A year of investigation and still they hadn’t figured out which of Eve’s friends could possibly know about the thefts, let alone know why the files were being stolen.
“What are you going to do?” Dawg murmured, as he seemed to still be studying the death spread across the porch.
Timothy was still silent, but the calculating rage that burned in his eyes assured Brogan that his silence didn’t bode well for whoever was behind the bloody mess Mercedes had walked out to.
“Go hunting,” Brogan answered just as quietly. “For fox.”
SEVEN
Brogan and his partners, Jedediah and Eli, entered the house Donny and Sandi shared in the mountains. There was no proof that the two were behind the destruction of the animals Mercedes and Eve had raised, but as they neared the bedroom, Brogan heard all the proof he needed.
Pausing outside the door, Brogan listened to them gloating about the blood the rabbits had shed and the mess they made. They had often seen Eve petting them and letting them out into the wire enclosure where she played with them.
That made their crime much worse, because they believed the rabbits were Eve’s pets.
“Did you see how horrified she was?” Sandi drawled. “I thought she was going to puke.” The obviously fake sympathy in her tone had his fists clenching in rage.
“Now, that would have been a real mess,” Donny drawled.
Brogan could feel fury boiling inside him, white-hot and destructive; Eve would have never struck out at Sandi in such a way, no matter what she had done.
But Sandi had killed what she believed were pets, because Eve had bested her in a fight.
Pulling his mask into place, Brogan looked at Jed and Eli where they had taken position across from him. Holding up three fingers to indicate three seconds before bursting into the room, he counted down.
Three.
Two.
One.
Eli went in first.
With a hard kick from Eli’s size-twelve boot, the bedroom door flew off the hinges as he and Jed rushed into the room and grabbed a nearly naked, clearly shocked Sandi from the bed.
In a second flat Sandi was restrained, her hands secured to the wooden arms of a nearby chair, her eyes wide as she stared up at Eli in mortal fear while Jed took his position on the far wall, the short, lethal barrel of the automatic weapon trained on her.
Donny just played stupid.
The little bastard actually thought he was tough enough to take his attackers on, and threw a punch at Brogan’s jaw.
Brogan bitch-smacked him—an insulting backhanded slap across the face, as Sandi had used on Eve. He’d been enraged when he’d seen Sandi deliver that blow to Eve’s face. He wondered how well Donny enjoyed the same insult.
The other man fell against the wall from the slight force. Hell, this wasn’t going to be any fun—
Brogan smiled in delight as Donny straightened.
Maybe the little bastard had some fight in him after all. He damn sure had a wicked as hell bowie knife. Brogan had half suspected he’d gotten his nickname from Poppa Bear for just this reason.
“I know who you are,” Donny screeched, the high-pitched cry sounding a little girlish. “I’m gonna cut you, Brogan; I’m gonna cut you bad.”
Give me a break.
Chuckling, Brogan smiled back at the other man with confident mockery before lifting his hand and curling his fingers in an insulting “come on” wave.
“Fucking cunt,” Donny screamed as he took a swipe at Brogan’s midsection.
Brogan moved back easily, testing Donny’s abilities once or twice. The blade actually came a little too close for comfort as he got a feel for Donny’s actual experience.
Brogan had certainly fought much better opponents with a much higher level of experience. But Donny was piss-his-pants scared, and that made a hell of a difference.
Pressing forward only to step to the side, Brogan caught the other man in midswipe with the knife before striking out himself. With the flat of his hand he slapped Donny again, laughing as the other man’s nose started to bleed.
“Motherfucker!” Sandi screamed out as Donny growled like an enraged bull.
Dancing back from the blade, Brogan waited, feigning one way, then dancing back, staying on the move as Donny let rage and fear drive him.
Donny jabbed the knife toward his belly.
Brogan jabbed his fist into Donny’s face, busting both lips and laughing as Donny spit out pieces of his teeth.
He swiped at Brogan’s arm, and the blade actually managed to skim the material of the black shirt he wore. The long sleeve covered his arm to the wrist, the protective weave of the material holding out against the glancing brush of the blade.
Donny snarled, enraged.
Brogan grinned, waited, then boxed both Donny’s ears as the other man took his next swipe before Brogan spun away.
This was fun and all, but he was getting bored. Donny was actually shedding tears and snot, he was so pissed at being unable to shed blood.
Besides, Brogan wanted to get at least a few hours’ sleep tonight. If he kept fucking around with this little weasel, then there was no way he would have time for it.
Brogan waited.
When Donny moved to slice out at his midsection again, Brogan caught his fist and twisted it hard as he angled the hand back forcefully and collected the knife from Donny’s suddenly numb fingers.
Donny emitted a screech that would have done Sandi proud if she had made it herself.
Before he could struggle or attempt to get away, Brogan thrust his arm behind his back and laid the razor-sharp blade at Donny’s throat.
“I like the sight of blood, too,” Brogan rasped, his voice well disguised by the electronic box secured at his throat. “Tonight I want your blood.”
“Please don’t. Oh, God, please don’t hurt him!” Sandi cried out, real tears filling her voice and falling from her eyes.
Hell, she might really love the bastard, Brogan thought as she sobbed out Donny’s name and pleaded for his life.
