by Emery Rose
I strode to the door with Keira on my heels, feeling Claudia’s eyes on my back. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
“Connor… why didn’t you tell me?” she asked when we stopped by the side of the building.
“Tell you what?” I asked, playing dumb.
“That you’re my brother.”
“How did you find out?”
“I was thinking about you. Actually, I thought about you a lot. So I Googled you. You can learn a lot about a person from social media.”
Fuck. “And what did you learn?”
“I found photos of you…you must have been like eighteen or nineteen. You were in Vegas with Killian and the blonde in your shop. I found tons of stuff about Killian too. From his UFC days. And the break-in at your house in Greenpoint. When your father was killed? I found out you owned this shop and that you have an art exhibit in three weeks.”
Jesus Christ. This was why social media was dangerous.
“So anyway, I did some digging on your father because I had a weird feeling…like I should have seen it. You look so much like my mother. And sure enough, I found out that he was once married to Maggie O’Rourke. I can’t believe my parents kept this from me.” She shook her head. “What am I saying? I can believe it. My father’s a control freak and my mother is…”
“What’s your mother?” I asked, still curious despite myself. When would I ever learn?
Keira shrugged. “My dad calls the shots and my mom does whatever he asks because she’s too scared of losing him. They’re, like, obsessed with each other. And she adores him. No matter what he does, she turns a blind eye.” She drew herself up to her full height, just a few inches shy of six feet, and squared her shoulders. “But I’m not my mother.”
“Yeah, well, you shouldn’t be here. Why are you here?”
“I want to get to know you and Killian.”
“He doesn’t even know you exist.”
“Well, you’d better tell him. Because I’m staying.”
“Like hell you are. I’m putting you in a taxi and you can go right back to the airport and catch the first flight home.”
“I drove.”
“You drove,” I repeated.
She gestured with her hand and I stared at the silver Porsche 911 with North Carolina plates. North Carolina? “I need to unload this thing. Do you know anyone I can sell it to? Preferably someone who’s not going to ask for any documents.”
“You stole a car.”
“I borrowed my dad’s keys. He’s just not getting them back. So, yeah, technically I stole it. But I changed the plates.”
Fucking perfect. A criminal in the making. Like father, like daughter. “Get back in that car and head south. Keep going until you get back to fucking Miami.”
“I’m staying here. In Brooklyn. And I’m getting to know my brothers. I was planning to stop at Killian’s gym—”
“Killian’s away.” Thank fuck for small favors. Unfortunately, he’d be back late tonight. “You need to let me talk to him before you stop by for a surprise visit. Understand?”
“Sure. So, you never told him about me or anything that happened in Miami?”
“No.”
“Who’s the blonde? She’s pretty. Is she your girlfriend?”
“Leave her out of this.”
“Connor,” Ava called.
I turned my head to look at Ava, her arms crossed over her chest, eyes blazing with anger. “I thought you said you weren’t with anyone in Miami.”
I rubbed the back of my neck. Welcome to the shit storm that was my life. It would be easier if Keira had been a girl I’d hooked up with. “I wasn’t with anyone. And she was just leaving.”
“I’m Keira. Connor’s sister. And I’m not going anywhere.”
Fucking hell. Ava gasped, her eyes wide. “You have a sister?” she yelled.
Might as well announce it to the whole fucking neighborhood. I blew air out of my cheeks. “It’s a long story.”
“Well, I’d love to hear it. But right now, I can’t even look at you, let alone listen to another story.” Her gaze swung to Keira. “I’m Ava and I’ll be happy to be your tour guide.”
“Great,” Keira said, giving Ava a dazzling smile. “Do you happen to know where the nearest pawn shop is?”
I stared at Keira. What the fuck? “Why do you need a pawn shop?”
“I have some jewelry to sell,” she said like this was perfectly normal.
“I’d be happy to take you,” Ava said, smirking at me. “Let’s go.”
