“That’s why I need help.” I hated asking, but I especially hated asking Ronan. “I need to protect my fans and stop this before anything bad happens.”
The angles of his exquisite face sharper than when he was younger, and his impassive expression even more difficult to read, Ronan’s intense stare continued to hold me captive as this time he spoke directly to me. “Vance has already defused two bombs.”
I felt the words as if they were a physical blow. Nothing in Ronan’s aloof manner changed, and maybe it was all in my head, but I shrank from his statement as if he were accusing me of a reproachable offense. Which I was absolutely guilty of. Being here with his brother, after what had happened ten years ago, it wasn’t honorable.
Before I could reply, Vance gave a self-deprecating laugh. “Yes, well, not without difficulty and sheer luck. Which, frankly, I’m hoping to not have to push that luck again.”
Looking as if he was put out, André turned his attention to Adam. “You should’ve called me before this meeting, Trefor.”
Pouring on the charm, Vance smiled and answered before Adam could. “My apologies. I jumped the gun and beat him to it.” His expression turning serious again, he absently took my hand as he glanced between André and Ronan. “We could really use both of you on this.”
Shifting out of his hold, I fought back a mountain of regret as I selfishly, greedily stared at the only man I’d ever given my heart to. “I’m asking for your help, Ronan.”
Luna tipped his chin at Trefor and Vance before turning his attention to Sanaa. “Miss Narine, Mr. Conlon and I will confer and get back to you by end of business today.” Glancing at me, he turned toward the exit.
I stood.
“Ronan.”
No other woman had ever said my name like she did. Her voice had changed from a girl’s to woman’s in ten years, but it was still the same—sultry, lilting, deeper than you expected when you looked at her.
I gave her my attention.
Her dark eyes pleading, she did the same thing she did the last time I saw her before everything went to hell. She begged. “Please.”
My brother next to her, touching her back, holding her hand, his thigh pressed against hers—I wasn’t angry. I was fucking irrational.
“We’ll be in touch,” Luna reiterated, answering Sanaa.
Silas appeared and opened the door before scanning the airport. “Clear.”
His customary smile missing, Vance stood. “I’ll walk you out.”
With one last glance at Sanaa, I went down the airstairs.
Luna paused on the tarmac, and I stood next to him as Vance joined us.
“Give us a minute,” Vance directed Luna.
Luna played hardball. “Whatever you have to say, you can say in front of me.”
Vance smiled dismissively at Luna. “This is personal.”
Luna switched to Spanish. “I don’t like any part of how this went down, especially when they said they have no idea who this is. I call bullshit, and where’s the rest of her security detail? I don’t care how good they are. The three of them will lose control of the situation the second it gets out she’s in Miami. She needs a damn army.”
“I warned you,” I answered him in Spanish before switching to English. “I’ll meet you at the SUV.”
Luna stared at my brother for a beat, then he nodded once. “Conlon.” He turned and headed for the terminal.
Vance smirked. “I can handle security for her.”
If he could, I wouldn’t be standing here. “You learned Spanish.”
“And Russian,” he bragged. “How about you?”
Our mother, convinced we’d fall into a life of crime with the Irish mob if we didn’t have a good education, did two things religiously with us growing up. She gave us encyclopedias to read, and she made us listen to CDs to learn different languages. By high school, we both spoke German, French and Italian conversationally.
Vance used his linguistic skills to fuck his way through the cheerleading team.
I used mine to learn Trinidadian Patois.
Then I’d listen through my open window at night to the shy wisp of a girl next door who’d sit on her back stoop and speak to her grandmother and sing songs in a language I’d never heard before.
I named her Songbird before I’d ever met her.
“What do you want, Vance?” Not in a competition with him, I didn’t let on that I also knew Dari and Pashto now, courtesy of five deployments in Afghanistan.
A mirror image, he stared at me for a beat. “How long are you going to do this?”
I turned to leave.
“Wait, wait, wait.” He dropped the pretense. “For fuck’s sake, how long are you going to blame me? I’ve apologized, repeatedly. What happened after was a fucking accident. It’s been a decade, brother. I think you’ve punished us all long enough. If you don’t want to talk to me, fine, but she needs you. Do the right thing.”
“Do the right thing.” Facing him, the impenetrable wall of ten years of anger and guilt I’d built detonated like an IED, and rage exploded. “Is that what you did when you tried to fuck my girlfriend at my going-away party the night before I deployed?” My virgin girlfriend. The Songbird I’d delayed enlistment for because she was still in high school and had no one to protect her if I left. The girl who’d decided to give herself to me but then couldn’t even tell the fucking difference between me and my brother. The girl I was so wrapped up in, I’d lost control.
Vance didn’t bother to look apologetic. “Come on. I was drunk. We all were. It was an honest mistake. You were never going to hold on to her anyway. We both knew that. She’d already signed the recording contract.”
“Honest?” Hold on to her? I’d bought her a fucking ring. “You took her into my bedroom.”
“She took me,” he threw back.
“You went.” Fuck him. “And how the fuck did you know that night she’d already signed the contract?” She hadn’t even told me yet.
Vance threw his hands up. “What the hell do you want me to say anymore? You want me to fucking lie so you can hang on to your bullshit anger and tell you she told me? The window was fucking open. After you stormed out, I heard the same goddamn shit you did. And for the record, we were wearing the same fucking T-shirt that night. She mistook me for you. Said she had a surprise for me in your room, and yes, I followed, but I didn’t fuck her. You know that. I stopped the second I found out she was still innocent.”
“You didn’t stop shit. She was naked, and your hands were all over her when I walked in on you.” The image was burned into my fucking psyche, reminding me every day why I didn’t trust a single damn person.
“Was I fucking her?” Vance challenged, raising his voice.
Fuck this. Nothing had changed. He was still the same entitled asshole I’d grown up with, and I was done engaging. I didn’t give a shit that he’d covered up my mistake. I didn’t ask him to, and that shit had been hanging over my head for ten years. Given the same situation, I wouldn’t have done anything different, but it still didn’t make it right. Nothing would make any of this fucked-up situation right.