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“Yes.” Laura lifted her chin, determined to act with dignity. The feud between their families was stupid. Who cared what happened several generations ago? It was the present that mattered.
His gaze skewered her until she wanted to fidget. “Related to the Clare Drummonds?”
“Yes.” She stared back in silent challenge.
“Related how?”
“Jesus, Quinn,” Patrick said. “What’s with the third degree?”
Quinn’s gaze didn’t shift away from Laura and he rattled off her sisters’ and her brother’s names.
“They’re my family,” she said, glad of Dallas’s hand gripping hers and the hospital bed between them. Quinn growled—actually growled—and a tremor raced down her spine. Surely he wouldn’t attack her in a hospital?
