Except he wasn’t sure he was ready.

“Nope.” He hated the way Eric’s eyes tightened in disappointment. “Just give me a little time, okay? I need a day or two. I don’t process shit like this the way you do.”

“Shit like emotions?” The dry tone of Eric’s voice made him smile tightly.

“Yeah. Shit like emotions. Just give me a day or two.”

Eric sighed. “Fine. Take some brooding time. Just know that I’m willing to talk to you whenever you want. I know it probably sounds dumb, but you really will feel better if you talk it out. If it makes you more comfortable, I’ll find us a gym and we can spar while we talk.”

Punching and talking. That might actually work for him. “Okay.” It would do him good to get out a little aggression. “Only if I can work Tate over, too.”

Eric chuckled. “Oh, I think Tate would love to beat the fuck out of you for a while.”

It was what men did, what brothers did. It was what he’d never done. In the past, a fight meant an ending. It had never been simply a way to work through conflict. Any fight had been nasty, low down, and permanent.

His family could be different. He could be different, better.

“I think I might love her,” he admitted quietly.

Eric’s smile nearly lit up the night as he slapped him on the shoulder. “Of course you do. She’s incredibly lovable, man. She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to any of us. She’s the one. And the best part is that she wants all of us, too. We can have everything we’ve ever dreamed of. All we have to do is reach out and take it.”

A buzzing sound emanated from Eric’s phone. Frowning, he pulled it out of his belt clip and studied it.

“What is it? Belle calling?” Kellan asked, more than a bit hopeful.

He liked the idea that she wanted to know where he was or wanted to know what he was thinking, feeling. He wasn’t used to having anyone give a shit when he came home. He would have to change if he stayed. He would have to check in and let his family know where he was all the time. It wasn’t enough that Tate would likely hack into a satellite and direct it at all of them twenty-four seven. Kell needed to show them that he cared by checking in.

“No. It’s not Belle. It’s a nanny cam alarm Tate set up. We placed it in the master bedroom, and it’s alerting me that something just triggered.” Eric flicked a finger across his phone. “Weird. I thought we agreed not to go in there. All the contractors should be gone by now.”

“You set up a camera? In the master bedroom? Did Tate find more bugs in other rooms?”

A massive wave of guilt crashed against him. He’d walked out when Belle was still in some sort of danger. They couldn’t be sure of when those bugs had been placed there. Tate suspected they’d been planted in the house a while back, but who knew for certain? Someone was trying to scare Belle, and no matter what she’d seen in the library, he couldn’t accept that a ghost had left a message on her bedroom wall from beyond.

His departure at such a critical time proved how selfish he could be.

Kell had a sudden and deep need to see her. He might have no real right to do it, but he wanted to hold her in his arms. To apologize.

He glanced up at the house as they walked through the gate and into the courtyard. The glow of a light illuminated the living room, and a lithe figure moved across the shade, a shadow that was an illusion. His Belle wasn’t that twiggy. She was solid and sexy as fuck. But then again, shadows could be distorted.

“I think Belle’s in the living room. Do you think Tate’s upstairs?” Kellan asked.

“Maybe.” A concerned frown crossed Eric’s face. “They were supposed to be with the medium, who was cleansing the house. Why would they split up? Belle was a little scared about the whole thing. That’s why I left Tate with her. I didn’t want her to be alone with anyone we don’t know.”

Kellan walked faster toward the house. Something wasn’t right. He didn’t like it. The sooner he saw Belle, the better he would feel. He was going to talk to her, try to get her to go back to Chicago. Not forever, just until they caught whoever sought to scare her. Wouldn’t Belle have a few things to clear up at her old apartment or something? He would bring her back to New Orleans, to her new home, when they were all certain it was safe. They could call in the guys from Anthony Anders. Surely, Dominic, Law, and Riley could figure out what was going on.

He strode toward the door, Eric right behind him. As he clasped the knob, something stopped him. The air around him became icy cold, his breath visible, despite the fact that the humid autumn evening was well above freezing.

Something moved through him that made him shiver. He felt his spine ping with fear. He could only focus on one thing: Belle. He wasn’t sure why being cold made him so very aware of her. Then he heard a whisper in his head.

