Then Mac asked, “Have you ever seen a stalker case before?”

“I was called out to a situation that turned into a case. Obviously, I wasn’t on it, but I kept an interest in it. A Boston socialite, Erica Reeves. A stalker. Turned out it was a shop worker in her favorite boutique in Back Bay. Developed an obsession with her. Did all kinds of nasty shit. Took months before he slipped up and left evidence. Got a warrant to run his DNA. Forensics matched him to sperm deposits he’d left inside gifts for her. Was arrested, got a few months. Waited awhile after he was out … eventually attempted to kidnap her. Thankfully, her security team caught him, but what they found in his car …” I shuddered just thinking about what he’d planned to do to her.

My father nodded. “He waited. He bided his time. But his obsession didn’t allow him to stop.”

Understanding, I sighed. “This person will strike again. It might not be now or next week or even next month … but they’re not going anywhere.”

“No, they’re not.”

“You know what I don’t get? You weren’t any closer to finding out who it was than I am right now. So why attack you like that? It doesn’t make sense. The level of anger and violence feels different from what we found around the estate. The incidents on the estate … I can’t put my finger on it. It feels wrong to say feminine, but …”

Mac plumped the pillows behind him, sitting up straighter. “I understand what you mean. My attacker was male. And he might have worn contacts, but he was furious. I could feel his rage, and it was definitely directed at me.”

Fear exploded through me at the thought of what might have happened if that knife had hit an organ. I lowered my eyes so Mac wouldn’t see how disturbed I was.

“Right …” I blew out a breath to steady myself. “But the incidents here on the estate directed at Lachlan, while growing increasingly agitated and angry … the threat level is completely different.”

Before Mac could respond, another loud knock sounded on the door before it swung open.

“Mac!” Two children exploded into the room, a boy and a girl. Neither paid any attention to me as they headed straight for my father with concerning enthusiasm.

“Don’t jump on Uncle Mac,” Thane warned as he followed them into the room.

Thankfully, his booming voice stopped the kids in their tracks at the foot of Mac’s bed.

“Och, they’re fine.” Mac leaned forward, gesturing to them. “Come see me. Up and up.”

“Okay, but be careful.” Arrochar burst through the door, running to catch up with the two kids I assumed were Thane’s as they scrambled onto the bed. “Not near Uncle Mac’s stomach.” Arrochar reached to pull the girl back.

“She’s fine, Arro,” Mac chastised softly.

Arrochar glared at him. “I’ll decide.”

He chuckled, giving her a soft look before turning to the little girl. By the size of her chubby limbs, the cherubic face, huge blue eyes, and the mass of dark curls, she was probably only four or five years old.

The boy who kneeled at his sister’s back also had a mass of thick curls, but he looked a little older. Perhaps six or seven.

As if he’d felt my stare, he turned and looked at me. Curiosity brightened his blue eyes. “Who are you?”

The little girl who giggled as my father tickled her went to fall into Mac as she turned to see who her brother was talking to. I lunged to stop her, but Arrochar beat me to it, pulling her off the bed and into her arms.

“I want Mac!” she cried, outraged.

Mac caught her foot in his hand and gave it a little wiggle. “Right here, Bonny Blue.”

“Robyn.”

I turned to Thane and found him watching me almost as closely as his son was. “Hey.”

He gave me a small smile, and I realized for the first time what a good-looking son of a bitch he was. While I’d seen plenty of Lachlan and Brodan because they were famous, I’d only seen a photo of Thane, Arran, and Arrochar Adair before coming here.

The brothers all shared the same coloring. While Brodan had more classical features than his brothers, they all had dark blond hair, blue eyes, and something boyishly wicked in their eyes that was undeniably attractive. Lachlan and Arran, despite the age difference, from what I could tell from photos, looked the most alike. Thane’s eyes were slightly grayer than Lachlan’s, his hair a bit longer, and he had a thick beard that was darker than his hair. While Lachlan had a short beard, it was neatly trimmed. Everything about him was put together, as if he were ready to be photographed by the paparazzi at any moment.

Thane had a very appealing unkemptness to his appearance, like he was too busy living his life to care what he looked like. I knew he was younger than Lachlan by two years, but he actually looked a little older. It might have been the attractive lines at the corners of his eyes, or it might have just been the air of responsibility that hung around him.