Page 49

49

STAR

JE L’AIME A MOURIR - FRANCIS CAbrEL

I’d been a cum dump so he probably didn’t realize how fucking hard it was not to go and shower, especially when I didn’t have to ask permission to go clean up. But I did it. Not because I had to, but because he’d laid it down on the table—he’d said, “If it triggers you, you don’t have to.”

Those were the magic words.

And if anyone deserved magic, it was Conor.

It was strange how we both dressed each other in the aftermath. He pulled up my briefs for me like I couldn’t manage by myself then did the same with my jeans while I fixed his fly for him. He dragged on my tank as I patted down his shirt when it hooked under his arms.

When we were both decent-ish and had washed up in the bathroom, he slipped his hand in mine and guided me out of the bedroom. There, Dead To Me was watching something on her phone, a coffee in front of her.

Quicker than her because she was distracted, I snatched her cell and chuckled at the sight of the porn she was watching.

“Pilots?” I mocked. “Really?”

She huffed. “Don’t kill my buzz. The dudes flying this plane are hotties.”

“And you needed to see them fuck a flight attendant?”

“I couldn’t get the real deal,” she argued. “They needed to man the plane. But I figured there’d be some porn somewhere that would scratch my itch.”

“Are you the flight attendant in this scenario or the pilot?”

“I’m not sure yet.”

Conor peered at the pilots who were doing very bad things against the cockpit’s dashboard. “They’d have crashed the plane if they were flying and fucking in that position.”

Dead To Me grinned but made a ‘gimme’ motion with her hand and I returned the device to her just as mine vibrated. “You took a while to wake up.”

I ignored her to check my messages.

Conor: “Je l’aime a mourir” - Francis Cabrel

Me: French?

Conor: Don’t tell me you don’t speak it…

Me: I love her so much I could die… Stop with the sweet talk. I’m going to disintegrate in front of Cin and she’s not the kind of chick you disintegrate in front of.

Conor: Lol. True. :P

“You know I’m cranky when I first get up,” was my easy retort as I dropped my cell on the table and picked up the hot chocolate I knew she was responsible for.

“Is that what that noise was? You getting a splinter out of your hand?”

I flipped her the bird, then I watched as Conor rested his elbow on the table separating us and muttered, “Are you two always like this?”

“Pretty much,” she chirped.

He huffed then, head bowed, hid his grin in the coffee mug he was holding.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Can you imagine her and Kat locked together in an argument?”

The imagery had me cackling. “Dead To Me doesn’t like kids.”

“You’re not offended?” Conor queried, his surprise clear.

“Nah. I don’t like kids either. Just mine.”

Chuckling, he shook his head. “Have you met her, Cin?”

“Nope. But she’s getting to that interesting age, isn’t she? She doesn’t need any help eating or things like that.”

“How old do you think she is?” I grumbled. “She’s ten years old, not months.”

Cin wafted a disinterested hand. “Okay, less of the kid talk.” She shuddered with revulsion. “Let’s come up with a game plan. You two have already wasted an hour?—”

“Jesus, we were in there an hour?”

“Yeah. The noises coming out of there sounded good or I’d have barged in and told you to hurry it the fuck up.”

Conor choked on his coffee, but me, I was just thinking about how long it had taken me to come.

Fuck, Conor was patient.

I mean, I’d known that, but a freakin’ hour?

Conor, unaware of my thoughts, retorted, “What is the game plan?”

Sucking in a breath, I stated, “Uncover any info we can from Troy about the girl. Then, we need to figure out how to keep her safe from my grandfather.”

Cin waved a hand. “I’ve got that under control.”

“We’re all ears.”

“You blame it on Reinier. Ovianar said the four Sparrows were behind the crash, that it was a power grab, but he was the one with all the connections. He was the one who’d have been able to get Jorgmundgander to cooperate.”

“She’s right,” Conor agreed. “So we blame him?”

Liking the symmetry, I nodded. “And he’s still in that shipping container in the Catskills, isn’t he?”

“As far as I know?—”

Cin interrupted him. “He is. I asked for confirmation from Temper. She’s requested that you don’t kill her just yet, Star, because America still needs her.”

