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My brother peeled the wrapper off from around his silverware, his eyes suddenly engrossed in his task. “I wondered what exactly he had against the guy. I guess that’s why I was worried Conner had hurt you.”
“Not at all.” I placed my hand over his, stilling his movements. “Sante, has Dad talked about Conner?”
His eyes flitted to mine before dropping again. “Some, but it’s just talk. You know he has a temper.”
“But you’d tell me if he was planning something, right? Please tell me you’d warn us.”
Sante pulled back, slipping his hands from mine. “I don’t know, all right? I don’t know what it is he’s got going on.”
“But … there is something?” I pushed, needing to get answers and sensing my brother was holding out.
“He’s working on something big, but … that could have nothing to do with you guys. I just know he’s been really stressed, okay?”
I leaned back and forced a soft smile. “I believe you. He’s not really the type to tell anyone his plans, anyway. I just hope that if you find out something you think I should know that you’ll tell me.” It wasn’t exactly what I’d come to say, but I’d pushed my brother as far as he would go. I’d opened the line of communication and at least had a lifeline to him. That was enough for now.
Arriving at the perfect time, the server set down our vanilla shake and helped guide us back to shallower waters. We reminisced about past days at the diner and other fond memories from our childhood until I realized it was nearly eleven thirty at night.
“I better get going. Thanks for coming tonight.” I slid from the booth and gave my brother a big hug.
“Anytime, little big. You need a ride home?”
“I hate to keep you out any later than necessary. I don’t want you getting in trouble.”
Sante grinned. “Nah, no one knows I’m gone. It’ll be fine. Come on.”
I followed him to his car, preferring not to mess with getting a cab at that hour. He dropped me at my new building, promising to come by soon for a guided tour of my new place. The lobby was empty except for the security guard stationed at the front desk. I used the key card Conner had given me to get to the thirtieth floor and punched in the access code to the apartment.
Once inside, my veins filled with ice at the sight of Conner sitting in the living room waiting for me, a murderous glint in his eyes and blood splattered across his chest.
“I toldyou to stay here. I told younotto leave without one of my men or me. You didn’t call. You didn’t text. You just … disappeared.” Conner downed the last of the golden liquid from the crystal glass in his hand.
Each softly spoken accusation both cut me to the quick and terrified me.
“I’m sorry. I was worried about my brother and ended up getting ahold of him. He offered to meet up to talk, so I went. I should have texted.” I could have lied and said I’d forgotten, but the truth was, I hadn’t forgotten. I just hadn’t wanted to chance Conner refusing to let me leave. It was better to ask forgiveness than permission. And when I hadn’t been certain he’d let me go, I didn’t take that chance.
I set down my purse and crossed the room, sitting on the edge of the sofa across from him. “What happened tonight?” His sudden departure. The blood. The menacing calm he exuded. All of it made the cold from my milkshake seep from my stomach throughout my body until I couldn’t hold back a shiver.
“That’s not your concern.” His words were a door shut in my face.
I was about to argue with him when I noticed his eyes narrow and realized he was staring at my hands in my lap—more precisely, at the gold cuff bracelet still hiding my tattoo. My other hand reflexively closed over the offending jewelry as if hiding it now would make a difference.
“I didn’t want Sante to see it and tell my dad,” I hurried to explain.
“Why thefuckshould it matter if he sees it?” The tenuous grip he held over his anger flexed and bowed with strain. His loss of control spurred my own, dialing up my frustration that I was being blamed for more than my crimes deserved.
I stood, hands on my hips. “That’s not your concern,” I shot back at him, feeding him his own line. I was getting sick of tiptoeing around the men in my life.
Conner rose from his chair and, in one swift motion, threw his glass into the fireplace across the room. The sound of shattering crystal pierced the air, heightening the tension between us.
“The fuck it’s not. Your father is a threat to you, and your safety isalwaysmy concern.”
I took a lunging step forward, undeterred by his outburst, and shoved a finger into his chest. “Ditto, Conner. You’ve got blood all over you, and as your wife, I deserve to fucking know if you …” My breath hitched, the emotion of the night suddenly getting to me. “If you … were hurt.” I wiped furiously at my treacherous eyes, frustrated tears leaking free without my permission.
“Fuck!”The guttural curse rebounded off the walls before Conner’s mouth slammed into mine. Hands on either side of my face, he plundered my mouth like I was the very air he needed to breathe. Tongues tangling and teeth nipping, we both punished and savored one another.
“You drive me fucking crazy, baby.” He brought our foreheads together, our heavy breathing all that lay between us. “Blood’s not mine. It’s that Albanian fucker who got away after attacking us.”
“You found him?”
