"Haley." Sheriff Taggart shook his head. "You know I'm not going to do that. And what's going to happen when your brothers find out about this? Your daddy? The McQuires are going to descend on Buffalo Gap like a Scottish hunting party, sweetie, and they'll likely bring reinforcements. Do we really want that to happen?
They'll talk to me first. If I have answers, they might listen and stay home." It was a bribe, and a warning. Noble heard it, but he didn't appreciate it. He could feel the worry rising inside her now. She needed rest. She needed to put some distance between her and the events of the night, to allow her to deal with the loss she had suffered.
"The boys are still in California," she said. "And Daddy flew to France last night to help broker a deal with the airlines. I have a few days before I have to deal with them."
"And then?" Zane asked.
"And then, perhaps Mr. Wyatt will have the answers you need. But I can't give them to you right now, Zane. Right now, they aren't my answers to give."
"But it's your life to give?" Zane suddenly snapped, despite Noble's warning growl at the tone of his voice.
"Son of a bitch, Haley, you were nearly killed. Don't tell me they aren't your answers to give."
"Son of a bitch, Zane." She was in his face, anger pouring from her. "I've already lost one friend tonight. Do you think I need nightmares of losing another?" She pushed against his shoulders, as broad as they were, even despite the height he had on her. "Go home. I can't deal with you."
"I'll call your daddy myself," he bit out furiously at that point.
"And risk his life? Or my brothers'? I don't think you will, Zane. But you will leave this alone for now. And so will you." She swung around to Noble. "Get the hell out of my house and out of my life. I don't need you here."
Silence filled the kitchen. Noble was aware of Jonas, Leo, and Dane coming warily to their feet. Tension spiked hard and fast, thick enough to cut with a knife as her gray-blue eyes pierced his.
Noble smiled at the demand, the angry exclamation. He was aware that it wasn't a pretty smile. He didn't do smiles well, unless they were the sort that came seconds before killing.
"You must have mistaken me for someone who obeys your orders," he told het softly. "Sorry about your luck there, sweetheart, but it's not happening. You're stuck with me, whether you want to be or not." Haley stared back at him furiously before swinging around to Jonas.
"He's your enforcer." She shoved a trembling finger in his direction. "I don't want him in my home, period. Get him out of here."
Jonas dragged his hand over his face, muttered something about women and heat that made absolutely no sense whatsoever before staring back at her.
"It's not that simple, Miss McQuire."
"Don't you 'Miss McQuire' me," she snapped back at him, ignoring Noble as well as Zane. "This is your mess, now you can fix it. And you can fix it without him being here."
She couldn't bear the thought of something happening to Noble. For one blinding minute tonight, she had felt the overwhelming pain of believing he was dead, because of her. She knew what that would have meant—a sorrow so bleak, so deep that she had almost sunk beneath the waves of pain.
"Well, looks like you're being thrown out in the cold too, lover boy." Zane's laughter was mocking. "We can share a beer and discuss her stubbornness, then we can get to the best way to protect her," he suggested.
"Stop being a smart-ass, Zane," she ordered him roughly, her eyes still on Jonas. "I helped you," she reminded Jonas. "You know I did. You owe me."
"Yes, ma'am, I owe you." He nodded. "But I don't owe you the chance to die. And Noble won't walk away from this. He has his team, and he knows what the hell he's doing. He's your best protection."
"And the breed that died tonight," she yelled back at him. "Did he know what he was doing? Did you have an untrained man watching me, Jonas? Did you send a boy to do a man's job?" She knew better. "I knew him. Jason Lincoln. Do you know why he chose that name? Do you know he picked the name Lincoln because of a president who died before any of us was ever born? Did you know he liked comics? That he was flirting with one of the college girls who comes to the library?" Tears were filling her eyes. "Did you know that he wanted a Christmas present?" she whispered painfully. "I bought him a Christmas present." She wrapped her arms around herself and turned away from all of them.
Lifting her hand, she covered her lips and shook her head.
"Patricia has a grandson. He was coming for Christmas. Now he'll be coming to bury his grandmother." She wanted to scream with the rage filling her. "I have to see two friends buried because of me." She turned back to all of them. "I won't see any more. I won't bury more friends. Now get the hell out of my house. All of you."
She stalked out of the kitchen, knowing none of them would pay any attention to her, and that only made her madder. The helplessness that rose inside her was like a tide of red, bleak fury. Whoever wanted her dead knew what the hell they were doing. They knew how to get to her. How to hurt her friends, how to make her suffer.
That bomb that killed Patricia would have killed her if she had gotten into that truck herself. Patricia always parked right beside Haley because she didn't like walking to her car alone in the dark. And Jason. She shook her head as she slammed her bedroom door and locked it.
Jason Lincoln. And he had chosen that name because he'd admired all he knew about Abraham Lincoln. Jason has asked her once if she saw breeds as mankind. Haley had told him she saw them as the best of what man could accomplish, and the best of humanity. His brown eyes had lit with pleasure as he nodded, took his books, and left the library.
And now, she would never see him again. His shy smile would never touch her heart again, just as Patricia's laughter would never again fill her day.
She couldn't bear the thought of never hearing Zane give her another smart-ass comment, or of Noble never reading another carpentry book, or never reading another book of "mistakes" as he always called them. Because history was filled with mistakes, had been his reasoning. And he wanted to learn from them. She sat down on her bed and stared around the neat, pretty room. The canopied bed, with its thick, heavy curtains that she could draw around her when it was really cold. The bedroom set, which had been given to her by her father's parents. The writing desk across the room, which her mother's parents had given her. Bridges to the past, just as her precious books had been.
The thought of dying filled her with terror. The thought of Noble dying, especially for her, filled her with cold, bleak agony.