“I don’t know what your game is, or what you’re after, but you can bet your ass I’m going to find out, and then I’m going to use your balls to decorate my Christmas tree.”
“That sounds unpleasant.” He rested his palm on her arm. “Relax.”
Quinn turned at the French doors and hollered, “Are you two coming, or do you need to get a room?”
Ryker held out his arm to gesture her forward.
“I’m not giving you my back. You might stab it with another knife from your boot.”
He held out his arm. “Fine. We’ll go together.” She ignored his arm, walkedbeside him into the house and showed the way to the library.
The rest of the family, except for her mother, was already waiting inside.
Harper kept her arms crossed. Her entire body vibrated with anger. Her emotion, coupled with that of her sisters, filled every inch of the room. They were all pissed. Nothing her father could say would ever make what he’d done okay.
“I know you girls are upset with me.”
“That’s an understatement,” Harper spat.
“It might help if I introduce myself, Mr. Thatcher.”
“Yes,” her dad said, flustered. His face flushed, contradicting the stony exterior he showed to everyone outside the family.
Ryker moved to the front of the room and cleared his throat. “My name is Ryker Cage. It is true that I was a client, and Harper stumbled on my death certificate, but I can explain. The death certificate was fabricated.”
“Obviously,” she said, propping her hand on her hip to stop herself from strangling him.
“My previous employment was as an operative in a special division of the government. We didn’t report to any of the letter agencies you’ve heard of. We oversaw, and were in charge of testing and utilizing individuals with your abilities, tohelp us achieve our goals.”
“You were using me?” Harper asked. The realization hit her like a punch in the gut.
“I was testing your accuracy. There is a difference, Harper.”
“Deceit has the same sour taste, no matter how pretty the presentation, Mr. Cage,” Quinn said as she moved to stand by Harper, along with her other sisters. The invisible battle line was drawn.
“Yes, well.” He let out a lengthy sigh. “I uncovered that one of our subjects was getting his information from outside help, including your hotline, and was pretending to be a detective. I tracked the calls to Harper. Someone found out, and the agency thought it would be best if I disappear until they find the subject. He’s trying to cover his tracks, and we believe you’re his next target,” he said, looking directly into her eyes.
“Why do you think she’s his next target?” Grace asked.
“He used two sources, and you’re the only one still alive.”
“I don’t believe you,” she whispered into the silent room, barely able to find her voice.
“Oh, for the love of God. Cara, you’re up,” Quinn said, snapping her fingers. She gestured to Cage.
Cara crossed the room withouthesitation and touched Ryker’s shoulder. Coop stood by as her abilities started to work.
“What is she doing?” Ryker asked.
“The test subject’s name is Richard Grant.” She let go of his arm and grabbed Coop's hand. “He’s telling the truth.” She turned to Harper. “And Mr. Cage has been watching you. He’s got surveillance around your home. He’s watched you go to work. He even watched you when you were debating to go into the bar.”
His gaze was bold and assessing as Cara’s words registered. Richard Grant? The name was vaguely familiar, but not enough to remember their conversations. She opened her mouth, and nothing came out. She slowly started to shake her head. “I don’t remember a Grant.”
“Well, if that’s not just creepy.” Grace groaned and hit Harper’s shoulder. “You’ve got your own little hot stalker. I want one.”
“That’s a nifty trick. We should have been watching you, too, it seems,” he said to Cara.
“Back off,” Coop growled.
