I declined to be led along like a lady in one of the historical melodramas Grandma had loved, as tempted as I might have been to find out just how solid those muscles were, but I fell into step beside him.
Everything about this place screamed money, from the gilded windows that looked out into the sprawling lawn to the slew of framed paintings scattered along the hallway. Kaige waved toward the doors we passed. “Guest bedrooms here, Wylder’s part of the house farther down. Including my bedroom, if you ever want to drop in on me.”
“Noted,” I said dryly.
We emerged into a larger section of hall overlooking a winding staircase and the huge foyer I’d stumbled into last night. On the way down, Kaige pointed at the set of huge oak doors. “The main entrance. Kitchen’s this way. Plus various sitting rooms and living rooms and I-don’t-know-if-they-even-have-a-name rooms. You need to get something done, there’s probably a room for it here.”
As we entered the kitchen, an expansive space full of shining stainless steel and marble countertops, the smell of frying sausage and eggs hit my nose. My mouth watered, and my stomach outright roared.
“You took your time,” Wylder remarked from where he was standing just inside the room, his head cocked to the side. He was dressed in black jeans and a black shirt that I couldn’t help noticing fit him snugly, showing off his well-defined chest.
Kaige aimed his grin at the other guy, apparently unperturbed that he might have pissed off the Noble heir. “Hey, I like to make sure a lady’s treated right.”
I wandered farther into the room, ignoring them and any amusement I might have had at the idea of me being aladywhile I chased the delicious food smells. Gideon and Rowan were leaning against an island in the middle of the kitchen. Whatever conversation they’d been having trailed off as they both glanced at me, Gideon coolly and Rowan hesitantly. Rowan’s gaze stopped on the bandage over my gunshot wound, but he didn’t comment on it.
Beyond them at the stove, a woman I hadn’t met yet was flipping something in a pan. Her red hair, a more vibrant version of Wylder’s and his father’s auburn, cascaded to halfway down her back. She was petite, maybe half a foot shorter than me, but when she turned, I guessed from her face that she was around her late twenties. With her blue paisley dress and pearl hair pins holding the ruddy waves back from her temples, she didn’t look like she belonged here at all.
She slapped a piece of French toast and some bacon on a plate and motioned me over to the island. “I assume you’re hungry.”
I was starving, but I didn’t admit that. Warily, I stepped forward and took a seat as far as I could get from Rowan. This felt like some kind of a trick.
The woman poured orange juice into a glass and pushed it toward me. I was parched too. I’d never gotten to eat much of anything and hadn’t drunk anything but a few sips of wine last night before…
Gunfire and blood splatter flashed through my mind. I shoved those memories aside and grabbed the glass to take a swift chug, as if I could wash last night away completely with the tartly sweet liquid.
“I feel introductions are in order.” Wylder took a seat next to me at the island, so close the scent of him, like leather and brandy, filled my nose. I resisted the urge to inhale deeply as he gestured toward the woman at the stove. “Meet Anthea Noble, my aunt, babysitter, and proxy mother. She’s kind of the all-in-one package.”
Anthea rolled her eyes. “Mother? I’m only, what, five years older than you?”
“Six,” Wylder said, causing her to shake her head.
I relaxed a little. She was family, not a business associate. That made more sense. Although the two factors did often end up pretty mixed up in our line of work.
Wylder gestured to me. “And Anthea, here we have the only living representative of the Claws’ leadership in our kitchen. Say hi to Mercy Katz.”
Anthea’s gaze roved over me with cool efficiency, and I got the impression she’d known about my arrival long before I’d actually stepped in here.
“Anthea’s here to keep our asses in line while Wylder’s dad is away,” Kaige said. As if to make a point, he wiggled his butt. I had to bite my cheek to stifle a laugh.
How had this guy ended up with the rest of this bunch? Or Rowan, for that matter? Back when I’d known him, he’d been on a fast-track course to get into an Ivy League college.
But then, obviously I hadn’t known him anywhere near as well as I’d thought.
Gideon was easier to figure. He might not have packed anywhere near as much muscle as Kaige on that slender frame, but he had the detached gaze of a stone-cold killer. “Some people are harder to manage than the others,” he remarked with a pointed look at Kaige.
I took a bite of my French toast—slathered with the perfect amount of syrup—and had to muffle a moan. Embarrassment turned my ears red hot.
Wylder chuckled. “I don’t blame you. Anthea is a great cook. That’s one of her specialties—along with concocting the perfect poison, of course.”
I almost choked on my mouthful. Wylder thumped his hand against my back. I took a big gulp of the juice to push the bread down my throat.
Anthea smiled at me but without much humor. “You don’t have to worry about deadly poisons this morning. If we wanted to kill you, you’d be dead already and not know any better.”
I guess she had a point, but I remained on guard as I took another bite. The guys shifted around the island. They were watching my every move, and after a while my skin started to prickle with their attention. It didn’t help that even if they were assholes, they were undeniably attractive assholes—ravish-me-in-the-dark attractive.
“So, tell me about Colt,” Wylder said, studying me as intently as the others.
I drained the last of my juice before answering. “What do you want to know about him?”