“She literally said that?”

Cin arched a brow at me. “What do you think? She’s nuttier than a bag of nuts.”

Typical Temper. “She sold me out.”

“She did,” Cin agreed. “And ordinarily, I’d be all over this. She totally deserves to be waterboarded, but she’s already crazy and my aunt is sick again, so if anything happens to Temper, then that’ll hurt my aunt and Shelly makes the best cookies.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

Cin frowned at Conor. “You never purposely get rid of someone who’s good at baking.”

“Temper isn’t the one who’s good at baking though.”

“No, but Shelly is. Do you think she’s going to bake for me if I kill her kid, dude?”

Rolling my eyes at their philosophical debate, I checked the messages on my phone.

“Then you have to weigh the balances of their baking with their evilness.”

“That you even had an answer for that is disturbing.”

“Says the guy who electrocutes people for fun!”

“Hey, you told her!” he grumbled at me.

I hitched a shoulder. “I was impressed.”

“I was as well. Here was me thinking you were this soft fucker who just plays with computers. Turns out you make your own torture equipment for fun! You totally belong in our clique, Conor.”

“Is this a sorority of two?”

Chuckling, I patted his knee under the table. “Four if you want to pledge.”

“Hey, who’s the third?”

“Savannah, but she doesn’t know she’s in it yet.”

“What do you think, Conor? Wanna join?” D taunted.

Conor smirked at us. “My masculinity can take the hit, just don’t tell my brothers or I’ll never hear the end of it.”

With a grin, I picked up my hot chocolate and took a deep sip. The immediate hit of dopamine had me sighing with delight. “I won’t kill her for now,” I informed Cin.

“See? If I’d given her coffee, that answer would have been very different.”

“No. It wouldn’t?—”

“Don’t kid yourself,” she interrupted.

Ignoring her, I continued, “—but if she fucks me over again, she’s dead meat.”

“Fair,” Cin concurred with a bored yawn.

“Are you sure you guys are okay with us stopping in New York first?” I asked when I saw a message from Link confirming he’d be escorting Kat to Hell’s Kitchen.

“Little late to ask that, Star, seeing as we’re almost there.” Cin sniffed.

“Did Alessa and Maverick agree to have one of our drivers collect Kat?” Conor questioned.

I nodded. “She’ll be there at five.”

“Great. We should make it by four-thirty.”

“Do we take it as a positive or a negative that you want to meet the people you love before we take off on this Herculean trial?” Cin inquired.

Narrowing my eyes at her, I retorted, “Shut up.”

“I mean, if we’re about to meet our Maker,” she continued, “how come I don’t get to see my mom and dad?”

“Are you even talking to them?”

“No.”

“What’s the problem then?”

“I’d have liked to be asked.”

“You’ll never die, Cin. We’ll face an apocalypse first and you’ll be the star of the next I Am Legend but the BAMF version.”

She preened. “I will accept this form of apology.”

“It’s not an apology,” I countered with a sniff. “Plus, I don’t think we’re going to die. I just haven’t seen Kat in too long and Conor needs to catch up with his brothers.”

“I don’t,” he informed me. “They’re just going to grill you.”

Cin hooted. “More like she will grill them .”

My lips curved as I reached for his hand and entwined my fingers in his grip. “You do know that isn’t going to happen, don’t you?”

Conor’s eyes collided with mine. “Why do you think I want a front-row seat?”

It was beyond hot that he knew what I was capable of and it turned him on.

“I’d like to meet with The Whistler anyway.” Cin interrupted our prolonged stare with a cluck of her tongue.

“How do you know him again?”

“It’s a long story and we definitely don’t have time for it right now.”

A couple hours later, still none the wiser about how Dead To Me knew The Whistler well enough that she wanted to meet up—seriously, she hated everyone, and meeting people was her idea of torture—I stared at an overly large brownstone that, in this city, was ugly as fuck yet had a value of thirty million. Or maybe more.

NYC made no sense.

“When did they move into this place?” I asked Conor as he rested a hand on my back and guided me toward the door.

