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Star immediately tensed at the old man’s voice, but when we whipped around to stare at the room, we were still alone.
I studied the ceiling, on the hunt for a speaker, and only relaxed when I found it and two others. A tiny glass-like bead told me we were being watched too—unsurprising that they’d been surveilling her.
He’d caged a tiger in one of his bedrooms…
What else did he expect other than carnage?
Star stared at the ceiling, right where I’d been looking, telling me she’d done her homework despite her outrage. “I doubt the Sparrows would classify themselves as scum. Does anyone really think they’re evil? Doesn’t every one of us have justifications for why we do what we do?”
Kuznetsov hummed under his breath. “How can I prove to you that we cannot be tarred with the same brush?”
“I don’t think you can,” I answered, silently shooting her a glance that asked her to confirm or deny my belief.
Her gaze was locked on mine as she said, “If you can take down the Sparrows, why haven’t you already?”
“A very good question, granddaughter.”
Her nostrils flared.
“I wouldn’t call her that yet.”
I made the choice not to call him by his name, even if it would further the conversation. It could indicate a relationship between us that would sow the seeds of distrust between Star and me.
Shewas all that mattered here.
Not whatever purpose Kuznetsov had for her.
“Yet? You mean never,” she muttered under her breath.
If she’d been a cat, she’d have been spitting and hissing.
It made me want to stroke her. Soothe her. I could appreciate her strength and could even be fascinated by it, but her many facets were what repeatedly drew me in.
For the first time in my life, I understood why Declan could study a portrait for hours on end and not get bored.
Code had been my raison d’être for so long, and that was an art form in and of itself, but there was nothing on this earth that I found more magnetizing than Star Sullivan.
Kuznetsov clipped, “We can discuss this like rational human beings if you’d like, Star. You must be hungry.”
I nudged her in the side with my arm. “I haven’t eaten in hours.”
“Hours? You weren’t made for action, Conor, were you?”
I grinned at her. “I was. Just not the kind of action you’re talking about.”
Her mouth rounded at my blasé tone. Not that I could blame her. I’d gone from spitting fire at her to joking around, but that was how I rolled. Quick to temper, quick to calm. Quicker still to react accordingly and to adapt. She was still bristling. If we were going to get anywhere, I needed to help bring her down from this high-stress plateau she was subsisting on.
That chair she’d been slamming into the ground wasn’t a forty-buck special from IKEA. It was a goddamn antique. Mahogany. Velvet horsehair cushion.Heavy. I’d tossed it across the room with half of its weight missing. She’d been throwing it around like she’d been taking the same supplements the Hulk did.
No, she needed gentling.
I was prepared to be mauled to allow that to happen.
Da might have taught the shittiest life lessons, but how he’d been with Ma was rich with wisdom.
A man burned so his woman didn’t have to, and pissed at her or not, she was that—mine.
We were standing in the same room, breathing the same oxygen. At last. She wasthere.Anything else in the long list of troubles we shared could be fixed at a later date.
