33. Royce
It was past midnight and Willow was sound asleep when I started tapping away on my phone. A FaceTime call lit up the screen a minute later, and I took it to mean my brothers had received my messages to our group chat.
I slid out of bed, grabbed my knife from under the pillow, and walked into the bathroom, leaving the door cracked so I could keep an eye on my sleeping wife.
“You can’t be serious?” Byron’s greeting wasn’t surprising. His jaw pulsed and I could see a storm brewing in his eyes even through the screen. “That fucking asshole had another kid.”
Winston and Alessio’s face appeared next.
“Glad to hear I won’t be the only bastard son from now on,” Alessio remarked dryly.
“Father really took the Biblical meaning of ‘go forth and multiply’ literally,” Winston said just as the phone buzzed with Kingston’s incoming message.
Don’t give a shit about Father’s offspring.
Typical Kingston.
“I guess Kingston won’t be joining us for this discussion,” Winston stated wryly.
“Forget Kingston for now,” I snapped. “Aren’t you pissed off he’s your friend and never thought to say anything? He was your best man, for fuck’s sake,” I muttered.
“Maybe he’s been biding his time. Or he didn’t know how to approach it. We’re not exactly the most welcoming group of people.” Winston shrugged, unbothered. Not much got to him since he’d finally got his wife back. “Besides, discovering our half-siblins after Alessio and Davina, I wouldn’t be surprised there were more out there.”
Davina was our half-sister who married Liam Brennan, an Irish mobster, but she mainly kept to herself.
“It’s a hard pill to swallow,” agreed Alessio. “I don’t blame him for keeping it to himself.”
“How long has he known?” Byron asked.
“I don’t know.” I flicked a glance through the cracked door. Willow was still sound asleep. “But there’s more.” I sighed and set the knife down on the counter before I continued. “I ran into Stuart’s parents.”
“At Asher’s house?” Alessio’s brows scrunched as he tried to process it. “Why would they be there? Was it a setup?”
I smiled. “Apparently they’re into the parties. They’ve come to the last four, according to Asher.”
“What parties?” Byron asked, just as Winston muttered, “Get the fuck out. Those freaks.”
“Asher took over hosting the parties after I stopped hosting them. They were not as exciting when I hosted them,” Winston replied casually. I scoffed. I didn’t believe that for a moment.
“You were hosting sex parties and never invited me?” Alessio drawled. “But since you left Byron off your guest list too, I’ll get over it.”
“Like you two would have shown up if you were invited,” Winston remarked dryly.
“Okay, can we table the sex-party talk for now,” I chimed, annoyed. I needed my brothers to sift through this information with a clear head. And I needed to get my head straight before I gave in and murdered the entire Harris clan. “Stuart’s family wants something from Willow, and I need to know what.”
That got their attention.
“What do you mean?” Byron was the most serious and responsible of my brothers. He was also fiercely protective of Willow and Sailor because we saw them practically grow up with our little sister.
“It’s just something they mentioned earlier.”
“What did they say?” Winston asked curiously.
“Never mind that.” Willow’s pregnancy wasn’t their business. “The bottom line is that they want something from her, and I need to know what.”
“It can’t be money,” Byron stated pensively. “The Auclairs are financially stable but nowhere near as loaded as the Harris family.”
“Whatever it is, I need your help.” Byron was a workaholic, and even more importantly, he dealt in information. He had all the right contacts and knew how to penetrate firewalls, even at the highest security level. “It might be life or death.”
“Your instincts have always been reliable,” Byron conceded.
A crack of thunder sounded, and my gaze flicked to Willow. She shifted in bed, then turned again until finally her body succumbed back to sleep.
“That’s right. And this time is no different.” Following my instincts was usually what kept me alive during my missions overseas.
Winston rolled his eyes—he believed in logic.
A child’s voice sounded somewhere in the background, and it wasn’t long before my nephew Kol appeared, bouncing in a chair.
“Hey, buddy,” I greeted him. “You keeping your father in line?”
“Did you grow a whole foot taller or did my screen shrink?” Byron teased.
Kol laughed in that carefree way. “I’m going to be taller than you soon, Uncle Byron.”
