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“I think your approach to Zara isn’t the smartest.” Mac sipped his bourbon. “You’re coming on too strong and not focusing.”
Braden narrowed his gaze. “That’s a pretty bold statement coming from the man who has a woman in every major city.”
Mac eyed him over the glass. “We’re not talking about me. Unless you’d like me to seduce the beautiful party planner.”
“Keep your damn hands off her.”
Why was he suddenly so territorial? Braden had no claims on Zara.
But he’d held her, felt her against him and seen a thread of vulnerability when Zara had been looking at Shane. He refused to see any woman harassed or mistreated.
His sister, Laney, was currently dating some schmuck, who could be demeaning at times. Yet another issue Braden would deal with now that he was in charge. No way in hell would he allow his baby sister to be belittled by anyone. Ever.
“Leave Zara to me, and you concentrate on your new locations,” Braden told his brother. “Is that all you needed?”
Mac finished off his drink, setting his tumbler down on the desk. “For now. I’ll keep an eye on Shane. Ryker will be a last resort. I know you want to move in a different direction, but Shane can’t interfere. We’re too close to finding those scrolls.”
Braden nodded and headed back out to the party. Those scrolls, all nine of them, were centuries old and held immense power over Braden’s family. He wanted them back, and at one time, during the Great Depression, they’d been in the home Zara currently lived in. Supposedly they’d been stored in a trunk that had been sold decades ago. Unfortunately, the trunk had been recently tracked down but as the scrolls hadn’t been inside, they were back to square one with Zara’s house as the last known location.
Just as Braden cleared the wide opening leading to the ballroom, he spotted Shane standing over Zara. She shook her head and started to turn when Shane’s hand whipped out and gripped her bicep, jerking her back to his chest.
Braden didn’t care about moving stealthily through the crowd. He felt Mac right behind him as he charged forward. His brother always had his back.
“Remove your hand from Miss Perkins’s arm.” Braden didn’t try to mask the rage in his tone. He waited a beat, but Shane still held tight and kept his back to Braden. “Remove your hand or I won’t need to get my security team. I’ll throw your ass out myself.”
Over his shoulder, Braden heard Mac telling someone, most likely one of their employees, to have security on standby. Braden knew Mac was only looking out for everyone’s best interest, but Braden could only see red right now. Thankfully, Shane had backed Zara into a corner, and the guests were still milling about, oblivious to the action.
Shane threw a glance over his shoulder. “This doesn’t concern you. Zara and I have a little unfinished business. Just a lover’s spat.”
The look on her face told Braden there wasn’t anything unfinished here and this sure as hell wasn’t a lover’s spat—she’d told him as much earlier.
Zara’s wide, dark eyes held his. Even though she had her chin tipped up in defiance, her lips thinned in anger, there was a spark of fear in those eyes, and Braden wouldn’t tolerate Shane one more second.
Braden grabbed on to Shane’s wrist, applying pressure in the exact spot to cause maximum pain. “Take your damn hand off her. Now.”
Shane gave Zara’s arm a shove. “You can’t keep avoiding me,” he told her, rubbing his wrist where Braden had squeezed. “Next time I call, you better answer or I’ll come by your office. I doubt you want that.”
Just as Shane turned, Braden blocked his exit. “If you ever touch her or any woman that way again and I hear of it, you’ll wish for death. Feel me?”
Shane hesitated a second before he laughed, slapping Braden on the shoulder. “You’re Patrick O’Shea’s son, right down to the threats. And here I thought you were too good to get your hands dirty.”
Even though the bastard had touched Braden, he wasn’t about to take the bait Shane dangled in front of him. Flexing his fists, Braden was more than ready to hit Shane, but he knew deep down he wasn’t like his father.
Braden had never ordered anyone to be killed, had always said he wouldn’t. Right now, though, he was reconsidering that promise he’d made to himself.
“There’s a first time for everything,” he promised just as two security men in black suits came to show Shane the door.
