CHAPTER THREE
RENA
T he room spins and shakes and blurs as my mind clings to the words find out they’re his, like it’s some sort of convoluted lifeline. That we’re whose? What the hell is he talking about?
One hit of Jax’s joint was not enough for this fuckery.
The chatter is silent for what feels like days but is likely only seconds, until Axel makes an announcement. “Shit. Rena’s on her way up. We’ll need to pick this up later—”
“No need for that,” Ryker snarls. “It’s settled. Burn the goddamn page. And until you agree to that, you keep your fucking distance from them both.”
“Ryker,” Ivy sings, “we won’t divulge anything you don’t want us to. We love you guys. Don’t turn this into a war. We’re on your side.”
“And we never fuck around with safety,” Gage bites out, clearly offended. “It’s insulting that you think we’d compromise theirs.”
Ryker barks a sardonic laugh—I’d recognize the mocking disdain anywhere. “You already did. Rena was nearly killed under your care.”
“Hey,” Liam chimes in, “Wells and I were the ones with her, and we kept her safe. That’s why she was returned to you in one piece. And you’re one to talk, Ryker. You assured Wells that everyone at his wedding reception was vetted and then let in a guy who roofied Ivy with every intention of killing her. And we never gave you shit about that fuckup.”
Wells intervenes with some sentiment to defuse the tension. The remainder of the argument blends into a cacophony of indistinct chatter as I stand frozen, breathless, and sick in the hall. My head is a cyclone of bits and pieces of that messed-up exchange. I can’t make sense of any of it.
And it’s not going to happen now because the muffled din of footsteps and chairs sliding jostles me from my stupor. I scramble back to the front door, quickly opening and closing it to make it seem as though I just entered, and take a beat to steady my erratic breathing. My lungs are glued to my spine, spurning proper function, but somehow, I manage.
Felicity’s babbling is the first noise to breach the hallway and trickle into the living space. She’s tucked inside Ivy’s arms, whose face lights up when she rounds the corner and spots me. I wish I didn’t know that she was in on whatever this lie is. Although I guess her family was encouraging Axel to tell me the truth. That might not mean anything regarding me. I’m guessing their motives are more self-serving, not that I can fathom what that would be.
“Hey, Rena,” Ivy squeals, ambling toward me. “I’ve missed you.” She glances around, her voice dropping. “Take me to your room.”
That piques my interest. It would have without my eavesdropping discovery. I’m all for forbidden, top-secret meetups, no matter the reason. But now … I’m desperate for answers.
I kick my chin toward my room and lead the way, my pulse battering my temples even as I affect the untroubled air expected .
“Thanks,” she says at a normal volume. “Little Bit here needs a diaper change.”
“Little Bit? At the wedding, everyone was calling the cutie F-bomb,” I tease, certain Ivy has a love-hate relationship with that offbeat term of endearment. I, on the other hand, think it’s about the coolest nickname I’ve ever heard. Well, maybe aside from Little Moon.
She giggles and quietly confesses, “It’s growing on me. But don’t tell any of them. They garner far too much joy from taunting me with it.”
That makes me ache. Their dynamic is so unique. Since I’ve always been surrounded by so many people, I’ve often wondered if married life would feel lonely. They’ve certainly thwarted that issue—all of them so close, connected, and under the same roof.
Liam and Celeste announced at their wedding about two weeks ago that they’re opting to stay in the same house, even when they have children. Sounds like that’s the plan for all of them.
The second we enter my room—my private sanctuary, marrying elegant touches with my music vibe, adorned in a magenta-and-black palette with crystal chandeliers, plush furniture, and vinyl records and vintage guitars lining the shelves—Ivy shuts the door, whips a mat out of her diaper bag, and lays the baby on it while unloading wipes, a diaper, and cream in a single sweep. I’m stunned, watching her move so fluidly. Motherhood is a foreign concept to me. I don’t think I’d ever been around a baby before Felicity. And other than the handful of spotty memories I hold of my own mom, I am wholly unfamiliar with these magical powers that must transpire postpartum. But it rekindles a host of deep-seated dreams.
