Page 37 of Ronan

“And I won’t be here. I’m going to get a drink and find me a dance partner,” I say and wiggle my brows.

“Don’t go getting yourself into any trouble,” she teases.

I look over to where Ronan is talking to a couple of women and roll my eyes. There’s no trouble to be had here. That ship has sailed.

“I promise to be on my best behavior.”

In the last two months, I haven’t had time to spend with Ronan. He has seemed to be busy too. His nephew Braxton, Felix’s brother, was here for a few days, from what Connie told me.

I guess that has been for the best. Truth is, I might need to return home soon because Danika Peoples has shit to handle. I’ve been hiding the craziness going on in my life as it is.

Poor Kaye believes my change in mood has been because I’m dealing with publishing business. She invited me along to Toby and Kamara’s wedding, thinking I’ve been stressed about a new book deal and publisher.

Since that night Uncle Dayton called to inform me that my guys got into the business of some of my uncle’s business partners, I haven’t had a moment of peace. It’s been horsemen this, and Alliance that. It seems I’m not going to be able to ignore this shit much longer.

Ronan’s deep, rich laughter reaches me over the music. He has moved on to a table with a group of men. I notice Jeremiah and Carrick are among them.

It’s not lost on me that Ronan hasn’t come anywhere near me all day. I’m not about to chase after him either. If he wants to be weird, that’s on him.

“Why not go home, Danny?” I breathe to myself.

I have enough shit going on that I should. The business is more than logistics. I’m going to have to step fully into the waters soon.

The clock has been ticking since my uncle’s death. I knew this time was coming. I won’t be able to ignore these people he used to deal with—I know that. I also know I wasn’t meant to stay hidden forever.

This LaSalle dude sounds badass. He seems to be the glue to this alliance I keep hearing about. What I’m not a fan of is Marlow suggesting I come home and consider marrying one of his sons to allow them to take over for me.

“I think the fuck not,” I say as I look down at my phone as another text comes in from the man as I think of him.

I think this shit is bold as hell of him. This is why I don’t fuck with him. I naturally don’t let people in, but Marlow invokes extra caution from me.

I wonder what Uncle Dayton and Uncle Percy think about this. I haven’t spoken to either of them since this mess started. My guys have reported that they handled the initial problem. I never questioned that.

Things have been running smoothly until now. Uncle Dayton’s son Lyric has been a great help since I took over. Byron, his other son, reports to me as well.

Byron and I grew up together. I used to play with him and his twin brother when I spent time with my Uncle Freddie. Back then, it was me, him, and his brother, Myron. We were the three musketeers.

Lyric was a bit older and wasn’t around before Myron and their mom died. I don’t know or remember why that was. Although I spent time with Myron and Byron, I didn’t know much about their home life.

Byron changed some after his mother’s and Myron’s deaths. He and Lyric have had an interesting relationship for as long as I can remember. Byron says he’s keeping an eye on his brother for me because Lyric can’t always be trusted.

I have no problem with my left hand watching my right. I haven’t told either of them I don’t trust anyone. I have eyes on my eyes. I should have applied that thought to Anika.

I work my jaw in aggravation as I think about it all. I stand, needing to go get a drink. If I sit here lost in my thoughts, I’m only going to get more pissed off.

I get to the open bar and order a drink. While I wait, I turn to look around. My phone pings, grabbing my attention.

I smile down at a text from Byron. He has such a soft nature for this business. He’ll make a great politician though.

Something that couldn’t be said for his twin brother. Myron had a mean streak. We used to bump heads all the time.

“Gah, look at him. I wish the man gave repeats,” a woman says to her friends as they come over to the bar.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, don’t I know it. He’s too good a ride to only have one go. I’ve been trying for years to find my way back into his bed.”

“Aye, I know what ya mean. Ronan has the kind of cock to make ya sell yer mother for another go.”

I cover my mouth and turn away from the three. I want to laugh so bad, but there’s also this pang of jealousy that sparks through me.

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