Chapter 47
Skylar
"Oh my god." I clap my hands over my mouth.
On the other side of the room, the new arrival takes Ryot’s hit on the chin and doesn’t flinch, which is saying something.
Because Ryot is built like a tank. He’s as tall as the stranger, but his muscles are thicker.
He pulls his fist back again, and my husband plants his body in front of me, no doubt, to protect me.
It also means I can’t see what’s happening.
I jump up and try to look around him, in time to see the new man take another hit, this time, to his side.
Ryot swings a third time, but this time, the other man—who, while older than Ryot, is every bit as fit as him—steps aside, then trips Ryot, who crashes down on his front.
The other man moves so quickly, he blurs.
The next moment, he has his knee pressed into the small of Ryot’s back.
He also has Ryot’s arms pinned behind him.
Ryot growls and tries to shake off the other man, but doesn’t succeed.
"You gotta listen to me, mate; it wasn’t my fault. I’m sorry for what happened, but it was a mistake."
"One that resulted in the mission being compromised. You called the airstrike on the wrong coordinates. You killed her.” Ryot’s eyes blaze.
I don’t think I’ve heard him speak before, so it’s a shock to hear his voice.
"It was a mistake," the other man bites out through gritted teeth.
"There are no mistakes. There is only death and no return. Not a single day goes by when I don’t wish it was me you killed and not her." He bangs his forehead into the wooden floor, and the sound echoes through the room.
"I’m sorry, man. If I could, I’d take back my actions. I had no way of knowing the intelligence was wrong. Not a day goes by when I don’t blame myself for what happened."
Ryot looks at the other man with so much venom, I flinch.
The stranger’s jaw flexes. He must loosen his grip, for Ryot shakes him off and rises to his feet.
He turns and points his finger at the new arrival.
"I hope you go through what I did. I hope you lose the one you love, and then you’ll realize how it feels to live, knowing you’ll never see her again.
Never hold her again. Never hear her laugh or hold her in your arms again.
While day after day, you have to go through this farce of a life and pretend to live, when what you are is a dead man walking.
And there’s no way you’re going to kill yourself because she’d be disappointed in you.
So, you keep living, when actually"—he swallows—"all you want is to die, so you can see her again. "
There’s silence in the room. Strike what I said earlier. Ryot doesn’t hate the man. He abhors him, which is obvious since he decided to speak what’s on his mind.
He pivots and walks out of the room, leaving the other man on the floor, still on one knee.
His shoulders rise and fall. For a second, he lowers his chin to his chest, head bowed as if in penance. Then, he slowly rises to his feet and turns to face the room. "Anyone else? Might as well get it all out now, boys."
The rest of the Davenport brothers stay silent.
The seconds tick past as the other brother’s glower at him.
He’s family, that much is clear from the resemblance between him and the others, but he’s not welcome.
Not when the animosity in the room is so strong the hair on the back of my neck stands on end.
Edward and Nate exchange glances.
Then, my husband closes the distance to the new arrival and holds out his hand. "Nate Davenport."
The other man does a chin jerk. "M Squadron?"
Nate nods slowly. "You’re X Squadron."
Something passes between the two men, an understanding of sorts.
"Quentin Davenport." The other man tilts his head. "You’re my nephew."
"And you’re a fucking coward." This, from Knox.
"You have the gall to show your face again?" Tyler’s jaw works.
"You fucking hurt him. You turned Ryot’s life upside down and now, you expect him to forgive you?" Brody moves forward.
It’s as if there’s a signal, for suddenly, the four remaining brothers surround Quentin.
That’s when Edward steps in and stretches out his arm to block Brody. "Hold on, chaps, we don’t want to come to blows here in the Club."
"Oh, we do. And it’s going to be more than blows, considering what he did to Ryot," Knox says in a low voice. Anger vibrates off of him. The feeling of menace permeating the air is so thick, it pins me in place.
"It was an error." Quentin raises his hands, palms facing outward. "A slip-up in intelligence. There was a mole on my team, and I didn’t know. If I had known, I never would’ve given the orders."
"It was poor planning and communication on your part. You were the leader. It was your responsibility," Brody snaps.
Quentin lowers his chin. "I take responsibility for what happened. It was my fault. It’s why I left the Marines."
"Not enough. You get to leave with honors, while Ryot goes ballistic and is stripped of his colors and told to leave the career he loves?" Knox shakes his head. "You need to pay."
"He does; that’s why I called him here," Arthur says from the doorway. He shuts the door behind him, then unhooks the lead from Tiny. The dog pads over to Quentin, sniffs him, looks around at the other guys with one ear quirked, then he butts Quentin’s hip.
Quentin scratches the mutt’s big head, and Tiny makes a purring noise in his throat.
The interaction seems to break up the tension a little.
Arthur walks past Quentin and takes a seat in an armchair by the fireplace.
It’s a position from which he can survey the room.
Somehow, he’s already maneuvered things, making it clear, he’s the one in charge.
"Step back, everyone," Arthur commands.