And torment because at least some aspect of my childhood is a falsehood.
Ivy hops up from the ground and thrusts something into my palm. “Hide this. Now,” she whispers, her blue eyes fierce and determined.
Without question, I take it and dart over to my nightstand, opening a false drawer beneath my surplus of vibrators. None of my brothers dare to venture into my toy land. It’s a better defense than guarding it with a bomb.
A cursory inspection reveals that she gave me a rudimentary phone. Strange. What the hell is going on?
After stashing it, I plop down beside her while she changes the baby. “What was that for?”
She glances over her shoulder once, making sure the door is still shut and keeping her voice low—smarter than the menfolk were. “Things are tense right now, but you can always reach out to us. For anything.”
“Tense because of what happened with the Skulls?” I probe in the hopes that she’ll correct me and explain what I heard—assuage this restless agitation surging through my veins.
Her shoulders slump as she fastens the diaper tabs, keeping her tone hushed. “You clearly pay attention. Don’t let Axel or Ryker hear you say that. They don’t want you to know anything about our business or those we’ve fought with.” She bites her lip and flicks her gaze to mine as she hands her daughter a rattle. “It will all work out. I promise. But we would never hurt you or abandon you. We all feel that way. This is just a temporary mess.”
“All of you?” I glance away with that query, not even sure what I’m questioning.
Was Ty in there? I never heard his voice. Or Celeste’s. The rest all know that Axel is hiding something life-altering from me. If they didn’t want me to hurt …
My head is swimming in a sea of confusion. No. Sinking. Drowning. The only person I can trust is Jax. I need to get out of here and talk to him.
Ivy reaches for me, dragging me into her embrace while Felicity coos beside us. “Yes. We all love you, Rena. Please trust that. Wells gives Ivy TLC.”
That last sentence is pure gibberish and hilarious, even in my haze of angry bewilderment, so I cackle. “What the hell did you say? ”
She pulls back and winks at me. “Not a sentence you’ll forget, right? That phone is a burner. Its number is on a master list with my family, and that is the only place you are connected to it. In an emergency or any situation where you need something, but you don’t want anyone to know you’re reaching out, you can call any of us. The numbers are listed without names. That sentence is a mnemonic device for the order.”
Wells gives Ivy TLC—Wells, Gage, Ivy, Ty, Liam, Celeste.
“Got it.” I nod. If I hadn’t overheard their discussion, I’d have been certain she’d lost her mind.
When I stood outside the conference room, frozen in thought, the pieces of that conversation assaulting me were about the book of information, the name Balzano, Axel making a deal, and of course the mention of the fire and that Jax and I belonged to someone else. But the panic-stricken edge to Ivy’s features has my brain snagging on a piece I must have tried to tuck away.
“Jax and Rena are as good as dead if they ever find out they’re his.”
As good as dead makes diving into this all the more perilous. Especially when no one is being forthright with me.
My bedroom door cracks open, and Celeste peeks her head in. “I stalled them as long as I could.” That’s directed at Ivy, so there’s my answer about whether or not she was in the room. A silent participant is still a participant.
Two hours ago, I was on cloud nine—a guarded princess finally noticed by the coveted knight in shining armor. Now, I feel so freaking alone.
Swinging inside, Celeste holds her arms out to me. “Come here. It’s only been a couple of weeks, but I’ve needed my Rena fix.”
I bound to my feet and hug her. “Don’t give Axel and Ryker’s insane authoritarian bullshit any credence. Weren’t we going to start Wine Wednesdays?”
She hedges a half second, which would’ve gone unnoticed in the past but infuriates me now. “Of course. Let’s do it. Maybe you could all come. The guys could do their thing, and we can down a bottle of cabernet and swap smutty reads.”
“Merlot,” Ivy chirps.
