Chapter 4
Chapter Four
KIERAN
Bang! Bang! Bang!
I jolt awake, my hand already reaching under the pillow for my gun.
I glance at the glowing red numbers on the digital clock beside my bed.
2:04 A.M.
"Jesus Christ." I throw the covers off and climb out of bed, wincing at the sore muscles in my legs.
The knocking on my bedroom door comes again, and I quickly grab a pair of sweatpants that I slung over the chair beside my bed and pull them on.
I swear, whoever is banging on my bedroom door at this hour better be bleeding out or dying because there’s no excuse for waking me up this early. And if they’re not, they will be by the time I’m finished with them.
I yank the door open and groan at the sight of Ronan.
I shouldn’t be surprised, and yet I am, because he’s not alone. Beside him stands a girl with messy auburn curls and bright green eyes that I would recognize anywhere.
Declan Walsh’s daughter.
She regards me with little interest, despite the fact that I’m standing before her half-naked.
When my eyes dip to the suitcase in her hand, I attempt to slam the door in my brother’s face.
“Kieran!” He slams his hand against the wood to stop it from closing.
“Hell, no, Ronan. Whatever you’re about to ask me to do, forget it.”
“We need to talk.”
“No.”
“Kieran.”
My jaw tightens as I brace my hand against the edge of the doorframe.
When Ronan uses that tone, I know there’s no point in fighting him. He won’t stop until I’ve heard him out, so I might as well get it over with.
I rub a hand over my face. “This couldn’t wait until morning?”
“No. We need to talk, now.”
I glance at the girl again and this time, her green eyes meet mine, completely unflinching.
There’s something sharp in her gaze, like she’s daring me to say something.
“Get dressed and meet us in your study,” Ronan orders like he owns the place.
My only response is to slam the door in his face.
I really need to change the locks.
I stalk into my bathroom and quickly brush my teeth and splash some cold water on my face to try and calm me down. I’m beyond pissed at Ronan for bringing Declan Walsh’s spoiled brat into my apartment without even consulting me first.
But this is typical Ronan. He does whatever he wants and expects the rest of us to fall in line without question.
I shrug on a fresh shirt and slacks and head downstairs to my office, which has slowly turned into some kind of war room while my brothers and I were trying to uncover the mole that was wreaking havoc on our family over the past few months.
Pressing my thumb to the scanner, the lock instantly shifts, and I pull the door open and step inside.
This used to be my safe haven until I stupidly gave my brothers access.
Ronan is standing behind the black marble bar, searching through the floor-to-ceiling shelves of liquor.
I shut the door behind me. “Help yourself, why don’t you?”
Ronan says nothing, which only irritates me more.
As I glance over at the antique poker table, I notice the redhead has already made herself comfortable. A fresh glass of whiskey sits untouched in front of her, and I scowl.
My eyes fly to Ronan. “Don’t waste the good stuff on this spoiled princess.”
If looks could kill, I’d be dead and buried deep right now. “It’s Riley. Not princess.”
My lip twitches as my eyes lock with hers.
There’s a fire brewing in her green eyes that fits well with her red hair.
I knew Declan Walsh had kids, but I’ve only ever seen Oscar.
Riley, on the other hand, has always been a mystery, and not one I particularly cared to solve.
I fold my arms over my chest. “What the hell are you doing here?”
She doesn’t even flinch at the venom in my tone. Instead, she glances over at Ronan and completely ignores my question.
Ronan walks out from behind the bar carrying two rocks glasses. “Sit down, Kieran.”
“You’re in my house, remember?”
“Just sit.” He sets the drinks down on the table and takes the seat to Riley’s right.
I decide to stay where I am. I want this done with, so I can get back to bed. “I need you to tell me what the hell this is about.”
Ronan leans forward to rest his forearms on the table. "Riley came to me tonight for help.”
“You’re joking.” I look at Riley, but she’s looking down at her lap, her long lashes brushing her cheeks.
“I’m not. She’s offering us information in return.”
“What kind of information?”
“Apparently, Declan had dirt on Sean O’Keefe.”
This gets my attention.
I finally give in and take a seat at the table, reaching for my drink. “What kind of information?”
“Riley’s only willing to disclose it when a solid agreement has been put in place.”
“Fuck off.”
Riley lifts her head and scowls at me.
I look right back at her, though I address my brother. “You do realize she’s likely lying? You did kill her father, in case you’ve forgotten.”
She scoffs. “I’m not lying.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“You don’t know me.”
“I don’t need to know you to know you’re lying. You have every reason to want us dead.”
“Maybe, but I want Sean O’Keefe dead even more.”
I pause. “Why?”
“Because my uncle and brother want to forge an alliance between our two families. Through marriage.” The words almost feel forced out of her.
“Marriage? As in you’re marrying Sean?”
“Not unless I can help it! But my brother won’t go against my uncle, so it’s up to me to fight for myself. But I can’t do it on my own.”
I glance at Ronan. "And you believe her?"
He shrugs before finishing off his drink, setting down the empty glass on the table.
"Doesn’t matter. Right now, Riley just needs a safe place for the night, and…I told her she could stay here."
I almost spit out my drink. “Are you fucking kidding me? Ever heard of these amazing places called hotels, where you can order room service and dirty up someone else’s sheets?”
Ronan shakes his head. “I don’t want her staying at a hotel.”
“Then have her stay with you!” I get to my feet.
