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STAR

When Eoghan slipped off his flat cap and tossed it on the side, Camille asked, “Inessa bought that for you, didn’t she?”

He frowned. “What?”

“The hat. Inessa.”

“Yeah?”

“Thought so.” She shot him a pleasant smile as she kissed his cheek. “You look brighter.”

He glanced at me. “I feel better.”

My brows lifted but I said nothing as he wandered out of the kitchen to find his brothers.

I was curious, mostly, as to why his glance and his words had been directed at me.

Deciding to follow him down the hall, I wasn’t altogether surprised to note that he was staring at an original Ansel Adams, waiting for me to catch up.

“I’m still assigned to MI6 but it’s better than the ticking time bomb of Jorgmundgander. Conor told me I have you to thank for that?”

I stared at the picture too. “Do you let family stay stuck in a living hell if you can think of a way to get them out of it?”

His attention turned to me. “Is that what I am to you? Family?”

“Related to Conor, yes.”

“I’m like you, Lodestar.”

So, it was gonna be that way. “Whistler, we can switch off.”

“You’re inactive.”

“Not by choice,” I retorted.

“I’m active and that’s not by choice,” he countered.

“We make a pair, don’t we?”

He grunted. “A pair of morons. What the fuck were we thinking of? Playing at goddamn life when we were kids. I remember you back then. You were so fucking young.”

“And you weren’t? You’re, what? Four years younger than me? We were babies with weapons. That’s how the world works.”

“It shouldn’t,” he snapped. “It shouldn’t be this way.” Tension rippled through him. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to lose my temper.”

“You don’t have to apologize.” I cleared my throat. “You ever need to talk about those times, Eoghan, I’m here. We went through some of those shitshows together.”

“Kembesh,” he said with a shudder.

“Yeah.” I released a breath. “I thought that was going to be the low point of my life. I didn’t realize worse was yet to come.”

“That happened when…?”

“A year before I was taken.” My grimace said it all. “We both watched as a unit was skewered in place and left to fend for themselves then witnessed our government try to cover it up. That’s the kind of crazy that sticks with you.”

“I have nightmares about it,” he admitted.

“Kembesh stars in some of mine too.” My gaze tripped over the scene in Yosemite National Park as I cast him a look. “How did you get involved in MI6?”

He hitched a shoulder. “Seemed like my only opportunity to get out. Didn’t realize?—”

“It’d be more of a trap than ever? No one knew about Jorgmundgander?”

“Hell, I don’t think my handler in MI6 knows about those snakes.”

Because I could believe that, I hesitantly touched his arm. “Conor worries about you.”

“He’s right to.”

“There are things you can?—”

“Take?” His laugh was bitter.

“Might help.”

“Did it help you?”

“No,” I admitted, returning my focus to the mountain range and the play of contrasting light that made a beautiful panoramic scene so much more evocative. “Doesn’t mean drugs won’t work for you and if they don’t, then maybe we can talk about the shit that keeps us awake at night, hmm?”

Eoghan’s jaw worked. “You ever wonder why you?”

“Why me?”

“Why do some people come out of it free and clear and some don’t?”

“No one comes out of it free and clear, Eoghan.” I patted his arm. “They’re just damn good at faking it.”

I drifted back to the kitchen, leaving him to look at the picture.

Of anyone under this roof, I was the only person who got where his head was at.

The shit that our government asked of its soldiers was reprehensible, but there was no change there—war, in and of itself, was inhumane.

The subject matter in the kitchen couldn’t have been more different than out in the hall.

Much like Inessa, Savannah had found out that she wasn’t pregnant and both of them were sitting together, mourning children they didn’t think they wanted but ended up wishing they were carrying.

Aoife was doing something indecent to a turkey, Camille was trying not to puke at the sight, and Aela was nursing Cameron—not feeling the need to tuck into a bedroom for privacy as Jennifer had with Saverina.

Upon my entry, most eyes turned to me, but it was Inessa who asked, “How is he?”

“Who?”

Savannah huffed. “Eoghan. Duh. I told Inessa you’d sort him out.”

“Did you expect me to beat the crap out of him in Aoife’s hallway? I’ve already taken advantage of her hospitality too much this month?—”

Aoife’s smile said otherwise. “You’re in my good graces since Finn told me you met with my uncle and he came out of it alive.”

