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It was all her fault. She shook her head, lowering it, and fought with fear, guilt and the ever-present shadow of the threat she could feel moving around her daily. She had prayed for Rowdy to come home, and

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now he was. And she had single-handedly ruined his life. The only man she had ever loved, had really depended on.

Now what?

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Ray hadn’t been in a bar in over ten years. Not since he started dating Maria, and realized what love really was. He had known her forever. She and her husband had been regulars at the marina, their boat docked close to the office. Hell, during their younger days, when pleasure had been all that mattered, he and James, Maria’s husband, had shared Maria at one time. Once, long ago, Maria should have belonged to him, but his own ignorance had been Ray’s downfall.

That was how Ray knew his son had come by his darker passions naturally, how he knew what awaited Kelly if she became his son’s lover.

And yeah, he knew Rowdy would never hurt her, but he also had seen the horror the girl had been through. Kelly was a warm, vibrant girl, just as her mother was, with a capacity to love that would humble any man.

Ray’s first wife, Layne, had been an aloof woman. He’d cared for her though, loved her in a lot of ways, and the child they had together was a fine man. Ray knew that. But he was a man, in every sense of the word.

He stared around the smoky establishment, looking for the boy. Hell, he couldn’t stop thinking of him as a boy. Or calling Rowdy one. He was still his son, no matter how many ways Ray might mess up. And he had messed up. Ray knew that.

Rowdy was sitting alone at a far corner, a beer bottle between his hands, his head lowered. The weight of the world was settled on his son’s shoulders and Ray understood why. Rowdy came home expecting open arms and found a mess instead. Not just a mess, but a betrayal, because

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his dumbass father never had gotten the hang of how to discuss certain things with his son.

Sex was a private thing to Ray. The things he and Maria did in their bed, he’d be mortified if anyone knew. And he knew his wife felt the same way. Some things should just always be private. His boy had never been that way. Rowdy had always been a sexual creature, ever since he figured out how special girls were.

Ray stopped by the bar and purchased a bottle of Jack Daniels, snagged two glasses and made his way across the room. It was time to talk man to man, with no shame. That called for an iron backbone. Or plenty of whisky.

He slammed the bottle on the table as Rowdy lifted his gaze. Yep, the boy was pissed off, clear down to his bones and Ray didn’t blame him.

He pulled out a chair and sat down.

“Some thing’s just call for a good drunk,” he said heavily, uncapping the whisky and pouring two small glasses full. “Childbirth. Your son’s first date. Your daughter’s near rape.” His throat tightened with the pain as he tossed back the dark liquid and poured another shot of courage.

“And when a man fucks up and gets pissed off because he feels helpless, and hurts the people he loves the most.”

He stared straight into Rowdy’s dark eyes, feeling his son’s pain as though it were his own.

“I was pissed, boy,” Ray sighed. “I swore to her I wouldn’t tell. While she was all doped up on the pain medication the hospital pumped her full of, and hysterical, she told her mom about what happened at the lake with you before you left last year. She loves you. Always has. We’ve known that.” He swallowed tightly. “And I knew how bad you wanted her.” He paused, glancing away for a long second before pulling his gaze

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back to his son’s. “I never told you how much pride I had in you when you walked away, did I?”

He saw his son’s surprise.

“I didn’t figure you knew why I’d left.” Rowdy leaned back in his chair before picking up the whisky and throwing it back. He grimaced but held the burn of it.

“I knew.” Ray sighed heavily. “I knew when you were twenty-two and as though overnight, she turned from a clumsy little urchin into a woman-child. I saw your face the day you realized it.”

He watched the flush that rose over Rowdy’s face, the discomfort.

“She was a kid.” He cleared his throat uncomfortably. “She’s not a kid anymore, Dad. She’s twenty-four, and a grown woman.”

“And you were and still are a man.” Ray shook his head wearily before sipping at the whisky. “A good man. One any father could be proud of. You didn’t touch her, you did what you had to do and made no excuses or cast any blame. Though you could have. You left your home because of the girl—many men would have resented her. You would have been well within your rights to have protested how much Maria and I spoiled her.”

“You should have told me that then,” Rowdy grunted. “She kept stealing my damned shirts. She still does it. I should have made you throw both Kelly and Maria out.”

A grin tugged at his son’s lips. Ray 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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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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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 before breathing out roughly.

“Hell. Fine. Whatever. But…” He glared back at the boy. “You don’t play with that girl, Rowdy. You better be damned serious before you end up in

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bed with her. Son or no son, I taught you respect. She’s not one of those little tramps you and Dawg screwed with when you were younger.”

