Page 21

21

STAR

Before the chair collided with him, his hands were up, fingers swiping the battered frame from my grip with an ease that took me aback.

Conor was a desk jockey.

I’d seen the pictures on those few occasions he’d starred in an article on Page Six and had seen his upper half during video calls, so I knew he wasn’t doughy, but this was different.

He was strong.

As he snagged the chair and threw it across the room, I gaped at him.

He just arched a brow at me. “Lodestar.”

My throat bobbed at that.

Lodestar.

Not Star.

He was mad at me.

The pain that overwhelmed me crushed my chest. I shook my head as I keened the words, “You’re a traitor.”

He sniffed. “I’m not the one who ran away.”

“So you turned against me? You’re one of them!” I shrieked, confusion tearing me to shreds because a part of me just wanted to hurl myself at him and another part wanted to kick him between the legs and crack those fucking nuts of his.

“No. I came here to find you,” he corrected, folding his arms across his chest. “ You are the one who embroiled me in a million conspiracies and then cut and goddamn ran.”

A million conspiracies?

The ache in my head doubled down, making my temples feel like they were pounding as blood rushed to the sensitive skin. “Are you really here?” That was wishful thinking.

If he wasn’t here, he hadn’t betrayed me.

Not Conor. No. He couldn’t be a Brother . He couldn’t be a member of the United Brotherhood.

Completely in the dark as to where my mind had taken me, my question had him scowling, then he stunned me by stepping closer, his hand moving toward me. I jolted in surprise, turning to the side to avoid his touch. He only tutted his irritation, ignoring how I’d twisted away from him so he could press the backs of his fingers to my forehead.

“You’re running a fever.”

“I’m not sick,” I argued, pulling back when I just wanted to sink into him.

My body was confused. This was my Conor . I’d dreamed about him, for God’s sake. I’d shared things with him I’d shared with no one. And he was here. But… his presence was problematic. His presence had to mean?—

“It’d explain why you think you’re hallucinating,” he pointed out.

“No.”

“No?”

“No. I’m not hallucinating. I don’t want you to be here if it means you’re a Brother. You can’t do this to me. And I was?—”

“Breaking shit?”

“Yeah. That’s why I’m running hot.” I released a breath. This wasn’t some lucid dream. It was random, but… “You are here.”

“I am.”

“That means you’re a Brother.”

“No, it doesn’t,” he scoffed. “It means the Brothers want me to help you.”

My mouth rounded as I darted away from him, growling, “So you are on their side!”

“I haven’t betrayed you, Star,” he grumbled. “Temperance has. I met her, by the way. She makes you look sane.”

“Temper? You met Temper?” If I sounded bewildered, then that was because I was .

“Sadly, yes. I’ve made her acquaintance.”

“She’s not a traitor,” I dismissed.

“She is.”

“I’ve known her for years.”

“Longer than you’ve known me so you trust her more than me?”

“You’re standing here. She isn’t.” When he grunted, I stepped forward, peering at him as if he could disappear at any minute. “For a traitor, you’re hot. I’ll give you that.”

Conor straightened. “Jesus, you must be sick. I barely got you to accept that you like me via text chat, never mind in real life. And I’m not a traitor. You know me well enough by now to recognize that I’m not good with authority figures, Lodestar.”

He had a point.

Conor was like a teen rebel. He enjoyed hacking into shit because he could . Locks meant nothing to him. They were only an enticement because it meant something juicy was on the other side and if it was being hidden, then he was curious about it.

I didn’t say that aloud, just muttered, “I’m not sick.” I didn’t think I was. My head hurt, sure. But that was normal in these high-pressure situations.

“When was the last time you ate?”

“I-I don’t know. Yesterday?” Unable to stop myself, I moved nearer. My hand reached out to gently touch his arm. He tensed at the stroke of my fingers but didn’t pull back.

“We were supposed to be a team,” he gritted out.

Seven words.

Somehow, amid the many arguments I’d had in my life, those seven hurt the most.

“I’m sorry.”

What stunned me was that I meant it.

Traitor or not, I meant it.

He didn’t accept my apology though. I could see it in his eyes. He didn’t push my hand away so I didn’t move it, just stared down at how my fingers, speckled with dots of blood from where splinters had dug into them, rested against the black sleeve of his turtlenecked sweater.

I wasn’t the kind of woman to go gooey over men. I knew the depravities to which they’d sink better than anyone, after all. But there was something that always got to me about this one—his eyes.

