Rusty turned in Donovan’s direction. “That’s my older brother, Donovan Kelly. Well, one of them,” she added with a grin. “There’s a lot of us Kellys! Six older brothers, if you can believe it. Not to mention all the other unofficial family members Mama Kelly has adopted over the years.”
Donovan didn’t blame the woman’s look of utter bewilderment. He drew up short of shaking his own head at Rusty’s exuberance. She was overdoing it just a little in the let’s-get-nice-and-friendly effort. And it wasn’t working to relax any of the occupants of the room. If anything, they looked even more ill at ease.
The child clutched at her older sister’s hand and edged more firmly behind her, her eyes wide as she swiped at her mouth with the back of her other hand.
“Who are they, Evie?” she whispered. “What do they want?”
Evie. Well at least they were getting somewhere.
Donovan took a step forward, risking that “Evie” wouldn’t tuck tail and run, the child hauled over her shoulder. He extended his own hand but wasn’t as forceful as Rusty had been. He simply held it out and waited for her to take it. If she would.
“Glad to meet you, Evie,” he said gently.
After a long moment, she slid slender fingers over his palm, and an electric sensation snaked up his arm and into his shoulder. Her touch was a shock, one he hadn’t expected. Neither had she, judging by the way she quickly yanked her hand back, looking up at him with even more confusion clouding those liquid amber eyes.
The woman was beautiful. Scared. Haunted. Shadows hung from her like picture frames. But she was stunning. She was too thin. It was obvious they were struggling to even survive, and yet her fragility only made her more beautiful. He was mesmerized by those eyes. Could simply stand there and stare into them, picking out all the different flecks of gold and chestnut.
“It’s Eve,” she said huskily. “My name, that is. Cammie and Trav call me Evie. It’s their pet name.”
Donovan knelt on the threadbare carpet in front of the couch and smiled warmly at the child. “You must be Cammie. Pretty name for a very pretty young lady.”
She looked confused and huddled more fiercely behind Eve’s back. Eve reached over her shoulder to snag Cammie’s hand that had crept up toward Eve’s neck.
“It’s all right, Cammie,” she whispered. “He won’t hurt you.”
Even as she issued the promise, she turned hastily, staring pleadingly into Donovan’s eyes as if begging him not to make a liar out of her. Goddamn, but it sickened him that these two females—and their brother—had been conditioned to expect harm from others. And not just others, but particularly men.
Cammie had been nervous, yes, when Rusty had moved in her direction. But when Donovan had approached, the child had panicked and damn near climbed up her sister’s back.
He wanted to demand to know who the hell had hurt them, who had taught them pain and fear and who the hell they were running from. Then he wanted to take apart the son of a bitch with his own hands, and the very next thing he wanted was to ensure that nothing would ever harm this ragtag family again.
How crazy was that?
Five minutes in their presence, and he was ready to rush in, take over their lives and make them promises he had no business making. And no guarantee that he could even keep them since he didn’t have a fucking clue what they were up against.
“No, sweetheart,” Donovan said gently, it taking absolute concentration not to give in to the fiery rage brewing inside him. “I will never hurt you. Never. You can take that to the bank. I’d like to help you. Your brother and your sister. I’d like to be your friend.”