by Katee Robert
“No.” I barely sound like myself. My voice is so cold, I’m half surprised it doesn’t cloud the air in front of me. “Where is Cohen?” I could try approaching Maddox, but he’ll just tell me to deal with it on my own. For all that he’s the more approachable of the two, he’s the least likely to understand how fucked this situation is. I doubt Maddox has ever been in over his head even once in his life.
Not that Cohen has ever been in over his head, but he has six brothers so surely he can sympathize when one of them gets a stick up his ass and starts making commands that are none of his damn business.
“Upstairs.”
I don’t hesitate, pushing past him and starting up the stairs. It’s only when I reach the second floor, where all the private suites are, that I realize I might still be a little drunk and have lipstick smeared on my face and neck. It would be smart to slow down, to give myself time to gather my wits and figure out a game plan, but it’s as if I have too much momentum. I can’t stop, no matter how ill-advised this is.
Cohen and Maddox’s room is at the far end of the north hall. As best as I can tell, his bride, Winry—Monroe’s little sister—has been sharing their room the entire time. Unlike Broderick, who ceded his new space to Monroe and has been sleeping alone gods knew where. Because that makes sense. Avoid the problem and hope it goes away.
Just like he’s been avoiding me.
How dare he think he can tell me what I should or shouldn’t be doing? I’ve seen him a grand total of three times in three weeks, and each time he’s all but sprinted from my presence the second he gets an opening.
Not too long ago, I might have listened to him if he told me to stay away from Monroe. Our friendship has spanned nearly a full third of my life. In that time, Broderick has been nothing but steady and stable and taken care of everyone around him. He’s not the type to fly off the handle or lose his temper over something ridiculous. He just handles shit.
Until now.
Maybe in a day or two, I’ll be able to admit that coming back to Sabine Valley has put him into a tailspin, but I’m too busy doing my own spin out to worry about him. If this was any other time, any other place, we’d lean on each other until the ground steadied beneath our feet. It’s what we’ve always done in the past. I’ve grown to depend on the belief that no matter how scary things get, I will always feel Broderick steady at my back. Just like I’ll always have his back, too.
Except… He doesn’t have my back right now. I’m left here, standing on my own, for the first time in years. The man only shows up to tell me what I can and can’t do before disappearing again to hide from his Bride.
Yeah, fuck that.
I lift my hand to knock on Cohen’s door, but it opens before I get the chance, revealing the man himself. He’s big and burly, with red hair and a red beard and tattoos over most of his exposed skin. Not that I can see much of them with his long-sleeved Henley and jeans. He also looks…frazzled. I blink. I’ve never seen Cohen anything less than cold and remote. The relief on his face when he sees me has me taking a step back.
“Is everything okay?” I ask warily.
“No.” He pulls the door shut behind him and grabs my arm, steering me away from the room. He’s moving at such a quick pace that I have to practically skip to keep up with him. I don’t get a chance to ask more questions, because he hauls me up another set of stairs and practically hurls me into a dust-filled room that looks like it might have been a living room at some point.
That’s about enough of that.
I grab his wrist, applying pressure points to make him release me. He does with a curse and then seems to come back to himself. “Fuck. Sorry.”
The urge to rub my upper arm is there, but I resist it. “It’s fine. What’s going on?” As angry as I still am, anything that makes Cohen lose his cool takes priority.
He opens his mouth, seems to consider what he was about to blurt out, and finally curses. “This is going to sound so fucking ridiculous.”
Okay, now I’m really worried. I cross my arms over my chest. “I won’t understand until you explain.”
“I was trying to be fucking nice. Maddox is always telling me I’m too fucking harsh with Winry. She’s so damn soft, I make one wrong move and I’m worried I’m going to bruise her.” He drags his hand through his hair and winces. “Women like to feel wanted.”
Women like to feel wanted? What in the hell is going on? “Cohen,” I put a little snap in my voice.
“She’s fucking furious.” He looks at me, his amber eyes a little wild around the edges. “She threw a lamp at my head.”