The last I knew, Aoife and Finn lived in one of the Acuig penthouses.

“A few weeks after Da died.”

I grimaced. “Oh.”

His lips twitched. “ Oh . You always look like I’ve caught you with your hand in the cookie jar when I mention that.”

“Atonement. Remember?”

“It’d be easier to get that in a tattoo. Instantaneous results,” Cin chimed in.

“That’s not the point, Cin,” Conor chided.

“By the time you reach the point, Conor, you’ll both be eighty. Guilt, shame , these aren’t feelings that plague people like us. We get them burned out of our psyches during training.”

“Not true,” I argued.

She scoffed. “Tell me, are you at all sorry about what happened at the ‘you know where’ with the ‘you know who?’”

“Not really.”

Her lips twitched. “And would you do it again if you could?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, so what about that sounds like you’re sorry?”

“Well, I wouldn’t want to hurt Conor?—”

“Yes, but you just said you’d do it again and hindsight is a beautiful thing because you know you missed ‘you know who’ so it was like a pointless endeavor.”

“No. That bitch is eating slugs now,” I retorted, referring to our dearly departed First Lady. “That was worth it. Traitorous cunt. She hurt Conor’s family, Cin. Shit like that people have to pay for.”

“Wait, that’s why you wanted her… gone ?”

“There were a lot of reasons, but she was integral to your sister-in-law losing her mother, wasn’t she?”

“Yeah.”

“Did she deserve to, you know, be alive?”

He frowned. “And with Da, that was because…”

“He was a shit dad,” I said flatly. To Cin, I grumbled, “He said that art was making his son gay.”

Cin’s brows lifted. “Are you bi, Conor? I’d be interested in watching?—”

“Cin!”

“What? Sex is art, Star. I’ve told you this a million times. You know I like watching?—”

“Are we having this conversation on my brother’s front stoop?” Conor sighed.

“It isn’t art. It’s a private moment?—”

“We’re losing focus,” Conor argued. “Back to my da.”

Cin eyed him. “ His sex life? He was hot.”

“No.”

“No!”

“Jesus, you need to get laid, D,” I groused.

Her lips formed a moue. “You know, you might be right. I wonder if those pilots would be down for a threesome?”

“Your da used you, Conor,” I interrupted her before she could start deep diving into the orgies she’d enjoyed in the past. “I told you that already.”

“You did and I told you?—”

Ignoring him, I queried, “Cin, do you remember that story about the Aryans?”

“The urban legend where they were suspended over a car crusher, got turned into human Spam, and now they haunt the breaker’s yard?”

“Yeah. That one. Conor’s Da was behind that. And get this, he had one of his sons push the button.”

She pulled a face. “Dude sounds crazy. Hot, but crazy. Just how I like them. Not dad-material, though. Even I know you don’t expose children to torture.”

Conor rubbed his eyes. “He was crazy.”

“So, why do you want Star to be sorry about wiping him off the face of the earth?”

“He was my da.”

Cin looked unconvinced— we were totally on the same page.

Sharing a glance, I shrugged. “I’m sorry I hurt you.”

“That has to count for something, Conor,” Cin peppered. “Unless is this the Catholic in you? Do you want her to confess? Because if you do, I mean, you should be prepared for the fact she’ll be in there for weeks. The list of sins… whoo-ee. No one’s got time to listen to that. We’re on a tight schedule here because I’m doing this pro bono and I’m missing out on millions?—”

Conor raised a hand to stall her. “Okay, you two. I get it. But I’m the one who decides when I forgive Star for what she’s done, and I’ll have you know she’s well on her way to earning it.”

“I didn’t know you were that good in bed, Star,” Cin muttered.

I elbowed her in the side as Conor snapped, “It has nothing to do with sex. It’s just who she is as a person. She’s letting me in.”

Cin pulled a face. “Is he always this mushy?”

Biting my lip to hide a smile, I reached for his hand and knotted our fingers together. “I like him. I’m keeping him.” He narrowed his eyes at that, but I saw he was mostly amused and perplexed by this conversation, not upset.

Cin sighed. “He’s making you mushy too.”

“He isn’t.”