“That’s the first time anyone’s ever liked me for not killing someone,” I drawled, hitching my hip against the counter as I folded my arms across my chest. “Eoghan isn’t a bag of laundry that needs to be sorted into whites and colors, Savannah.”

“You talked to him though?” Inessa peppered, seeming quite urgent.

“I did.”

“He’s been so down since we found out I wasn’t pregnant.” She bit her lip. “It’s strange because we both agree that I’m too young for any of that.”

“If wishes were horses, beggars would ride.”

Inessa blinked at me. “Eoghan isn’t a beggar.”

“You couldn’t tell with what you’ve got him wearing. Been binge-watching Peaky Blinders , Inessa?” Camille taunted, watching her sister blush with a grin.

“Shut up!” she hissed in Russian.

“But it’s so fun to tease you,” Camille retorted in their mother tongue.

“And I can totally eavesdrop and let everyone know what you’re saying.”

Both women gaped at me as I spoke to them in fluent Russian.

“God, you spies never let anyone have any fun,” Inessa grumbled, making me snort.

Savannah, Aela, and Aoife cast each other confused glances, but I merely shrugged and said, “You’re all boring. I’m going to talk to the boys. At least they talk about murder and guns.”

“You’re such a tomboy,” Savannah called out, but I ignored her and wandered over to the room Aoife called Finn’s ‘man cave.’

If that was a cave, the Neanderthals were more evolved than we thought.

I didn’t bother knocking on the door because if I did, they could always toss me out. Instead, I waltzed in and saw them glance at me before they looked away. Even Brennan who I knew had a hard-on for me. And not in the way Conor did, either.

Speaking of, Con held out his hand for me and I moved over to his armchair and took a seat on the armrest. “What are you plotting?”

Brennan grunted under his breath, but Declan kicked him.

I just mocked, “Conor, I think your brother has low blood sugar. Give him some candy.”

He snickered and tossed him a Jolly Rancher from the treasure trove of candy that was his pocket, which Brennan batted away with a scowl. Then, he answered, “The types of questions we should ask Shay so it doesn’t seem like we’re interviewing him for the most important job in the world.”

I chuckled. “Most important job in the world? Doesn’t meeting my grandfather put that into perspective?”

Conor grimaced. “True. Hell, even that fucker Sheridan Reinier had more power than Davidson.”

My moue of distaste didn’t go unnoticed by him and he grabbed my hand and pressed his lips to my knuckles.

Surprised by the tender, affectionate act in front of his siblings, I stroked my thumb over the fingers that still held on tight to mine.

“Is he in debate club?” I asked Declan.

“Sure is.” He sipped his scotch. “And the little fecker can run rings around me already.”

“That’s because you weren’t made for debating,” Aidan retorted. “That’s Brennan’s specialty.”

Brennan gaped at him. “What?”

“It is. You’re great at arguing. You listen and let people fall into the belief that you’re not interested then you trap them with some insane bullshit that always proves them wrong.”

Conor’s nod came slowly but it came. “He’s right. I never thought of it that way. I’m used to you always keeping quiet because of Da.”

My sniff said it all.

“You have a problem?”

“Yeah, I do. I know exactly what you did when you were a teenager, Brennan.” His tension flooded the room at my words. “And that’s baloney. Your da blaming you like you were a foot soldier for what happened to your mother says more about him than you.”

He scowled at me. But that was it. No comeback.

Aidan’s gaze darted between the pair of us. “You know what happened?”

“Of course I do.”

Conor shrugged when he found himself at the center of his brothers’ attention. “She’d have found out anyway.”

“Not if you didn’t tell her,” Aidan retorted.

“Since when was it a family secret?”

“Since forever.” Declan rolled his eyes.

“I don’t see why it’s so bad that she knows that dipshit over there is only a dipshit because he’s emotionally stunted.”

“I think you mean repressed,” I corrected.

Conor snorted. “Same difference.”

“If we’ve finished psychoanalyzing me,” Brennan growled. “Can we return to the topic at hand?” When everyone stared blankly at him, he prompted, “Shay? And whether he wants to be the goddamn president of the United States before we go to the trouble of handing the position to him on a platter?”

Eoghan grumbled, “Whatever you do, don’t phrase it like that. He’s too fair for his own good.”

“Eoghan’s right. He’ll want to win the race fair and square,” Declan said uneasily.

