28. Ronan
The wraparound screens in Ronan’s office reflected the early morning sun. Not even seven o’clock, but he’d been at it for two hours already.
The private investigation firm he’d founded felt far more suited to his skill set. He didn’t want to be in harm’s way, not when he had Juliette to take care of, and he’d always been one to work in somewhat unconventional ways. But the real freedom was working outside the confines of the legal system. He didn’t want to do anything illegal —he just didn’t want anyone higher up to shut his investigations down.
He was tired of trying to cut through red tape. Using his newly acquired traffic cams, he’d even managed to find the sixteen-year-old girl who’d run out of Waylon’s office just after the killing. She hadn’t seen Daniel, just a shadow, but she had seen more than enough of Waylon. Ronan had wanted to be wrong about the man, but at least Waylon had already gotten what he deserved. And the girl was getting help. It didn’t feel like enough… but it was a start.
The club itself was now under new management. The women there didn’t want to leave—most of them had nowhere else to go, and some of them genuinely liked the work. After discussing with Juliette, he’d purchased The Velvet Cage in her name and made the dancers shareholders.
There were some caveats—no substance use was allowed, and an arrest voided your stake—but there were no bosses, just a few members of his team that popped in to discuss the needs of the business and collect the rent. He’d offered to put all of them through business school, but so far, only Desire had taken him up on it.
With Juliette’s urging, he’d also purchased three other businesses along that strip and set up similar management structures in each. The women had already turned the massage parlor into a thrift store. They were talking about making the other club into a holistic health center… whatever that meant.
It might not be a perfect solution, but it was better than it had been before with Waylon at the helm. And though Charles had taken to calling him a “sex-trepreneur,” he felt pretty good about his stake in businesses that would help get women back on their feet.
If they wanted out, they could always sell their shares back to Juliette, and she’d give them to someone else who needed a break. He’d even brought Juliette in on his safe house project, reunited her with Shonda. They couldn’t help everyone… but they made a damn good team.
Paddy had decided to get in on the action, too—the Irishman had asked to join him as a private investigator the month after Ronan left the force.
A soft knock sounded on the door, and Ronan looked up to see Juliette poke her head inside. Light brown hair, not the platinum with blue tips she’d been sporting when they’d met, but her hazel eyes were the same, save the lack of fear. He hoped he never had to see that kind of fear in her face again.
She smiled when he met her gaze. “Strawberries, bananas, and spinach,” she said, holding up a glass full of greenish-pink goo.
“It looks… weird. No kale?”
She passed it over. “No kale. I know you hate it.”
He narrowed his eyes at her but took a sip and frowned. Definitely kale.
Juliette saw his face and shrugged. “Can you really blame me for trying to protect you?”
“That’s my line.”
“One you’ve used enough to last a lifetime.” She took his cup, set it on the desk, then straddled the chair and lowered herself into his lap.
He wrapped his arms around her back. “Did you come in here for a little morning delight?” he asked, dragging his lips over her throat.
“I have to be at work in thirty minutes.”
“All I need is three.”
She laughed. “When I get home tonight, I want an hour. You hear me?”
He planted a chaste kiss on her lips. “Yes, ma’am.”
How strange that he was staying here while she headed to the precinct. Juliette had started working with Ortega four months after Daniel Graves’ arrest. The Ravenbrook prosecutor had taken one look at that scar and decided no jury would blame her for trying to light Daniel on fire. Especially after Ronan shared the rest of the evidence he uncovered in the weeks following the shooting in the motel lot.
Prior to the sting at the motel, they hadn’t had time to dive into the depths of Graves’ crimes—their goal had been to prevent any more death, apprehend a killer. Keep Juliette safe.
But in the aftermath, he and Paddy had uncovered decades of corruption. Juliette was not the first to be tortured by Daniel, though she might have been the first to survive. Ronan had found three female informants connected to Daniel that had all gone missing over the last fifteen years. They could be running the way Juliette had, but he suspected they’d met the same fate as the deputy buried beneath Juliette’s mother’s home. They had Daniel dead to rights on that murder, thanks to Ortega.
But Daniel would never see the inside of a courtroom.
Daniel Graves had been stabbed to death with a sharpened toothbrush two months after his arrest. Cops didn’t tend to fare well in prison—especially the dirty ones. The violent ones.
Ronan didn’t feel bad about it. In fact, his death was one of the few things that helped him sleep at night. But it was far from the only thing.
Ronan blinked. Juliette was still watching him, her brow furrowed.
“What’s wrong?” Her worried eyes bore into his. “Are you looking into your brother again?”
They’d made a pact never to hide anything else from one another. Thus far, it was going smashingly… outside of the occasional leaf of kale.
“I just want to do the right thing. And not knowing… it’s eating at me, you know?”
“I understand.” She kissed him between the eyes. “But what exactly is the right thing here?”
He drew his gaze beyond Juliette’s back, squinting at the dead man on the computer screen. Strange how his father looked like he was sleeping. But Ronan was certain it was a crime scene photo—not a snapshot of a natural death.
Charles’s voice echoed in his head: You really want to go down this road, brother?
He didn’t want to, not really. If he investigated this, confirmed that Charles had killed their dad…
What’s it going to be, Ronan? Hypocrite or accomplice?
Ignorance sounded like the far superior option.
But Ronan was holding a thread in his hand. He’d never been one not to pull it, even if it might yank the whole rug from beneath his own brother, his sister—his mom. Even Juliette, now that she was connected to him and his wealth, though he knew that wasn’t why she was here.
He didn’t want to hurt his family—wouldn’t without good reason. But this was far more than a matter of knowing for knowing’s sake. This was a matter of risk.
Could he really be sure that Charles wouldn’t hurt anyone else?
He wasn’t—not at all. He wished he could say that Charles didn’t have it in him, but his gut told him otherwise. And he knew how easy it was for men to hide what they did in the shadows. Even Waylon had managed to keep his wrongdoing under wraps for years. And he wasn’t a damn billionaire.
“Ronan?”
He drew his gaze back to Juliette’s, and she laid her hands on either side of his face.
“Are you okay?”
“I really don’t know,” he said, the warmth of her touch steadying his nerves. “But with you here… I know I will be.”
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