That doesn’t sound like the Winry I’ve slowly come to know over the past three weeks. The curvy blond is as sweet as Monroe is salty. Cohen’s right; she’s got a softness that makes even me move carefully around her. And not just because I’m 100 percent sure Monroe would slit the throat of anyone who made her beloved little sister cry. “She…threw a lamp…at your head?”
“Yes.” He rubs his temple. “She’s got wicked aim, too.”
I don’t even know what to say to that. “What did you do?”
“I just said…” He clears his throat. “She’s in a certain way, so—”
All the blood rushes out of my head. “She’s pregnant?” Forget slitting someone’s throat. Monroe is going to skin both Cohen and Maddox alive.
“What? No! That’s not what I fucking said.” He goes so pale, I am slightly horrified to realize he has freckles. “She’s on her fucking period.”
I wait for the rest, but apparently that’s all it is. “Cohen,” I say slowly. “I don’t care what common culture says about people on their periods. They do not turn from sweet people into lamp-wielding maniacs. You did something.”
“No shit, I did something.” He drags his hand through his hair again. Winces again when he touches where the lamp apparently made contact. “She was talking shit about how she looked and felt, and I just said I don’t care about a little blood when it comes to fucking.”
I stare. Of course he did. For someone who is easily the most ruthless Paine brother, I don’t know if I’m freaked out or strangely amused to see him so out of sorts. “And that’s when she threw the lamp.”
“Right at my fucking head!”
The upside of this ridiculous conversation is that my anger has all but drained away. I sigh. “Depending on a number of factors, she’s probably feeling anywhere from vaguely uncomfortable to in true pain. The last thing she wants is your cock mucking things up.”
“I realize that now,” he grits out. “How do I make it right?”
Maybe later I’ll wonder at the fact Cohen even cares about the feelings of someone beyond Maddox and his brothers. Maybe. “You could try asking her.” He makes a face, and I press on. “Easy options—a snack she likes, some kind of movie or book or something to keep her occupied, maybe a hot bath or heating pad if she feels up to it. Not sex. Some people like sex on their periods, but for fuck’s sake, Cohen, that shouldn’t be your go-to.”
“How was I supposed to know?”
He’s got me there. It’s not as if he’s close to any of the people who menstruate in our group. Certainly not close enough to be in a comforting role during that time. “Now you do.”
“Yeah.” He gets a focused look that is, honestly, slightly terrifying. “I’ll figure it out.”
“Great.”
He gives himself a shake. “You needed something?”
“Not anymore.” Now that I have the tiniest sliver of distance, I realize that I can’t run to Cohen—or anyone else—with this problem. It has nothing to do with the mission or the safety of the faction. It’s personal.
That means it needs to be handled personally. “I have it taken care of.”
“Good.” He’s already turning for the door, but he stops before he reaches it. “Maddox and I need to talk to you about the Amazons tomorrow morning. Seven.”
“Okay.” I take several deep breaths after the door closes behind him. I
t smells faintly musty in the room. A few more breaths and I know what I need to do—the exact opposite of what I want to do.
Talk to Broderick.
It doesn’t matter if he’s acting like a stranger right now. He’s my best friend. We just need to sit down and hash it out. Sure, we’ve never really had an argument before, but we’ve had difficult conversations in the past, have trusted each other with things we don’t talk about generally.
I know how worried he gets for his brothers, especially during dangerous missions, despite the fact that you’d never realize just looking at him. A side-effect of what they survived the last time they were in this godsforsaken city.
He knows about my past. Oh, not where I’m from and not the horrific details. But he knows my parents were monsters who committed monstrous acts on the one person they should have protected.
If we can talk about those subjects without flinching, we should be able to talk about Monroe without devolving into a screaming fight.
Right?
Once I decide on a course of action, I don’t like to wait, so I head back downstairs. Broderick won’t be in the room he’s supposed to share with Monroe. He avoids it at all cost; even his clothes are kept somewhere else. I intend to figure out where.