Knox takes a step forward, and Arthur booms, "Back off. That’s an order."
Knox hesitates, then to my surprise, he slowly moves back. "This isn’t over." He bares his teeth in Quentin’s direction, then pivots and heads back to his position by the window. Connor, Brody and Tyler stay in place for a few seconds, then retreat.
Nate’s features relax. He and Edward walk back to stand next to me and Mira.
Nate squeezes my shoulder, and I turn my face into his hand.
Seeing this showdown brought home the level of testosterone in this family.
It’s quite a sight to see these men gathered under one roof again, and then to see them almost come to blows.
A secret part of me knows I’d have enjoyed it, too.
It’s that bloodthirsty part of me, the darker part of me that my husband has loosened.
The honest part of me, I suppose. The part that can no longer stay hidden.
The part he’s brought to the fore, with the way he’s possessed my body and taught me to love my figure, to trust my instincts, to believe in myself.
Of course, I had a measure of self-confidence to begin with.
And no, I did not hate how I looked, but I haven’t been as comfortable in my skin as I am now.
And it’s thanks to him. Some of my emotions must communicate themselves to him, for he rubs his thumb across my cheek.
I look up to find his eyes shining with that emotion I now know he reserves for me.
He told me he loved me, but right here, surrounded by his family, and having seen how he intervened to keep the peace, it sinks in.
He’s my husband and he loves me. And I love him.
I need to tell him. I open my mouth, but for some reason, the words stick in my throat.
An instinct, or perhaps, it’s the fact that he’s holding back something from me.
If I overlooked that, everything would be perfect, but I can’t.
A part of me insists, I need to know. That when I do, everything might change. A shiver runs down my back.
"Cold?" His lips curl in that half-smile that I can feel all the way to my toes. Then, he shrugs off his jacket and places it around my shoulders. "Better?"
Before I can answer, Arthur’s voice booms through the room. "Quentin, I wasn’t sure you’d come."
Quentin’s jaw firms. "Me neither. But"—his throat moves as he swallows—"I needed to make amends."
Arthur nods. "I’m glad you’ve realized that. As your nephews pointed out, it’s time for you to pay."
"Oh?" Quentin’s features grow wary. "What do you want, Arthur?"
Not father, or Dad, just Arthur. Jeez, this entire family hates this old man.
He must have been a terror in his younger days.
Correction he’s still a terror. A vein tics at Arthur’s temple.
He’s pissed off by Quentin calling him by his name, but when he speaks, his voice is even.
"Why do you think I want something from you? "
Quentin snorts. "Because you’re a mean ol’ bastard, is why. And because everything is a negotiation and a means to an end, especially the lives of your family."
Arthur clicks his tongue. "You don’t have a very good opinion of me, do you?"
"To say the least."
"So, it’s not going to make it any worse when I say I want you to join the family business and take over the info-communication arm of Davenport Industries."
"What the fuck?! You’re carving up the company again?" Knox bursts out.
"Just making sure everyone’s strengths are used in the best way. It’s the only way this family is going to survive the challenges we face in almost every sector." Arthur tilts his head. "There’s more than enough companies for all of you to become CEOs of your own portfolios."
"You groomed me to be your heir. You said I would be group CEO,” his left eyelid twitches.
"A title Nathan has the experience to take on more than anyone else in this room." Arthur’s voice is firm.
Knox’s nostrils flare. He narrows his gaze on Arthur. "I will get back at you for this."
Arthur smiles, and his expression is so similar to the way Knox bared his teeth at Quentin earlier. This family… They’d happily tear out each other’s throats when it comes to delivering on their own ambitions.
At the same time, when there’s a challenge to one of them, everyone steps up, as I saw earlier when the brothers came to Ryot’s defense. Of course, it helps that all of them are united against Quentin. It always helps to have a central figure to rally against.
Holdonasecond, is that why Arthur asked Quentin to return? Another way to bring the brothers together? No matter that it might be at the cost of Quentin losing whatever relationship he has with them? Or is it a chance for Quentin to redeem himself with them?
"Nathan, you should find the confirmation letter of your position as Group CEO on your desk."
My husband inclines his head. This is something he’s been working toward for a while, but there’s no change in expression on his face.
How strange. I’d have expected him to be happy, even excited, but his forehead is furrowed.
It’s as if he’s not quite sure how to react to the news.
He also doesn’t seem surprised to see Quentin here.
Apparently, he knew his uncle was coming today.
"As for you, Quentin"—Arthur looks him up and down—"I assume you accept my proposition?"
Quentin nods slowly. "Do I have a choice?"
"You always have a choice." Arthur’s smile is sly.
"More like a non-choice." Quentin rubs the back of his neck.
"You in or out, son?"
"Don’t fucking call me son."
Arthur sighs. "Can we leave the emotions out of this discussion? You are my son. It’s a fact of life; deal with it."
"And I’m in, only because it’s a way to make amends with my nephews; deal with it," Quentin snaps back.
Arthur nods. "I do have a condition."