The thought of it had his muscles bunching, his fingers fisted as he fought to hold back the urge.
He turned back to the bedroom slowly, his fingers flexing on the side of the door. The hard, wall-vibrating slam of the door a second later sent an unconscious flinch jerking through Tehya’s body as her eyes widened.
It was the first time she had seen his eyes since the attack.
Tehya stared back at him, shocked.
She had seen him in a variety of dangerous situations. She had seen him when his nephew had been wounded, when his father had been hospitalized with a heart attack, and when his youngest nephew had nearly been killed in a car wreck several years before. She had never seen him like this. With the rage burning in his eyes like blue flames, his face was so tight with fury, so sharp with violence that the savagely hewn lines of his face were displayed in sharp detail.
“Get dressed,” he growled, his voice a rumble of violence.
Tehya was moving before he finished speaking.
Jerking open dresser drawers, she had everything she needed within seconds. Less than two minutes later she was sitting on the side of the bed and tying the laces of her sneakers.
Beside her, Jordan was changing, taking more time to dress, taking the time to control the rage she had seen blazing in his eyes.
He wore jeans and a black shirt. His boots were still unlaced as he checked the clip from the Glock.
Snapping the ammunition into place, he sat down and tied the short combat boots he’d pushed his feet into. Rising, he turned to the pack beside the bed table, removed extra clips, and shoved them into his back pocket.
“If you go hunting tonight, then I go with you,” she warned him as she stood, went to the dresser, and pulled a thick ribbon from the makeup bag that had somehow been knocked over and pushed behind the TV sitting there. Knocking it back along the dresser in frustration she stared at her expression, seeing the white, shocked color of her face and the brilliance of her emerald-green eyes.
She looked like death.
Dragging her gaze from her own eyes, she watched Jordan in the mirror as she tied her hair back, her eyes narrowing as she lifted her chin in determination against the dominant look he flashed her.
“I’m not going hunting tonight,” he assured her.
Tehya forced herself not to flinch at the sound of his voice, a harsh, vicious rasp that assured her the rage was still in danger of escaping.
“You’re not yourself yet.” She swallowed tightly, terrified that once he faced the two attackers, he would lose the rational, logical control he was famous for. “You look like you’re ready to kill, Jordan. I’ve rarely seen that look in your eyes.”
He stared back at her ruthlessly.
“Look.” She shoved her hands in the pockets of her jeans. “I don’t want you doing something you’ll regret because of me.”
She could feel her heart racing out of control, the panic shifting from a fear of Jordan being wounded, or worse, killed, to the fear of him losing his control and perhaps blaming her for it.
“I’m fine.” His hands swiped through his hair as a tight grimace crossed his face.
“Jordan…”
“I’m fine, Tehya.” His voice sharpened. “I won’t kill the bastards, no matter how badly I want to. Now if you want to be there for the questioning, you’d better come on. I want my chance to find out who the fuck they are before Noah cuts their throats.”
He turned and stalked from the room, like a predator on the prowl, the air of danger surrounding him keeping her nerves on edge.
Jordan could feel her fear, her worry. His instincts were too finely honed, his knowledge of her too deep to escape it. Just as his knowledge that he was the one now causing her wariness couldn’t be escaped.
He would have to deal with it later. He would have to face the fact that he was riding a very fine edge of control because of the threat she was facing.
Stepping into the connecting suite he moved, or rather stalked to where the two men were bound in chairs, still unconscious.
“Who are they?” He directed the question to his nephew, still masked, his eyes a much darker blue and blazing with his own fury.
“We have John Frackle.” He smacked the first man on the head, causing it to jerk to the side in unconscious response.