Page 92 of Missed Steps

“Mark got him back,” I point out. “And Tommy’s ribs were way more bruised than Mark’s face. Plus…they both seemed to weirdly enjoy it.”

Eddie snorts. “Mark is a total ass about being in charge. He loves the power struggle.”

We turn the corner to find Chris standing at the valet stand up ahead, but rather than call out, I stay focused on my conversation with Eddie. “Speaking of…does he alwaystorture Damien?”

“From the phone calls I’ve heard,” Eddie says, “he never gives the guy a break.”

“But why? As far as I’ve seen, Damien really cares and goes out of his way to help him and check in on him.”

“He probably bossed Mark around when they were kids, and now Mark’s paying him back. I know with my older brother—” Eddie cuts off.

“It’s okay,” I say. “You can talk about him. I promise not to freak out.”

Eddie grabs my arm, yanking me to an unbalanced stop.

I glance at him in surprise. “What?”

Eddie glares straight ahead. “I know your brothers are twins, so they’re going to look similar no matter what, but I am damn sure that’s the guy who was at college.” Eddie’s voice comes out loud, threatening, and aggressive.

My head snaps forward. The valet stand is mere feet in front of us and. It’s Ronan leaning there with a cigarette between his fingers. He flicks the ashes onto the open valet book, mean eyes travelling from Eddie to me.

I tense.

“Are you stupid?” I demand. For once, my voice doesn’t vanish in Ronan’s presence; it lifts up. Travels.

“Nice party, Kyle.” Ronan ignores my question.

“You must be.”

“You’re reallyliving it up, aren’t you?”

“There’s security.” I step away, leaning against the doorframe to look down the hall. There are tons of workers, and the security seemed to be more for making sure there was no fighting between guests than anything really serious, but I’m sure with an estate like this they’ve hired people well able to take care of one skinny asshole. But right this second, I don’t see anyone in the hall.

“Ugh.” Eddie falls back with a grunt.

I jerk around, reaching out to catch him. I’m too late to make it, and he falls heavily to the ground. He cups his face with a groan and rolls onto his side.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” I whirl around to Ronan. Instead of the fist I expect to see, it’s a wrench in Ronan’s grip. A lot, is the answer. A whole fucking lot is wrong with him. Eddie groans on the ground behind me.

Ronan looks from him to me. “Come on,” he says.

“Come on what?”

He nods to the car behind him. A black Jeep.

“I’m not going anywhere with you.”

Ronan lunges forward. I scramble back, but not far enough, not fast enough, and the blunt metal connects with my left knee. Sparks explode across my vision. I hit the ground gasping in panicked breaths, the pain rocketing through my limb, immobilising me. Ronan grabs my arm, half hauling and half dragging me toward his car.

I want to tell him he’s being stupid. He’s acting like a total crazy person and he’s going to land himself in far worse trouble than he has already. But I can’t catch my breath, pain tightening my lungs like a vice; I can’t expand my chest for even a shallow breath.

Ronan manoeuvres me into the back seat of the Jeep, grunting, and I end up on my back, clutching my trousers into fists, above my knee, trying to breathe. One breath. Just one. Panic blankets my mind.

“Fuck off,” Ronan snarls. I glimpse Eddie and him fighting, then black engulfs the edges of my vision. When I blink and can see again, Ronan closes the driver’s door and starts the engine.

I catch a breath. Then another. I’m not tied down, nor restrained in any way, but I can’t move an inch.

“Give me your phone,” Ronan says.