“There’s no reason he can’t win on his policies,” I tossed down. When they peered at me like I’d started talking in Latin, I sighed. “My grandfather might be a kingmaker, but he believes that he’s a righteous man. It’s bullshit to me, but it’s not to him. He believes in the Brothers. He believes their cause is a noble one.”

“You mean he doesn’t like to be tarred with the same brush as the Sparrows?”

“Got it in one, Eoghan.”

Conor frowned. “She’s right.”

“Naturally,” I purred, earning myself a quick grin from him.

“Anton won’t help for the sake of helping,” Conor reasoned. “Shay will have to be a good candidate.”

“The best,” I corrected.

“And if your intentions aren’t pure, Aidan, then he won’t help us either. Let’s face it, he’s not going to be around to see Shay’s election, but that doesn’t mean he can’t set things into play for us.”

Aidan rested his chin on his fist as he settled his focus on me. “My intentions aren’t pure, though.”

“Doubt that. It’s not every day that an Irish mobster wants his nephew to sit in the Oval Office,” I retorted. “Anyone who gets a boner for politics knows that without Congress on his side, a president can’t do dick. And that’s with legitimate policies, never mind illegitimate ones.

"What power are you going to get by Shay becoming president? Never mind that he can’t run until he’s thirty-five, so you’re all going to be using walkers by that point?—”

“We’re not that goddamn old,” Aidan argued.

“Speak for yourself, Grandpa,” Eoghan retorted, making me chuckle and prompting a huff out of Aidan.

He studied me though. Long and hard. Another woman would probably have been nervous, but I just arched a brow at him and stared right back.

“Is this a staring contest anyone can join?” Declan inserted.

Aidan’s voice was a croak as he admitted, “I want to right old wrongs.”

“What kind of old wrongs?” I prodded.

“The church is corrupt. Our governments are corrupt. If we can’t rely on the church or the fucking state, who can we call upon?”

“The Irish Mob?” Eoghan drawled.

Just as Conor mocked, “Batman?”

Though the others snickered, I didn’t. I just nodded. “You believe Shay has a vision for a better future?”

“He’s a kid. He’s busy fucking his socks so he doesn’t get spunk everywhere?—”

“Jesus, Aidan,” Declan spluttered, spraying scotch in every direction.

“But he’s got more about him than we did as kids,” Aidan continued like Declan hadn’t interrupted. “He cares. About so much shit. The climate, the state of the country, racial injustices, women’s rights…

"You ask him about something that’s going on in the papers, and he’s in there, ready to debate, caring so fucking much about this godforsaken world that it makes me hurt just to look at him.

“I don’t think I’ve ever given that much of a damn about anything outside of Savvie and my family, but he’s feeling all that about?—”

A knock sounded at the door.

Each of our heads whipped to the side.

“Who is it?” Finn called out, proving that Aidan might be Manhattan’s filthy king, but he didn’t rule this particular roost.

The door popped open. “It’s me.” Shay grinned as he peered through the gap he made. When he saw the serious expressions, he blinked. “I-I… Sorry. I’ll come back later?—”

“Seamus, is Kat okay?”

“Yeah, she’s watching a movie about pants that these girls share.” His nose crinkled. “I don’t know why they just don’t buy their own.”

Hiding a smile, I explained, “It’s a coming-of-age story.”

If anything, that perplexed him even more. “Okay,” he drawled, extending the ‘ay’ sound.

“Son, come on in,” Declan invited, patting the cushion on the couch next to him.

Shay frowned. “Am I in trouble? I only came in because Aunt Aoife wanted me to tell you dinner will be ready soon.”

“Thanks, son. We just, we wanted to talk to you about things.”

“Things? If it’s about my grade in gym class, the coach has it in for me?—”

“He still giving you shit because he wants you on the track team and you keep refusing?”

Grimacing, Shay nodded at Brennan’s question. “I don’t have time with my other extracurriculars.”

“Understandable,” Aidan conceded.

Shay’s gaze flickered around the circle we made, not landing for long on his uncles until he came to a halt on mine. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” I appeased with a gentle smile. Somehow, that deepened his frown.

Apparently, I didn’t have Aoife’s skill of soothing with a smile.

“You ever thought about the future, bud?” Brennan asked.

“Sure, Uncle Bren, most of the time. Stops me wanting to beat the crap out of kids in my class who piss me off.”

Brennan chuckled, but Declan queried, “What do you think about? College?”

