Perspiration across his brow, Vance smiled down at me. “You get better every time, love.” Kissing my forehead once, he pushed off me and fluidly stood with the strength of a panther. His back to me, he picked his belt up from where it lay strewn across the overturned coffee table.
My gaze cut to where his sleeve met his shoulder. “Your shirt’s ripped.”
Throwing me a heated glance, he winked. “You’re an animal, pet.”
“I’m not your pet.”
Chuckling, he leaned over me. “You sure about that?” He held his hand out.
I wasn’t sure about anything, the plan included. All three notes the bomber had left me played in my head on repeat, but the last one was the one that truly scared me.
Did you think you escaped with your life, Sanaa? Do you think you deserve everything you have? You don’t. You’re going to suffer like you made me suffer. Soon, very soon.
Vance’s eyebrows drew together for a split second as he studied my face then his expression turned smooth as silk. “Are you asking for another round?” His tone persuasive, his words calculated, he knew what he was doing
But this time, my body didn’t respond. I was tired. Bone-tired. And if I had to admit, scared. “I’m not your pet,” I repeated.
His trained expression cracked apart with a genuine smile, and he laughed. “Fair enough.” Dropping his belt, he grabbed me under the arms and lifted me up, easy as you please.
My muscles on strike, I feared my body wouldn’t hold its own weight, but when my feet hit the ground, my knees locked and, surprisingly, I stayed upright. “Thank you,” I murmured.
“You’re welcome, love.” Picking his belt back up, he nodded toward the bathroom. “Fix yourself up. Trefor’s on his way, and he’s bringing company.” Not bothering with the remaining buttons that hadn’t popped off, he pulled his shirt over his head and dropped it in a small wastebasket by the bar.
I watched the muscles on his back move around long slash scars as he rooted through his suitcase. It wasn’t the first time I’d seen them.
“Staring isn’t moving, love.” Pulling out a perfectly pressed and folded new shirt, he slid one arm in before turning to face me. A smile tipped half his mouth. “Need help?”
“How did you get the scars?”
Sliding his other arm in, he chuckled. “That’s not a first-date conversation, darling. Why don’t you wait until we’ve tousled the sheets some before you ask the intimate questions?”
My gaze strayed to the perfectly made bed. “We’re not dating.”
Buttoning his shirt as he walked toward me, he kissed me on the forehead again. “It’s nothing to worry your beautiful self about. Now get cleaned up before my brother really does kill me for putting my hands on you.” Stepping back and tucking his shirt in, Vance winked.
My heart somersaulted at the mention of his brother. Even though I was staring at his mirror image, there were moments when I was with Vance that I didn’t even think of Ronan, because Vance’s personality was so different.
And Vance was right. Despite Ronan giving me the cold shoulder, I wasn’t entirely sure he wouldn’t kill Vance if he walked in now and saw me. My long hair a tangled mess, my dress disheveled, I could already feel the fresh bruises forming.
Not wanting Ronan to see me like this, I turned toward the bathroom, but I didn’t even make it one step.
The door to the suite opened, and Adam walked in.
Then it was like a parade of muscle.
His hand resting on the gun on his hip as if it were as casual as breathing, André strode in followed by Ronan and three more huge men all wearing the same black polo shirts and cargo pants.
My heart stopped.
Feeding his belt through the loops, Vance put on a big, fake smile. “Gentlemen, thank you for coming.”
Six dominating, overmuscled, armed men looked from me to Vance, and all at once, the air left the suite and thick tension rushed in.
Green and amber eyes, darkened to the fury of a perfect storm, met mine, and icy-cold fear whipped across my skin. Like the receding tide before a tsunami, the love of my life inhaled.
“Madre de Dios,” André muttered a split second before Ronan moved.
Except Ronan didn’t just move.
He exploded.
One second he was in front of me, the next his fist was slamming into his brother’s face with the sickening crunch of breaking cartilage.
I screamed, and two of the newcomers grabbed Ronan while Adam and André simply watched.
Ronan, seething mad but not fighting the two men holding him, glared at his brother.
Vance swiped the back of his hand across his bloodied face and smiled. “You get it all out? You good now?”
Nostrils flaring, Ronan said nothing.
One of the men holding Ronan’s arm glanced at me and smiled a smile that was worthy of a magazine cover. Holding out his free hand as if introductions under the circumstances were completely normal, he didn’t let go of Ronan with his other. “I’m Tyler, Miss Narine. Nice to meet you.”
A bearded man holding Ronan’s other arm scowled at Tyler.
As if sensing the other man’s eyes on him, Tyler nodded at the bearded man. “That’s Harm.” He tipped his chin at the dark-haired man standing behind them with his fingers tapping out a pattern on his leg. “And that’s Ty. We’ll be helping out with security this week while you’re here.”
André glanced at Adam. “Trefor, brief my men.” Then he looked from Ronan to me. “Conlon, Miss Narine, hallway.” He walked out the door.
Still glaring at his brother, Ronan shook off Tyler and Harm and followed André without looking at me.
I glanced at Vance.
He smiled reassuringly, even though his eye was already blackening and his nose, dripping blood, looked crooked. “It’s all right, love. I’m fine.” He nodded after André and Ronan. “Go.”
Not bothering to put on my shoes, I walked to the door where Ronan was standing, holding it open. Looking past me, he threw his brother a lethal glare.
Mentally steeling myself to come closer to him than I had in ten years, I held my breath and slipped past him. But once I was in the hall and inhaled, it was as if life decided to punish me.
Dry cedar and ocean breezes mixed with the heat of his fury as he stepped out of the suite and stood by my side.
The door clicked shut, and André said something to Ronan in Spanish.
“No,” he clipped in response, radiating tension but remaining perfectly still.
André looked at me. “Do you need medical care?”
I couldn’t help it, my eyes widened. “I’m fine.”
It was as if my two words broke the invisible hold Ronan had keeping him together, and he snapped. Turning on me, he met my eyes and practically levitated with anger. “You’re bruised everywhere.”
“It’s not what you think,” I foolishly blurted.
Inhaling sharply, Ronan clenched his jaw and fisted his hands.
André put a hand on Ronan’s shoulder but kept his gaze on me. “Miss Narine, do not mistake my calm demeanor right now for condonation. You don’t know me, but I can assure you that there are things I will not tolerate. Before I allow Ronan to go back and finish what he started, I am asking you, point-blank, if you need to be removed from a domestic situation.”