of answering, he moved on past her. Startled, she followed right behind him into the foyer of her small ranch house, trying to ignore the fact that he was dripping puddles of rainwater on her clean tile floor.
From the bedroom, one of her dogs started barking, prompting the others to join in.
“What do you have in there, a kennel?” he asked, one brow raised.
She didn’t even crack a smile. “My personal pack. Canine pack,” she elaborated, crossing her arms. “Start talking. Your timer is running.” Glancing at her watch, she met his gaze. “Right about now.”
Instead of jumping to do her bidding, he simply stared at her, one corner of his sensual mouth curved in the beginning of a smile.
Short of manhandling him—and really, as if she could—there was little she could do. They were getting smarter and more brazen, these faceless shifters who made up this Pack of Protectors. Prior to this, they’d always sent females, probably in the hopes that she would bond with them. This time, sending a hot man to try to coerce her, aware that she lived alone, without companionship or sex … Nothing short of brilliant.
That is, brilliant if she were anyone else. But Kelly McKenzie didn’t need anyone. Ever. She was fine on her own.
As the seconds ticked past, she felt a flash of fury.
“If you’re not going to speak, then go. Leave me alone,” she growled, holding herself stiffly in a classic lupine warning, knowing he’d recognize it.
“I can’t leave you alone,” he said, his deep voice ringing with both sincerity and desperation. “As you’ve said, your sister’s been taken. So have my children. I’ve come to bargain with you, Tearlach. Yours for mine.”
Staring at him, she narrowed her eyes. He dared to confirm what she’d only suspected? The Protectors truly had been the ones who’d captured Bonnie?
Disbelief mingling with fury in her gut, Kelly brought her weapon up to bear on his heart. “Don’t use that word. Your kind only defile it. I should shoot you where you stand.”
Either unwilling or unable to see how close to the edge she was, the stranger stood his ground, meeting her gaze dead-on. She could have sworn rage rather than fear simmered beneath his calm expression.
“Look,” he said. “I know your family split up. I’m not saying we have your sister, only that we can help you find her. What I am proposing is a trade for a trade. Your people have something of mine, my kids. I want them back.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said distinctly. “I don’t know anything about any kids.”
His clear gaze never wavered. “You might have had the luxury of lying once. But not now, not to me. The stakes are too high. Don’t tell me you don’t know who I am.”
She should just shoot him. But something about him—maybe his firm belief that he spoke the truth—interested her. “I’m sorry. I don’t.”
Briefly, he closed his eyes. When he opened them again, the deep blue startled her. “Then let me educate you. I’m Mac Lamonda.”
The name sounded vaguely familiar. But still, she couldn’t place him. “Okay, Mac Lamonda. Now tell me what you mean that I have your kids. If you’d bothered to take a look around here, you’d see there are no children, yours or anyone else’s.”
His jaw set, he stared her down. “I think you know I don’t mean you personally,” he spat. “You Tearlachs. Your people. When my mate died, your father came and took them. Without my permission, without my knowledge. I want them back.”
Then it clicked. This couldn’t be him. He should have been dead. “You’re Maggie’s husband,” she whispered. “The one who … I’m so sorry.”
“You ought to be,” he snarled. Then, while she was puzzling over this new development, he jumped her, knocking her gun from her hand and twisting her arms behind her back. And then, just before he began to speak, her front window exploded.
Chapter 2
The blast slammed them to the ground. Instinctively, she covered her face with her arm, breath temporarily knocked out of her. She’d hit her head, hard enough to see stars, and thought she might be bleeding.
What the—?
As she struggled to suck in air, she remembered the man. Mac Lamonda. Her cousin Maggie’s widower. Lifting her head—the only part of her she could move at the moment—she saw he’d landed half on top of her. He was motionless, his sooty-lashed eyes closed. She was so stunned and shocked that for a moment she thought he was dead.
But then he moaned and she realized he was only unconscious. Dead weight. Shifting her legs, she managed to heave him off them.
From outside, thunder boomed, startling her. She was hot, too hot. And surrounded by smoke, clogging the thick damp air, making it difficult to breathe. Dimly she became aware that fire roared nearby. Hot. Too close.
One of her dogs barked. Another howled from somewhere near, the sound full of terror. Her chest hurt. Her dogs. Her canine family. Hell hounds, she hoped none of them had gotten hurt. She needed to get them out—all of them. Man, dogs and herself. Now.
But how?
As she staggered to her feet, dread coiled in her gut. Her house was on fire. Her sister was missing. It all had to be tied together.
Eyeing the man again, she checked his pulse, finding it steady and strong. He’d be fine, once she got him outside. After all, he was a shifter, like her except a Half ling. One of the only things that could kill their kind was fire.
Fire. Focus. Her home was burning. She realized she must have hit her head harder than she’d realized. Everything seemed surreal. Out of kilter.
Eyes smarting from the smoke, she looked around, trying to ascertain both the current location of the fire, and, second, if her enemies still remained nearby. Whoever they were. Whatever they were.
Mac’s accomplices? What did they want? They already had her sister. Now they’d come for her. Apparently, they hadn’t thought Mac capable enough to do the job on his own.
Thick black smoke rolled in. The roaring of the flames grew louder, tempered by the steady drum of rain and the hiss as the two met. She had to get out of here, now, and take the man with her. But how? He was a large man and she had no illusions as to her strength.
One of her dogs yelped, making her aware again of the immediate danger to them, as well.
Still, she couldn’t seem to focus.
Damn.
She got up, staggered to the back door and pushed it open. The instant she did, as fresh, rain-drenched air rushed in, the fire exploded in an angry roar.
Ignoring this, she rushed to the bedroom and opened the door.
“Come.” Amazingly, when she gave the command, her voice came out strong and certain, with no hint of panic. The terrified dogs darted past—she counted, all seven of them—barreling outside toward safety and rain and freedom. Kelly staggered after them, then remembered the man. Mac.
“Wake up.” She shook him, wishing she were cold enough to simply leave him to his fate. After all, he deserved it. But if she got out of this—and she would—she needed him to tell her where he was holding her sister. “Please, Mac. Wake up.”
He didn’t move. The heat, the smoke, the fire grew stronger, and still he didn’t move. She half thought that this event might be fate catching up with him. When his wife had perished, he should have died also.
But he wouldn’t die here, because of her. Left with no choice, she hooked her hands under his armpits and began to drag. Adrenaline-fueled, she made it to the door, over the doorjamb, and outside. Despite the ache in her arms, she pulled