The trip back to the house is weird. Everyone is tense and silent. Spider drives like he’s trying to qualify for the Indy 500. Sloane keeps glancing nervously at Declan, who grinds his jaw so hard and frequently, I worry for his molars.
When we’re finally home, the men all disappear into the kitchen, and Sloane brings me back to my room.
As soon as she closes the door behind us, I turn to her and demand, “Okay, spill. Who’s this Diego and why is everyone so freaked out?”
Sloane sits carefully on the edge of the bed and takes a breath. “Diego was Declan’s boss. Until he was captured by MS-13 and murdered. Only now it seems he wasn’t murdered, but that someone deliberately made it look like he was.”
She looks at me, rummaging through my carry-on. “What are you doing?”
“Getting snacks. This sounds juicy. Keep talking.”
She waits until I’m sitting across from her in a chair, tearing into the plastic wrapper on the Twizzlers box with my teeth, to continue.
“There was a fire in a warehouse—”
“Where? Here?”
“New York.”
“Which part?”
Sloane says tartly, “Would you like me to draw you a map?”
“Sorry. Just trying to get a good visual of the action. Go on.”
I chow down on two Twizzlers at once. For a moment, Sloane watches me chew with a constipated look on her face, then starts talking again.
“Diego was found at the warehouse when the fire department arrived to put out the flames. They’ve taken him to the hospital.”
“So he’s injured?”
She nods. “We don’t know how badly yet.”
“Why would someone try to make it look like he was murdered but keep him alive?”
“We don’t know that yet, either.”
I chew thoughtfully. “I bet he was tortured for information by a rival syndicate.”
Sloane’s voice comes out faint. “That’s a likely scenario, yes.”
“Were you close with him, this Diego?”
“No. I never met him.”
“Then why are you so upset?”
Taking a moment to gather her thoughts, she passes a hand over her face and exhales.
“Diego…had a lot of information. About a lot of people. Secret information. Things that could be devastating if they ever came out. Many people could be affected.”
Her tone makes me understand that by “affected,” she means killed.
“Holy shit.”
“Exactly.”
We sit in silence while I devour another piece of candy. Then I’m stopped by a horrible thought. “Is Declan in danger?”
“He’s always in danger,” she says softly. Then she closes her eyes, pinches the bridge of her nose between two fingers, and whispers, “Fuck.”
I’m about to go over to the bed and attempt to comfort her, when a knock comes on the door.
“Come in.”
Declan enters, his eyes hunting for Sloane. He spots her sitting on the bed and strides forward. “I’ve got to leave.”
She stands, looking alarmed. “Leave? When?”
“Now.”
He takes her by the shoulders and stares into her eyes with ferocious intensity. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. In the meantime—”
“No way, gangster,” she interrupts loudly, her face turning red. “No fucking way are you going anywhere without me.”
He glowers at her. “Sloane.”
“I’m coming with you. It’s not a negotiation.”
Her voice is flat, but her expression is murderous. Declan looks to me for help.
I hold my hands in the air. “If you think I can change her mind, I’m flattered. But once that horse is out of the barn, there’s no putting a saddle on it.”
Sloane scowls at me. “Where are you getting these stupid metaphors?”
“It was in the last manuscript I edited. I thought it was a good one.”
“It’s not.” She turns her attention back to Declan. “Here’s the deal. If you try to leave me behind, I’ll book a commercial flight and follow you.”
He growls, “I’ll order the men to keep you on the property.”
She lifts her brows. Regal as a queen, she says, “Do you really think they’ll listen to you over me?”
Declan’s face turns red. A vein pulses in his neck. His jaw is as hard as stone, and he’s grinding his molars again.
I think his head is in danger of exploding.
“Goddammit, woman—”
“End of discussion. Let’s get going.”
She wrenches herself free of his grip and heads to the door. He turns, glaring at her back.
I eat another Twizzler, anxious to see what will happen next.
Apparently Declan realizes he’s lost the battle. He drags his hands through his thick black hair. Muttering a curse, he stalks off after her.
“Hey!”
Halfway out the door, they turn and look at me.
“What am I doing? Are you gonna fly me home now?”
At the same time, the two of them pronounce, “You’ll stay here.”
“Here?” I look around the enormous bedroom in horror. “By myself?”
Sloane says, “You like being by yourself, remember?”
“Yeah, in my own place with all my own stuff. Not in the Bermuda Triangle Colosseum.”
Declan says sternly, “This is the safest place for you at the moment, lass. Nobody on earth knows about this location.”
