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shook his head. Rowdy was willing to forgive, no questions asked.
    Ray cleared his throat again.
    “I made a mess of things today.” He rolled the glass between his fingers, staring at it rather than his son. “I was trying to tell you, I thought she was still too frightened right now to deal with what she felt, what she wanted last year, hell, four years ago even.” He cleared his
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    Lora Leigh
    throat. “I worried, because I know the man you are.” He lifted his head, glaring at his son fiercely. “You pissed me off, boy, and I made a mess of it. I think you’re a fine, proud man. More than I ever hoped you would be. But still a man. One that’s wanted that girl for a lot of years.
    Sometimes, hunger like that ain’t easy to fight. No more than certain desires are.” Damn, he needed another drink.
    He poured another, aware of the way his son watched him, his eyes narrowed, his expression thoughtful.
    “Hunger like that goes beyond lust, Dad,” Rowdy finally sighed. “I’ve fought it for too long. I don’t know what it is yet. I don’t know how deep it goes. I know I came back for her.” He shook his head when Ray started to speak. “Hear me out. I had no intentions of living in that house, of breaking so much as one of your rules, but that bastard’s stalking her.”
    Ray’s gut clenched. “I’ll camp outside her bedroom window if I have to, but you won’t keep me away from her.”
    Rowdy leaned forward, his arms braced on the table, his fists clenched. Ray looked away from his son for long moments, wondering what he was supposed to say, torn between his love for his son, and his love for the daughter that should have been his as well. Hell, he felt like a whipped dog. Tired and helpless and not sure how to defend those he loved. All of them.
    “You’ve been checking into it?” Ray knew he had. Rowdy had spent the afternoon at the Police department, the rest of the day with some of the buddies he’d joined the Marines with. Men who had come home after their first tour, settled in and started their lives.
    “I’ve been checking into it.” Rowdy poured himself another shot. “I talked Betty Cline into letting me see the hospital records and Rissa Richards at the phone company about the phone tap.”
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    NAUTI BUOY
    Pride suffused Ray. Hell, that was his boy. Hard-eyed, determined and ready to fight. He was more man than Ray had ever imagined. Rowdy wasn’t drinking himself silly because Kelly had been attacked, but instead, he was plotting and planning murder. It was enough to make a redneck proud.
    Ray breathed in hard. He had discussed this with Maria earlier, knew what he was about to do was hard on her; it would be harder on Kelly.
    “Come back home, boy,” he muttered. “I’m a damned fool when I get riled and we both know it. That’s your home. As much as it is mine. And you’re my kid. I want you there.”
    Rowdy’s lips quirked. “The duffel bag is still on the bike. I was coming back tonight anyway.”
    Ray cleared his throat again. “I trust you, Son.”
    Rowdy’s face changed then. If Ray thought it was hard before, it was more so now. Rowdy leaned forward, his eyes meeting Ray’s straight on.
    “She’s mine, Dad.” He kept his voice low, fierce. “Any other time I would have never disrespected your rules or your home. But I won’t pull back now. I won’t lose her because some bastard tried to destroy her.
    And I won’t play footsie under the table because of your sensibilities. Do you understand that?”
    Anger flared in Ray. Damn, it was hard, forgetting his son wasn’t a kid anymore, that he couldn’t set rules and limits to protect him as well as Kelly. But Ray was man enough to realize that rules and limits were set for children, to teach them to be adults, to understand boundaries.
    He had taught Rowdy the fundamentals, the Marines had taught him the rest. All he could do now was trust his son’s judgment.
    He rubbed his hand over his lower face