“I want to know how they knew to use Lyrica against you,” Dawg repeated, evidently determined to get answers Graham didn’t have.
“Dawg, if I had that answer to give you, then all of this would make a hell of a lot more sense than it does.” Graham stared back at him levelly. “I never mentioned Lyrica, the Mackays, or home. Betts was even unaware of the fact that I had a sister, and she died before I could question her.”
In his arms. Betts had died in his arms, her green eyes filled with regret and pain
as she’d haltingly revealed the plan she and the man she’d loved had hatched.
“I knew I could get in your bed.” She smiled sadly, blood easing past her lips to trail down her cheek. “I knew your weakness, Graham.” Her gaze flickered, her breathing rattling. “It hurts, Graham . . . it hurts . . .”
Wiping his hands over his face, he shook his head, at a loss as to how to get the answers he needed.
“What makes you believe this has anything to do with what happened there?” Natches asked him then. “I need more than suspicion.”
“The Freedom League’s last attempt at vengeance against the Mackays was made two years ago,” Graham said. “With the judge’s cooperation, DHS has managed since then to round up the last of the aging politicians who were part of that militia. They’re gone. The men and women who conspired with Chandler and Dayle Mackay are dead, dying, or suffering from Alzheimer’s in several rest homes. There’s no reason to strike out at Lyrica unless it’s in retaliation or to use her against someone who knows her well.”
“Or loves her well,” Natches suggested. “What would make your ex-lover believe you loved Lyrica?”
Graham shot Elijah a warning look. One that promised him that the Mackays were treading on his last patient nerve.
“Natches,” Elijah said, “we’ve been trying to draw out whoever escaped with half of those diamonds for two years now. Every conversation, every moment spent together between Graham and Betts Laren has been gone over with a fine-tooth comb. He’s had several polygraph tests as well as being debriefed by CIA interrogators. If Lyrica’s name had been mentioned, trust me, it would have come up by now.”
Natches ignored this point, turning his head to Graham instead. “What about memory enhancement protocols?”
Memory enhancement protocols? Graham sat back in his chair and stared at Natches in disgust. “I’m not a lab rat, Mackay. I’m a fully trained intelligence officer with the Marines and known for my ability to overcome or identify every drug they tried on me during training. The MCIA put a lot of effort into training me for several years before sending me to Afghanistan.”
“Marine Corps Intelligence Activity,” Dawg grunted. “Come on, Graham . . .”
“Since Secure Sector, the security group that went in with us, began taking contracts for the military, the percentage of lost, missing, or simply stolen money, jewels, and equipment out of the Middle East has risen. Secure Sector has a contract with the Marines to provide cover for them as needed, which left the ball in MCIA’s court to apprehend those responsible. I don’t need memory enhancement protocols because I would have known if I’d been drugged or if any attempts to take me in any other way were used.”
“Then we’re missing something.” Dawg sighed, shaking his head. “There has to be an answer.”
For a situation where there had to be an answer, Graham couldn’t come up with anything.
“I still have some things to go over,” Graham admitted. “I’ve only recently connected a few of the dots.” While he was lying against Lyrica, his body vibrating from a release that had damned near blown his mind, a thought had slammed into his brain.
What would he do if anything happened to her? If he lost her, the way Betts’s lover had lost her. The suspicion that the lover had survived had only grown in past months. Contacts the agent had used in the past were missing or dead. Lines of communication he was known to employ had been used several times.
Of course, it could have been someone else. There was room for doubt, but if there was one thing Garrett Brock, his father, had taught him, it was never to trust coincidence.
“I want her away from you,” Dawg stated then.
Graham bit down on the instinctive protest that rose to his lips. Letting her go would be for the best; he knew that. If this was because of him, then the danger to her rose every day that she was with him.
“That’s not your decision to make, brother of mine.”
All eyes turned to Lyrica as she stepped into the kitchen.
“She moves through this house quieter than a frickin’ brush of air,” Elijah complained as he slowly moved his hand back from the weapon tucked beneath his shirt and glared at Graham. “What the hell did you do? Give her lessons or something?”
“I’ll take credit for that, if you don’t mind,” Dawg grumped as he rose to his feet and opened his arms for the tiny, delicate young woman he’d accepted into his heart, along with her sisters, the first second he’d realized who they were.
Lyrica moved into his embrace, her arms wrapping around his waist as Dawg placed a gentle kiss at the top of her head before she moved back.
“You called Natches earlier,” he stated, staring down at her, though Graham couldn’t see the man’s expression. “You okay?”
“I’m okay.” Her voice was soft, but even Graham heard the hesitation in it before she added, “But I’m not leaving.”
He couldn’t stop the flare of satisfaction that rose inside him at her words and her refusal to leave him.