“How are you supposed to unalive people if you start—” She gaped at me. “That’s why you didn’t crack those nuts this year! He’s making you have a conscience!”

She made it sound like an STI.

“He’s not exactly a saint himself,” I retorted. “And that wasn’t why I couldn’t do it.”

“All this sounds like he’s asking you to change.” Cin sniffed. “I like her as she is.”

Conor frowned. “So do I. But why would she want to be in a relationship with me if she isn’t willing to bring me on board?”

Those words hit me something fierce.

He hadn’t given me a working solution to earning his forgiveness, but there was no denying that he was right.

I could stay on my own. Remain independent. Maintain this unforgiving lifestyle and be alone .

Or I could let him in and have him.

Christ, there was no comparison.

I wanted him .

Always.

Forever.

“We have an audience,” Cin muttered, pointing at the side window where five women were staring around the folds of a set of curtains at us.

Conor, turning to see what I was talking about, took note of his sisters-in-law and waved at them. “In a clockwise direction: Aoife, Inessa, Camille, Savannah, and Aela.”

“Ooh, Aela’s the one with green hair?” Cin asked.

“Yeah.”

“And Aoife’s the redhead?”

“She is. You’ll like her, Cin,” Conor enthused. “She’s a great baker. She went viral last year over?—”

That was D, outta there. She’d already headed to the door and was banging on it as if the brownies I knew Aoife was famous for were fresh out of the oven and waiting for her to devour them.

Me?

I was just focused on Savannah.

Her eyes were narrowed upon me, lips pursed in irritation. That glare took me back to the many times, too many to count in total honesty, where I’d forced my way into her bunk on the tour bus, sobbing my eyes out because of something my dad had done. She’d glared for me then. This was just at me.

For someone who hated being at odds with her, I did it often. The last couple years of talking shit through with Conor made me wonder if I tested her—tested everyone in my life if I were being honest—because I was just waiting for them to abandon me.

And when they did, instead of getting hurt, I could be like, ‘See, I knew they wouldn’t stick around.’

The glimpse into my nature made me fidget, until Conor rumbled, “Think Savannah needs to use the bathroom.”

His insight had me hiding a laugh. “Think that’s less to do with constipation and more with her being mad at me for ghosting her.”

How was that my voice? I sounded like I’d choked on a frog.

“Ah, well. You’re getting good at asking for forgiveness. Say that you’re sorry and mean it and I’m sure she’ll forgive you.”

“You’re more generous than she is.”

He snorted and curved his arm around me as he guided us toward the front door. “You’re my penguin. I can’t be at odds with you. Where would the logic be in that?”

“We’re not penguins,” I pointed out. “We’re very much humans. Not birds.”

Rolling his eyes, he groused, “Of course, you’d be one of the freaks who never watched Friends . What is it with you and pop culture?”

“I saw one episode and wanted to shoot myself. That dude shouting, ‘Pivot,’ was so fucking annoying.” I chuckled at his gasp of outrage. “Plus, I don’t even watch the show, and I remember that blonde chick was talking about lobsters.”

“Huh?”

“She did. She was talking about lobsters, which, by the way, don’t mate for life so that makes even less sense because, at least, penguins do.”

He scratched his chin. “I’m still calling you my penguin.”

“Well, yeah, but that makes sense because they do mate for life.” I sniffed. “Anyway, I don’t hate pop culture.” I smirked. “I hate wrong pop culture. I just avoid the rest at all costs.”

“You really are the antichrist.”

“Admitting to not watching Friends was what it took to figure that out?”

“There’s just no helping some people.” Pitifully, he shook his head but tapped his finger against my nose. As I swatted it away, he continued, “Savannah loves you. She won’t be mad for long.”

Nodding, I mumbled, “I’m used to her being pissy with me. That’s how we spent most of our fourteenth year on this damn planet.”

He snorted but fell silent as Aoife appeared in the doorway and finally opened it up.

Cin, ever polite, asked, “Did you make brownies?”