The temptation to flip the table is strong, but it also once belonged to my father, and I don’t need to break anymore heirlooms because I can’t control my anger.
“Ciara is exhausted because of the pregnancy, and you know her; she would be up all night playing hostess.”
“Then send her to Cormac, or hell, even Brennan!”
Ronan’s voice drops as he gets to his feet.
"She’s staying here, Kieran. That’s final."
There it is. That tone that reminds me that this is not a partnership between brothers. This is him bossing us around just because he pushed out of Mom first.
My jaw tightens.
"Right, because you’ve already made the decision. God forbid anyone else get a say."
Ronan’s eyes flash, the only indicator that I’ve touched a nerve. His body language is otherwise cool and collected, just like our father taught him to be.
"I’m trusting you to keep her safe."
"So, you don’t trust me to lead, but you trust me to play fucking babysitter?"
"That’s not what this is."
I throw my hands in the air. “Bullshit, that’s exactly what this is!”
This has always been the story of my life.
Ronan gets to make the calls and handles the business. Ronan gets to carry Dad’s legacy while the rest of us fall in line. ~
I’ve killed for them and done every dirty job without complaint, and still, I’m always going to be nothing but the second choice.
I look at Riley again, noting the way her eyes scan her surroundings as if she’s memorizing every little thing about it.
For months, my brothers and I were caught in a game of cat and mouse with a mole that ended up working for her father, and now Ronan brings his daughter right into the middle of our territory all because she batted her eyelashes at him and cried wolf?
"It’s pretty convenient, don’t you think?
" I move around the table and lean down so that my face is only a few inches from Riley’s.
I brace my hand against the edge of the table, gripping it so tightly that my knuckles turn white.
"That you decide to show up after we take out your father, and now you’re suddenly team Sullivan? Yeah, I’m not buying it, princess."
Her nostrils flare. "You think I’m here because I want to be?”
She pushes back her chair and gets to her feet. “You think I’m playing some kind of game?"
The top of her curls barely reaches my shoulder, but my height and build seem to do little to intimidate Riley Walsh.
"I think it’s suspicious as hell that you’re asking for our help.”
She takes a step toward me, and I catch a waft of some sweet fragrance. She seems like the kind of girl who would choose a shampoo based on whether it had fruit on the bottle or not.
"You think I don’t hate everything about this? That it doesn’t make me sick to even ask you people for help?”
“Here’s a solution for you. Don’t.”
“I would do that, but I can’t!” Her cheeks flush as she throws her hands in the air. “I can’t just sit back and be handed off like some fucking breeding mare to a man twice my age just because my uncle wants to win a war."
My eyes narrow. "You really expect me to believe this is all about your sense of agency?"
"Believe what you want, Sullivan, but I didn’t come here for you; I came for Ronan. He’s the only one who doesn’t look at me like I’m some liability."
The insult is intentional, and I open my mouth to respond, but Ronan steps between us, bracing a hand on my chest to force me to back up a step.
"Enough. You can sort your shit out later, but right now, this arrangement stands.”
“Ronan—”
“Riley stays here until we figure out our next move, so I suggest you try not to scare her off with your charming personality."
Riley scoffs. “Don’t worry, I’m not scared of your little watchdog.”
My eyes meet hers, and there’s nothing but challenge in them.
Not that I would ever admit it, but I’m a little impressed by her confidence. It’s rare that someone stands up to me, and even rarer that someone is a woman.
Ronan shakes his head. "I’ve got to get home to Ciara, so I’ll be back tomorrow with Cormac and Brennan to hash out the details. Try to survive until then.”
He offers me a clap on the back before heading out of the room, leaving me alone with Riley.
We stand in silence, and she watches me as if she’s waiting for me to pick another fight.
I take a step toward her, and when I lean in, her breath hitches. I wonder how much of her confidence is nothing more than a front?
“You know, I don’t normally allow girls to sleep over.”
“So, if Ronan is the boss man, that must make you the resident whore of the family?”
I huff a laugh. “You haven’t met Brennan.”
“Why? Is he better-looking than you?”
“He wishes.” I reach down to snatch up her untouched drink.
“So, I can add arrogance to your list of qualities.”
“Trust me, princess. After spending the night with me, there are many things you can add to that list.”
Her cheeks burn, and my lips twitch. “Don’t go thinking dirty thoughts now.”
She crosses her arms over her chest. “I’d like to go to my room.”
I take a moment to let my eyes trail over her body.
She’s fairly tall for a girl, but the oversized Columbia hoodie hides her figure from view.
She huffs. “Are you done?”
“Are you the one going to college, or did you steal that hoodie from your boyfriend?”
“I don’t have a boyfriend.”
“Eager to set the record straight on that one, huh?”
That earns me another scowl.
I take another sip of my drink. “So, you’re not just a princess; you’re an Ivy League princess.”
Riley says nothing, but the anger in her eyes tells me that I’ve touched a nerve.
Interesting…
“Come on, I’ll show you to the guest room.” I set down my empty glass.
I don’t bother offering to take her bag. After all, this isn’t a hotel, and I’m not a damn bellboy.
Riley follows silently behind me as we head out of my study and take the stairs up to the second floor.
My penthouse has four bedrooms, two on either end, but I choose the one furthest from the master bedroom for her.
She might be the daughter of the enemy, but she’s also a walking pair of tits, and I don’t need the temptation.
I come to a stop outside her door. “Don’t touch anything that isn’t yours. And don’t get too comfortable. I don’t plan on you being here long.”