Chapter 26
TWENTY-SIX
Avery’s room is utterly ridiculous, and I’m jealous as all hell about it.
It’s fitted out perfectly, not only for her but for the three guys in case they all wanted to have a big freaking sleepover there every night.
There are trundle beds under her giant Cal King and a daybed built into the window.
Everything is in tasteful shades of cream and gray, pillows and throw rugs on every surface.
How have I never noticed them coming and going from her room? I glance around while we wait.
The kitchen is fully stocked, I have no idea why she bothers with the overcrowded dining hall, and her closet is the size of my entire room.
I only ever see her wearing her uniform, so why the hell does she need this much space?
And there, in the corner, is a private bathroom.
That’s the thing I’m most jealous of. To be able to lock the bedroom door and shower in your own bathroom.
Avery is living the dream four fucking steps from the closet I sleep in.
I take some deep, deep breaths and I tell myself I’ll have this someday.
Better even, because I’ll have earned it myself and I’ll appreciate it.
Avery paces in the kitchen area, running her hands along the surfaces like she’s searching for dust, but it doesn’t exist, and Ash sits stiffly on the couch. I perch on the edge of one of the armchairs and roll my eyes at Avery’s dirty look.
“Is there somewhere I can sit, then? Or are you afraid I’ll sully your fucking furniture?” I snap at her, and she rolls her eyes.
“That’s Harley’s seat. Blaise usually just camps on the floor like a three-year-old, so maybe sit in his chair—the other armchair. I don’t want Harley getting ideas.” I open my mouth to ask ‘what ideas’ when Ash snaps at us both.
“She can sit wherever the fuck she wants. Just tell us what’s going on. How the fuck do you know Dairmuid?”
Avery starts wiping down the kitchen counters. Huh, I did not expect her to know how to clean. I shake the thought out of my head and reply to Ash, “I’m not repeating myself. It’ll only piss us all off. How far away are they? We’re on a time crunch here.”
“We’re here.” Harley opens the door and he and Blaise stroll in. There’s no tenseness to him at all, just curiosity. I sigh. Avery didn't tell him what this was all about then.
Harley spots me on his chair, but before I can get up, he drops himself down onto the couch so he's closest to me.
Avery scoffs and scrubs harder. Blaise does exactly what she said he would and just collapses on the floor with an obscene groan.
His shirt rides up and I turn away from his colorfully patterned skin before I get caught looking.
I have to remember that I'm surrounded by sharks. I need to keep my head or I’ll lose it.
Harley watches Avery’s manic scrubbing for a second, then says, “Fuck, Avery’s cleaning. What’s wrong? What’s this about?”
I take a deep breath and then just blurt out, “I have a connection to an underground criminal organization which is not up for discussion.
But the connection has a package for me.
He tells me he's sending one of his hired guns to bring it here. The guy offered to come because he has a nephew who goes to this school. I was unaware that you're an O’Cronin.”
Harley's face shuts down so fast that I'm surprised he doesn't get whiplash. Avery stops cleaning to cock her hip and says to me with a glare, “So it's your fault he's coming here, then? You've called him in?”
Fuck. “I didn't call him in. He heard the name Hannaford and decided to come up. I’m not at fault here. I could’ve just let him come and ambush Harley, but I chose not to. Do not make me regret that.”
Harley is a blank slate. I can see the deep-seated programming from a mile away—I mean, I have it too.
It lives in your brain, and even when you’ve changed your life and you’re living like a civilian, all it takes is hitting that trip wire and the training will fall into place.
I take a deep breath and cover his hand with mine.
“I‘ll stay with you. It'll put a stop to…
whatever it is you think he's going to do to you. My connection ensures immunity.”
He doesn't react. He doesn't move at all. I have to focus on the base of his throat to see he's still breathing. I don’t tell him that I’ll be risking my own skin to help him. If word about Harley gets back to the Jackal… I don’t think he’ll like just how breathtaking Harley is.
I meet Ash’s eyes across the room and find that he's scowling at me. Their fear sends a shiver down my spine and I tentatively ask, “What are you afraid he's going to do? Believe it or not, I can call ahead and stop it. ”
There’s silence while they all look at one another. No one offers up an explanation.
