. Let her live.”

“Or she’ll hate all three of you.” Mercedes Mackay stepped into the room then, with Timothy close behind her.

“Geez, Timothy, we didn’t invite your ass,” Natches snarled, though with a lack of heat that actually indicated his respect for the other man.

“Nice to see you, too, Natches,” the other man said with a grunt. “And as always, your hospitality overwhelms me.”

Moving to Christa and Chaya, Mercedes hugged them briefly, thankfully, then gave each man a hard, firm look. “She’s your sister—cousins or not, I count each of you her brother, not just Dawg. But she is my daughter. If I can bear her broken heart, then so can you.”

“Who called them?” Natches muttered, despite the affection in his gaze as he glanced at the dark-haired beauty Timothy Cranston had managed to fall in love with.

“Rowdy invited me before he left the office,” Timothy answered. “It seems Graham’s made a point to come to each of us to protest his lack of involvement in the investigation concerning the attack on Lyrica.” Timothy’s face held no evil smile, no wicked anticipation. He was far too somber. “Which, coincidentally, gave me an idea.”