“Either sounds perfect,” I say, releasing her. “Or both. I drink anything, and I’ve been searching for a strong story full of lies and betrayal.”
“Oh, yes.” Ivy glows, springing to her feet with her diaper bag packed and Felicity in her arms. “Dark romantic suspense. I have some on my Tbr. I’ll text you options later.”
They’re giving me nothing. Well, not nothing. Ivy gave me that phone, and Celeste was obviously involved with arranging the delivery.
But … they know.
They know what Axel meant when he said Jax and I are someone else’s, and they’re privy to whatever deal he made—or at least the catalyst for it. They could fill in some of the holes, but they aren’t. Until I understand the good as dead aspect and talk to Jax, I need to tread lightly.
Ivy and Celeste scurry out to the main living area, so I follow along, hoping I can pull off a nonchalant vibe. Another part to play.
Axel’s gaze lands on me, and without hesitation, he saunters my way, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and planting a kiss in my hair.
Axel has been everything to me. Both parents. Big brother. My hero.
It’s not surprising that he’d hide something to protect me. I get that. It’s who he is. And definitely who Ryker is.
But if the deal he made is concerning the fire that killed my parents, I don’t know what to do with that. My father wasn’t a good man. I have very few memories of him spending time with us, and I’ve heard plenty of terrifying rumors. But my mother—my mom was an angel, who loved us all fiercely.
There’s no way.
What if she’s not even my mother? Axel said Jax and I were someone else’s—Balzano’s from what it sounded like, whoever that is. That’s bad enough. But my mom—I can’t even go there. Actually, there was that tidbit about my parents finding out , so that couldn’t be about my mom because giving birth is pretty cut and dry.
My heart crumbles to pieces. Our life has always been woven with secrets. But this is unknotting the fabric of who I am.
I need Jax.
Lifting my face to Axel, I smile as authentically as I can. “Are they staying for a while? I didn’t know they were coming, and I told Tessa I’d tune her guitar.”
Tessa and I swap talents. She pierces me and I give her music lessons. It’s the best reason I can think of to storm Jax while he’s working. As I mentioned before, there are always eyes on me.
“They’re staying at least until dinner.” He winks. “Go spend some time with Tessa. I’ll text you if you need to return.”
“Great,” I say, sneaking out with only a wave to our company.
A sharp pain lances my empty lungs. I’ve never had a panic attack, but I think this might be the start. Depression— that I’m experienced with, especially the type that has me doing whatever the hell I can to skirt it. Maybe that’s what’s ensuing, but it’s never hit quite so vigorously. I’m plummeting.
The elevator dings the second I enter the hallway, and when the doors open, my breath hitches with a whistle. It’s Ty.
At any other time, I’d be inwardly cheering that my crush was standing in front of me. But right now … although if he’s out here, then he wasn’t in there.
“Hey, Ty. You weren’t in …” I suppose I can’t ask if he was in the conference room, so I try an alternate route. “Where were you?” That was issued with a bite that doesn’t even sound like me. I need to calm the hell down.
“Running an errand.” His delivery is buoyant, like usual. He’s no longer the one tortured, it seems. “Cash and Maddox are on their way up.”
I’m not sure why he added that. Could be simply because of Axel and Ryker’s warning. Or maybe Ty did truly feel something between us this morning.
“Okay,” I utter. It comes out froggy, like I croaked the word, so I clear the building mucus and swiftly recover. “I see you’ve sobered up.”
He chuckles as though that observation is absurd. “It’s two in the afternoon, Rena. Of course I’m sober.”
Great. More falsehood. Or outright gaslighting.
“Right. I imagined the whole thing.” My arms fling through the air, flailing everywhere with a mind of their own. “You didn’t corner me in the high-rollers hallway, drunk and intense and looking like you wanted … Everything is completely normal, or nothing is …”
Oxygen is evidently in short supply. I grab my throat. It’s closing. Yeah. It’s safe to assume I’m in full-blown panic mode.
