Page 61

DENVER

“You can take your eyes off her in here, you know? There aren’t any paps about to jump out.”

Jenson sniggers as I throw him a shut-the-fuck-up-before-I-punch-you look.

For the past two weeks, the press has been everywhere Sinclair’s gone, the story of her falling for her bodyguard apparently being worthy of front-page news.

Every chat show between New York and LA want her to go on and tell her story.

But my girl’s refused every offer. She released one statement saying she’s taking a few weeks off work to enjoy being ‘close’ with her ‘hot, close protection officer’.

Those words alone were enough to whip up a media frenzy with pictures of us together trending online, and the so-called body language experts dissecting every photograph of us together to pinpoint exactly when our relationship changed.

But whoever claims they can tell is wrong. Because they’re focusing on the photographs of after I became her bodyguard.

The real truth lies in the ones taken years ago.

Because, like I told Sterling, I don’t recall a time I didn’t love Sinclair. Whether I knew it or not.

My eyes slide back to her playing on the floor inside Seasons bar area with Molly, Halliday, Monty… and the tiny wrinkly pink addition she’s named Mabel.

“You sure it’ll grow some hair?” Jenson asks, eyeing the Chinese crested puppy.

“About as much as Monty,” I reply.

“Wow.” His brows lift. “No shit, that much?”

“Idiot.” Killian chuckles.

The three of us all greet Sterling and Mal as they walk over.

“Boss,” I say, noting the way his face seems drawn like he’s got a lot on his mind.

“Denver.” He nods. “Take a seat.” He gestures to the low table, and we all sit down. He opens his hand, palms wide. “Let’s make this quick. I know Sullivan has something he wants to discuss.”

I glance over at where Sullivan’s playing the piano, his head hung as deep, heavy notes ring out like he’s pressing down on each ivory key with all the force he can muster.

Sinclair’s eyes flick to me and she gives me a worried look as the classical piece carries around the room.

“Neil’s gone,” Sterling says.

“About time,” Mal mutters.

I turn my head back toward our table and nod. Not long after he claimed that he saw a man walking away from the yacht the day of the accident, he upped and left New York. He’s now staying in Chicago, caring for a sick brother.

It’s as though once he offloaded what he needed to, he saw no reason to stay. I can’t say I’m not relieved. I didn’t like him being anywhere near Sinclair. But we’ve still got eyes on him where he is now, just in case.

“We do have that new lead to look into, though.” Sterling looks over at Halliday and I understand the reason for his tight expression.

The more we dug into Neil’s claims, the more evidence we unearthed to suspect he’s telling the truth.

We found a new witness working at the marina that day who claims to have heard a guy shouting for help minutes before the fire started.

And a previously hidden donation of an eye-watering amount to the now-retired port service manager who was on duty that day has come to light.

It was paid to his sister, not him, so we only uncovered it recently.

It could all be unconnected.

But I don’t believe in coincidences.

“I’m going over there to see what else I can find out. Poke enough shit and you’ll find some flies,” Mal says, clasping his hands as he leans forward over the table, keeping his voice low.

“Jenson, you go with Mal,” Sterling says, running a hand around his jaw.

“Yes, Boss.” Jenson’s eyes light up. I know he’s made up about catching up with some of his buddies he’s made in Cape Town.

There’s a loud crash of uncoordinated notes as Sullivan curses and slams at the piano keys, then stands in a rush, making a beeline for our table. He stalks over and slumps into an empty chair. The table is silent as he sits, sucking in sharp breaths, making his nostrils flare.

“She’s fucking back,” he spits.

My eyes flick to Sterling. He’s already filled me in on this latest development. We were holding back, waiting to see what her next move would be.

Sinclair storms over to the table, hearing his raised voice. “Who?”

Sullivan looks toward Molly, but she’s still engrossed, playing with Halliday and the dogs as Halliday shoots Sterling a concerned look.

“Natasha,” he spits.

Sinclair’s eyes widen. “Molly’s mom?”

“Do you know any others?”

My fists clench against my thighs at the way he snaps at her. Sterling’s eyes meet mine, and I exhale, forcing myself not to react. This is Sinclair. She can stand up for herself where Sullivan’s concerned. She doesn’t need me punching him in the face. And anyway, I get why he’s so concerned.

“Don’t speak to me like that.” She smacks Sullivan up the back of the head and his eyes bug out.

