He knew absolutely he was the needy one. He was also a first-class bastard. He was selfish. He always had been. He did what he wanted when he wanted. He had become used to being rude and expecting those around him to put up with it. At first, he’d wanted to drive people away and keep them at a distance. Now, that behavior was ingrained in him.

He could have anything he wanted. He had that much money. He wanted a machine costing a couple hundred thousand, or a million, he bought it if it was important to him. His assistant provided anything he asked for and would answer his call even in the middle of the night. He was used to deference when he addressed others. He was used to getting his way in all things.

He not only wanted Cayenne – he needed her. That meant he would use everything at his disposal to keep her tied to him. Everything he’d told her about having a child and saving her life was true. He had finally found her files on the computer. He’d read them carefully. He knew when her period was. He had already calculated when she could get pregnant. He’d waited to say something to her until he was certain he’d managed to plant his child in her. He had known all along it was wrong. He also had known she would forgive him.

He pressed his hand to his heart. The physical reactions to her were getting stronger. Separation anxiety was growing with every moment they were apart. He forced himself not to call Wyatt back. Ezekiel had trailed after Wyatt to protect the family on their outing. Trap was grateful he was alone. He knew Zeke or Wyatt would have known he was in distress and they were astute enough to guess that being away from Cayenne was the reason.

He felt her then. In his mind. The sudden alarm. Near panic when Cayenne didn’t panic. Trap leapt to his feet, his shout sending birds lifting into the air. Cayenne. He reached for her. There was a moment of clarity. He knew she threw herself in front of Nonny, and as Wyatt’s grandmother rose from her chair, Cayenne leapt up to cover her head as best she could with her own body.

The bullet drove her back into the older woman. Both went down. The second bullet struck, a one-two punch. Cayenne was already fading, barely feeling the second bullet. She had shut everything down deliberately, realizing the bullets penetrated deep enough to do damage. She was bleeding and she didn’t know how bad either of the wounds was.

He was in the boat, ready to start it when first Wyatt arrived, two of the toddlers on his hip. Ezekiel followed with Ginger, racing through the swamp to gain the boat before Trap had taken off.

Cayenne. Trap reached for her. Allowed Wyatt to take over. He sank down on the seat and gripped the edge of the boat, uncaring that his enhanced strength might leave evidence behind. He waited. Reached for her. There had been a flash of intense pain. He’d felt her heart jar. Hard. As if shock waves had shaken it. For one moment, her heart’s rhythm had changed.

He’d had her close. Warm. Inside him. One second could change his life. He knew that. It had happened twice before. One second had changed everything. Taken his family. Taken his aunt.

Not you, Cayenne. Don’t you fucking die on me. You aren’t leaving me. Do you understand? Whatever happened, you keep breathing. For God’s sake, baby, don’t you fucking die.

“Trap.” Wyatt’s voice was ultra-quiet. “The girls can’t breathe. You have to get it under control.”

The voice registered, but he really didn’t hear the words. He was someplace else. Inside himself. Someplace no one could reach him. Get to him. Make him feel anything but sheer ice.

Trap’s gaze jumped to Wyatt’s. He embraced the cold. Hid himself there. Became a fucking glacier. His hands were steady. He knew his eyes were devoid of all feeling because he wasn’t feeling. He couldn’t feel. Not without her. Not ever again. He’d given himself this one last chance. One. To live. To not be the cold lethal monster he’d shaped himself into in order to exact revenge.

“Trap.” Ezekiel’s voice penetrated the ice in his veins. “The girls have to breathe. So do we. You don’t get it under control, none of us is going to make it back to her.”

Trap looked around him, blinking to bring it all in focus. The air density surrounding and in the boat went back to normal. He couldn’t reach Cayenne. She wasn’t there anymore. He took a deep breath and let it out.

“When have I ever lost control, Zeke?” His voice was as devoid of feeling as the rest of him. There was nothing left but ice – and the need to kill.

“Malichai reached out. He’s taking out the bullets. She’s alive, but they’ve got trouble, at least two, maybe three more coming at them. Gino’s in the swamp and Draden’s on the roof,” Wyatt reported.

“Wyatt, you can’t take the girls to the house. Let me off in the swamp, the trail we made leading through will bring me in behind them.” Trap stared straight ahead. It was up to Malichai, not him, to save Cayenne. But he could kill everyone who had tried to take her from him. He’d spent a lifetime learning how. And if she survived… this bullshit was never. Ever. Fucking. Happening. Again.

CHAPTER 17

The moment Trap’s foot touched dry land, he was running, merging with the brush and trees, heading into the dense vegetation toward the narrow trail the GhostWalkers had created to allow them access through the swamp between their homes. He expanded his senses to encompass the area between him and the house. Gino was already reaching toward him with his mind and they nearly collided there in that psychic place.

I’m coming toward you. Draden’s on the roof. Pepper is armed inside while Malichai and Nonny work on your woman. Draden took out their sniper. We’ve got at least three more approaching the house.

Four, Trap corrected. I’m coming in behind them. I’ll take out as many as I can, you stay close to the house to keep any of them from getting to the others.

A third voice entered the conversation. I’m a couple of miles from the house, in the bayou, Wyatt said. Getting the girls undercover. I hear helicopters. Two of them. Draden, if you’re exposed, you need to use the blinds.

One of the first changes made to both Wyatt’s home and Trap’s was the installation of cover for the men using sniper rifles on the rooftops. They could slip into one of the camouflaged tubes that looked part of the roof and never be seen, even from the sky.

Helicopters mean business, Trap said. They’re coming at us with more than a five-man team. Pay attention to the swamp side. They won’t make their entry via water because they’ll be too exposed. They’ll have gunners on the helicopter. Draden, can you take them out?