Because Aoife hadn’t been raised in a barn, she frowned, her gaze switching between Conor, whom she knew, and the strange person she’d never met who was asking for baked goods. “Well, yes, but they’re for dessert?—”

“Dessert makes a great appetizer,” was Cin’s cheerful retort. “Can I have one, please?”

“Yeah, um, sure.” Aoife frowned at Conor. “Conor, who is this?”

He shot her a happy grin that twisted my heart into a knot. That happiness was because of me. It fucked with my head that I was the source of that joy.

“This is Star,” he greeted. Aoife and I shared a smile. Hers was polite but not unwelcoming, and mine was strained. “That’s D—” He paused. “Cin.”

“Cin?” Aoife’s frown deepened. “Is it ‘D’ or Cin? People tend to have the same initial, Conor.”

“I’m Cin. D is my nickname. But it’s for people I’ve kicked ass with.”

“Oh.” The other woman blinked. “You’re like Eoghan. Come in.” What kind of family was I about to walk into when ‘handles’ were dinner table conversation and an ice breaker?

I guessed inviting spies into her house was totally an everyday occurrence for Aoife O’Grady.

As I approached her, I felt incredibly underdressed in a tank and a pair of jeans with some slimline leather boots, whereas she wore a wraparound dress in a rich green that highlighted her curves and augmented her bright red hair. She was dressed comfortably, but affluently. Whereas I was wearing mechanic chic in the form of jeans from Carhartts and a Target special wife beater—hey, in my world, people leaked . I couldn’t exactly go around like I was dressed for a cocktail party.

Holding out a hand, I murmured, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Same.” She darted a glance at Conor. “I know he’s been waiting a long time to meet you, but I’d just like to tell you that—” Her smile was sweet as saccharine. “—if you ever hurt him, you might be some ninja spy, but there are five women in this house who will make you regret the day you were born.”

“Aoife!” Conor argued. “You don’t need to protect my honor!”

“Like you don’t protect ours,” she countered, lifting a brow at him.

Unoffended, I patted Conor’s stomach and reassured him, “You deserve to be loved, Conor, and you deserve to have people at your back.” To Aoife, I merely answered, “I won’t hurt him any more than necessary.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“It means that life sucks,” was my simple reply to her huffy demand. “And I know you know that better than anyone.” As her nostrils flared with annoyance at the direct hit, I continued, “I have no desire to hurt him, but I can’t control what happens around us. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my life—we don’t control our futures.”

She studied me with narrowed eyes but tipped her chin in understanding. “Welcome to my home.”

“Thank you. I appreciate it. You need to watch Cin. She might look as skinny as a wraith but she can pack away a tray of brownies in under ten minutes.”

Aoife’s eyes widened at that news, then she threw at Conor, “Finn told me to tell you to take her to his man cave. Your brothers are waiting in there for you.”

When she bustled down the hall, intent on saving her dessert from my ravenous friend, I noticed Savannah waiting at the end of it, her arms crossed against her chest as she stared me down, a stiletto-clad toe tapping against the wooden floor.

Turning to Conor, I murmured, “I’ll join you after I speak with her, okay?”

“Get her to show you Finn’s man cave?”

I nodded then grabbed a tighter hold of his hand when he made to separate our fingers. “Do you have any candy with you?”

Though he frowned in concern because I was confirming that life was a touch bitter at the moment, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a Jolly Rancher. After he passed it to me, he pressed a kiss to my temple and soothed, “She’ll forgive you.”

The question was, did I deserve to be forgiven? That was the source of my unease.

While I gave him another nod, I didn’t say anything other than, “Thank you.”

Deep in Conor’s core was a streak of kindness that, I believed, was inherent in most things family-related. For some reason, he’d brought me into that fold and that was why, though I’d committed unforgivable acts against the O’Donnellys, he didn’t hold it against me.

As for Savannah, she wasn’t kind.

She was a bitch.

I loved her, but still, I knew what she was.

Just like she knew what I was—an asshole.

Out of nowhere, the theme tune from The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly sounded, and I grumbled, “Fuck off, Cin.”

Her cackle was the last I heard of her as I unwrapped the candy and popped it between my lips.

With watermelon taking over the bitter tang on my tongue, I strolled over to the woman who was practically my sister and braced myself for the fallout of being me .