I watched helplessly as Ava climbed into the passenger seat of Keira’s Porsche. Two seconds later, engine roaring, Keira shot out of the parking space and rocketed down the street like a Formula One race car driver. The girl was a loose cannon. If Ronan had wanted to keep her on a short leash, he had failed miserably.
Universe, do you hate me? No matter how hard I tried to put the past behind me, it always caught up. And this time, there was no way to outrun it. Trouble was headed my way. Again.
I swiped my phone and called Deacon Ramsey.
25
Ava
I had a million questions I wanted to ask Keira, but I had no idea where to begin. She didn’t look anything like Connor and Killian. Her eyes were amber-brown, and her hair was a few shades lighter, cut in long layers and highlighted with caramel and honey. She had perfect bone structure, high cheekbones, a wide, full mouth, and a set of perfect white teeth. She was stunning, not to mention that her Moncler jacket and the Louis Vuitton bag sitting at my feet, probably cost more than everything I owned.
She shifted and floored the accelerator, something you couldn’t do in Brooklyn. A car pulled out in front of us and she hit the brakes, screeching to a halt. My head flew back against my seat, and her bumper kissed the car’s in front of us. The driver shot her a look in his rear-view mirror and she gave him a little wave and a brilliant smile.
“Who taught you to drive?” I asked.
“Anthony,” she said. “He works security for my dad.”
“What does your dad do?”
She side-eyed me. “He runs a nightclub.”
I had a feeling that running a nightclub was not the only thing he did. She floored the accelerator again only to slam on the brakes at the next traffic light. This ride was giving me whiplash.
“Take it easy, Mario. This is Brooklyn. You need to share the road with others.”
She laughed and eased off the accelerator. Slightly. “You need to take the next right,” I said, directing her to the pawn shop I’d Googled. According to the reviews, it was the most honest one and paid the fairest prices. Having never stepped foot inside a pawn shop, I had no idea what that meant.
“How long have you known Connor?” she asked, hanging a right and narrowly missing a cyclist. If we got to the pawn shop in one piece, I’d consider it a victory.
“Ten years. We were friends first and started dating when we were sixteen.”
“Wow. I didn’t even realize he had a girlfriend.”
“We broke up for a few years, but we got back together a little while ago.” Although, at this point, I was seriously questioning that decision. He’d lied to me. He’d lied to everyone. Why?
“I didn’t know I had brothers until a week ago,” she said.
I looked at her in surprise. “Connor didn’t tell you?”
She shook her head.
“And your parents…”
“Kept it from me. I should have seen it though. Connor looks so much like my mom. If I’d known, it would have made everything so much less… awkward.”
“Awkward?” I asked.
“When I met him, I thought he was just a hot guy on vacation in Miami. So, I went for him.”
“You went for Connor?”
“Big time. My ego took a bruising. He pushed me away like the very idea of being with me was repulsive. But now I know why.”
“Where did you meet him?”
“At a coffee shop near campus. I misread the signs and
thought he was flirting with me. We exchanged numbers and met up for lunch. And I loved hanging out with him. Plus, he’s hot.”
“Yeah, he is. And when he’s not being a dickhead, he’s great to hang out with.” The pawn shop passed by in a blur. “You just drove right past it. Turn down the next street.”
We circled the block and got lucky when a spot opened two doors down from the pawn shop. She backed into the space and after one adjustment, her tires brushed the curb and she cut the engine. “That was impressive,” I said, handing over her bag.
“Driving is my favorite hobby. I love anything with an engine. Planes, cars, motorcycles… anything that can take me away from it all.”
I wasn’t sure what to say about that, but she was already out of the car, her Louis Vuitton bag in the crook of her arm. I joined her on the sidewalk. Next to her, I felt like a midget. She had at least six inches on me. “Why are you selling jewelry?” I asked, looking at the blue neon sign in the window that said: DIAMONDS.