That blasé facade he was wearing melts away, and the fervent depth of those cognac eyes returns.
He pushes me against the wall, his long, lean fingers curling onto my hip while his other hand pries mine off my throat. “Breathe for me. You’re okay. Keep your eyes on me and just breathe.”
His knuckles sweep tenderly across my cheekbone as he starts an exaggerated inhale, urging me to follow his breathing pattern, to allow him to calm me down. I mimic his gestures, but everything about this encounter has my body revving up.
“What happened?” he finally rasps, apparently pleased with my air intake.
He smells like a dimly lit cigar lounge—one with vintage books and aged spirits.
Suede and spices and secret desires.
That aside, his query is both sweet and demanding. And that push he gave me was anything but gentle—a hint of salacious promise. If I didn’t feel lightheaded from both his intoxicating scent and my newfound lethal revelation, that would all be cause for zealous swooning.
Instead of answering, I ask what I’ve been wondering since Ivy voiced that ridiculous mnemonic device. My wheezing breaths stagger with each word. “If … I ever … need you—”
“Yes. Always. For anything.” No hesitation. He didn’t even wait for me to finish. Brave. I could’ve ended that sentence in some horrifying ways.
Or naughty ones.
Yep. When my head clears, I will undoubtedly be cataloging erotic conclusions to my question to throw at him someday. He did say anything .
But right now, we’re suspended in this peculiar stance—touching and panting and soaking each other in. He brushes some wispy strands off my forehead. I can feel the beads of sweat dotting my hairline, but he doesn’t seem to mind. His breath is cool. Soothing.
I wish I could bask in the goose bumps freckling my skin, the rise and fall of his taut chest, and the energized current crackling between us.
He feels it too.
A shiver soars up my spine when he finally breaks the pivotal silence.
“There you go,” he rasps, his eyes lingering on my lips. “In and out.”
In and out? My brows furrow in confusion, but then it hits me. Ahh. He’s commending my inhale-exhale technique. My head is in all the wrong places. It always is with Ty.
I nod and swallow and lick my dry lips, spellbound when his gaze glues to the movement. “Thanks,” I whisper.
His thumb skates back and forth over the bare strip of skin above my pants in such an intimate buffing that my flesh chills and heats simultaneously beneath his tender touch. “You’re pale. Scared. Talk to me.”
Unfortunately, his observation harmonizes with the ding of the elevator, which provokes an immediate shift in his demeanor.
“I have to go,” he rushes out, and in a flash, he disappears into the penthouse .
This is a weird fucking day.
The elevator spits out Cash and Maddox, who swagger toward me with their customary flair, so I beam, gathering every ounce of poise I can muster.
“Fancy running into you two here.”
Cash laughs, hoisting me up and swinging me in a circle, the few fries I ingested earlier making a valiant effort to reemerge. “Hey, shortcake. Where ya headed?”
Cash and Maddox aren’t nearly as overprotective of me as Ryker and Axel. As the two middle Noire siblings, they’re mischievous, fun, and always up for anything.
“To see Tessa,” I say, prepared for the juvenile response that will follow.
“Tessa,” Maddox purrs while Cash sets me on my feet. “Want me to tag along—or better yet, go for you?”
“No.” I roll my eyes in feigned annoyance. “And neither does she.”
It’s actually kind of cute. Girls would eagerly slice each other to get to my brothers. But Tessa won’t give these two the time of day. That seems to be their kryptonite. Especially Maddox’s.
He swipes his onyx-black hair off his forehead and wields his best puppy-dog eyes. “You’ll put in a good word for me then. Won’t you, little sis?”
To anyone else, that pathetic, pleading look would be a tough sell since nearly every inch of him from the neck down is tatted. With me, it’s simply because I know he’s full of shit.
“Definitely not.” I arch my brows and press the button to call the elevator. “Tessa is my friend. She’s smart and not into fuckboys. You gotta step up your game. I’d never lead her astray.”