Her chin tipped up. “Months’ worth of messages, Star Sullivan. All unanswered. Each ignored.”

I stared at her. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry,” she scoffed. “Is this like the time you were sorry when you accidentally squirted Elmer’s glue in my face? Or the time when you kissed Jonny Macho on my bed on the tour bus? Or when you ran away without me ?”

My nose crinkled at the overload of memories. “Thank fuck my taste in men has improved since then.”

“He was gross,” she agreed. “I think you only kissed him to piss Gerry off.”

“Probably. He hated him. He’s in jail now, isn’t he?”

“Kissing sixteen-year-olds on their father’s tour buses? Yeah. He’s in jail, Star.” She rolled her eyes. “You’re lucky I found you before anything could happen.”

“I didn’t particularly care if it did at that point.”

Her brow furrowed. “Don’t make me feel bad for you. Not yet. I’ve earned this anger, Star.”

“I’m not saying that you haven’t. Just telling you the truth. You know I wasn’t in a good place back then. Hence the running away.”

Dad had been at the end of his tether by then, which had led to me being indoctrinated into a boarding school in goddamn Switzerland.

I knew he’d meant well. I fully accepted I’d derailed. But shoving me on another continent, away from everyone I loved, had only made getting expelled ten times more satisfying.

Jesus, I’d been such a cunt. It was no wonder Lorelei, Savannah’s Mom, had issues with me.

She bit her lip. “Well? Which is it?”

“An apology on par with the Elmer’s glue incident.”

“You didn’t mean it that time.”

“I did,” I argued hotly. “I meant to get you in the face, but I didn’t mean for it to go in your eye.”

“Gee, thanks.” She growled under her breath. “You’re such a nightmare.”

“Like you can talk.” I scowled at the sleek pantsuit she wore. “What is it with you women anyway? It’s a family dinner and you’re dressed for the Oscars.”

“Some of us like to have more than jeans from Dickies in our closet.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder. “You’ll get used to dressing up again.”

“Carhartts, actually, and maybe I don’t want to get used to that crap. I hated it as a kid and I fucking loathe it now.”

“You won’t have a choice. The family is on the campaign trail.”

“What?” I sputtered. “They’re putting one of the sons up for election? They’ll never win?—”

“No. They’re building up to the time when Seamus can become a politician. That means we’re going legit. Or looking like we are.” She arched a brow at me. “From that display on the front stoop, I’d say Conor intends on keeping you around. God knows why.”

Shoving my hands in my pockets, I muttered, “Below the belt, Vana.”

“Isn’t that what we do? Isn’t that why you think you can just waltz out of my life and then waltz back in as if nothing happened?” She pinched her nose. “Aspen is dating a fucking Russian mobster. Paris is still trying to get me on her reality TV show because it’s sinking faster than the Titanic , and Camden is?—”

“—drinking again?”

“And gambling. Then Mom got it in her head to write her life story.

“I swear that Dad and I are the only normal ones in the bunch and I’m married to the head of the Five Points and got kidnapped last year. It’d be nice if my childhood friend, a woman who’s like a sister to me, would have answered my fucking texts. They’re your family too.”

The words sent an ache spearing through my chest.

“Are they? Is your mom even talking to me?”

“I made her…” She sighed. “I didn’t tell her what happened, but I let her know that she was wrong to judge you. I guess I opened her eyes some. And of course, they’re your family. Just like you’re ours.”

Tipping my chin up, I said, “I had things I needed to do and I couldn’t get distracted?—”

“So, that’s what I am? A distraction?”

I groaned at her wounded expression. “No, Vana. You might have been a few months ago. But now, I don’t think so.”

“Your kindness overwhelms me,” she grumbled, shoving my shoulder with an expensively manicured hand.

“Did you get hurt?”

She frowned. “When?”

“When you were kidnapped?” That was my area of expertise and I hadn’t been around to save her ass. Some sister I was . “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help.”

“Conor did most of the heavy lifting. I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? That’s a lot to have to deal with.”