I find Gabriel near where he was when I came in. Now that I think about it, it’s weird that he’s lingering near the entrance. I narrow my eyes. “What are you up to?” He’s only a couple years younger than me, but as both the youngest and the sweetest of the Paine brothers, he’s often treated as the baby of group. I don’t know why they gave him Fallon as a Bride. She’s so cold, she’s liable to torment him just for the sake of watching him squirm.
He’s squirming now and trying to look like he isn’t. “Nothing.”
“Liar.”
He glances away, giving me a view of a jawline that’s nearly identical to Broderick’s. Not that I need the reminder that they’re brothers. The Paines fall into two categories—dark-haired or dark-eyed and ginger. Only Abel, Broderick, and Gabriel are the former. The rest of them have variations of Cohen’s red hair. “Gabriel.”
“I’m waiting for Finnegan and Iris to get back from patrol so I can leave.”
After the conflict with Abel and Eli’s people that ended with Eli being shot, Abel has strict rules about the Paines leaving the compound. One of which is that they aren’t to do it alone. “Who are you going with?”
Gabriel blushes and looks away again. “Is there something you need?”
After a brief internal debate, I finally say, “Take someone with you. I don’t care who. Your brothers will tear this city apart if something happens to you because you’re off chasing sex with someone who isn’t your Bride.” Not that I can blame him, exactly. Fallon is gorgeous, but she’s terrifying.
There are a lot of terrifying people in this house these days.
“I’ll be safe.” Which isn’t the same thing as taking someone with him or being careful. “I’m not going far.”
I take a deep breath. When it comes down to it, Gabriel is twenty-eight and more than capable of handling himself in a fight. “You’ll stay in Raider territory?”
“Yeah. I wasn’t planning on crossing either river.” He gives me a charming smile. “Though I have to ask—how’s that glass house look from where you’re standing? Monroe’s color looks good on you, Shiloh.”
Fuck. I forgot I still had remnants of her lipstick on my face. “Yeah, yeah.” I adjust my ponytail. “Did Broderick make it back?”
“Not yet.”
I thought he was right behind me when I left the bar, but maybe he and Monroe ended up fighting…or fucking. I poke at the thought, trying to decide how I feel about that. I have no claim on the woman. I don’t want a claim. I like what we did in the bathroom, but ultimately she’s not for me.
And Broderick?
He’s not for me, either. He couldn’t be clearer that he only sees me as a friend, and I value that friendship too much to ruin it by confessing that I regularly masturbate to the fantasy of him. My skin flushes hot, and I have to put that thought away. It serves no purpose here.
I clear my throat. “Do you know where he’s sleeping these days?”
“Oh. That.” Gabriel rolls his eyes. “Third floor, south hall. One of the rooms that Abel decided we didn’t need to worry about yet. He cleaned it up, and he’s been camping up there like Rochester’s wife in the attic.”
“Nice literary reference,” I murmur.
Gabriel blushes harder. “I read.”
“I know.” I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve found him reading on watch over the years when we were occupying hostile territory in one city or another. I clasp his shoulder. “Be careful, okay?”
“You, too.”
I head back to the stairs and climb up to the third floor. As tempting as it is to take a shower and gather my wits about me, the truth is that I don’t trust my courage to hold if I don’t keep up this momentum.
It doesn’t take me long to find Broderick’s room. As Gabriel said, Abel decided early on to confine people’s rooms to the second floor. The better to keep track of all the Brides. Now that he has Harlow, one of his Brides, wrangling the others, it’s made everyone’s job a bit easier. Still, with the barracks in the compound to house the rest of our people, there just hasn’t been a huge need to mess with the third floor.
At least Broderick’s room isn’t covered in dust like the one Cohen dragged me to. I resist the urge to poke around and simply perch on the edge of the bed and wait for him. Now that my anger isn’t driving me, I’m not sure what the hell I’m doing. I want to tell him off, but… Why? Yes, he was a jerk for trying to tell me who I can and cannot sleep with, especially since he’s not dating me. Friends don’t dictate who their friends sleep with. I might have grown up alone and not know what a healthy relationship looked like if it hit me in the face, but after nearly a decade with the Paine brothers, I’m 100 percent sure of that.
