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She listens and brings her head up to look at him. “I didn’t mean anything by it, Princess. Don’t be embarrassed. I’m impressed, actually.”
She pulls a half smile, but I can tell it’s forced. So does Mac. He leans in to speak, his lips touching her ear, “As a matter of fact, you and I just had this conversation in the shower.” He’s talking to her just loud enough that Ronan and I can still hear him from where we’re sitting across the table. No doubt ensuring that we’re all on the same page with this conversation because I know what just went through her mind. Most of the time, she seems pretty confident in the skin she’s in. Then there are times like this when I watch the self-doubt creep in. I wish she could see herself the way we do. It’s like she was made for us, and I want to devour her every second of every day. If she doesn’t believe me, all she has to do is look at my dick every time she walks into a room.
“If I catch you saying anything bad about yourself, I’ll take you over my knee,” Mac snarls. Harper sucks in a breath, likely both turned on and surprised by Mac’s remark. Spanking isn’t usually his thing. That’s more mine and Ronan’s lane. I know it’s because he inflicts so much violence on others daily. He worries he won’t be able to control himself if he explores that side of himself sexually. But something tells me Harper could help him. She could take whatever he gave her.
She looks at Ronan and me across the table, “Don’t look at us, Baby. Finn and I are with Mac on this one.” I nod my head in agreement.
“But I didn’t even say anything.”
“No, you didn’t, but we all knew exactly what you were thinking, Angel. There will be none of that here.”
Mac grabs her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “You are fucking gorgeous. End of.”
“In fact, if we didn’t have so much stuff to discuss, I would lay you out on this table and eat that sweet pussy for dessert.” My cock hardens at the idea of her spread out on this table. I watch her chest rise and fall with each breath, likely imagining the scene Ronan described. I look between the three of them and can tell we’re all thinking the same thing. If we don’t get a grip, we will forgo our much-needed discussion all together and fuck her right here on this table. There’s time for that later. Right now, we need to focus. I clear my throat, and three sets of eyes immediately snap to mine, breaking everyone from their spell.
“As much as we would all like to spread Harper out on the table right now, we have more important matters to tend to.”
A faint smile spreads across Ronan’s face before he nods, “Finn’s right.”
“Spoilsports,” Mac pouts as he sits up straight in his chair, keeping his hand on Harper’s thigh.
“Finn and I were talking while you two were resting, and we think we came up with a halfway decent plan.”
“Well, half of a halfway decent plan, that is,” I correct him.
I quickly glance at Mac, ensuring he’s not annoyed that we discussed this without him. When I do, there isn’t a hint of frustration in his expression, more curiosity in what we’ve come up with. He knows that, like him, we will do what we must to keep her safe.
“Right.” Ronan sighs deeply before he shifts in his seat and stares at Harper. His expression is fierce, letting her know he is serious about what he is about to tell her. “From here on out, you won’t go anywhere without one of us with you. There will be extra security posted at the door downstairs and two guards assigned specifically to you when the three of us can’t all be with you. They won’t follow you around the apartment, but they will be posted at the elevator at all times and do sweeps throughout the apartment.”
“You guys, that’s too much. I don’t need all of that protection. I’m sure everyone else has better things to do with their time.”
Ronan leans forward, interlocking his fingers on the tabletop, leveling Harper with a glare that would make any man fall to their knees. Not my Angel. She doesn’t move a muscle, silently challenging him as always. She can try all she wants, though. I know Ronan won’t cave on this, and I completely agree with him for once. Judging by the look on his face, so does Mac.
“It’s not too fucking much. There is no such thing as too much when it comes to protecting you. There is not a damn thing that is more important than keeping you safe. The guards will be here in a few minutes to meet you, and from here on out, the best thing they can do with their time is keep you safe. I will not bend on this, Harper. For once, you will do as I say.”
Arms crossed, Harper stares him down. I swear, sometimes she argues with him just to argue. The tension in the room is thick, and I wonder how long it will be before one of them gives in. For just a second, Harper lets her gaze slide over to me. I give her a silent warning, begging her to give us this. To allow us to protect her. I see her posture relax in understanding before she meets Ronan’s stare again, but I know she isn’t going to be the one to speak first. Not where Ronan is concerned.
It feels like minutes more pass by when Ronan’s soft voice cuts through the silence, “Baby…” His voice is laced with desperation. “Give us this, please.”
Harper slowly uncrosses her arms, “Okay.”
Ronan reaches across the table and grabs her hand, and squeezes. “Good girl.”
The fact that Ronan McDermott just pleaded with another human being speaks volumes to Harper’s hold on him. He bends for no one. But for Harper, he would break.
Harper softly smiles back at him, but it doesn’t reach her ears like usual. I know she’s unhappy about being under a microscope, but I am thankful she is willing to give us this. Ronan releases her hand and continues reviewing what he and I discussed while Mac and Harper listen in—occasionally nodding in agreement.
When Ronan and I began discussing earlier, I pointed out that our biggest problem was that Declan Whelan called off the hit on Harper. If it were as simple as wanting her dead, we could easily fake her death and keep her hidden from his watchful eye. However, that’s not the case anymore. Since Liam got involved, Declan now wants her hand-delivered to Ireland so he can deal with her however he pleases. This means we not only have to find a way to deal with Delcan but Liam McDermott as well.
If I had it my way, I would fly to Ireland myself and slit the neck of that hellish man and everyone that follows him, but I know that can’t be done. I would never even make it off the damn plane. We have to get Declan to come to us.
Ronan and I figured that if we were to eliminate Declan, we could kill two birds with one stone. If Declan were dead, his syndicate would be no threat to us. Our shipments would stop getting tampered with, and he would never know about the bookstore. We have it on good authority that those below him in his ranks have no interest in our business here in the States. Why would they? Our dealings are of no threat to theirs. The only reason he’s fucked with us for so long is because of Liam and Emma.
The war between the McDermotts and the Whelans has gone on for decades. The battle runs as deep as the Montagues and the Capulets. However, besides Harper, Delcan is the last living Whelan. Once he’s gone, the syndicate will be handed over to his second in command, Patrick O’Connell. Whom we’ve heard is unhappy with how his boss has handled things over the past few years. We don’t know what has been happening within their syndicate and don’t care. We just need to be sure they would leave us alone if Declan were gone.
A couple of hours ago, Ronan sent a message to a few of our contacts in Ireland that he’s hoping to speak with Patrick. With any luck, Patrick will get the message without Declan finding out and will be willing to talk to us. We need to find out where his head is at.
The entire time Ronan is explaining all of this, I keep my eyes on Harper, mesmerized at the way she is handling all of this. I can tell by the look on her face she is truly listening to everything Ronan is saying to her. Taking in every bit of information she can instead of shying away from it. Once Ronan is done speaking, the three of us pause, waiting for any questions she may have.