“I’m fine,” she repeated. “Aidan shored up his position and it?—”

“It could happen again. No matter what he does to try to protect his role as leader, there are no guarantees,” I warned, but I had no desire to shit on her parade just to make sure she knew that the storm wasn’t over.

That it never would be.

“You say that and you’re standing in my shoes now too. You love an O’Donnelly. That means you’re going to love his brothers, are on the brink of becoming an 'afternoon tea with the girls’ kind of woman, will eat Sunday dinner with his mother even though she talks about Our Lady more than she does her grandkids, and will be as married to the mob as I am.”

Inside, I squirmed, but I just mumbled, “I know.”

She squinted at me, her confusion evident. “Then what the hell happened while you were gone? Because the Star I know would rather drink strychnine than lead her life according to someone else’s plan.”

My mouth tightened. “I realized that I didn’t have to be a lone wolf anymore. I’m part of a pack now.”

“Have you been binge-watching David Attenborough documentaries again?”

I shrugged. “They help me concentrate.”

Her hum was loaded with her disbelief.

Because I didn’t get it either and could only assume it was because this was Conor, who accepted me warts and all so how couldn’t I do the same for him, I changed the subject. “Aspen is really dating a Bratva man?”

“They’re calling themselves something else now.” She pursed her lips. “She’s gaining weight though.”

Brows lifting, I stated, “That’s a positive sign.”

Another hum. “Well?”

“What?”

“Where’s my apology?”

“I literally told you I was sorry at the start of this conversation.”

“It wasn’t good enough.”

“What do you want? Blood?”

“Don’t tempt me.”

I hissed under my breath then, blowing out a sharp exhalation, snapped, “Savannah, I’m sorry that I ignored your text messages and didn’t check in with you. It was very cruel of me to leave you in the dark, especially when I know you love me and want what’s best for me.”

Savannah arched a brow. “See? You can do it when you try.” She shuffled forward, dragged me into a hug I didn’t want, then grumbled in my ear, “Hug me back, bitch. You’re in ‘Pack’ O’Donnelly now, where you allegedly want to be. We hug .”

“I don’t like hugging.”

“Me neither. But you get used to it.”

With a disgruntled grunt, I slipped my arms around her waist and embraced her. “I want you to know this is under duress.”

“Tough shit.”

The hug went on for a long time, neither of us admitting that it was comforting, neither of us pulling away.

Then, in my ear, she informed me, “I got the notification that Katina is on her way. Maverick wanted to confirm the guards’ IDs.”

So, he was taking her security seriously—thank fuck.

Anticipation filled me at Vana’s news though. “Good. I miss her.”

“I’m looking forward to meeting her again.”

“Again?” I questioned, finally retreating so I could read her expression. “She didn’t visit you as well, did she? I know you and Conor share the same building. Did she give you the laptop?”

“No. I was pissed at Aidan. Long story short, I felt like running away for a little while so decided to go to the Sinners’ compound. I met her there. She gave me the laptop and I gave it to Conor.”

“She never mentioned that she gave it to you.” I frowned, surprised by the news. “When was the kidnapping?”

“Late last year.”

Before I could wonder about Katina’s silence on that subject, Savannah was back to scowling at me and shoving me in the shoulder again. “You could have just sent it to him instead of potentially dropping me in deep Shinola with the Sinners.”

“I could have but I…” I pulled a face. “I wanted him to have access to it if I died. It didn’t matter when you got it. I knew he’d be able to use the contents to avenge me.”

Her mouth rounded. “You totally thought you were going to die?”

I hitched a shoulder. “I wake up each morning thinking today could be my last twenty-four hours on this planet.”

“Lord, that’s depressing.”

“Nah, it’s my reality. I like it, makes me appreciate the smaller things in life.”

“Like watermelon Jolly Ranchers but not family and friends?” she mocked, obviously scenting the candy on my breath.

“I apologized. Twice. That means I don’t have to say it again and it means you can’t bring it up in future arguments.”

She sniffed. “Where, in the terms and conditions of our friendship, did I ever agree to that?”

“Bitch.”

“Asshole.”

We smirked at each other.

Family— it didn’t have to make sense.