Shay snorted. “No. But I’ve had to think about it more since the guidance counselor looped me in on the extra credit I’ll need to get into Harvard.

"It’ll suck but it’s a good launch pad. I can make the right connections, especially if I make it into a fraternity.”

Aidan scratched his chin. “You’ll make it into a fraternity.”

Shay’s frown was stark. “You don’t know that.”

“You’re a wealthy man, Shay. Not just because of your dad, but because of your mom. She’s a famous artist. You think they’re going to blackball you?”

“Anything’s possible. I’m not exactly popular in my school now.”

“You have time to iron out the creases, and what you can’t iron out, we can help you with.”

“The question is,” I inserted before Aidan could bury himself in his own grave. “How much are you willing to sacrifice to get where you want?”

The question floored him. “Sacrifice?”

I nodded. “Sacrifice. Everything’s a sacrifice, Shay. You don’t know me well, and to be frank, you don’t know anyone in this room as well as your mom. But think about it. To raise you right, she had to make a sacrifice. Love is a sacrifice; honor’s a sacrifice.

“You can play dirty, or you can play straight. Either way, it’ll cost you. You’re the one who decides how expensive something is and whether or not you’re willing to pay the price to achieve your goals.”

As he studied me, I noticed that the others faded out of the conversation. I wasn’t sure if that was smart, but no one said a word, letting him formulate his own answer because that was what mattered here.

At this moment, Shay had a choice that few sixteen-year-olds would be capable of making. That few teens would ever get either.

“What are we talking about here?” was what he eventually said.

Clever kid—he knew something deeper was going on, just didn’t know the minutiae and wasn’t willing to kick himself in the ass by speaking out of turn.

“Your future,” I told him calmly.

“Why isn’t Victoria in here too?”

“Because Victoria isn’t an O’Donnelly. Victoria isn’t you.”

“She’s family,” was his stout retort.

“She is, but she has her own path.”

“Will Camille and Inessa talk to her about it?”

Brennan stirred long enough to say, “They will when she’s ready.”

“What makes you think I’m ready?”

Declan cleared his throat. “Do you remember last year when I gave you a choice?”

His mouth worked. “The gun or the pen?”

Declan ignored us all to say, “This is like that. You can choose whichever path you want, but you have to choose.”

“Now? That’s not fair. I’ve got two years left at school!”

“Circumstances dictate that we make a move immediately, Shay,” Conor inserted, his expression reassuring as he looked at his nephew. “You should know by now that our world isn’t predictable.”

Shay huffed but queried, “What are my options?”

“You join Acuig Corp, work your way up, and eventually become an executive. A little like Finn,” Aidan stated.

Eoghan, still staring into his glass, drawled, “Or you become a Five Pointer, and don’t pretend like you don’t know what the Five Points do, kiddo.”

Though Shay flushed, he didn’t argue.

“Or, you go your own way,” Declan continued. “You go into politics and you let us set you up to win.”

Nervously, Shay flicked a glance between his uncles. “To win what?”

“The biggest election of them all,” I added.

His brow furrowed, but before he could answer, Brennan said, “You still want to go into politics, Shay?”

“You know I do, Uncle Bren. Was just arguing this week with you about that bullshit law in Georgia and how it’s a goddamn disgrace that more isn’t being done to stop it from being passed.”

I didn’t need to ask which law. It had been plastered all over the papers, taking up column inches Savannah and I were trying to dominate with blackmail fodder on dirty politicians.

“Think you can do better?” Brennan asked quietly.

Slowly, his eyes widened. “You mean it?”

“What are we offering, Seamus?” Aidan inquired.

“To help me become president.”

It sounded ridiculous coming out of a kid’s mouth because that was what Shay was. Whether they liked it or not, they were doing as their da had done—forcing a kid to make a man’s decision.

Declan nodded. “Do you want that, Shay? We can make it happen.”

“That’s not how it’s supposed to work,” he argued. “It’s supposed to be about democratic choices?—”

“Democracy hasn’t been a part of our republic for a long time, Shay,” I said quietly. “You just need to read the news to see that.” As he bit his lip, gaze flickering once more between us, I continued, “Do you want to change that? Do you want the chance to make this country a better place?”

He swallowed, his still-forming Adam’s apple bobbing with the move, but his answer was definitive, sure, confident. “I do.”

Declan squeezed his son’s shoulder. “So be it.”