I took the greeting as evidence that she’d recognized my number, which meant that I didn’t need to say anything but “Do you have him?”
“Who the hell do you think you are?” Her rough, throaty voice lashed at me like a whip. “You really think I can’t get to you, Miss High and Mighty?
You think you’re safe in that castle of yours?”
I’d been told that the Rooney family was small-time, that their power paled compared to that of the Hawthorne family—and the Hawthorne heiress. “I think that it would be a mistake to underestimate you.” I balled my left hand into a fist as my right hand’s grip on the phone went viselike.
“Do. You. Have. Him.”
There was a long, calculating pause. “One of those pretty little Hawthorne grandsons?” she said. “Maybe I do—and maybe he won’t be quite so pretty when you get him back.”
Unless she was playing me, she’d just tipped her hand. I knew where the Hawthorne grandsons were. But if the Rooneys didn’t know that Toby was missing—if they didn’t know or believe that he was alive—I couldn’t afford to let on that she’d guessed wrong.
So I played along. “If you have Jameson, if you lay a finger on him—”
“Tell me, girl, what do they say happens if you lie down with dogs?”
I kept my voice flat. “You wake up with fleas.”
“Around here, we have a different saying.” Without warning, the other end of the line exploded into vicious barks and growls, five or six dogs at least. “They’re hungry, and they’re mean, and they have a taste for blood.
You think about that before you call this number again.”
I hung up, or maybe she did. The Rooneys don’t have Toby. I tried to concentrate on that.
“You okay there, kid?” Nash Hawthorne had a gentle manner and remarkable timing.
“I’m fine,” I said, the words a whisper.
Nash pulled me into his chest, his worn white T-shirt soft against my cheek.
“I’ve got a knife in my boot,” I mumbled into his shirt. “I’m an excellent shot. I know how to fight dirty.”
“You sure do, kid.” Nash stroked a hand over my hair. “You want to tell me what this is about?”
CHAPTER 14
Back in the library, Nash examined the envelope, the message, and the disk.
“The Rooneys don’t have Toby,” I announced. “They’re ruthless, and if they knew for sure Toby was alive, they would probably be making a real effort to feed his face to a pack of dogs, but I’m almost certain they don’t have him.”
Xander raised his right hand. “I have a question about faces and dogs.”
I shuddered. “You don’t want to know.”
Grayson took up a perch on the edge of the tree-trunk desk, unbuttoning his suit jacket. “I can likewise clear the Graysons.”
Eve gave him a look. “The Graysons?”
“My sire and his family,” Grayson clarified, his face like stone. “They’re related to Colin Anders Wright, who died in the fire. Sheffield Grayson abandoned his wife and daughters some months back.”
That was a lie. Sheffield Grayson was dead. Eve’s half sister had killed him to save me, and Oren had covered it up. But Eve gave no sign that she knew that, and based on what she’d told us about her siblings, that tracked.
“Rumors place my so-called father somewhere in the Caymans,”
Grayson continued smoothly. “I’ve been keeping an eye on the rest of the family in his absence.”