“He’s ambitious,” Winston declared, humor coloring his voice.
Then Kol turned to his father, Alessio, who proudly hooked his arm over his shoulder.
“What’s up, pal? I thought you were putting your sister to bed with Maman.”
“She’s already asleep,” Kol announced. “Maman says if you’re not up in five minutes, she’s going to play the game alone,” he added, causing Alessio’s face to turn bloodred. “What game is she playing, Dad?”
“What the fuck?” exclaimed Byron as Winston rolled his eyes.
“We know what that means,” I said, grinning. “Better run, old man.”
He glared at me, and I rubbed my chin, hiding my grin.
“I gotta go.” Alessio couldn’t get off the phone fast enough. “Just let me know the intel you need from me.”
Click.
“Well, he didn’t waste any time.” Winston’s humor cut through the silence. “One thing we all have in common is that we’re whipped.”
“Except for Asher,” I corrected him.
Winston’s jaw flexed. Byron tsked while Winston remained silent.
“Should we come and help you out?” Byron offered. “I’m sure Odette and Billie would love a vacation sailing around the world.”
“We can be there tomorrow,” Winston offered, egging me on. Byron was usually too serious, and Winston liked to fuck with people.
“Should we just take the jet?”
“You fuckers aren’t coming here. This is my honeymoon,” I snapped. “Ruin it for me and I’ll ruin you.”
“Oh, he doesn’t want us,” Winston pouted.
“Don’t start your shit with me,” I grumbled. “You’ll be as subtle as a sledgehammer, meanwhile I’m over here trying to take care of the threat so Willow doesn’t pick up on it.”
They both laughed.
“You and subtle don’t belong in the same sentence.” Byron wasn’t going easy on me today.
Winston rolled his eyes and added, “I’m offended you would think so little of me.”
I flipped them off.
“Anyway, I’m going to go play with my wife.” Byron was smiling big, and I gagged at the insinuation. “Royce, I’ll ring up River and see if he can dig up some dirt on Stuart’s parents.”
Before I could say anything else, they left the call.
“Fuck me,” I grumbled.
A whimper from the bedroom had me hurrying to her bedside. She was shaking and moaning and writhing, and I looked around the room for a clue as to what was happening. Nothing but her cries. Was she having a nightmare? It would make sense after the run-in with Stuart’s parents.
I set the knife down on the bedside table and pulled her into my arms. “Wake up, baby. I got you.”
Her tear-filled eyes opened, and her fearful expression broke my heart. “Royce?”
“You were having a bad dream,” I whispered in her ear, holding her quivering body.
She snuggled into my chest and murmured, “It… Oh, Royce, it was horrible.”
“Want to talk about it?”
She nodded but remained silent, and I rocked her back and forth, assuming she’d fallen back to sleep.
“The whole thing with Stuart, then his parents tonight… It brought up a memory.”
“What’s that, baby?”
“The night Anya got pregnant.” Her voice was barely above a whisper, almost as if she were scared that her words would bring the nightmare back to life. “Sailor, Aurora, and I went out partying in Miami. We got into trouble, and Anya ended up beaten and… raped.”
I stiffened. Apparently this was one of the rare things my sister never shared with my brothers and me. “Who did it?”
“He’s dead.” Her palm was on my chest, almost as if she needed my heartbeat to steady her. “We promised never to talk about it. I’ve done pretty well pushing it to the back of my mind for so long, but…”
Our minds worked in mysterious ways, but it didn’t take a psychiatrist to draw a connection between Stuart’s violence and the memory recurring now.
“It’s not your fault. Everything with Stuart likely triggered it,” I whispered softly, then pulled her closer. “It’s not your fault, Willow. Do you understand?”
She rubbed at my chest before she looked up at me and said, “What’s with the knife?”
My eyes fell to the table. “In case any idiots try to get into our room. We’re leaving at the break of dawn,” I said as I slid back into the bed and she cuddled close. “And, Willow?”
“Yes?”
“Nobody is going to hurt you. I will always protect you.”
She slept through the night, tucked underneath my arms, right where she belonged.