“She’s staying here temporarily,” Raven told me, nodding.
“May I see her?”
“Well, there’s a problem.”
“What kind of problem?”
“I waited for you to show up. When you didn’t, I had to call in reinforcements.”
“You called her brothers,” I mused.
“Yes. And they convinced her to get up, get pretty, go out tonight. Made her an offer she couldn’t refuse. An underground casino.”
“Those poor bastards she’s playing,” I said, snorting, getting a big smile out of Raven.
“I know, right? I’ve never won a single game against her.”
“This underground casino…”
“It’s invitation only.”
“Oh,” I said, feeling my hope deflate.
“Oh my God. Look at those sad eyes,” She said, grin getting huge. Like she was pleased I was miserable. “I will give you this,” she said, producing a black and gold casino chip. “But you have to promise to hear her out.”
“That’s the second time I’ve heard that tonight.”
“Yes, because men aren’t exactly known for their listening skills,” Raven said, shaking her head.
“That’s fair. I want to hear her out. That’s why I spent the past few weeks trying to track her down.”
“Alright,” Raven said, nodding. “Here you go,” she said, tossing the chip, making me grab for it.
“Thank you, Raven. I really appreciate this.”
“Yep. Go have your chat. Oh, and Fenway?” she called making me turn back.
“Yeah?”
“If you hurt my girl, I will hire someone to toss you off that fancy yacht of yours. And make it look like an accident.”
“Should it come to that,” I said, giving her a smile, “Might I suggest you turn to Quinton Baird & Associates for your crisis management?” I said, then turned and walked away. “They’ve never steered me wrong.”
I might as well get them some new business.
I was pretty sure I was retiring from the international scandals over the fairer sex.
I’d have my hands full with just this one.
FOURTEEN
Wasp
“I’m going to kill Raven,” I grumbled, looking at the pity in my brothers’ eyes. “I’m fine. Go back to your clubhouse with all those yummy biker brothers of yours. Leave me alone.”
“How long have you been moping in here?” Cyrus asked, moving to the side of the bed, dropping down next to my body.
“I’m not moping. I’m… recovering from some pretty epic jet lag.”
“Jet lag,” Reeve repeated, arching a brow as he moved in the room, but didn’t come too close. When it came to respecting boundaries, Cyrus didn’t exactly understand the concept, while Reeve very carefully gave you the space he thought you wanted. “Last I checked, jet lag doesn’t make you puffy-eyed. Like crying does.”
“I never cry,” I insisted, not wanting to admit to them that was no longer true.
“Wasp,” Reeve said, tone much like our father used to use, impatient, yet indulgent.
“I was on a job. It got a little crazy. I am getting a little R&R. It’s no big deal.”
“You’ve never needed R&R before,” Cyrus insisted.
“Yes, well, I am getting old, asshole,” I told him, getting a small smirk out of him.
“Come on,” Reeve tried, moving to the foot of the bed, putting his hands on the footboard. “We all know that Raven wouldn’t be calling us unless you were in bad shape. That’s your girl. She has been able to handle you for your whole life. If she needs reinforcements, this isn’t that you’re tired from a job. You can tell us to fuck off, but don’t lie to us.”
That was fair. We weren’t always the closest of siblings, what with my traveling all the time, but we didn’t bullshit each other either.
“I caught feelings for a mark. There. Are you happy?” I grumbled, wishing I could throw the covers over my head, hide my heated cheeks.
“Hey,” Cyrus said, patting my leg over the covers. “You don’t need to be embarrassed with us. Shit happens.”
Shit happens.
That was such a Cy thing to say.
He was the proverbial duck with everything sliding off his back.
Reeve was much more serious, more introspective, someone who thought things through deeply.
“Yes, well, this shit doesn’t happen. I don’t fall for marks. Marks are assholes. That’s why they’re marks.”
“So, asshole is your type,” Cyrus concluded, shrugging. “I’m not exactly surprised. Who else would want to put up with you?” he teased, nudging me.
“I’m not so much worried that you caught feelings for a mark, Wasp,” Reeve said, dragging my attention in his direction. “I’m worried why we’ve been told that you’ve been in bed for weeks. You. Who could never sit still for more than five minutes.”
“I mean, I got a call from your heels today,” Cyrus said, looking grave. “They said they’re worried about you too. They haven’t seen you in ages.”
“Look. It’s not a big deal. I’m just in a mood. It will pass.”
“It will pass,” Reeve repeated, raising a brow.
“Yes.”
“Moods don’t just pass, Wasp. You know that. You deal with them and move on. Or you fall into a hole because of them.”