The underlying message is that majorly bad guys would do majorly bad things to Declan and whoever’s in his vicinity if they knew where he was.
For the first time, I understand how dangerous Sloane’s situation is. She’s literally risking her life to be near him.
She’s risking her life for love.
I stare at her in disbelief. In a history full of reckless decisions, this one takes the cake.
She snaps, “You’re not leaving, Smalls.”
“But—”
“You brought your laptop so you could work from here. Right?”
I’m starting to get panicky. I do not want to stay here alone in this castle with only echoes for company.
I’m a city girl. My apartment at home is smaller than nine hundred square feet. This much open space creeps me out.
“Yeah, but I thought I’d be staying only a few days. How long will you guys be gone?”
Declan says, “I don’t know.” He points a finger at the floor, as if about to make a final, irrevocable declaration. “But until this situation is settled, you’re staying right here.”
Then they turn around and walk out, slamming the door behind them.
The bastards!
I look around the room in dread. “Oh, my god! I’m a captive!”
I leap to my feet and run to the door. Then I trip, because I still have the stupid heels on. Cursing, I kick them off, throw Spider’s coat on top of them, and run out the door and down the hallway in my bare feet.
I catch up to Declan and Slone in the sitting room, where it looks like a gangster convention.
Dozens of burly men in black suits mill around, muttering to each other in what I suppose is Gaelic and throwing dark glances at the windows. Spider’s there, too.
I say, “You guys, wait! This might be important!”
I can tell by her exasperated expression that Sloane thinks I’m about to argue with her again, but I’ve got something else on my mind. This Diego situation has rearranged a few things in my head.
I’m not sure if everyone else should hear what I have to say, though, so I wait until I’m standing right in front of them and keep my voice low.
“There was this guy, when I went to the ladies room at the restaurant. He thought I was a sex worker.”
Sloane snaps, “We don’t have time for this right now!”
She thinks I’m talking about our bet. “No, listen. He was in the restroom when I came out of the stall. He was really big, and sort of, I don’t know. Weird. You know, like dangerous weird.”
Declan does the exact same bristling thing that Spider did at the restaurant. He literally gets bigger, badder, and a thousand times more intense. His blue eyes flash with cold fire.
“What happened?” he growls, stepping closer. “What did he look like? What did he say? Did he hurt you?”
I’m a little put out that he waited until the last question to ask if I’m hurt, but whatever.
“I’m fine. He didn’t lay a finger on me, he just freaked me out. He said that I didn’t have to sell myself, and it wasn’t too late for me, and he could tell I still had hope left…”
I trail off, trying to remember more about the big beast.
Mostly what I remember is how gentle he was when he brushed his knuckles across my cheek, and how soft his voice was when he said my eyes were pretty.
And how gorgeous he was.
My god, that face. That mouth. Those pale, piercing green eyes. Paired against his brute masculinity, the fineness of his features was even more stunning.
He makes Declan look like Justin Bieber.
Infuriated, Sloane turns to Declan. “There was no guy. This is about a bet we made before we left for the restaurant.”
“No, Sloane, it’s not.”
She folds her arms over her chest. “Okay, so where did this weird, dangerous guy go after he propositioned you?”
I’m starting to get exasperated. My voice rises. “He didn’t proposition me. You’re not listening—”
“Spider!”
At the sound of Sloane’s sharp call, he snaps to attention and runs over. “Aye?”
Sloane gestures at me. “My sister claims a man accosted her in the ladies room at the restaurant. Would you like to tell us what you saw?”
He looks at me, frowning. “A man? In the ladies room?”
“You were with her, correct?”
He looks confused, and now I’m getting desperate.
“Aye. I was with her the entire time, standing right outside the door.”
“Did you see a man enter or leave?”
“No. No one went in or out except her.”
“When she came out, did she say anything about a man being inside?”
Spider glances at me. His expression is apologetic. “No.”
Sloane turns back to me, nostrils flared and lips flattened. “Jesus, Riley. For a singing bird box? If you needed money so badly, all you had to do was ask.”
“This isn’t about the bet, Sloane!”
“Game’s over. Spider, take her back to her room.”
Everyone in the room is now staring at me.
Me, in my stupid slutty dress, with my stupid bleached hair and my white-hot mortification at being called a liar.
By my own sister, the asshole who wanted me to come here in the first place.
Without waiting for Spider to humiliate me further by grabbing my wrist and dragging me away, I turn and walk out, keeping my head held high despite the rock in my throat and the water welling in my eyes.
So help me god, this is the last time I’ll ever speak to her again.
