One by one, the others step forward to shake my hand or meet my gaze with a nod.
“Wyatt is the big lug with the beard. But don’t be surprised if we all start callin’ him ‘probie.’ Right?” She shoots West a look.
The former SEAL grumbles what might be a “yes” and I glance at Raelynn, confused.
“Rite of passage,” she says. “Newest member of the team gets hazed for at least a year. Or until someone else joins. I’ve been the goddamn probie for way too long.”
“I’m Wren,” the redhead says. Her giant protector softens his gaze, staring down at her with such adoration, it’s obvious they’re completely in sync. “And the grumpy, yet lovable mountain of granite behind me is Ryker.”
“I thought we agreed,” Ryker grumbles, “you weren’t going to use the words lovable, teddy bear, or ‘puddle of goo’ to describe me in public anymore.”
“You agreed.” Wren tips her head back to smile up at the big man. “I merely agreed not to tell anyone what happened when you saw the ultrasound for the first time.”
She winks at Raelynn and traces a single finger down her cheek.
“Little bird…”
The last man in the room steps out from behind the couple. He’s bulkier than West, but shorter than Wyatt and Ryker. His dark eyes shift between me and Raelynn, and he sticks close to the mountain of muscle with an attitude. “That’s Ripper,” Raelynn says, but stops me when I offer to shake. “He doesn’t…”
“Oh.” I shove my hand into my pocket. “Sorry, this is all kind of overwhelming. I haven’t met this many people at once in…years.” If I hadn’t promised Raelynn I’d listen, that I’d give this family of hers a chance, I’d have been out the door two seconds after we walked in.
My admission seems to ease Ripper’s discomfort, and Ryker gives the other man a terse nod before turning back to me. “So, Nash Grace…want to tell us who you really are?”
West clears his throat. “Ry, maybe we move this to the command center? Pretty sure Wren would like to get off her feet.”
“Fuck. Sorry, little bird. Sit down and relax.” Ryker slides his arm around Wren’s shoulders and guides her to a plush recliner. Several couches, low tables, and lamps give the area a comfortable, lived-in look—if it weren’t for the three large flat screen monitors along the wall.
Wren sinks down with a sigh. “I only have another month of this,” she says, her green eyes flicking to mine as she rubs her belly. “Then it’s all sleepless nights and diapers and watching this one,” she pats the big guy’s hand, “turn into a—”
“Don’t say it,” Ryker warns. “Or I’ll cancel tomorrow’s ice cream delivery.”
She tips her head up and bats her eyelashes at him. “You and I both know you’d never do that. You love me too much.”
He leans over to press a kiss to her lips. “This kid is going to ruin my reputation. Let’s get started before West has to scrape me up off the floor.”
Wren aims a remote at the wall, and two of the three screens flicker to life.
Oh, shit.
The first one has my driver’s license, records from my last two high schools, and a grainy, live video feed of the alley behind my studio. On the middle screen, there’s a sketch of the man I think might be the one who took a shot at me, alongside a mug shot of him from years earlier.
“What is all of this?” I ask.
“Everything we were able to find about you,” Wren says. “Which isn’t much.”
“High school transcripts? How the hell did you get those?”
“Took me all of ten minutes.” Wren picks up a keyboard from the side table. “But in twenty, I should have been able to find your bank accounts, credit cards, email addresses, lease agreements, and job history.”
“I don’t have any of that stuff.” I turn to Raelynn, confused. “Why was Wren searching for me?”
“Because you’re the one that asshole shot at,” Ryker snaps. “Diego Ruiz. Arrested in Rockford, Illinois ten years ago for assault with a deadly weapon. But before the case went to trial, the evidence mysteriously went missing.”
“So, he walked?” Raelynn asks. “Where is he now?”
Wren and Ryker exchange glances. “We don’t know. Diego’s been off the grid for more than a year and a half. His last known place of residence was an apartment on the south side of Chicago.”
My gut clenches, and ice fills my veins. “The DeLucas lived on the south side of Chicago.”