“Do you fuck gangsters and mobsters, Mounty? Is that why you won't fuck any of the upstanding students here? Does your pussy belong to a monster?” Blaise drawls from the floor. “Do you need the violence to get wet?”
I slowly take my hand off Harley’s and I stand. Blaise always knows just what to say to eviscerate me. It’s his super-fucking-power.
I’m almost to the door when Avery calls out, “You can't leave, we don't have a plan. I need to make a plan.”
I turn to ask her what the hell she’s going on about and I find Harley standing behind me.
He can be just as silent on his feet as I can.
His eyes are blank. I hate that I can’t read them, that there’s none of his usual fire and wit to be found.
He’s a shell, the mindless soldier they have trained him to be, stuck in a state of shock. I hate it.
His voice is as empty as his eyes. “The plan is to keep you three out of my family’s hands. That's it. I'll call when it's… done.”
I duck back into my room, and when Harley insists on following me inside, I make him face the wall while I dig out the safe hidden under my floorboards and lift the tiny box out. The diamonds all shift around and make a distinctive clinking sound.
Each of the Twelve have a color assigned to them. If you’re willing to pay another member with a favor, you have to have the cash to buy and hand over a diamond in the color you’re assigned. I have at least three in every color except my own.
I’ve never given out a favor.
I can’t afford to give out favors.
My color is white, the most common and easy to find of the lot, except my diamonds have to be a certain clarity and carat to count as a favor.
The Jackal had once walked me into a ritzy jewelry store and pointed one out to me that was set in a stunning ring just so I’d know what I’d need to get if the time ever came.
The last time I priced one out, and fuck was it hard to find, it came in just under the half-million-dollar mark.
I rummage around until I find the three little red diamonds I’d been given by the Jackal.
They are the rarest diamonds, and how he found and purchased three is beyond me.
These are the only favors he’s ever given out, and I know it’s because, in his mind, it’s safe to give them to me.
I’ll just give them back to him the moment he orders me to, as soon as he owns me.
I slip the smallest of the three into a velvet bag and then into my bra, where I can feel it against my skin.
After I’ve hidden the safe again, I follow Harley back downstairs and out to the front foyer.
He doesn’t ask me what I collected. I don’t know how much time he’s spent around this sort of people, but it’s enough that he doesn’t ask stupid questions.
I hear the roar of a motorbike and I roll my eyes.
Subtlety isn’t Dairmuid’s specialty.
His specialty is blood.
Harley notices my exasperation and finally speaks. “You’ve met him before?”
I nod, then hesitate before asking, “Have you?”
Harley shakes his head, and I frown.
“Why are you so worried then?”
He chews on his bottom lip, the first sign of anxiousness I’ve ever seen in him.
“It’s a double-edged sword. He might kill me because he left the family and I’m next in line to take over.
It would be a big fuck you to my grandfather if he does that, and if anything I’ve heard about him is true, then I think that’s how this will go.
If Diarmuid doesn’t kill me, it could get back to my grandfather that we’re meeting up, and then the family will kill me. Either way, I’m fucked.”
Fuck.
Mobster family politics.
I’m not stupid or brash, but I follow my gut always.
Ultimately, this guy took out three guys for beating me.
He made Avery cut her shit out. H decided not to hate me and then he followed through with it.
How can I not offer him the same loyalty?
My gut tells me he’s worth saving, and I’m quickly discovering we’re cut from the same cloth.
“Are you going to take over the family business?” I ask curiously.
He glares down at me. “I’d rather fucking die. I will die when my grandfather figures out I won’t change my mind. I’ve made peace with that.”
He can’t die, I won’t let him. I have a fairly reckless plan and a prayer that it will work. “Do you trust me, Arbour?” I wipe my sweaty palms down my legs and meet his eyes. Something is inching back into his baby blues, and I never want to see it leave again.
“Enough to be standing here,” he rasps back.
“Then keep your mouth shut and I’ll keep you alive. I mean it. Not a single word.”
Diarmuid is an O’Cronin through and through.
Dark, shaggy hair falls over his green eyes as he pulls the helmet off his head.
His face splits into a grin when he spots me, and he waves me over to crush my body into a hug, his legs still straddling the bike.
When he speaks, it’s with a delightful Irish accent that has prevailed even though, as the youngest child, he was born here in the States.
“Jesus, Mary, and feckin’ Joseph, you’re growin’ up, kid!”