Blood Rights [Wicked River 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Read Free Page A

hadn’t caught Moira around the waist and hauled her off her feet. He let go quickly, however, when the heel of her boot connected squarely with his shin. Drawing up to her full five-nine height, Moira leveled Brock with a scathing look and then spun around to stomp off toward the barn.
    “Don’t call me Mo.”  

Chapter Two
     
    This was not happening.
    Eight months without so much as a phone call or postcard. Eight months of not knowing if he was even alive. Eight fucking months of trying to get over him, trying to rebuild her life, and then Brock Lancaster shows up, naked as the day he was born, as if he’d just blown in with the storm.
    Well, he could take his rugged good looks, perfectly sculpted physique, and that stupid pet name that made her knees weak and go right back to wherever he’d been hiding. She didn’t need him, and she certainly didn’t need the complications his arrival brought with him.
    “Mo, wait!”
    Stopping just before she reached the barn doors, Moira fisted her hands at her sides and struggled to breathe. “What are you doing here, Brock?”
    “Looks to me like I’m saving your life.”
    It was the second time someone had said that to her in the span of about three minutes, and it rankled because she knew it was true. Wild horses wouldn’t drag the confession out of her, though. “I can take care of myself.”
    “Yes, because it looked like you were doing such a bang-up job of it.”
    Giving up on remaining calm and rational, Moira turned to give Brock a piece of her mind but stopped short when she found the man much closer than she’d expected. She floundered for only a moment before finding her voice, though. “Why did you come back? There’s nothing for you here.”
    “You’re here.”
    “Like I said, there’s nothing for you.”
    “Don’t,” Brock growled at her. “I’m only here now to do my job. If you think more of those things aren’t coming, you’re a damn fool, Mo. You know you need my help.”
    As much as she hated to admit it, he was right. She didn’t have a clue what had ambushed them or how to fight them. As much as she’d like to send Brock packing, it wasn’t about her. She had a lot of people who were looking to her to protect them. Pushing away her personal feelings and doing what was in the best interest of the whole, she sighed heavily and dipped her head. “Fine, but I want to know everything you know.”
    “That’s classified information.”
    “Cut the crap, Brock. There are twenty-eight people in that barn who are scared and want to know what the hell just happened. How are we supposed to protect ourselves if we don’t know what we’re fighting?”
    “She has a point.” The first man who’d saved her life—Koba, he’d said—stepped forward and crossed his arms over his rock-hard pectorals. “They have a right to know.”
    She didn’t know who he was or how he was associated with Brock, but she liked him a little better already for his agreement. “Thanks for the help out there.” Fine, she could play nice and give the guy that much.
    “Nah, you did most of the work.” Koba winked at her and leaned to the side to bump their shoulders together. “You’re one tough little hellcat.”
    Oh, he was good. “And you’re heavy on the compliments. I appreciate the help, but that doesn’t mean I trust you.”
    “Why should you? You don’t know anything about me.”
    Moira really wished the guy would stop saying all the right things. She was mad, had every right to her anger, but she was having a hard time holding on to it whenever he smiled at her. When he touched her, it was like a soothing aloe that calmed her frazzled nerves. Who was this guy?
    “He’s with you?” She jerked her thumb toward Koba while addressing her question to Brock.
    Brock studied her for a long time before he nodded. “He’s mine.”
    Oh. Moira had no trouble understanding the simple statement. While her pussy clenched and her skin tingled at the