“Muzzle that shit,” he ordered Eli as he stroked the knife against Donny’s throat warningly.
Glancing in the mirror across the room, he saw Donny as he watched Eli’s black-clad form tear a strip of duct tape from the roll he’d pulled out of the mission pack on his back.
Rage burned in Donny’s eyes as Eli taped his lover’s mouth, then patted her cheek with gentle mockery.
“Shall I have him slice her throat, or do I slice yours?” Brogan asked softly at Donny’s ear, still watching the other man’s face in the mirror.
Donny swallowed tightly, and Brogan was certain what his answer would be.
The regret, the seeming apology as he stared back at his lover was all a dead giveaway that Donny would save himself.
Sandi was shaking her head desperately, sobbing through the tape, no doubt certain she was going to die.
“Answer me, Donny,” he demanded, rubbing the blade against his throat in whispery strokes, “One of you is going to die. You or her?”
Tears fell from Donny’s eyes as Sandi became almost hysterical.
“Me,” he answered.
Sandi’s chair almost tipped over before Eli could catch it as hysteria overtook her.
“I don’t think I heard you, Donny.” He held the knife motionless against the man’s throat. “Say it again.”
Donny was staring at his lover in misery as she screamed through the tape again, still sobbing uncontrollably. He hadn’t even noticed that Brogan was watching him through the mirror.
“Me,” Donny answered, his voice louder, strangely devoid of fear. “Kill me; don’t hurt her.”
Sandi bent forward, sobbing, screaming through the tape, jerking hysterically against the ropes that held her as jagged cries tore from her chest.
Brogan looked at Eli, the other man’s eyes reflecting the same shock Brogan felt. Sandi was protesting so hysterically Eli actually had to hold the chair in place.
“You’re going to sacrifice yourself for her?” Brogan asked in mocking disbelief. “Why? She’s not faithful. She whores around on you—”
“Don’t call her that,” Donny protested raggedly as Brogan watched his expression thoughtfully while watching Sandi from the corner of his eye.
Hell, they loved each other.
“Tell me why,” Brogan demanded again.
“Because I’ll die anyway if you kill her,” he stated, confusing Brogan with his suddenly calm demeanor. “I couldn’t live without her.”
“So you risk her life thieving? You pimp her out and keep her in harm’s way here while committing treason?” he probed while he had the chance. “That’s not love, Donny.”
“I love her.” It wasn’t a protest or an argument. It was a statement. Then he frowned, confused. “I ain’t no traitor, man.”
“So you love the woman you let other men screw for money?” Brogan ignored the protest.
“I love her,” Donny snapped, meeting his gaze directly. “And she’s no whore. Sandi screws no man but me. I know what she does. She flirts and she teases a little. Then she gives them a few sleeping pills while I steal their money. She doesn’t screw them.”
“You endanger her in whatever moneymaking schemes you can come up with. That’s not love.”
“I love her.”
Brogan whispered the next accusation sneeringly. “You use her; you don’t want to die for her.”
“I love her.” Donny’s voice cracked in misery. “I love her.”
Son of a bitch, go figure.
“Donny?”
“What?” He sniffed, swallowing tightly.
“Do you want to live another day with the woman you love?”
Donny nodded slowly. “Yes.”
“Then listen to me carefully.” Brogan hardened his voice. “If either of you, at any time—tomorrow, next week, next year, fucking next lifetime,” he snarled, “should verbally or physically or through someone else strike out at Eve Mackay again, I won’t give you a choice; I’ll just come after your woman.”
Donny’s eyes widened in shock.
“If you so much as breathe Eve’s air, brush against her, or even think to insult her, her family, her friends, hell, her fucking enemies, then I’ll come after your lover. When I do, I’ll make what happened to those rabbits seem humane. You read me, asshole?”
“I hear.” He snarled as Brogan nicked his neck with the blade.
“If Eve Mackay or Brogan Campbell learns anyone was here tonight, learns you were threatened in any way, coerced to act decent, then I’ll come for her,” he whispered insidiously. “And if I hear so much as a breath that you have information concerning thieves and traitors and didn’t tell me, then I’m coming after her. Read me.”
“I hear you.” Donny’s voice was barely a whisper now.
“If I find out you heard any of the above and you didn’t contact me, I’ll bathe in her blood. You got it?”
“How?” Donny swallowed tightly. “Contact you how?”
“You left your cell phone in the kitchen,” Brogan reminded him. “There’s a new number in it. Now I’ll ask you one more time: Do you know anything?”
Donny and Sandi stared at each other for long moments. Nodding to Eli, Brogan watched as he pulled the long, wickedly sharp knife from the sheath at his thigh and laid it against Sandi’s neck.
“Wait. Wait,” Donny whispered.
Eli lifted the knife marginally from Sandi’s throat—just enough that it wasn’t touching her skin.
“Come on, Donny,” Brogan urged him. “What do you know?”
“The thieves are part of the touring club,” he revealed. “Some say it’s Brogan Campbell.”
“Is it?” Brogan asked.
Fear flickered in Donny’s eyes. “I don’t think so. I think it’s someone else, but I don’t know who. Someone who used to be in that group with Chandler and Dayle Mackay.”