It was a warning he’d made when he first realized how sexual his son was. Good girls were solid gold. Not necessarily virgins, but the girls that understood a handy bed meant more than a place to fuck. A good girl understood responsibility, values and herself. A woman like that wasn’t a toy, she was a partner.

“I know how to treat a woman, Dad,” Rowdy grunted. “All women. Not just Kelly.”

Unlike Ray’s generation, Rowdy didn’t differ how he treated women in regards to their sexuality. One didn’t deserve less respect, or more, for the amount of experience they had in bed. Rowdy had argued that with his father many times. But love…that made a difference, and Ray knew it. And he knew his son was learning it.

“So you’ll come home?” Ray’s throat was tight with emotion. Damn, he hated that. Hated knowing there was more he should say and not knowing how to say it.

Rowdy looked over at him, his expression somber, his eyes, that deep sea-green, serious and thoughtful. He tossed back another shot of the whisky, his lips quirking as he set the glass down.

“I missed you too, Dad,” he murmured.

If that knot in his throat could have gotten tighter, it did. Ray swallowed then tried again. Finally, he poured another shot, drank it down and slapped the glass on the table before going for broke.

“I love you, boy.” His voice was so rasping he was ashamed of it. “And I’m damned proud of you. Damned proud.”

“I love you too, Dad.” That was his boy. Equal parts hellion and warrior but never afraid to say the words. “And I’m proud of you too.”

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He poured the glasses full again, they toasted each other and settled down for a serious drunk. Hell, Ray had been waiting on this day for nearly thirty years. There just wasn’t anything like having that first good drunk with your son, and knowing it meant something. Meant something damned fine.

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Kelly heard the Harley coming up the drive with her stepfather’s truck as the clock flipped over to two in the morning. Her mother had been pacing the house, muttering to herself, worry creasing her brow.

Maria turned to Kelly, her eyes dark as she watched her.

“Are you sure?” Maria asked, her voice soft, uncertain.

“For God’s sake.” Kelly felt like snarling the words. “Mom, have you and Ray lost your minds?” Sometimes Kelly thought the attack had been more traumatic on them in a lot of ways. Kelly was never really certain how she felt about it. Frightened, yes. Terrified sometimes, especially when the crank calls came. Knowing he was still out there kept her nerves on edge.

“He’s always wanted you.” Maria had never been comfortable with that. Kelly had known it, though they never talked about it. Just as her mother knew Kelly had always wanted Rowdy. It was like some odd fact of life.

“I’m not a little girl anymore,” she sighed, curling up on the sofa, watching her mother pace the living room as the vehicles shut off. “You know they’re both drunk, don’t you?”

One of Rowdy’s friends had called from the bar. He hadn’t been too sober himself, warning them that the two men were heading home, thankfully being driven by friends rather than driving themselves.

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“Ray hasn’t been drunk since before we got married.” A smile curved her mother’s lips, and Kelly swore she looked a little too sensual to suit her. A daughter shouldn’t see things like that, she thought with a burst of humor.

“Well, he’s drunk now.” She winced as it sounded like a load of bricks fell on the porch.

“Hell boy, I thought you were holding me up.” Ray’s voice drifted into the house.

“Thought you were holding me up.” Rowdy’s laughter was muffled.

Maria moved for the doorway and pulled it open with a quick jerk as Kelly rose from the couch to stand just inside the living room doorway.

Her eyes met Rowdy’s as a slow, sexy smile curved his lips. He gripped his dad’s arm tighter and led him inside the house. Neither of them were too steady on their feet.

“Maria, he’s a lousy drunk,” Rowdy grunted as his father threw his arm over Maria’s shoulder and planted a loud, smacking kiss on her cheek. “He didn’t even make it through the first bottle.”

Kelly wrapped her arms across her chest, a smile tugging at her lips as Rowdy winked at her.

“He never did, Douglas, you just keep forgetting,” her mother chastised him firmly.

Rowdy winced. “That’s not my name.”

“That’s what your birth record has. I didn’t see a Rowdy there anywhere, Douglas.”

Rowdy gave her a mock glare. “You’re not being nice to me, Maria.”

“That’s not my job,” she pointed out calmly. “Now move your big feet out of the way so I can get him upstairs. You two should be ashamed of yourselves.”

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“I can be ashamed later,” Ray piped in as she led him to the stairs.

“Hell. We had fun, sweetheart.”

“I can tell.” Maria laughed softly.