For the Bond (Romantic Suspense) (Beyond Blood, #3) by Nora Flite

glowered at them both. “Okay, so. I'm going to jump right to it. What the hell happened tonight?”
    Kite crossed his ankles. He was stretched out length-wise, his fingers white around his drink. He looked from me, to the ceiling. “We made a mistake. That's all.”
    There was a tenuous pause. Finally, Jacob stood, moving fluidly into the kitchen and filling a third glass. “I thought I'd found your man. I was wrong. That's what he means.” Eyeing his friend, Jacob wandered towards me. The drink he extended felt like a peace offering. “Forgive us, if you can.”
    Crinkling my nose, I took the glass. I was confused and a little frustrated, but the phone number in my purse was too exciting to let their 'mistake' drag me down. “What about the guy at the bar?” I asked slyly.
    Jacob straightened up. His wall softened, a thought crossing his mind that I could almost see behind his eyes. “Did you speak to him?”
    “Just to get him off your back,” I lied. I didn't want to hand over my secret key. Juice knew something, and if I could take the mission on for myself—from here on out—I intended to do so. My purse was heavy for many reasons. It held a collection of items that spoke about my journey.
    Jacob and Kite... even if they planned ill for me, a big hunk of my heart still hoped for a happy ending. But I was tired of relying on them. Exhausted by the back and forth and all the hidden doors they kept from me. I was going to find the man I was after. I was going to kill him. They'd have no chance to rob me of that, but more so...
    I intended to free them.
    Smelling the drink—noting it was whiskey again—I let it slide over my tongue. The burn was welcome, it cleared my head. I didn't push the topic about Juice or why Jacob had freaked out, why the bar-tender had called him by the name 'Dennis' or the like. I'd find everything out that I needed from the source.
    There was a heaviness in the room. From them, and from me. I knew where mine came from. I felt—god, predicted—that I would soon walk away from these men. It was for the best, it'd keep them safe and me as well. Okay, maybe me. I could dream.
    For sure, going off on my own hunt would save them from harm. That was important to me, even if it made no sense. Why were they acting so morbid, though? Why was Kite looking around and avoiding me, or Jacob standing so silent?
    Lowering the rim of the glass from my lips, I smiled up at him. “You guys are acting like I'm pissed at you. It's okay if you were wrong about tonight. We'll find him eventually.”
    Lifting his eyebrows, Jacob considered me like I was a new discovery. “Yes. I imagine we will.” Turning, he moved to the couch, bending to clink his glass on Kite's. “Stop sulking, Kite. Everything is fine.”
    The red-haired man frowned, his gaze rolling to me. The veins in his eyes looked raw, as if he'd been... crying? No, that made no sense. “Yeah. Everything is fine,” he murmured.
    Jacob's face reflected a fraction of the sorrow in his friend's. Low in my chest, the pain of their emotions was cutting at me. I was attached to them solidly. Empathy for killers, who would have guessed.
    Burning with my need to see them smile, I walked until I was standing by Jacob. This close to Kite, there was an obvious, raw tinge to his eyelids. “What would make you feel better?” I asked.
    “Nothing. I'm fine,” he said, finishing his drink in one swish.
    “That's not even convincing.” Folding my arms, I sighed. “Kite, let me at least try make you feel better. I can't handle you looking so beaten down.” Without knowing why, I added mentally.
    He rolled his eyes, sitting up and putting his feet on the floor. Before I could spit out another attempt at getting him to talk to me, a hand came down on my elbow. Jacob took my drink away, leaning against me. The two of us bent over the back of the couch. “You know,” he said, petting my arm in all its delicate places. “Kite might be stuck pouting.