I bite back my smirk. She’s about the only person in the world who can get away with doing that. I’ve seen grown men cower when Sullivan Beaufort walks into a room.

Sterling winks at me as I look up.

“What does she want?” Sinclair asks.

Sullivan rolls his lips, tension radiating from him like he’s one touch away from going postal. “Molly. She says she wants to take Molly.”

“What?” she shrieks. “She can’t! Tell her she can’t.”

“I did fucking tell her that,” Sullivan says. “But she’s her biological mother and?—”

“And she’s also an addict who can’t look after herself, let alone a little girl. She left her on your doorstep in a fucking box , Sullivan. For God’s sake, what kind of mother does that?”

“I know,” Sullivan mutters, scrubbing a hand down his face, his eyes red-rimmed.

“She gave up all rights to be her mother when she did that,” Sinclair says. “We’ll fight her, won’t we, Dad?”

She looks to Sterling for support, and he nods. “You bet your ass we will, Sweetheart. Molly isn’t going anywhere.”

Sinclair’s shoulders soften. “Just slam some DNA tests at the courts along with her failed rehab stints. Then she can crawl back to where she came from.”

“DNA results?” Sullivan echoes.

“It’ll show you’re her biological father, won’t it?” Sinclair folds her arms and stares her brother down.

“You know it will, but it’s not that simple?—”

“You’re her father,” Mal says.

“You are,” Sterling agrees.

“I know.” Sullivan leans his head back and blows out a breath. “It’s just the last thing I needed right now.”

Sympathy fills my chest as I look at him. I know what it’s like to be apart from the woman you love. And seeing as he hasn’t mentioned this woman, Tate, again since the little jaunt he had me going on well over a month ago, I can’t see that his situation there has changed.

“Okay,” Sterling says in a calm voice that has everyone breathing again. “We all know what’s going on. And we’ve all got each other’s backs. We’re family. And family look out for one another. We’ll get this all sorted.”

“Yeah,” Sullivan says, pushing his thumb and forefinger into his eyes and rubbing. “Thanks, Dad.”

“You’re okay, Son. It’ll all be okay.” He reaches over and squeezes Sullivan’s knee.

“It will,” Sinclair agrees, sliding onto my lap and snaking her arms up around my neck.

I stiffen immediately and clear my throat.

She giggles. Fucking giggles as she bats her eyelashes at me.

“And that’s our cue to leave,” Uncle Mal says, clapping his hands.

Sterling chuckles and stands, and the rest of the men follow him, leaving the two of us sitting at the table alone.

“I’m working,” I grit as her fingers walk up my tie.

“Uh-huh,” she muses.

I glare at her, but it only encourages her. She flicks her finger over my lower lip until it makes a burbling sound.

“Stop it,” I huff.

“I love you,” she murmurs, doing it again.

My hand slides to her thigh, and I grab a handful of it with a tight grip. “I said, stop it , Princess.”

“You know I find you sexy when you’re mad,” she breathes, replacing her finger with her lips and kissing me.

My fingers dig into her flesh, and I groan as I kiss her back briefly, unable to resist.

“You’re so fucking spoiled,” I tease, making her gasp. I take the opportunity to nip her lower lip between my teeth and then haul her out of my lap, setting her on her feet as I stand. “You know when I’m working, you can’t do that.”

She pouts, and I can’t help myself. I grasp her face and give her cheeks a little squeeze, making her lips purse further.

“Make it up to me later?” I growl.

Her eyes light up and she nods happily inside my grasp.

I shake my head with a smirk. I know her. She pushes my buttons on purpose, because she likes to pretend that she’s ‘making it up’ to me when she’s on her knees sucking down on my dick like it’s tastier than those damn favorite smoothies of hers.

I should buy shares in that truck. I’m there every day, either with her, or picking one up for her. But it’s like I told her, I’m going to look after her. And she’s already looking healthier since I practically moved into her place with her.

Close protection at its most personal level.

Because now I do watch her in the shower every day like she asked if I would.

Or I join her.

I slide a hand down and curl it around her hip.

“I love you, Princess,” I whisper, pressing a light kiss to her lips, knowing no one is looking anymore.

She rises on her toes and looks into my eyes, a beautiful serenity in her green gaze.

“You okay?” I ask softly.

She smiles. “I am now.”

Then she presses her lips against mine.

“I love you too, Brute. So much.”