Hell, Eli knew Doogan was already in her bed. His truck had been in the garage, but the spare guest room was empty and Doogan hadn’t been anywhere else. As Eli had stood in the living room, he’d heard the faint sounds from Zoey’s bedroom. It was as well soundproofed as most of the bedrooms; still, the slightest sound had escaped and Eli had made himself leave the apartment entirely.

Hell, he’d ended up dozing in his truck until daylight. Now, he had to figure out what to do.

He should have never obeyed Doogan’s order to bring her to Louisville with him. He should have told the bastard to get fucked. It wasn’t like Doogan could really fire him for it. But Eli hadn’t been able to get the memory of the torment on Doogan’s face that night out of his mind.

And now, Eli told himself furiously, he was fucking paying for it in spades.

He liked to think he was a fairly intelligent man most days. He might not agree with Dawg and his cousins where Zoey’s protection was concerned, but he understood why they did the things that so enraged the sisters. Over the past several years he’d seen the danger Zoey’s sisters had faced. If it hadn’t been for Dawg and his cousins’ determination to protect Dawg’s sisters, then they would have died.

He didn’t always agree with how they did it.

This time, someone needed to know what was going on, though. He was going to have to tell someone, some way. Warn them and at least make sure someone suspected she could be getting into trouble.

Unfortunately, if he told, Doogan had the power to lock him in a deep, dark hole and throw away the key.

Damn, this whole situation was making his guts cramp. Zoey had been vulnerable enough after the man determined to kill Lyrica a year ago had broken Zoey’s arm while trying to force her to betray where her sister was hiding. The arm had barely healed before Sam found Zoey huddled in front of Lyrica’s apartment, drugged out of her mind and convinced she’d killed someone she considered a friend.

A year. He and Doogan had investigated the incident for a year, and still they didn’t have a single suspect. And they hadn’t been able to find Harley after Sam’s meeting with him that night, after Zoey showed up outside her apartment.

Harley was alive, Eli knew he was alive. But proof was another thing entirely.

This wasn’t a motorcycle race or a little backwoods party where Zoey’s presence was more amusing than a reason to call the Mackays. This was Zoey’s life. And whoever, whatever had tried to destroy her a year ago, Eli suspected was trying to get to her again. That was why Doogan was there. Because of the two attempts to break Zoey’s security and Eli’s certainty she was being watched.

He shouldn’t have called Doogan. Dammit, he should have just told Dawg.

And Zoey would have hated him. She would have given him that look of broken trust and he would have always wondered if there had been another way. If Doogan would have been the better choice.

He was so screwed.

“You’re pacing, Elijah,” Graham announced, entering the kitchen, a twelve-week-old twin cradled in his arm. This infant was wearing a dress. The girl was actually more active than her laid-back brother. A scary indication of the future, Eli thought.

God, the kid was a Mackay, despite being Graham’s kid. Eli was ready to fucking leave Somerset. Mackays were a pain in the ass, pure and simple and that boy was a future pain in the ass. He just didn’t need the headache.

“So why are you pacing?” Graham probed again when Eli forgot to answer him the first time.

Did he dare? God, Doogan would murder him.

Zoey would hate him and the Mackays would skin him alive. A terrifying thought no matter which he considered.

“A new security design.” Elijah pushed his fingers restlessly through his hair.

“I see.” Graham just stood there watching him as though expecting more. He suspected more, Eli thought. Could he somehow at least warn Graham?

“I think we need to update the security systems now that the rug rats are here.” He tried to grin as he nodded to the infant in her father’s arms. “Make certain everything’s working right.” Fuck, surely he could have come up with something better than that?

“Hmm,” Graham murmured. “You know, Elijah, the only time I see you that nervous is when Doogan’s around.”

“Doogan’s here again?” Had the bastard arrived at Graham’s and Eli hadn’t seen him? Fuck. Surely it was too early for the bastard to be lurking around again. And Graham had promised to warn him first.

“I don’t believe so,” Graham chuckled. “Keeping up with Doogan isn’t exactly easy, though.”

Oh, Eli knew where he’d been until daylight at least.

“Bastard,” Elijah muttered, resignation churning his gut. If he kept his mouth shut and Zoey got hurt, then he’d hate himself.

“Come on, Eli, what’s got you wearing tracks in my kitchen floor? New security designs just make you hyper. Get it off your chest, you’ll feel better.”

Feel better? He wouldn’t go that far.

Grimacing, he faced the other man, more a friend than his superior. Graham had always known when to hold his tongue and when to act. Maybe . . . “Graham, do you think the Mackays, or anyone for that matter, has the right to protect their sisters the way they do?”

Graham paused as he opened the refrigerator door, then glanced back at Elijah. “Zoey hurt herself at the race last night?”

Amusement lit Graham’s gaze as Elijah just stared at him. How the hell had Graham known about the races?

“No.” Elijah drew the word out, waiting to see how much his commander knew. “She wasn’t hurt.”

Graham pulled free several bottles of water before closing the door and facing Elijah again.

“As for your question.” The other man leaned against the counter, watching Eli carefully. “I think they go too far. They’re intelligent women and have enough sense to know when they need help. It’s Dawg’s habit of going too far at times that’s made the girls seem a little wild. Especially Zoey. She’s always wanted more, loved the adrenaline too much for his comfort level. It’s going to backfire on both of them one of these days.” His gaze sharpened on Eli then. “If it hasn’t already?”

Zoey’s sister Lyrica chose that moment to step into the kitchen, her son resting against her breast as she took the water Graham opened for her.

She shot Eli a hard look, and he knew he was in a shitload of trouble if he said anything more.

“Don’t be tattling on Zoey, Elijah. She’ll make you pay for it,” she advised him, lifting the water for a drink. “And trust me, I’ll narc you out so fast it’ll make your head spin.”

This was such fucking bullshit. He was damned no matter what he did.

“What if someone has taken an interest in her . . .” he tried.

Lyrica glared at him and he swore he felt his balls shrink at the promise of retribution in her gaze.

“Unless he’s a suspected criminal element, let it go. If he is, then talk to Zoey first,” Lyrica advised him, her tone warning. “Of all of us, Zoey will be the one to hate you for tattling on her, and you know it. She doesn’t keep friends she can’t trust.”

And Zoey already didn’t have many friends, especially those she felt she could trust.

It always amazed him how the sisters never, ever seemed the least bit interested in knowing what the others were doing. They loved each other and were incredibly loyal. But they never seemed to question anything the other was doing.

As Elijah glanced at Graham, his lips thinned as the other man gave a small shake of his head. Keep his mouth shut? Fine, he could keep his damned mouth shut, and when she ended up hurt then he’d remind them all that he’d tried.

“Fine. Whatever. I have work to do.” Turning, he jerked the door open and left the kitchen. Stepping onto the back deck, he let a curse slip past his lips. “Don’t blame me when it all fucking backfires,” he muttered, though there was no one to hear him.