Page 234 of Five Brothers

Ames stares at me flatly. “Do we have a deal?”

“Was it over my mom?” I press. “When I was a couple of years old, she worked in your parents’ house for a time, right?”

Dallas’s breathing grows heavier behind me.

I go on, “My dad said one night she came home and never went back. What did you try with her?”

Liv shoots out of her chair, but I hold out my arm, pushing her back down.

“You wanted a piece of her, didn’t you?” I say. “Did you get it?”

I feel the heat rolling off Army and Trace, hear Liv’s knuckles crack. Ames went after our mom, like his son, Callum, went after my sister last April.

“If you got it,” I tell him, “I suspect you wouldn’t still be so angry.”

He’s been targeting us for as long as I can remember.

“Callum has a taste for our side of the tracks, too.” I clear my throat. “He’s your heir, correct?”

His eyes pierce like a raptor’s.

“Youronlychild,” I say. “Correct?”

Not correct. He has another son. At least one other one. It would create a fucking mess for Garrett Ames if Callum ever found that out.

But before Ames can react, there’s a knock on the door.

I tense. Santos is outside. One call away if we need him.

The attendant crosses the room and answers the door. Jerome Watson rises from his chair before I even look.

“Krisjen,” he says.

I turn my eyes over my shoulder, seeing her for the first time in days.

Glass.Did she look like that last year when she and Liv were in school together? She wears a black tennis skirt and a matching tight sleeveless shirt. I take in every inch of golden skin on her neck, her arms, and her thighs. I was everywhere on her. Just days ago.

Why is she here?

“You’re dressed for golf,” Watson says.

Her gaze drifts to me but faces forward again, like she doesn’t recognize me.

“I like night games,” she tells him.

He gestures for her to sit. “Me, too.”

She doesn’t take the seat offered, and I try not to glare at him. Did he invite me here because she would be here?

Liv looks around, and I can tell—same as me—she’s trying to figure out what’s going on.

“Krisjen—” her father starts.

But she cuts him off. “I’ll deal with you in a minute.”

She stands in front of the table, addressing Watson only. “I want my own room.”

I freeze.What the fuck?