Drake Sisters 04 - Dangerous Tides

always so unfailingly gentle with her, was quite capable of extreme violence.

    Sam pressed his back against the counter and shook his head, one hand to his nose, the other up in surrender. "I'm not fighting with you, Ty. I've made enough of a jackass of myself. I don't know what the hell got into me." He shook his head again and walked around the island counter to the sink, running water on a paper towel. "I must have sounded like a raving lunatic. I don't need help, I've had a broken nose before."

    Tyson glared at his cousin. "You were hurting her, Sam. Hurting her."

    "Was I, Libby?" Sam pressed his fingers to his nose, trying to stem the flow of blood. "I'm sorry, I lost my mind. I just don't do change well. That's no excuse, but I've been looking out for Tyson for so long I almost forget he's a grown man. My mother used to tell me he's different, that it was up to me to watch over him and I guess I took it a little too seriously."

    "Different doesn't mean slow, Sam," Tyson pointed out.

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    Libby made no attempt to walk over to help Sam. She couldn't tell exactly why when her instincts insisted. She stood behind Ty and watched his cousin's face. The anger was gone to be replaced by the easygoing charm, but she could still feel his hands on her shoulders, fingers digging all the way to the bone.

    "If you're all right, Sam, I promised Irene I'd be seeing Drew today." She glanced at her watch, eager to get out of his presence. She might be able to see his point of view another time, she might even be able to eventually see his side, but she was never going to be friends with Sam Chapman, Tyson's only relative and the only person in the world he loved, and that was heartbreaking. Libby felt she was letting Tyson down. "I can meet you over at the Madisons', Ty, if you still want to come."

    Tyson reached out to wrap his hand around the nape of her neck, holding her still. "I'm coming with you now. I've wanted to drive your car."

    "What makes you think I'm letting you drive my car?"

    He held his hand out for the keys. "Because that poor car deserves to be driven by someone who goes more than thirty miles an hour." He snapped his fingers, palm up. "It begs me every time I get close to it."

    Libby dropped the keys obediently into his hand for two reasons. He never took his eyes from Sam, never once looked at her, but kept his cousin pinned with a dark promise of retribution. She didn't want to leave him there. And Sam was watching. She wasn't denying Tyson in front of Sam.

    Ty swept his arm around her, turning his back on Sam. "Let's get out of here."

    Libby didn't say anything until they were out on the highway. Tyson drove like he did everything, with complete commitment and focus. He stared straight ahead, hands loose on the wheel and gear shift, the car smoother going through the tight turns than it had ever been.

    "Are you all right, Ty?" Libby ventured. His jaw was set, his expression blank, but his eyes were alive with pain. She wanted to cry for him.

    "You're the one he was trying to slam into the wall."

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    She winced at the clipped grimness in his voice. "People say things in anger they don't mean. He's worried about you and I can't blame him."

    He glanced at her, a brief sideways flick of his eyes as the Porsche slid smoothly through a series of S
    turns. "Don't do that. Don't make excuses for him. People are responsible for what they do whether they're emotionally upset like Irene, drunk, or angry. He could have hurt you. You're not exactly big, Libby."

    Too much pain filled the small confines of the car. She opened the window and drew fresh air into her lungs. "It's not true, you know."

    His gaze slid sideways again and then back to the road. "That you're not a hundred pounds soaking wet?"

    "The things he said. About the money. About someone not wanting you for yourself. About someone loving you. I don't care about the money."

    A muscle jerked in the side of his jaw. "I know the money doesn't mean anything to you, Libby. I've watched you too long to think you were ever after my money. You don't have to tell me that."

    Abruptly he pulled the small sportster onto the shoulder of the road, put his head down, brow on the steering wheel, breathing deeply.

    Libby put her hand on his shoulder. "Talk to me."

    He shook his head. "The things he