Page 26 of Sinner’s Game

“And you are?”

“It’s okay, officer,” Ronan says. “We work together.”

I’m on my feet now, too curious to stay snug in the bed. Both Ellie and I head to the doorway, peeking out as we look toward the open threshold where Devlin and Ronan are talking with Tamra.

She glances up, sees us, and smiles. An elegant woman with a single streak of gray highlighting her dark hair, she’s the epitome of both compassion and competence. Right now, her expression is full of kindness and sympathy.

I haven’t had a good relationship with my mother since I was a teenager, something that breaks my heart sometimes, but mostly I figure that I simply have to deal with it. That’s the thing about families. Sometimes they can tear you apart, and sometimes it feels like it’s the most pragmatic relationship in the world. After all, it isn’t as if you get to choose them.

Tamra, though, is someone I would choose. She’s kind and supportive and will always protect the people she loves. I’m lucky enough to be in that group. What I’m not sure about is why she’s here. Work, I’m guessing, since she told the officer that Ronan had called her.

Now I watch as Ronan hands her his phone. “I’m tied up here for a while, but I need to get some documents off of this before my trip tomorrow. Do you mind? Just copy them to the cloud.”

“Not a problem. I’ll be able to identify what you need?”

“I’m sure you’ll have no trouble at all.”

“All right, then. It should only take an hour or so. I’ll email you when it’s ready.”

I frown, realizing that the phone’s in a gray case. Ronan’s case is black. At least, I think it is. And most odd of all, she hasn’t mentioned how she’ll get Ronan’s phone back to him.

Which, of course, is because it isn’t Ronan’s phone at all. I glance at Ellie, who turns to meet my eyes, her brow arching up in a way that makes me certain that she picked up on that inconsistency, too.

It must be Mr. Big’s phone. And I feel a flash of anticipation. Because, dammit, I want to know what’s on there, too.

“Goodnight, Ronan,” she says. She nods at the officer, but her eyes are on me. I think I see a hint of excitement there, and it sinks in that Tamra is truly part of that world. While her official job is mostly admin and PR for the Devlin Saint Foundation, the bottom line is that she’s as much a part of Saint’s Angels as Ronan and Devlin. And she likes it that way.

Ronan lingers, speaking to the officer, whose back is to me. He must feel me looking at him, though, because he glances up. I lift my hand next to my ear, my thumb raised like an old-fashioned handset and my head cocked in a silent question.

His brow quirks, and I’m sure he’s approving of the fact that I picked up on the small detail.

Honestly, I should be annoyed—he snuck that phone off Mr. Big without telling me or Lamar or anybody. But I’m not. On the contrary, all I feel is pride that I figured it out. And the warm satisfaction of sharing in Ronan’s secret.

Chapter Ten

I sit quietly in Ronan’s Range Rover as we drive away from the house that I’ve lived in without incident since I moved back home to Laguna Cortez after college and a brief stint working in LA. It may only be a rental, but it’s home to me, and I’m not entirely sure how to handle this new fear that surrounds the place. This knowing that danger can so easily step inside.

I know the danger wasn’t directed at me, but it’s touched me, and I hate that I’m scared. More, I hate this feeling that I need to scrub it away.

With a sigh, I slip off my shoes and pull my feet up onto the seat so that I’m hugging my legs. When I do, Ronan glances over. “Are you okay?”

I turn my head and give him a bright smile. “Why on earth wouldn’t I be okay?”

As I hoped, he grins at me. “No reason I can think of. We’re taking a drive on a beautiful night, and we’ll end up at my place with a fabulous view. What could possibly be wrong?”

“Can’t think of a thing,” I quip as he stops at a red light. “Thanks.”

“What for?”

“For babysitting me. I could have stayed with Lamar.”

“Not an option.”

“Why not?”

He’s been looking straight ahead, but now he turns to face me, and the heat in his eyes takes my breath away. “Because there’s no one I trust more with your safety than me.”

“Oh. Thank you.” I wince; how lame a response was that? I want to say more—to ask him about the kiss. To ask why he began something he didn’t intend to finish. But I can’t seem to find the words. Or, more accurately, I can’t find the courage.