Cash snickers as I inch backward through the open doors. “Gonna be long?”
“Nope. Hopefully, I can handle what I need to quickly.” The words fly out of my mouth, but the elevator is moving before I even register that they both murmured some response .
I’m losing my freaking mind. I have no idea how I managed any semblance of normalcy with them. My vision is blitzed with dizzying black spots and stars, even as I suck in centering breaths.
As though I teleported myself here, in a blink, I’m tromping through the piercing boutique when I catch a glimpse of Jax’s blue hair in one of the rooms and dash to his side.
He appears to have dozed off, so I close the door and kick the base of the piercing bed to awaken him. His bloodshot eyes widen in alarm. Still stoned.
Great.
“Jax, I need you to listen. I told Axel I was coming down here to see Tessa because I had overheard a huge secret. You won’t believe what I found out and what Axel did.”
“Fuck,” Jax hisses, slinking into an upright but slouched position. “Don’t be mad at Tessa. She’s been fretting about this forever.”
Tessa has been fretting about it?
I get the feeling we’re talking about two different secrets. At this point, I really am at a not-a-thing-left-to-lose crossroads. But, fuck, it doesn’t taste like freedom.
“Well, she should be,” I snap, having no idea if that even makes sense.
“Nah.” He rakes his fingers through his hair. His complexion is pallid and pasty. He’s really stressed. “Don’t be like that. She works for us, Rena. Me. Axel. Ryker. And you know how they get about your safety. She didn’t have a choice.”
What in the ever-loving hell is he talking about?
I am absolutely lost and raging mad. “But she did it anyway, and you knew about it. When?”
He hums while dragging a hand down his face and barely making eye contact with me. “They made me swear I’d keep it quiet. And I see the benefit of knowing where you are. You have to see the intention more than the violation, sis. We worry.”
The benefit of knowing where I am. Axel and Ryker worry about my safety. Tessa did it .
My piercings.
“Which one is it?” I ask, still tiptoeing around clear-cut inquiries in case I’m misreading this.
He exhales, his entire demeanor deflating. “I don’t know. It’s every couple that you get.”
Since I’m fairly certain I’ve got things nailed down, I go for it. Laying it all bare to be sure. “There are tracking devices in several of my piercings?”
He bobs his head sheepishly.
Mother. Fucker. Is there no one I can trust?
It’s not that shocking that they’d track me, but all of it compounded is too much.
Tears well in my eyes. I’m not sure who I feel most betrayed by. Jax, for lying to me when we’ve always been each other’s safe place. Axel, for lying about God only knows what—who my father is and some behind-the-scenes deal gone wrong that got my parents killed. Ryker, for going along with it. Ivy, Celeste, and the guys, for not fighting harder for me.
Do Maddox and Cash know? At a minimum, they’re aware of the tracking.
No one is on my side. The whole staff here—that extended family I spoke of—is first and foremost Axel’s.
I really am only playing a part.
There’s no sense in confiding in Jax about what I heard upstairs. Especially since it carries some ominous threat with it. I need to be strategic.
Before I turn to leave, I wag my finger at him in warning. “Do not tell Axel, Ryker, or anyone that I know about this. You already screwed me over with this bullshit, Jax. Don’t do it again.”
He holds up surrendering hands. “This conversation never happened.”
I storm away without another word and fish a butterscotch hard candy out of my pocket, popping it into my mouth to keep my facial expression blank. The last thing I need is someone reporting to my brothers that I seemed upset. Other than that, I haven’t a clue how to approach this. I hate being at odds with Jax. He’s sensitive. I’m sure it’s killing him that I’m angry, but we can bury the hatchet later when I calm down. It would’ve been so much easier if he was in this with me. We could have forged a direction or a plan.
Other than knowing I need to do a shit ton of research to figure out who Balzano is and what he has to do with Jax and me, I have no plan. There was mention of what could happen if one of us got sick. That feels like it means something. But that will all have to wait. The priority now is to hang out with everyone back at the penthouse and act natural so they don’t suspect anything.
