“She pours love into it,” Pepper said, before Nonny could answer. “I’ve watched her, and no matter what she says, that’s the truth. That’s her secret. She puts a recipe together just like everyone else, but she pours love into it and makes it a miracle.”

Nonny smiled at Pepper as she lit her pipe, rocking, the chair creaking slightly, soothingly. A kind of comforting, homey sound. Her face was soft and warm, and when her gaze rested on Pepper, there was love there for anyone to see. She looked the embodiment of love.

“Child,” she said, her voice low as she smiled at Pepper. Loving.

Cayenne’s breath caught in her throat. Nonny was everything she was looking for. Her example. The truth about families and how to go about making them. Pepper had already learned from her. Cayenne had subconsciously known it. She’d been drawn back to Nonny’s bedroom time and again.

“Before.” Cayenne waved her hands toward the swamp. “When I was alone and afraid and had nowhere to go, I looked for Trap. It was always Trap I needed.”

Both women were looking at her now. She had their full attention. She didn’t know how either of them would react when she gave them the truth so she stood up and walked to the thick column that ran to the porch roof. Circling it with one arm she raised her chin and looked Nonny straight in the eye.

“I came here. A lot. Nearly every night after the first two weeks. I had no food, no clothes, I was living in the basement of the old plastics building. I didn’t know how to exist in the world. I’d lived in a very small cell my entire life.”

Something stirred in Nonny’s eyes. Something deep. Cayenne felt that look penetrate straight through her heart to her soul. Nonny was giving her something huge. Claiming her without words. Just as she’d claimed Pepper and her three little granddaughters. Just as she’d claimed Malichai, Trap and the rest of the team members. Hers. They were her family, and she’d be loyal to them and love them until the day she died. She said that with one look. Without a single word, and still, Cayenne, who knew nothing of love and family, understood.

Cayenne blinked back tears, her fingers digging into the wood. “I slipped past the guards and stayed downwind of the dogs. I’m ashamed to admit that I came into your house while you were sleeping, Nonny. I would go to Trap’s room and just sit in it.” More like cling to the ceiling or the wall, but she wasn’t going to admit that. “When I wasn’t with him, I went to your room. I didn’t know why at the time, but being there, with you, brought me comfort. I felt hope when I was there. I shouldn’t have done it, not with you sleeping, I knew it was wrong, but I couldn’t stop myself.”

She blurted her confession fast. She hadn’t felt it was wrong to be in Trap’s room, but she knew she shouldn’t have sat for hours in Nonny’s room.

“Child.” Nonny took the pipe from her mouth and held out a hand to Cayenne. “Come here to me.”

It was the last thing Cayenne expected, but given what she knew about Wyatt’s grandmother, she should have. She pried her fingers from the safety of the column one by one, her heart pounding so loud, it sounded like thunder in her ears. She took three steps toward that outstretched hand.

Something hit the column just where her head had been, smashing into the wood, sending splinters everywhere. The sound came a beat later, the rolling thunder of a long-distance rifle shot.

Cayenne flung herself in front of Nonny. “Pepper, Nonny, get down.”

Pepper was already crawling toward cover. Nonny couldn’t move that fast. She jerked out of her rocking chair and turned toward the door. Cayenne leapt into the air, an instinctive, strange move that after, she would never know why. The bullet took her square in the chest, driving her backward into Nonny’s body. Had she not taken the bullet, it would have struck Nonny between the eyes.

Nonny wrapped her arms around Cayenne as they both went down. Pepper scrambled on all fours to try to get to them to help Wyatt’s grandmother pull Cayenne’s limp body into the house. Behind them, the door was flung open and Malichai was there, crouched low. He caught Nonny under her armpits and yanked her inside. She had her arms around Cayenne and dragged her in as she was being pulled in.

The second bullet went into Cayenne’s limp body, hitting her lower, on her left thigh, tearing through her jeans. Blood spread across her chest and over her leg. Pepper dove into the house and Malichai slammed the door.

“Draden’s on the roof. He took the night shift. He was asleep in the house while I was on guard. He’s already on the roof and in position now. He’ll take out the sniper. We’ve got a team coming at us. At least five,” Malichai told the women, even as he ripped open Cayenne’s shirt with one hand, his fingers at the pulse on her neck with the other.

“She’s alive,” he said. “Fuck!” He shouted the expletive. “I should have seen this coming. Gino’s here as well, he’s already in the swamp. Everyone else is working on Joe’s place down the road. I sent for them, but we’re going to take a lot of heat before they get here.”

Nonny gave him a cool look. “It isn’t necessary to use such language, Malichai. Pepper, in the front bathroom under the sink is a large first-aid kit. I’ll need that. My shotgun’s just inside the parlor door. Bring that as well. You know where Wyatt keeps his weapons.”

Pepper nodded and raced to the other room, staying low, away from the windows. Another bullet crashed into the door, low, but the armor plating Wyatt had installed stopped it from coming into the house. An answering roll of thunder told them Draden had spotted the sniper and had taken his shot.

Malichai pressed his hand over the bullet wound in Cayenne’s chest. It was right over her heart. Directly over her heart. Already the area around the hole was swelling and turning color fast. Blood ran like a small river, but when he placed his hand over the wound, he actually felt the bullet. It should have penetrated through Cayenne. She was small. The bullet could go long distances and punch through walls. Malichai was certain it was an AI sniper rifle.

“I can feel the bullet, Nonny. She’s not wearing armor. It should have gone right through her. Put your hand right here and apply pressure while I check the one in her leg,” he instructed.

He used his knife to rip her jeans open. There was a lot of blood, and he did the same thing he’d done with the chest wound – pressed his hand over it in order to apply pressure. Again, he swore he felt the bullet. It had only penetrated about the length of the bullet itself.