“What do you have to do and what kind of calls do you have to make?” Zoey asked him as he helped her onto the back of the cycle. “Why did a former agent help Johnny Grace’s son try to convince me I’d killed Harley?” When he didn’t answer, she grabbed his arm before he could turn from her. “Talk to me, Doogan. Tell me what’s going on.”

“That’s why I have to make some calls, Zoey. Hell, I didn’t even know Grace had a son or that Rigsby was involved in this. If I had, I might have been able to stop this before it started.” He handed her the helmet before straddling the Harley himself and starting the ignition.

“Hold on, baby,” he warned her through the helmet headset.

Gripping his waist, Zoey held on as he sped back to town, the Harley eating up the miles. She could feel the tension in his body, feel the anger pouring through him, and wondered, when it was over, where it would leave her in his life.

SIXTEEN

Doogan drew the Harley to a slow crawl as he started up the lane to Zoey’s apartment, his eyes narrowing on the sheer number of vehicles parked in front of it.

“We might have a problem, Zoey,” he murmured into the Bluetooth headset. “A big one.”

She snorted at the understatement. “Ya think, Doogan?” she asked. The sarcasm in her voice would have made him grin at any other time. But her brother, Dawg, and cousins Natches and Rowdy were waiting at the head of the group, their glares trained on him.

Damn. This was going to get dicey. He could feel it, like an itch at the back of his neck.

“Zoey, don’t let them pull you away from me. We don’t know what the hell’s going on yet.” And they would try. He could see it in their set expressions. “And I’ll be damned if I’ll watch them drag you off and lock you down tighter than Fort Knox.”

“They look really pissed,” she muttered.

Pissed wasn’t even close. It wasn’t just her brother and cousins either. Her brothers-in-law, Graham, Brogan, and Jed, stood behind them while Timothy Cranston leaned against his truck and glared at the motorcycle as it inched up the drive.

“Dawg looks really mad, Doogan,” she pointed out.

“We could always turn and run,” he suggested, watching the other men as the back of his neck started to itch with a sense of rising danger.

“Where’s your backbone?” She pinched his waist lightly. “They’re all bark . . .”

“Bite,” he amended, grimacing as she gave him a light, though concerned little laugh. She was nervous herself, she couldn’t help it. She’d never had every damned male in her family waiting on her like this before.

Pulling the cycle up to the group of men, Doogan eased his helmet off slowly, aware of Zoey doing the same. His gaze locked with Dawg’s immediately. Zoey’s brother was beyond pissed. The fury burning in his gaze made the celadon green appear to swirl with a hint of emerald.

“Dawg? And friends.” He nodded to them a bit mockingly. But hell, he felt as though he were being ambushed. “What can I do to help the lot of you?”

“Get off the bike, Zoey,” Dawg ordered, his voice harsh. “Eli will take you back to my place . . .”

Zoey’s hands tightened at his waist. She was tense behind him, wary.

She laughed without so much as a hint of nerves, though. “Really? No explanation, just pack up and go?”

“I didn’t mention packing,” Dawg informed her, his voice icy. “I said go.”

The tension in the air grew.

“I don’t think so. Not without a damned good reason.”

“A damned good reason,” Dawg snapped, his arms dropping, his shoulders going back confrontationally. And he did present a hell of a powerful impression. That fist was going to hurt when it struck, Doogan knew. “How’s this for a reason. You go or he’ll end up in the hospital tonight. You don’t want that, Zoey.”

“No, Dawg, you don’t want that.” There was steel in her voice, a core of pure, tempered titanium that surprised Doogan for a moment. “You want to get in your truck and drive out of here and come back later, while you’re calmer, and Christa can accompany you. Otherwise, I promise you, I’ll make damned sure every one of you are on your knees begging me to leave this county within three months.”

“That’s an awful big threat from such a little girl.” Natches stepped in. “That will never happen and we both know it.”

God, she wasn’t in the mood for this. First some bastards ambush her on a perfectly nice drive back from a killer sale, and now, her brother thought he could just order her about? Was it Pick on Zoey Day?

“You have any other threats in your arsenal?” Doogan muttered, evidently doubting the fact that her brother was bluffing.

“I don’t need any other threats,” she assured him, though she had to admit, she was becoming a bit concerned when Dawg simply flicked her the same look he gave his daughter when she was acting up. “Zoey, get off the damned cycle and go.” Dawg took a single step forward.

“Dawg, get off my damned property until you can treat me like an adult,” she demanded, hurt feelings, wounded pride, and anger mixing with the other emotions ripping at her now.

“Then act like an adult.” His hands went to his hips, disgust lining his face as he pinned Doogan with one of those insulting, superior Mackay looks.

Doogan was ignoring the confrontation for the most part, or at least pretending he was. As she and Dawg jockeyed for dominance of her life, he was sitting back on the Harley’s seat, one booted foot propped on the footrest, the other braced on the ground as he studied the area silently. Curiously.

At Dawg’s demand that she act like an adult, he tensed once again, though, his head lifting, and Doogan’s expression was anything but friendly.

Stepping from the bike, Doogan turned, his eyes like chips of ice, his expression savage. “In the apartment. Now.”

She swung from the bike, took his hand, and let him lead her through the wall of male bodies to the garage door at the front of the building. Swiping the security card through the reader, she waited for the metal door to lift, surprised when Doogan ducked and pulled her inside the second it was high enough to do so.

“They’re following us,” she informed him, aware of the press of male bodies behind them.

“Of course they are.” There was something dark and knowing in his tone. Some sense of coming upheaval that had her tensing in dread.

“Eli, get the fucking door secured once they’ve finished posturing and filed in,” Doogan barked, leading Zoey to the stairs. “Then I want you and the Three Stooges to make sure this damned building’s secure.”

“Three Stooges?” Graham wasn’t the least pleased with the description.

“Stooges.” Pulling Zoey up the metal staircase behind him, Doogan glanced back, his gaze connecting with Graham’s.

“Jed, Brogan, check this level,” the other man ordered. “The Mackays and I will check the upper level before we have this little talk with Doogan.”

“He doesn’t give the orders here, Graham,” Dawg snapped, his glare meeting Zoey’s gaze, the anger and concern riding side by side.

“In this he does,” Graham refuted, then nodded back to Doogan. “Let’s make sure the building’s secure before we get into this, Dawg. Make sure Zoey’s safe first.”

Make sure Zoey was safe first. What the hell was going on?

Tossing her hair over her shoulder, Zoey pushed at Doogan’s arm with her shoulder, indicating her insistence that they keep moving. Get it over with and get everyone out of her house. She needed to recoup; she needed to figure out how to handle the memories that had been shrouded in nightmares and the nightmares that hid the memories.

“Graham, get hold of Sam; I want her here now.” Doogan pulled Zoey behind him as he indicated that the other man should follow him in the direction of Zoey’s room. “She has twenty minutes. I’ll check Zoey’s room, then meet the rest of you in the living area.” He turned to Zoey as he stopped at her doorway, his expression commanding. “Stay here, let me check it out, and then you can shower or whatever you need to do.”