“A little more than a week ago.”

A whole week? And she hadn’t come to him right away? Damn, had she been grieving over the breakup?

“Did you give him a reason?” Dare wanted to know.

“None of your business.”

Trace brought her chin back around. “Sorry, sweetheart. Maybe you don’t know how this works, but under the circumstances, we need to hear everything. It’s the only way we can really analyze the potential danger.”

“You actually think Marc could be involved?”

“He’d have reason to be furious with Jackson—or with you.”

Surprise held her silent for a heartbeat before she scoffed. “You think I’m in danger? That’s absurd. Jackson is the one who was drugged.”

Unable to hide his smirk, Trace said, “Getting all the facts is the only way we can protect Jackson, too.”

Oh, now, that burned his ass. “I don’t need—”

Before Jackson could finish protesting, Alani faltered. “But…Marc wouldn’t have had anything to do with—”

“Jackson getting doped? Probably not, so don’t get alarmed. But I want you to tell me everything anyway.”

Jackson noticed so many things—the way her lips trembled, the new tautness in her shoulders, her pallor and shallow breaths.

“Trace,” he said low. “Back off, will you?” Sure, she needed to be sheltered, but scaring her wouldn’t accomplish anything.

Trace narrowed his eyes and cupped Alani’s shoulder. “Nothing’s going to happen to you, honey. This is just a precaution.”

She swallowed hard and averted her gaze from one and all. “I told him I was thinking of seeing…someone else.”

Dare put his elbows on his knees. “You mentioned Jackson to him?”

“No, of course not.” She shook her head. “That would have been needlessly rude.”

Since Alani was the epitome of graciousness, Trace accepted that explanation. “Did anyone know you were coming to see Jackson yesterday?”

“Jackson knew.”

Doing a double take, Jackson asked, “I did?”

“I called you.” Her sad smile came and went. “But I suppose you’ve forgotten that, too. I called you before leaving work.”

“Anyone overhear that call?” Dare asked.

“I was in my office, so I doubt it.” And then, head high and shoulders back, she turned to leave the room. “I’m going to put on coffee.”

“Alani…” Knowing the idea of danger had shaken her, Jackson started to stand.

“No.” She stopped him by raising an imperious hand. She pointed a finger at the food she’d brought him and gave a succinct order. “Eat.”

No one gave him orders.

Jackson considered her. She’d left her rich boyfriend in the dust. She’d freely defended him to her brother.

She’d slept with him, whether he remembered it or not.

Overall, he was pretty damn happy with her, so he gave her a salute. “Yes, darlin’. Whatever you say.”

CHAPTER THREE

IN THE KITCHEN, Alani turned on the radio. Loud.

Accommodating them? Or tuning them out?

Didn’t matter. Jackson sat forward. “Let me blow this up your skirt— I’ve met the bastard.”

Dare raised a brow. “Her boyfriend?”

“Her ex-boyfriend. And yeah. He knows me, knows my face and first name.”

“How the hell did that happen?”

Jackson flagged a hand. “I was chasing her, nothing new in that.”

Trace snarled. “And you met him?”

“Yeah. Unless he’s dumber than I think, he felt the chemistry between Alani and me.” Jackson challenged Trace. “It’s there and you know it.”

Crossing his arms over his chest, Trace turned to Dare. “Jackson’s been dogging her heels for a while now.”

Dare looked between them. “You knew about this?”

“Yeah.” Letting out a breath, Trace rubbed the back of his neck. “I knew.”

“Wasn’t a secret,” Jackson said. “I told him. But shit’s different now.”

Deadpan, Dare asked, “You think so?”

Everyone kept their voices low.

“Hell, I was just hoping to get her to redo my place for me so I could get closer to her.” Jackson ignored Dare’s raised brows and Trace’s annoyance. “But that didn’t work out, and I figured I was back to square one, and now—”

Trace cut him off. “Jackson was keeping tabs on her, too.”

That sounded bad, so Jackson explained. “With what she’s been through, I didn’t want the financier to do anything to make her uncomfortable.”

“Like chase her?” Dare asked.

The taunt put Jackson on edge. “Like pressuring her. And you can bet he did.” Could the financier have pressured her more than Jackson had just minutes ago? Shit.

“Why do you assume so?” Dare asked.

“Look at her!” This time Jackson thrust his hand toward the kitchen where, hopefully, Alani couldn’t hear them. “She’s so smokin’ hot, most guys wouldn’t be able to help themselves.”

Dare choked. “She’s the smaller, more female version of Trace.”

What an appalling thought. “Not even close,” Jackson denied. “You see her like a kid sister, same as Trace does.” Sure, they had the same coloring of pale hair and bright hazel eyes. That combo might be noticeable on Trace, but on Alani it was outright striking, fascinating every guy who met her. “I see her differently.”