As soon as I walk in, I drop down on the couch in the midst of their chaotic banter. The tension appears to have dissolved easily for them. No one asks about how I got back so quickly, so I forgo an explanation.
While everyone jabbers on, Liam, who is to my right, leans into me and smirks. I like Liam. He reminds me of Cash sometimes—blond hair, devious smile, a mirthful nature to escort his domineering air. He’s entertaining.
“The wife and I enjoyed your candy basket, Noire,” he says, flaunting his devious grin in full force.
That has me genuinely cackling. “I’m so glad. I wanted Celeste to have something in case the honeymoon fell short . What was her favorite? The Lemonheads, the Red Hots, or the Dick Taylor nuts?”
“My man never falls short, but I especially enjoyed the nuts,” Celeste croons with a cheeky grin.
Liam drags her onto his lap. “You do always pay those special attention, Ace.”
I guess I encouraged the PDA by gifting them inuendo treats. It was an inside joke from when Liam railed Celeste in the dressing room beside me. Never a dull moment with this crew. That was also shortly before the shop blew up, but it might as well be two separate experiences.
“I stole the Lemonheads,” Wells admits while bouncing Felicity, which has Ivy giggling beside him. “Hadn’t tried those since I was a kid. I’m moving them into the rotation.”
“Oh. That reminds me.” I leap off the sofa and race to my room to grab something for him.
Like Wells, I’m a candy addict, but it pains me that he limits himself to simplistic choices. After retrieving the small bag from my dresser, I return to the living area and dangle it in front of him.
“Trade ya,” I offer, exchanging the candy for the sweet baby girl—she’ll provide a much-needed shield for my angst. “One of our guests makes those. You’ve got to limit the crap and go for the gold once in a while.”
He chuckles, glancing at Axel before returning to me. “Solid advice, Rena. Let’s see what you’ve got here.”
Sifting through, he finds gourmet butterscotch candies—plain, salted, and caramel. The way his green eyes light up when he pops one in his mouth tells me I did good.
“Tastes like a winner.” Wells dips his chin to me in respect. I’ve always enjoyed impressing him. He doesn’t extend his approval to many, so when he does, it feels hard-fought.
I flourish a megawatt grin and snuggle the little bundle against me, even though there is still a boulder of anxiety inhabiting my lungs, clambering to block my airway again. It seems intensified by the fact that Ty’s gaze is continually swinging to me—like a laser beam, flushing my skin wherever it lands.
Is that new? The way he can’t keep his eyes off me. I’d think it was the baby he was gaping at if I hadn’t caught him a couple of times before I was holding her. I wish this were happening on a day when my world wasn’t imploding. So I could relish it, memorize every sidelong glance and crinkle of his ravenous brown embers.
I’ve waited my entire adult life for that look—that hunger he exhibited by the elevator. The heat, the care, the concern. And I can’t even celebrate it.
Instead, I’m inwardly plotting my escape.
It makes no difference anyway. No matter the ogling or yearning or electricity between us, he’d never admit to it. He’ll never see me apart from my brothers, which hurts even more now that I’m not even sure I’m theirs.
So, I perform exactly as expected—laughing and gabbing and flitting about. Light and carefree.
By dinnertime, Felicity is fussy, so we say our goodbyes.
Earlier, I flippantly threw out that Janis Joplin reference because it felt like a why-not moment—like Ty and I should throw caution to the wind. Seize the day.
Our sliver of freedom.
But as all the people I adore hug me and bid us farewell with a smile, which is mirrored by my family, I am utterly scorned. It’s all deception.
There’s not a fucking thing left for me here.
I’m convinced that’s the cold, hard truth.
Until Ty leans into my ear on his way out the door, his rasp wetting the lobe with a delicious tingle and his words knocking everything upside down. “You didn’t imagine anything, Little Moon.”