“Cash is king. And it doesn’t leave a trail.” She grabbed my arm to stop me from going inside. Why was she worried about leaving a trail? I was still trying to make sense of that little tidbit she’d dropped in my lap about getting cozy with Connor. Coffee and lunch, exchanging numbers… and she’d had no idea he was her brother? “By the way, my name is Grace Matthews. But you can call me Gracie.”
She let go of my arm and placed her hand on the door handle. It was my turn to grab her arm and haul her back. “Why are you using a fake name?” I looked up and down the street. From what I could tell, everyone was going about their business, not the least bit interested in the vertically-challenged blonde and America’s Next Top Model. “And who would be following a trail? Are you on the lam?”
“Not exactly.”
Not exactly? Maybe she was a jewel thief. I glanced at the Porsche, and the words grand theft auto flashed across my brain. “Is the jewelry yours? Is the Porsche yours?” I hissed.
“Yes. And… kind of.”
“Kind of?”
“The jewelry is mine. The Porsche is my dad’s.”
“Did he lend it to you?”
She dodged that question. “Are you with me, Ava? Or should I do this alone?” There was a challenge in her voice and it took me all of two seconds to make my decision. I was all in. I wanted answers and I wanted to see what this mysterious sister was up to.
“You’re not going in there alone, Gracie.”
She gave me a big smile. Connor had a shitload of explaining to do. If I ever spoke to him again. This was getting crazier by the minute. Blindsided by the appearance of Keira who I knew nothing about. Connor and Killian’s sister. I still couldn’t wrap my head around that. Which meant that Connor had gone down to Miami with a purpose. To find his mother. But why had he kept it a secret?
We walked into the brightly-lit pawn shop, and I was kind of disappointed that it was so sterile, and nothing like an antique shop which I’d envisioned. According to the sign on the wall, they paid cash for diamonds, gold, silver, and electronics. A long glass case spanned the wall on the left, and I cast my eye at the collection of coins and watches.
“Can I help you, ladies?” asked the middle-aged man with a barrel chest and a combover behind the counter.
Keira pulled a velvet drawstring bag out of her Louis Vuitton and emptied the contents onto the glass countertop. I gasped. A diamond tennis bracelet. Diamond studs that must have been one carat each. And a small mountain of gold.
“What’s your best price?” she asked.
The man held a loupe to his eye and inspected the diamonds. I studied the contents of the case, my eye catching on a display of diamond engagement rings and wedding bands. How sad that someone would need to sell an engagement ring. Or worse, they’d gotten divorced and she’d rather have the money than a reminder of a broken promise.
For better or worse. In sickness and health. Until death do us part. People repeated those words every day, making vows and promises to love each other for the rest of their lives. The words were easy to say but hard to put into practice.
I loved Connor. He was the love of my life, and I’d never doubted that for a minute. But every time we turned around another obstacle was thrown into our path. I’d wanted to believe that our love had been strong enough to weather any storm. To deal with any curveball life threw at us. Ironic, really, that every time I convinced myself that he’d changed, that we were headed somewhere good, another curveball hit me from left field.
Keira nudged my arm and I dragged my eyes away from the display. “You okay?”
“Yeah.”
“Victor’s going to get me the cash.”
“Did he offer you a good price?” I asked, having missed the entire transaction.
“A fraction of what it’s worth, but I expected that. Everyone needs to earn a living somehow.”
“Do you work?” I asked.
“No. I was in college,” she said, running her hand over an acoustic guitar, part of a collection hanging on the wall across from the glass cases. “But I’m not going back to finish my degree. I’m staying in Brooklyn. I’m going to get a job and an apartment.” She gave me a bright smile as if that prospect thrilled her.
“How old are you?”
“I’ll be twenty-one in January.”
I did the mental math. Connor’s mom would have already been pregnant with Keira when she’d left them.
“How old were they when she left?” Keira asked, reading my mind.
“It was right after Killian’s seventh birthday, in August. Connor was three and a half.”