Save Annabelle.

“Belle’s in trouble,” he murmured just above a whisper.

The more he thought about it, that hadn’t been Belle in the window. The medium might be in the house, but why wasn’t his love with her? He suddenly felt certain that whoever he’d seen in the living room was dangerous. That woman threatened Belle.

“Open the door quietly.” Eric’s voice was low, tense. “Stay next to the wall. The floor creaks in the middle. God, I hope you’re wrong, but I feel like she’s in danger, too. I can’t explain it.”

Because some things defied logic. This was one of them. So was love. Reason told him to deny it, but his instincts were too pure, too strong. He might end up looking like a fool for bursting in on the house cleansing, but he’d look like an idiot a hundred times over to keep Belle safe because nothing was more important than Belle.

That truth hit him like a sledgehammer.

Kell turned the doorknob, his heart threatening to pound out of his chest. Unlocked. He prayed the creak of the old metal and wood wasn’t as loud as it sounded in his head.

His warning instincts went off again when he remembered that Belle always locked the door behind her. She’d lived for far too many years in big cities to ever get into the habit of leaving any door to the outside unlocked.

He pushed the door open, anxiety churning. He had to be quiet, had to get into the house without anyone knowing it. Surprise was his only weapon.

The first thing he saw made his blood go cold.

A big body on the floor, crumpled and still.

Tate.

Kell barely managed to restrain himself from running over to his friend. Dread torqued up his gut. Not knowing if Tate was alive ate at him like he’d swallowed battery acid.

“Fuck.” Eric cursed quietly behind him before he stepped back outside.

There was no question he had to call the cops, an ambulance—anyone who could help them. He couldn’t wait. They all knew the drill. Call for help, then intercede until reinforcements arrived. Kellan would do just that, fight until his dying breath.

He tiptoed over to Tate and dropped to one knee, his whole body tense. God, what was he going to do if his friend was dead? The thought was surreal, unimaginable.

He put a hand on Tate’s body. He was still warm. Kellan couldn’t see any blood visible, but there was something sticking out of his chest. A dart of some sort.

Tate’s chest moved slightly in a shallow attempt to breathe.

He was alive, but he’d been hit with some sort of tranquilizer. Who the hell was here? What the fuck did they want? Where was Belle?

“Is he alive?” Eric whispered, his voice shaking. He was pale as he stared down at his best friend.

Kellan nodded. “Yes. Cops?”

“On their way,” Eric breathed.

“Go around the back of the house and see if you can figure out where Belle is.” Kellan reached into the antique umbrella stand by the door. He pulled out a sturdy-looking umbrella and wished he knew exactly what to do in this situation. His friend Dominic Anthony would. He’d bet Dominic never got caught without a weapon. He would never have to defend his woman with a freaking umbrella.

“Will do. If you can, search the third floor. Something tripped that camera,” Eric suggested, then slipped out the door again.

The master bedroom. Of course. The alarm had gone off on Eric’s phone. He had explained the whole nanny cam plan to catch whoever was stealing into the room and leaving Belle frightening messages during their walk home.

Someone had taken Belle upstairs.

A million horrifying thoughts ran through his head. Why? What were they doing to her? Was she silently crying out for him? Was she hurting, and he wasn’t there to save her? Had she watched Tate go down and known she would be next?

He hugged the dark wall, keeping his step light, but the person in the next room had no such qualms. He heard a squeaking from the living room as the woman he’d seen from the shadows exited the formal space, turning her back to him to call up the stairs.

“If it’s down here, it’s hidden, Gates. Damn it. We’re running out of time,” she hollered up the stairs. “We have to get out of here.”

Malcolm Gates, the lawyer. What the hell?

“Keep looking, damn it.” The lawyer’s voice floated back down. “If we don’t get our hands on that fucking client list, my career is over. If I could kill that whore again I would.”

The woman mere feet away from him gave a frustrated huff. “Why the hell did you kill Ehlers before you had her notes?”

Fuck. Gates had killed the madam because she’d planned to go public. And they thought Belle had the woman’s client list? Kell wasn’t sure why they’d believe that, but no way he could leave Belle alone.