“Come on in, Nonny,” Trap invited aloud, knowing he had to.

I stayed too long. I stayed too long, Cayenne chanted. Both hands went to the wall and she looked as if she would scurry up toward the ceiling.

Breathe for me. You don’t want to get so agitated you accidentally hurt her, Trap cautioned. Stay still and breathe. I’ll handle this.

The door opened and Nonny’s head came into the room while her body remained firmly on the other side of the door. “I know you’re up a lot at night, Trap,” she said softly, her faded but extremely intelligent eyes studiously on his face. She didn’t so much as glance around the room. “I wanted you to know I fixed a few things to eat and left them out in case you get hungry in the middle of the night. You don’ eat it all, I’ll just have to throw it out.”

“You didn’t have to do that, Nonny.” Like she didn’t have a houseful of people to feed. She’d fixed that food for one person, and it wasn’t him. He smiled at her. He couldn’t help it. Nonny had a way of claiming those men who had stayed to help protect Wyatt’s daughters from the constant threat of Whitney. She was helping Cayenne because she knew Cayenne belonged to him.

“When you get old, Trap, you’ll learn you don’ sleep so good. I cook when I can’t sleep.”

“Thanks.”

“You feel like takin’ that food with you to the lab, I put out a few bags to makin’ the packin’ easier. And Flame left some clothes she wanted to donate to the secondhand store. I haven’t gotten around to it yet, so I put the things in a couple of bags by the door. Next time you or Wyatt go to town, would you take them for me or find someone who can put them to good use?”

“Sure thing, Nonny, and thanks. I really appreciate it.” The woman made him wish he’d known his own grandparents.

Nonny waved and was gone, quietly closing the door behind her.

Cayenne pressed herself tight against the wall. “She did that for me, didn’t she? She knew I came here tonight. She’s probably been aware when I’ve come before. I’m so embarrassed. Sometimes I stayed in her room because it felt…” She covered her face. “I can’t ever face her.”

“Babe, just stop. You freak out when people are nice to you.”

“I don’t know what to do with that.”

“You don’t have to do anything, just let them be nice.” He could see the panic on her face, in her eyes. She edged toward the door, and he knew he had to let her go. She was too upset to soothe. “Take the food and clothes, babe. I’ll be there soon,” he assured, but she was already slipping out the door.

CHAPTER 7

Trap stood just outside the tall chain-link fence surrounding his home. There was satisfaction in finally getting the renovations finished enough that he could live and work there. The building was massive. He liked space. He needed space. The laboratory was on the same floor as his living quarters. He had a massive recreation room complete with a pool table and big-screen television, because what man would go without those if he could afford it? At least his teammates had insisted he needed the TV so when they came over they could watch it. He wasn’t much of a television watcher.

He also had a home theater for movies – at the urging of the team. He wasn’t much for movies either. The team members had a lot of input for the space in the old factory, including a bowling alley. He’d vetoed that one, and there had been some sulking on Malichai’s part.

His laboratory was first class. Trap never stinted on his work environment. He had the best and the latest equipment and didn’t mind spending a fortune on it because his work made him a fortune several times over. Wyatt’s lab had been made as good as they could get it, but this gave Trap so much more room for the various machines he needed.

Light spilled through the windows he’d installed, long rows that brightened every room, especially the lab. His bank of computers was in the far corner, away from the various bottles and tubes he needed to conduct his experiments when he was on to something vital.

He had a desk and multiple shelves for his reference books. Hundreds of drawers were clearly labeled with everything he might need for work. He had the money for anything he wanted or needed, and he had a great assistant who personally brought him everything he asked for, anytime, day or night.

His office was large, a polished and wide mahogany desk gleamed, with his personal computer and two laptops waiting. The chair was one he’d chosen personally after sitting in dozens. He’d had a second office built, the desk smaller, but made of beautiful wood. The room was cozier, the shelves filled with every kind of reference book imaginable. He’d included works of fiction, every genre, so if his woman decided to go on a fiction reading spree she had choices.

His kitchen was awesome. He didn’t cook much, but he set it up with the best appliances and cookware possible, mainly because he considered he would be living there for years. The kitchen was huge, and it actually was two kitchens: the appliances mirrored one another from opposite walls with a long aisle down the middle. Double rows of pots and pans hung overhead. He wanted to make certain his home could accommodate the entire team and their families if it should be needed.

He added a shelf for cookbooks, because he liked to learn new things and he would be cooking for Cayenne as well. He wanted good, nutritious food for both of them.

In his blueprints, he’d included many bedrooms, telling himself they’d need them if the GhostWalkers and their families had to retreat to a fortress, but that didn’t explain the nursery set up right next to the master bedroom, or the reasoning for positioning several bedrooms close, but not so close that his hopefully great sex life would ever have the slightest interference.

This would be his home base. He’d changed every entrance leading to the tunnels and to the house itself so Whitney wouldn’t have the new specs. That would make it more difficult for his private army to penetrate. The windows not only were bulletproof, he had installed armor-plated screens that came down with the touch of a button. Every door in the house both inside and out was plated as well.

He had stashed weapons throughout the building, in every room and in the tunnels. He had an arsenal, enough for a small army – which his team was – should they need it. He’d had the roof redone in several places, giving them shadows to work with, small places that concealed and protected their bodies should they have to fall back on his home as a fortress. What he didn’t think of, the other members of his team had.