It played over and over in his head, interspersed with the too vivid memories of that night, until he was reeling internally. But he tried to focus on Mandy; it was she who mattered, she who he had to protect, as he hadn’t protected her father.

When the initial shock had hit, the tears had won out and she’d simply stood there with them streaming down her cheeks. It had jolted him out of his own sickening feeling enough to go to her and pull her into his arms. But the tears had given way to a fierce anger that echoed his own.

Her father, the one man he’d admired and respected above all other men except his own father, had been assassinated. Cold-bloodedly and with evil calculation, by a person who valued personal power above all else. It didn’t even matter to him what she would use that power for, although he had a pretty good idea what her aims were. Nothing mattered beyond the simple fact that she’d killed a good and honorable man because he’d discovered the truth about her. He didn’t care that she hadn’t pulled the trigger herself; the man sitting in prison had only been her proxy.

A loyal proxy, if he hasn’t talked in all this time. I wonder what she had to pay him? Or his family, maybe?

Cutter, who had been stationed at—or rather on—their feet, as if he wanted to make sure they didn’t leave, was suddenly on his feet. As had become habit, Adam looked at the dog to assess, saw the wagging tail and knew whoever was incoming was welcome. A short, sharp, two-part bark told him who had arrived.

“Liam,” he said quietly. Mandy managed a faint smile.

“I come with sustenance,” the young Texan called out as he came in, and even in this weird state Adam couldn’t miss the scent of hot, fresh pizza.

“Excellent,” Quinn said. “I’ll distribute, you grab yours and hit that scary computer station you and Ty put together upstairs. We need to know more about Malachi, and why he’s willing to sit in prison for the rest of his life without rolling over on who paid him. And how he was paid, while you’re at it.”

“Got it, boss.”

“You two,” Quinn said, shifting his gaze to them, and speaking in a voice of command. “Eat. I know you won’t taste it and it’s the last thing you feel like doing but we need you functional, and for that you need fuel.”

“He’s right,” Adam said to Mandy.

“I know.”

“And,” Quinn added with a knowing look, “let loose some of that anger. It’ll keep you going as much as the food.”

“That it will,” Adam said, feeling the roiling fire of it inside, and stifled the instinct to quash it.