They were soft.

Not in a bad way. Nor a weak one.

Just gentle.

I wasn’t used to that.

His voice was the same.

Even if he was annoyed with me, he never failed to make me feel guilty because he always sounded disappointed in me rather than angry.

I just didn’t know why I reacted to him like that.

The headache triggered some nausea, and I had to reason that was why I blurted, “You’re not one of them?”

Hope filled me.

He sniffed, the tension rippling through his arm again. “They’re insane.”

Was that an answer?

“You told me once that runs in your blood.” I stared at him, trying to read his expression and find the truth in those eyes that enchanted me like he was a snake charmer and I was a python.

My inquiry had him tipping his head to the side, and he stunned me by smiling. “If it does, we’re both fucked. Me with Da, and you with… well, Kuznetsov seems to think you’re his granddaughter, so insanity is in both our lines.”

My mouth tightened. “My mother was a liar.”

“Mothers tend to lie.”

“I don’t lie to Katina.”

He hitched a shoulder. “You’re weird.”

“No.” My brow puckered as I reiterated, “Moms aren’t supposed to lie.”

“In my experience, they do. Little white lies. Santa exists. The tooth fairy pays for dead bits of collagen and calcium. ‘ I’ll call every other day …’ All lies.”

That stung.

That fucking stung.

He knew I’d made that promise to Katina, but how?

“There’s a big difference between telling a kid that Santa’s real and—” My throat felt tight. “Katina’s worried about me.” It wasn’t a question. Of course, she was worried. I’d broken so many goddamn promises to her that she’d probably never trust me again.

Who the hell could blame her?

I’d let her down when I’d sworn I never would.

“She is. I met her. She ran away to the city to find me.”

Startled, I whispered, “Why?”

“Seemed to think I’d be the one who’d bring you back.”

My knees felt weak at that.

My kid was worried about me and he’d comforted her.

Self-control shot to hell, I squeezed his hand. “That’s why you’re here?”

“It’s one of the reasons.” His arm dropped away, breaking the bridge we’d made with our fingers. “I’m pissed at you.”

“I deserve that.”

“You do. The first time I saw you, I was supposed to hug you and kiss you. I wasn’t supposed to be attacked by a chair and then have to defend my goddamn honor.” He huffed.

“Everyone betrays me, Conor. I don’t inspire loyalty in people.”

He snorted, but before his disregard could sting, he waved a hand at me. “Yeah, because I’m not standing here. I got a fucking concussion from Maverick because he thought I stole Kat—” That same wafting hand motioned at his forehead where the smudge from a bruise was still apparent as well as a goose egg. “—and I got on a plane for you, Lodestar. A plane. I don’t do that for many people.”

Confused, I asked, “You’re afraid of flying?”

“No.”

“No?”

“I like my feet on terra firma.”

“You live in a penthouse.”

“So. It’s more firma than a plane,” he grouched. “Then I had to deal with that bitch Temper for the whole flight, and then I had to get into a private jet to land here! Private jets crash, Lodestar.”

“Not often. Planes are safer than cars.”

“I rarely drive.”

Though our conversation was bizarre and I was still standing in a jail cell, I rolled my eyes. “But you do it.”

“If I didn’t have to, I wouldn’t. It was a lot easier when my parents lived closer to the city.” He pointed a finger at me. “None of that takes into account the fact that I got my ass involved with a CIA/United Brotherhood-sanctioned hit on?—”

“I didn’t ask you to,” I snarled, not letting him finish.

“You didn’t have to!”

More confused than ever, I questioned, “Wait a minute. Who was the sanctioned hit on?”

“Sheridan Reinier.”

I gaped at him. “The director of the CIA?”

“Yes,” he hissed. “It’s one thing killing and hiding the body. It’s another job to shit on the CIA’s doorstep and not expect them to stand in it. He’s alive and kicking in a container, just waiting for you to?—”

“Let me get this straight,” I interrupted before he could go down a tangent. “You had the chance to kill Reinier but didn’t?”

“You want to kill him. Who am I to accomplish one of your goals for you?” He sniffed.

There were bigger fish to fry than this, but… “Where is he?”

“Somewhere in the Catskills. You’ll have to ask Temperance for exact coordinates.” He grimaced. “That container has been there for a while. Probably not the first time it’s been used as a jail cell.”

“It’ll be a black site.”

“And people say that mafia factions are dirty.”

