I’ve never met anyone at the airport before. What’s the point?
Even when I reconnected with my brothers, we were all self-sufficient enough to find our own way home. Somehow I got roped into meeting Liam and Samantha. They’re fully capable of driving themselves to their hotel, but here I am. It feels strange, like something a family would do. Liam, me, Elijah—we were more like a nuclear wasteland than a family.
Somewhere along the way that changed.
Maybe it was when Liam fell for Samantha. Maybe it was when she got pregnant. The bump is barely noticeable, but Liam acts like she’s made of fucking glass. The idea of a child would terrify me, but he seems happy.
Happy. The idea is foreign.
It’s not meant for men like me. Or is it? Bethany’s been staying with me for weeks now, and I don’t feel stifled or trapped. I like her in my bed.
The thought of her leaving makes me feel something close to panic.
A text appears on my phone. North Security’s private jet has landed safely. It will only take a few minutes to complete the airport’s procedures, so I push through the sliding glass doors. I watch the jet come to a rolling stop. The stairs fold down and Liam appears at the top. He helps Samantha down, who’s carrying her violin case. That much hasn’t changed.
When I reach them, I give Liam a quick hand-clasp. That’s as close as we’ve ever come to caring physical contact—and a far cry from the punches and kicks our father used on us. Samantha isn’t shy. She throws her arms around my neck, and I hug her back, feeling uncommonly emotional. “What’s up, squirt?”
She gives me a gentle shove in retaliation. “What’s up is that I’m glad to see you. Where’s Bethany? I’m so glad we could make it before her show ends.”
“She’s in practice, but you’ll be able to see her tonight.”
A sly look falls over Samantha’s expression. “Oh, that’s right. Because she’s staying with you. And here I thought you two didn’t like each other.”
Discomfort moves through my stomach. I don’t want Samantha playing matchmaker. Then again, it’s not like she needs to. I’ve settled Bethany into my life pretty well on my own. Settled her so deep I can’t imagine living without her. “For safety reasons.”
Liam frowns. “Have you made progress on her stalker?”
“Some.” Not as much as I’d like.
My phone vibrates on my hip. I lift the screen to see a phone call from Noah. My blood runs cold. Why would he be calling me? He’s supposed to be picking Bethany up from the theater right now. He’ll bring her back to my place, where she’s safe, safe, safe.
Time slows as I press the green button on my phone. “North.”
Noah sounds unsteady and far away. “They got the drop on me.”
A visceral sensation, like something being torn apart—internal organs ripping to shreds. That seems more likely than the idea that Bethany’s in trouble. “What do you mean?”
“Some men were sniffing around. Caleb’s people.”
“They took her?” There’s a clench in my chest where I hope that’s the answer. Her brother’s fucking crazy, but he doesn’t want her hurt. If he has her, I can get her back. She’ll be okay. I need her to be okay.
“They insisted I walk away. I refused.” In those few words I know that my friend must be really fucking injured. “When I tried to call for backup, a third guy came from behind. I was fighting the three of them when she came out of her apartment. He was ready. Waiting. He must have known these fuckers were going to make a play for her today. It was exactly the distraction he needed.”
My blood runs cold. “Connor James. He has her?”
My eyes meet Liam’s, and I suddenly understand every insane thing he did to save Samantha, every pillow he puts around her pregnant body, every moment of soul-deep fear when she might be in pain. Is this love? It feels like death.
“Affirmative.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Tupac Shakur is best known as a rapper from the late 80s and early 90s. However, he also studied ballet and poetry at the Baltimore School of The Arts. He played the Mouse King in their production of the Nutcracker.
Bethany
Josh. He’s the first thought in my head. His green eyes, playful and merciless, demanding that I get it together. Pain pierces my head, and I fight against the tides of unconsciousness pulling me down.
It would be so much nicer in blind and blissful ignorance.