3. Ronan

3

RONAN

I head to the kitchen, my black dress shoes clicking on the hardwood floor. It’s nearly lunchtime and I have no idea if Paige is up yet, but I wanted to come home and check on her before I head out for meetings at a couple of our clubs. She was so tired last night that I started to worry something was wrong. When I tried to take her temperature with one of those forehead thermometers, she batted my hands away and told me I was an annoying big brother then followed that up with a string of curse words and name-calling. Which was reassurance enough for me that she was fine and just truly tired.

I’m halfway to the fridge when I hear voices coming from the hallway.

Paige and… Tessa.

My chest tightens at the sound of her laugh, light and hesitant, like she’s not quite sure she’s allowed to feel happy. I haven’t talked to her in years, not since she packed up and moved across the Atlantic with Paige. I’ve seen her, plenty of times. Always from a distance so she had no idea. And now, here she is, in my house, and I’m completely unprepared for it.

As they walk into the kitchen, Paige is chattering away, her hands flying as she talks, but I barely notice. My eyes go straight to Tessa. She’s still the same in some ways—soft features, big, expressive eyes—but there’s something sharper about her now. More guarded. She looks at me and freezes mid-step, her fingers tightening around my sister’s arm.

“Ronan.” My name falls from her lips like it’s foreign to her, and for some reason, that stings.

“Tessa.” I nod, leaning against the counter like I’m not completely thrown by her being here.

Her hair is longer, tumbling down her back in silky waves of chestnut that I have the urge to wrap my hand in. Being close to her again, I get to see the pale-blue irises that make her look so fucking innocent that it’s painful. I hadn’t realized how many of her features I couldn’t see when watching from afar. My fingers itch to reach out and run my thumb over the worry lines between her perfectly shaped eyebrows.

She was a teenager when I pulled her from that cell but that’s no longer the case. The crappy part about it is that she looks so much older than the carefree twenty-two-year-old she should be. These past six years have taken a toll on her. Physically, she’s gorgeous. Breathtaking, even. But her eyes, the way she holds herself, the way she speaks, that shows how much she’s aged. Something inside me wants to help her find the innocence she’s lost. And I have no fucking business wanting to do that. Just because Tessa and I share that fateful day doesn’t mean I have any claim on her. She’s not my sister, not my family, not my girl. She’s Paige’s best friend, and I saved her because it was the right thing to do.

I knew Tessa would be in my home at some point. Which may have influenced my decision for Paige to stay with me instead of Declan. Not that I’d told any of them that. The excuse I gave everyone was that now that Declan was married, having his little sister around all the time would cramp their lifestyle. It was a bullshit excuse, considering his house is big enough for ten people to live there without invading each other’s spaces, but luckily my brother didn’t point that out and agreed with me.

Paige grins, oblivious to the awkwardness in the room. Or maybe she just enjoys it. “Ronan, we’re raiding the kitchen. Hope you didn’t have plans for that leftover pizza, because it’s ours now.”

I arch an eyebrow. “You couldn’t at least pretend to ask?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Paige smirks and makes a beeline for the fridge.

Tessa lingers near the doorway, and I don’t like it one fucking bit.

“You’re back home with your parents?” I finally manage, the words coming out rougher than I intended.

“Yeah,” she says softly.

I nod, unsure what to do with my hands, so I shove them into the pockets of my slacks. What the fuck is wrong with me? When did I become a guy who doesn’t have any idea how to talk to a woman? “Good. That’s good.”

Paige snorts from the fridge. “Wow, riveting conversation, you two. Sparks are flying.”

“Shut up, Paige,” I mutter, but my lips twitch despite myself. Tessa smiles faintly, and the knot in my chest loosens just a little.

“Anyway,” Paige continues, pulling out a bottle of syrup, “we’re making waffles. Ronan, you want in?”

I glance at Tessa, who’s watching me like she’s trying to figure out if I’m going to bolt or stay. Something about that look—uncertain, vulnerable—hits me in the chest like a freight train. I clear my throat, trying to shake off the surge of protectiveness that rushes through me.

It’s all okay, baby girl. I got you.

I don’t say the words aloud, but I hope like hell she understands what I’m thinking.

“I thought you were eating leftover pizza?” I ask, shaking my head.

My sister is… a force. I love her, but God bless the man who falls in love with her.

“Well, I changed my mind when I saw this fancy syrup in your fridge. So, do you want some?”

“Sure,” I say, grabbing a bowl from the cabinet. “But you’re doing the dishes.”

Paige rolls her eyes, and Tessa lets out a soft laugh. It’s barely audible, but it’s there.

By the time we sit at the bar with our waffles, my kitchen looks like a two-year-old tried to cook in here, and I’m pretty sure I’ll be stuck doing the dishes. I don’t care, though. My sister is home, and so is Tessa. At least now it will be easier to keep an eye on them. Keeping them protected in another country wasn’t simple.

“Be right back,” Paige sings as she practically skips out of the kitchen.

Tessa used to be a lot like my sister. Bubbly, sassy, funny. Then everything changed. She came back from that hellhole completely differently. Not that I blame her. I can’t even think about all the shit she went through without getting the urge to throw up. It’s a miracle she even smiles now.