“Your brothers would cry over the shit I’ve done in the name of serving the United States,” I said rawly, but I’d admit, the bizarre conversation was putting me at ease. Enough that I stepped nearer to him. Enough that, even though the door behind him was open, I didn’t try to knee him in the balls to make my escape. “Will they let me go?”

At my whisper, he stared deep into my eyes. “So long as you don’t try to kill your grandfather.”

“Don’t call him that,” I spat, rearing back in disgust. “He’s?—”

“Your only chance at eviscerating the Sparrows, Lodestar.”

The words were uttered flatly.

But it was his repeated use of my handle that hurt.

Which was stupid.

He wasn’t calling me ‘cunt’ or ‘American slut.’ I’d been called far worse things in my time by men, but never by Conor.

Hell, even when I’d first bombarded my way into his alarm system with Hunter Lachlan, the new Don of the Camorra, at my side, he hadn’t talked down to me.

Confused, I drew away and headed toward the back corner of the room.

The door was wide open.

I could leave.

Conor was here. Not in the US.

This was real.

I slumped down into the wall, not stopping until my heels met my ass as I stared up at him.

“Star? Are you feeling okay?”

Star.

I shuddered at the sound of my name on his lips. It wasn’t the first time I’d heard him say it, but it was the first time I saw his lips in the flesh as they formed the word. When they were within biting distance.

I almost growled under my breath at the thought.

Concerned, he stepped closer and squatted in front of me, one hand dropping down between his thighs to prop him up. He smelled clean. Fresh. His aftershave wasn’t musky, but light.

Peering at him, I meant to speak, but the words froze in my throat.

He was so much better in real life.

That was all I could think.

His hair was longer than when I’d last seen him and it flopped onto his face. A thousand shades of brown glinted in the overhead light, making his skin more golden than it should be in the winter. His jaw was leaner than before, tougher. His mouth was a flat line like he was pressing down hard on his lips to stem the flow of words he wanted to spill.

But it was his eyes that got to me—they held his fucking heart.

More than that, they bore the burden of his soul.

I almost couldn’t stand looking into them, but they drew me in like little else ever had.

The truth was on my tongue as a result when I rasped, “My mom lied to me, Conor.”

Though I was definitely changing the subject, he knew what I was talking about. I had no idea what his relationship was with Kuznetsov, but my words came as no surprise to him.

“Maybe she had a good reason for it,” he reasoned.

“She wasn’t American. She was a spy.”

Conor grimaced. “You’re a spy.”

“She was a double agent.”

“She was loyal to someone.”

My brow puckered. “Stop making excuses for her. The only reason I’m even here is because of her. I needed to avenge her but what if she deserved to die?”

“What if she didn’t?” he asked simply. “Do you understand the reasons behind her death?”

“No.”

“I’d assume your grandfather knows. If you ask him, perhaps he’ll tell you. But he can’t tell you anything if you kill him first.”

That had me pouting. “His guards keep stopping me.”

“They must be damn good if they can get the drop on you.”

I tried very hard not to preen at that. “I’m outnumbered.” His flattery wasn’t just verbal. It was in his eyes. The sight had me sucking in a breath and whispering, “Conor?”

“Yes?”

“You’re here.”

“You’re here too.”

Swallowing, I pressed my hand to his shoulder so I could prod him. “Are you sure you’re not a Brother?”

“Do you remember what I told you?”

“You told me a lot.”

He hummed. “I told you I’m all in, Star. I didn’t say that lightly.”

“I ghosted you.”

“You helped murder my father.”

I bit my lip. “I got you involved in a conspiracy.”

“Plural.”

“Plural,” I admitted, wincing.

“You left me. You said that I’d leave you.” He slowly shook his head. “I didn’t go anywhere, Star. You did.”

My throat felt thick so it made it difficult to croak, “I needed to draw Dagda into the open. And it helped that the First Lady was a traitorous cunt.” My chin tipped up as, suddenly, it was easy to get the next admission out. “Your da used you, Conor. You were a tool to him. You deserved to be free of him.”

A single muscle flicked in his cheek. “By that logic, you should kill my brothers too.”

“No! It wasn’t like that.”

He shrugged. “Each of us serves a purpose in my family. Love binds us together, but we’re generals for an army we never chose to enlist in. We’re all doing shit we don’t want to do, Star.”

The lack of anger in his voice surprised me. As did his: “You didn’t kill Dagda.”

“No,” I said with a grimace. I’d missed his heart.

Dead To Me had been ribbing me about that ever since.

