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“Which is why I checked,” Strat said. “He’s in New York.”
“Who’s in New York?” When the car came to a stop, for the first time, she observed their environment. Dread froze in her heated gut. Stag’s back lot. Darkness. The exclusive rear entrance used only by those with blood thick allegiance. Stag. “No.”
“You’ve been walking around blind for days,” Strat said, putting the car in park to turn to her. “He’s in New York. Niall’s in New York. As far as everyone is concerned, this never happened.”
TWELVE
HER CAR DOOR opened and… Daly. Her head of security, when she’d been a McDade.
“Bluebell.”
“I can’t be here,” she said. Strat freed her seatbelt. With a sure grip on her arm, Daly helped her out of the vehicle. “I didn’t want—if he knew what—”
“You need this,” Strat said, coming around the car. “Stag’s your security. Isn’t that what you said at the loft? You feel safer here than anywhere else.”
“This is out of bounds. When he finds out—”
“He won’t,” Daly said, guiding her toward the building. “It’s not a lie if we just don’t mention it.” They stopped by the slightly ajar door. “Whatever you need, you get. He’s made that clear.”
“We’re not together,” she confessed. “I shouldn’t invade his private space.”
“It’s as much his as yours,” Daly said, shoving open the door to pull her inside.
The dark corridor ran along next to the club. Bass shook the walls; music covered their footsteps as they descended a level. At the end, they went up again, from the basement and boom into the club. The humid throb of music and dancing instantly fogged her skin.
When they reached the spiral staircase, Daly boosted her onto the first step.
Over her shoulder, her eyes met Strat’s. “Take as long as you need.”
The ascent was daunting and not because she feared what was up there. What if she didn’t want to leave? What if he came back unexpectedly and…?
The biggest secret? The guilty truth? Her Stag security was him. Because of him. Before they’d met, his home gave her cover. After the cocoon closed around them, nothing could touch her. Nothing but him.
Crossing the balcony to the threshold of his space, freedom assaulted her the moment she went inside.
His name almost came to her lips. Closing her eyes, she breathed. Her identity there, what she could be, what she once had been…
“This is my kingdom,” she whispered.
It wasn’t true, not anymore, but she’d embodied it once.
Stepping out of her shoes, she shed her clothes on the walk to his bedroom. Just as she had before, for him, when they were alone.
This was hers.
Maybe that was the root of clenched hope and clarity in her gut. Her father, her brother, they had no idea of her connection to Stag. From the foundations to the rafters, her Stag life was secret. The only person who’d shared it all with her was him.
She crawled onto the bed whispering his name. “Conn…”
Though detergent scented the sheets, there was enough of him in the air that she could close her eyes and make believe he was with her.
“How do I do it?”
Swallowing bitter grief from her parched throat, she pulled back the covers to stretch out, extending her arms until they disappeared beneath the pillows. How many times had they lay there, together, talking, learning each other? Strat was right. An anchor gave her the safety to face her truth. Everything was spiraling.
Since him? Yes, but not for the reason Strat thought. Her grip wasn’t slipping because Conn corrupted her. His acceptance had ignited her confidence, giving her silent permission to push boundaries and be more her than at any time in the past.
Connel McDade provided cover and acceptance. He’d never asked her for anything, nothing personal, and had no expectations of her. Not because he didn’t think she was capable, but because anything went in his house. Rules didn’t exist there.