What am I doing?
Yelling at him might have made me feel better before I calmed down, but it surely won’t now. This is ridiculous. I have better things to do than go a round with Broderick. Especially since it feels like our friendship has been fracturing from the moment we arrived in Sabine Valley. Being here is doing a number on my head, but Broderick has to be feeling something similar. The last time he was in this city, all three factions came together in an attempt to kill him and his brothers. I wish I had more emotional capacity to be there for him right now, but I’m barely treading water as it is. Fighting with him is only going to make it worse. This was a mistake.
I shove to my feet, but it’s too late.
The door opens, and the man himself stalks into the room.
Chapter 8
Broderick
The last thing I expect when I get to my room is to find Shiloh waiting for me. Despite myself, my attention snags on the faint red marks on her mouth and neck from Monroe’s lipstick. Even through my rising irritation, heat surges hot enough to have me fighting my body’s reaction. Of course, I find the idea of them together attractive. They’re both gorgeous. I’m only human. It’s nothing more than that.
I clear my throat. I need to apologize. I know I need to apologize. I just have to find the words. “Shiloh. What are you doing here?”
“I don’t know.” She stands slowly. “I was very, very angry when I left the bar, but I’ve gotten a bit turned around since then.”
“I’m sorry.” I am. Truly. I never wanted to make her feel bad for anything, and she’s right—I don’t have a claim to her since we’re only friends. The reminder never used to feel like sandpaper beneath my skin. I respect our friendship. Putting Shiloh in an uncomfortable position because of my feelings is out of the question. And yet… I drag my hand over my face. “I might have been a bit out of line.”
“A bit?”
Heat flushes my face and neck, and I have the uncomfortable suspicion that I’m blushing. “Monroe makes me lose
my cool.”
“Monroe,” she says the other woman’s name slowly, seeming to test it. “Yes, Monroe has a way of provoking people.” Except Shiloh doesn’t sound like she thinks that’s a bad thing.
“She’s trouble.”
“You’re right.” Just like that, the softening of Shiloh’s expression disappears. She crosses her arms over her chest. “Maybe if you stopped avoiding her and actually dealt with the situation, she would get into less trouble.”
I take a step back. Shiloh has a point, but I can’t bring myself to admit it. Spending more time around my Bride, trying to corral her, will just pave the way for Monroe to provoke me further. I don’t recognize myself when I’m around that woman. “She’s poison.”
“Is she?” Shiloh glares. “She’s an ambitious, terrifying woman. She’s an enemy of the Raider faction and your family. But that’s it. That doesn’t make her poison.”
“My brothers and I were almost killed because of what the Amazons did.” Not just the Amazons, but I’m not handfasted to a Mystic currently. “They would have seen every single member of my family burn.”
“I know what the Amazons are capable of.” Shiloh goes still. “Do you think I could possibly forget?”
No, of course not. We’ve talked about it more than once, how that night of betrayal and ash changed the course of my family’s life forever. We weren’t exactly living the dream life, not under my father’s rule, but at least we had stability. After the night of the coup, we were hunted.
And every single faction in Sabine Valley was responsible. Amazon. Mystics. Even the Raiders in the form of Eli Walsh’s father. It’s since come to light that Eli wasn’t behind the plans that nearly killed me and my brothers in the house fire, that he wasn’t even aware of it, but it’s still hard to let go of eight years of bad blood. I’m working on it, because Abel loves that asshole, but I can barely look at Eli without tasting ash on my tongue.
Shiloh knows what it means to never be able to go home again. Her parents made my father look like he should be accepting Parent of the Year awards. Even without the specific details, I know she was abused and that they’re religious zealots. I try not to think about her past too much, because doing so is shitty for my blood pressure, and she won’t thank me for trying to step in and save the child she used to be.