Well, before I’d gotten my ass imprisoned, that is.

“You did get the First Lady though. Via him, of course.”

“I don’t regret it.”

“No, and I think that includes Da’s death too.” His nostrils flared. “You knew I loved him.”

I closed my eyes. Nodded.

“You did it anyway.”

My head fell back against the wall as exhaustion plagued me. “Are you here for vengeance, Conor?”

He studied me. “I’m here because I don’t walk away when I make a commitment. The O’Donnellys might be fucked up, but there’s one thing we do that’s right…”

“What is it?”

“We atone, and you can’t do that if you’re stuck in Dubrovnik.”

Something, a weird emotion, sharp yet soft at the same time, flickered into being inside me. “It’s not that simple?—”

“Don’t you think that’s for me to decide?”

My mouth rounded but I didn’t have anything to say—there were no words.

He surged to his feet and held out his hand for me once he was standing. “You can stay in here and rot or you can stop trying to kill the man who’d like to help you. I think you should take option two.”

“I only wanted to kill him once he…” I sighed. “I didn’t target him to kill him.”

“You didn’t?”

I stared at my feet. “No. The others, maybe. Him, no.”

We fell silent.

He cleared his throat. “You were going to seduce him?”

I let my chin drop.

“That’d have been awkward.”

“Just a little,” I croaked.

“Probably a good thing he knew who you were to him, no?”

“Yes.”

“Your list of things to atone for is getting bigger.”

I almost gave myself whiplash when I tipped my head up to look at him. Hope lacerated me. Tore me to shreds. Ripped me to fucking pieces.

Hope was futile, but he handed it to me on a plate with an arched brow and a, “Sex is a weapon for you, Star.” Star . Not Lodestar. He wasn’t angry. More… sad? God . The guilt burned like hydrochloric acid through the sinews of my heart. “We need to unteach you that lesson.” That same brow furrowed. “This feral vibe you’ve got going on is hot. We may need to unteach me that lesson too.”

Gaping at him, I rasped, “What the hell are you talking about?”

He sniffed. “I grew up on comic books, Star. You think I don’t like a woman who could kill me?”

I had no idea where it bubbled from, but a laugh burst out of me before I could control it.

The second it did, he shot me a dopey grin and flexed his fingers in a silent prompt. I stared at him like the digits were rattlers waiting to bite me but, cautiously, I reached out.

Just as cautiously, he tugged me upward.

No part of me touched him aside from where our hands connected. I stared down as he untangled his grip on me.

“One day at a time, Star.”

“I’m a horrible person,” I confessed.

“Then I have shitty taste in women.”

“I kill people.”

He grimaced. “Can you stop killing my family?”

“You can’t have forgiven me for that.”

“No. I told you. That’s what atonement is for.”

“Does atonement involve sex?”

His grimace morphed into a scowl. “No, of course not. Don’t be ridiculous. Would you forgive me for killing your mother with a quick fuck?”

That did sound ridiculous. Especially considering the lengths I’d gone to to avenge her memory.

The thought sent splinters of pain through me.

How would I ever atone for the things I’d done to him and his family?

Just because I’d thought his father was a sadistic asshole didn’t mean Aidan Sr. wasn’t beloved. I’d known Conor loved him and had still gone through with my plans.

Feeling wretched, I heaved a despondent sigh. “I told you before, Conor, I’m toxic.”

“Maybe I don’t think you are. Maybe I think you hide behind what you consider your toxicity?—”

“Do you want to fix me? Is that it?”

“Only women think they can fix their partners.” He had a point. “You can’t change a person, and I don’t see why you’d want to. Why be with them if you think they should change?” His shoulder hitched up into a soft shrug. “So, what, you’re a fucking minefield. Nobody has ever kept up with me apart from you, Star. Nobody. Do you know how goddamn lonely that is?”

It took me longer than it should to whisper, “I do.”

He shot me a knowing look. “Because you've been just as lonely as me. Because no one has ever challenged you. No one can understand you and how your brain works and what you’re capable of. No one—” He pointed a finger at himself. “—but me.

“So, I’ll forgive you eventually because you’ll work for my forgiveness and we’ll deal with this because, where you and I are concerned, we’re all in and there’s no going back. It was already too late the moment you crashed through my code like a bull on a rampage.”

As I stared at him, his words ramming home as nothing else could, and with more of that venomous hope filtering through my bloodstream, a single thought ricocheted around my mind.

He was right.