The Return Of Rafe Mackade (The MacKade Brothers 1)

"We'd have all gone with him." Shane glanced in the rearview, then whipped the truck into a quick and illegal U-turn. "Dev and Jared would have spouted off for a while about law and order. We'd have shoved each other around. Then we'd have gone with him." With some regret, he shook his head. "It would've been fun."

"Fun." She could almost laugh as she let her head sink back on the seat.

"Nobody messes with a MacKade woman."

"Oh, really? And is that my status at this point?"

He caught the tone, and then, with a wary glance, the martial look in her eyes. "I just meant...seeing as you and Rafe... That is, the way he's..." Even a MacKade knew the value of retreat. "I ain't touching this one."

He pulled up at the base of her stairs and looked up to study the door. "Looks like somebody beat me to it."

"What?" She was still simmering.

"I'll check it, but it looks from here like it's already been fixed." He got out of the truck, climbed the stairs. "Yep. Few nicks and scratches, but it's back on its hinges." As a precaution, he tried the lock, gave it a good shove. "Solid. Rafe probably took care of it."

"I see." It did nothing to appease her. "I'll have to be sure to thank him, won't I?"

"Yeah." Shane retreated again, backing down the stairs. "Are you going to be all right? Want me to get you anything, or hang around?"

"No, no, I'm fine. Just fine." It wasn't pleasant to take out her keys, but she did it, turned the lock. "I appreciate the ride."

"No problem." As he hurried back to his truck, Shane decided Rafe had a problem. A big one. It gave him a reason to smile all the way through town.

Chapter 10

It felt good to beat on something. Even if it was only a nail. To prevent himself beating on something, or someone else, Rafe had closed himself in in the east-wing bedroom. The look in his eye had warned any and all of his men to keep their distance—if they wanted to keep their teeth.

The sounds of construction bumped against the walls, a sound just violent enough to suit his black mood. Rafe ignored the nail gun at his disposal and beat in nails with hammer and muscle. Every new stud that he secured with nails and a swing of his arm was Joe Dolin's face.

When the door opened behind him, Rafe bared his teeth without looking around. "Get the hell out. Stay out or you're fired."

"Go ahead and fire me." Regan slammed the door at her back. "Then I can say what I have to say to you without damaging our professional relationship."

He looked over his shoulder now, briefly. She'd changed, he noted. Not just the slacks, but everything—shirt, blazer, jewelry. From her hair to her shoes, she was neat as a pin.

But he remembered exactly how she'd looked, frazzled, pale, with blood on her clothes.

"You don't want to be here right now." He set another nail, shot it home.

"You couldn't be more accurate on that, MacKade, but I'm here."

She'd had to shower first, had to scrub herself everywhere and throw out every stitch she'd been wearing when Joe touched her. But she was steady again, and ready to deal with Rafe MacKade.

"I want to know what the hell is wrong with you."

If he told her, she was liable to laugh in his face. And that, he was dead sure, would push him over that final edge.

"I'm busy, Regan. Weather's cost me a full day."

"Don't hand me that. Look at me when I'm talking to you, damn it." When he didn't, just kept battering nails into wood, she fisted her hands on her hips. "Why did you leave Devin's office that way? Just leave?"

"I had things to do."

To illustrate her opinion of that, she kicked at a toolbox. "I suppose I'm to thank you now for fixing my door."

"I'll bill you."

"Why are you mad at me?" she demanded. "I didn't do anything to—"