Page 18 of Shamelessly Loyal
They hadn’t taken my purse or searched it. I’d made a point of relocating the gun a few times each day and kept it within reach. He had plenty of hiding spots in the room. I was pretty sure I’d found a gun cabinet in the dresser. It was located in a drawer beneath boxer shorts via a false, if locked, bottom.
A safe in the closet promised other hidden treasures, but it was the books collected throughout the room that held my attention. He read on an interesting, if eclectic, mix of topics. There were textbooks on public policy, politics, and law. Scattered amongst those tomes were books on etiquette, society, and history.
The history books fascinated me for an entirely different reason. These weren’t just school history books so much as focused treatises, memoirs, and biographies of particular areas, including the Bay Ridge families—like mine—and the history of the area’s growth and economic development.
Some seemed downright arcane. More than one looked like it had been written by a college student. Or maybe they were just papers he’d written himself? The level of education anddisciplinesuggested by the materials, impressed me.
Impressed and worried. In one of the top drawers, I’d found photographs. Not a lot, just a handful featuring a young boy with far too dark and damaged eyes holding a baby with a toothless wonder of a smile and an open expression like I’d very rarelyeverseen on her face.
For all that, I could question the idea of Emersyn justhappeningto meet her long-lost, heretofore unknown sibling—it was hard to question the photos. Or my own memories.
This was hardly the first time Pretty Boy had been in her life. That lent some weight to what she’d told me, even though she had been circumspect in her details regarding any of this. Always protecting me and trying to keep me out of the line of fire.
It was as infuriating as it was endearing. The world we came from didn’t suffer fools or innocence lightly. In fact, it would sacrifice both, only the price for destroying innocence came much higher.
I could try to deny he was her brother, but that was Pretty Boy’s face in those photos. Pretty Boy’s eyes in that solemn, too-serious face that threatened to shatter my heart. All I wanted to do was drag them both close to me and shield them with everything I had.
A knock sounded on the door as I made my way back toward the sofa. Pausing, I waited for the sound of the locks releasing that announced his arrival as the door swung inward. Pretty Boy didn’t look good. There were dark shadows beneath his eyes and a tightness to his mouth.
We hadn’t seen much of each other since that last kiss. He kept his distance, and I hadn’t tried to bridge it. Picking locks was going to be the very next skill I mastered. If I could find something to work as a screwdriver, I could get the hinges off the door…maybe.
Unlike all his other previous trips in here, he carried no food or drink. He said nothing straightaway, just stared at me. I folded my arms and raised my brows. If he wanted something, he’d have to damn well ask.
“I’m going to shower and change.” The growl of his voice was downright intoxicating. I’d been around many suave men and not-so-suave men over the years. Dealt with my fair share of suitors who wanted to make an impression—or at least they tried before Adam or Ezra learned of them.
After?
Well, it wasn’t all that unusual for them to just vanish after that—usually figuratively, but there had been one or two literal cases where those guys just never appeared again. Pretty Boy, though? He’d faced off against them when I’d been young enough to find it damn near heroic. No one ever told Adam no.
No one.
Pretty Boy? He’d told him to fuck off with a grin on his face. The fact that Ezra had been ready to leap into that fight also hadn’t done a damn thing to alter Pretty Boy’s amusement. Even at twelve, that ferociousness in the face of Adam’s superiority and command? Pretty attractive.
Now?
The corners of my lips twitched. It was still fucking hot, but I wasnottelling him that.
“Well?” The note of demand ignited a fresh wave of heat. Yeah, he was too damn attractive. That was a threat that needed to be contained.
“Well, what, Pretty Boy?” I kept the daring arch to my brows.
Eyes narrowing, he gave me a solid visual once-over before he scowled. It was almost like I couldfeelhim counting to ten. The speed at which I’d annoyed him by doing absolutely nothing amused me.
He released a long breath even as he flexed his hands. That impressive temper of his took some managing. I admired a man who could handle himself, and Pretty Boy might have buttons to push, but he kept those reactions of his firmly contained.
“I’m going to shower and change. If you have something sturdier to wear that will blend in, you can go out with me.”
“Not dismissing the invitation,” I said, releasing my more defensive posture to claim the water I’d been drinking. “Although to what end?”
A soft snort escaped him. “Are you asking me what it’s going to cost you?”
“Nothing is free.” I shrugged. It wasn’t what you were owed, it was what you could negotiate.
With a slow shake of his head, he said, “Nothing. I’ll let you out for a few hours. You can stretch your legs.”
“And?” Because when something sounded too good to be true, it normally was.
Exasperation exploded out of him in a huff of breath as he glared. “And we can have a conversation about you going back to your life, where it will be safe for you.”