As soon as Paige disappears, I turn my gaze to Tessa as she fidgets with a strand of her chestnut hair.

“Are you doing okay, lass?”

She raises her gaze to mine, her shocking blue eyes studying me for a second before she nods. “Yep. I’m good.”

Irritation prickles at my neck, just below the collar of my black dress shirt. “Let’s try that again, naughty girl, but this time, you’re going to tell me the truth. Are you doing okay, lass?”

I don’t know Tessa Murphy well. Not in person anyway. I’ve learned everything I could about her these past four years but it’s mostly just superficial stuff. What I didn’t get to learn is how she is on the inside, where it matters.

Tessa’s lips part, bringing my attention to the pillowy pads. I shouldn’t be looking at them. She’s far too young for me to be interested in her in any way other than as her best friend’s older brother. Yet, I can’t look away, either.

“I’m okay. It’s weird being home, you know? It was easy to forget about things when I was in a different country. But being back here, in my room where I cried day in and day out and had my worst nightmares after it happened, it’s harder than I realized it would be. I guess I thought maybe my parents would turn my room into a guest room so it wouldn’t dredge up so many memories, but they didn’t.”

My gut twists and my jaw clenches so hard I might break a molar. Why didn’t her parents do that? Surely, they would have realized that Tessa would need a new environment without all the awful memories?

“You know you’re welcome to stay here. The guest room next to Paige’s is ready to use,” I say.

It’s also the room closest to mine. I don’t tell her that, though.

She offers a soft smile that doesn’t quite meet her eyes. I don’t like it. After all this time, she should be doing better. Her parents told me they were going to get her into therapy after I brought her home, but it makes me wonder if they actually did.

“Thank you. Paige told me you offered. I’m okay. Hopefully, I won’t be there long. Once I get a job, I’ll get my own place.”

Or she could move in with Paige. Or me. But I won’t say that out loud, either. Even if she does look like she might be sick over the thought of getting her own place. I imagine being alone is still frightening for her. Something I want to shield her from. Once again, I have to remind myself that it’s not my place. She’s not mine to shield.

I can tell myself that a million times, yet I know I’d move heaven and earth to make Tessa feel safe again.

“Just know you’re always welcome here if you change your mind.”

“Thanks, Ronan. For…” Her gaze shifts to her lap, and she blinks several times.

Without thinking better of it, I reach over and wrap my fingers around hers, giving a slight squeeze. “No need to thank me, Tessa. I’m just glad you’re back.”

Paige bounds into the room, and I yank my hand away like I’d been caught accosting her friend instead of simply trying to reassure her. Maybe if my thoughts were pure, I wouldn’t feel so guilty. But I’m an asshole who has become obsessed, and I need to get over it before I end up doing something stupid.

T he tension in the room is thick enough to choke on. Declan leans back in his chair at the head of the table, arms crossed, his expression hard. Bash is pacing by the window, his shoulders tight, while Killian flips a knife over and over in his hand, the blade catching the light every time it spins. Grady and Kieran sit across from me, their eyes flicking between each other like they’re sharing a silent conversation I’m not part of.

This is how we operate. Controlled chaos. But tonight, it feels like that control is slipping. I’ve had six years to find the asshole who took Tessa and I’ve failed. During that time, he’s kidnapped more girls and hurt who knows how many others.

Declan clears his throat, his sharp green eyes landing on each of us in turn. “We’ve got nothing. No leads, no sightings, no name. Just a ghost. Yet somehow, we keep hearing that girls are coming up missing from other syndicates.”

“Smoke,” Kieran mutters, his tone low and bitter. “The bastard’s living up to his name, that’s for sure.”

I lean forward, elbows on the table, my jaw tight. “It’s been six fucking years, Declan. Six years, and we’re still chasing our tails. How the fuck does someone this dangerous stay invisible for this long?”

“He’s smart,” Bash says from the window. “And careful. He doesn’t leave loose ends. And somehow, the bastard has a whole fucking slew of loyal followers.”

“Then we find the one loose end he missed. The one man who isn’t loyal to him,” Killian adds. “Everyone screws up eventually. Smoke’s no different.”

Grady shakes his head. “Not if we don’t even know what he looks like. Every source we’ve had says the same thing—no one’s seen him other than his men. And they won’t ever talk.”

Declan leans forward, his voice quiet but deadly. “We keep digging. Every deal, every contact, every whisper on the street—if it even smells like Smoke, we’re on it. I don’t care how long it takes.”

I sit back, holding his stare. “I think we’ve been doing this long enough to know he’s not going to just fall into our laps. We need a new angle, something we haven’t tried yet.”

“Ronan’s right. We need a new approach. But we do this smart. No reckless shit.”

Killian smirks, flipping his knife one last time before tucking it away. “Well, that rules out half my ideas.”

Grady snorts, and even Kieran cracks a faint smile. The tension in the room eases just a fraction, but it’s still there, heavy and unrelenting.

“We’ll find him,” Declan says, his tone leaving no room for argument. “And when we do, he’ll wish he’d never been born.”

I nod, but the knot in my chest doesn’t loosen. Smoke is out there, somewhere, and until we take him down, no woman is safe. Especially not Tessa.

And I’ll be damned if I let him near her ever again.

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