Whatever she thought about that, her face gave nothing away. The bell over the door chimed and a guy with dirty-blond hair entered the shop. Deacon Ramsey. I hadn’t seen him since that night at the hospital over a year ago. Instead of wearing NYPD blues, he was dressed in a dark suit and wingtips. He belonged in a glossy magazine advertising cologne and expensive watches, but I had a bad feeling that his appearance wasn’t accidental.
“Good afternoon, ladies.” He gave us a panty-melting smile, fully aware of his charms and the effect they had on women. “How’ve you been, Ava?” he asked as if he genuinely cared.
“It’s all good,” I said, wondering if that was true. “How are you?”
“Can’t complain.” His gaze swung to Keira, his eyes doing a full-body scan without bothering to hide it.
“Let me guess,” Keira said, leaning her hip against the counter. “Victor called the cops.”
“Deacon Ramsey,” he said with a slow, easy grin. “What makes you think I’m a cop?”
“Grace Matthews. I have a sixth sense for these things.”
His mouth quirked with amusement. “Is that your Porsche, Grace?”
“Yes, Officer. Am I parked illegally?”
“I’ll need to see some ID.”
Unfazed by his request, Keira whipped a license out of her wallet and handed it to Deacon who studied it. Since I was right next to him, I glanced at it, wondering how her story would hold up. Sure enough, the license said Grace Matthews and the photo was of her. I wasn’t an expert, but the license looked like a good fake. “A North Carolina girl,” he said, handing back the license.
“Go Tar Heels,” Keira said, pumping the air with her fist.
“You went to Duke?” Deacon asked.
“UNC. Duke is the Blue Devils. Watch yourself, Officer. If you ever head south of the Mason Dixon line, talk like that could get you in trouble.”
Deacon grinned. “Thanks for the warning. Be right back.” He strode to the back of the shop and when he disappeared, I exchanged a look with Keira.
“You swear the jewelry is yours?” I asked, keeping my voice low. There were CCTV cameras all over the shop and I wondered if Deacon Ramsey was back there, studying them right now.
“Yep. It’s cool.”
“What about the license plates?”
“They’re clean.” She cleared her throat. “I think.”
That didn’t put me at ease or answer any of my questions, but I couldn’t probe for more information because Deacon and Victor had returned. Victor handed Keira an envelope and she glanced at the bills inside then stuffed it in her bag without bothering to count it. “A pleasure doing business with you,” she said, turning to go.
Deacon strode ahead and held the door open for us then followed us onto the sidewalk and to Keira’s car. “Just passing through?” he asked. “Or are you planning to stay awhile, Miss Mathers?”
“It’s Matthews,” Keira said.
Deacon grinned. “So, it is. I have a bad memory for names. But I never forget a face.”
“In answer to your question, I’ll be staying a while.”
“Good. I have a feeling we’ll be bumping into each other a lot.”
Keira smiled as she rounded the front of her car. “Not if I see you first.”
“Game on.”
I climbed into the passenger seat, once again completely clueless as to what was going on. Besides Deacon and Keira flirting, I got that. But this was getting old. Fast.
“What do you know about Deacon Ramsey?” Keira asked, watching through her rear-view mirror.
I knew he’d saved Killian’s life last year. I knew he’d saved Connor from getting busted for drug possession. But I didn’t mention either of those things because I wasn’t sure how much to confide in her. I wasn’t sure what to think about her or if she could be trusted. The girl was running around town in a Porsche, selling diamonds at a pawn shop, and using a fake name and ID. “Not much. He was three years ahead of me in high school. He was in the same year as Killian.”
“Are they friends?”
I shrugged noncommittally. “Acquaintances.”
She fired up the engine. “Oh well. Could be worse. If someone’s going to tail me, at least he’s hot.”
Deacon Ramsey was hot, I’d give her that, but she didn’t seem surprised that NYPD would be tailing her. “Why would he need to tail you?”
“Are you ready to give me a tour of Brooklyn?” she asked, revving her engine.
“Are you going to tell me what’s going on? I hate being left in the dark.”