Page 79 of Dangerous Strokes

“Oh, okay, Katya, it is. I knowthisis not in your job description, so I just want to say thank you. For taking the time to take this on while I was…” I trail off because I have no idea what I want to say. Injured? Grieving? Numb?

She shakes her head gently, her sandy blond braid falling off her shoulder and down her back.

“I’ve seen enough loss to know that help is usually never requested, but always needed. There’s plenty of men in your life now, but if you need a woman… I’m here.”

She doesn’t reach for me, but her words are like a warm hug. She may look like a hard woman with her stern features, but she’s oddly comforting, even from the distance. Maybe that’s why the girls who have been working for her and the guys are so keen.

We walk out of the room, heading back to the living area, when I hear an exchange that makes no sense.

“Did Carter find any trace that Bartiste was there recently?”

I stop in the middle of the room, looking at the men who sit around the sofa, staring at a laptop screen, speaking of things that… shouldn’t be.

“Did you… did you just say, Bartiste is…” The vase sitting on the table I’m leaning against is rattling on the wood, and my legs seem oddly soft.

Finnigan and Vincent turn to Ronan, while he looks at me with wide eyes.

“Does she not know?!” Katya exclaims, a comforting hand coming to rest on my back.

“What the hell is going on? Is Bartiste still alive?!” I can’t seem to control the tone of my voice.

Ronan rises from the sofa, and when he takes a step in my direction, I step backward. I can see the deep fall of his chest as he exhales, weighing his words. But I can already tell there isn’t any sort of remorse in his eyes.

“None of you get to judge me, and you”—he nods to me—“you don’t get to be mad at this. There wasn’t a right time to tell you that the man who did this to you, to Hanna, escaped.”

“No, you don’t get to decide that, Ronan. It’s not your call when is or isn’t the right time to tell me something like this.”

“That’s where you’re mistaken, little witch.”

I flinch at that term of endearment thrown so casually in a room full of people, Finnigan’s gaze burning a damn hole through me at the sound of it.

But Ronan doesn’t care as he continues. “After everything you’ve been through, your healing was the most important thing to me. So yes, I decided that after my mistake, after what Bartiste did to you, to Hanna, after your surgery, through this loss, the last thing you needed was to know the motherfucker was alive. You don’t get to be mad at that.”

I’m speechless, mouth gaping, shocked at the audacity of this man.

“I had a right to know!” I seethe.

“And now you do. At the right time.”

He takes another step, and I have the urge to slap him.

“Right time? I walked into this conversation. If I didn’t, when would you have told me?”

“At. The right. Time.”

I don’t know when he closed the distance between us, but he’s too close, brushing his hand up my arm, then my shoulder, and just as he’s about to touch my cheek, my eyes flicker to his brother, to the anger and flickering sadness in his eyes. I step out of his orbit, turning on my heel and heading straight to the bathroom.

I attempt to slam the door, but a thud sounds behind me instead. The bastard’s scent hits me before the door bangs against the frame and the lock clicks. I turn, ready to kick Ronan out of here, but before I can say a word, he rushes to me, forcing me to step backwards until my shoulders hit the bathroom cabinet. He towers over me, his energy different than before, the gentleness he has been treating me with since bringing me here, long gone.

There’s a simmering rage behind the blue of his eyes, like a ruthless storm in the middle of an ocean and I’m about to be caught by one of the waves.

“I can’t read your mind, Annika. You’re pulling away from me, and I’m trying very, very hard to give you space. But I can only give you so much before I fear you’re going to pull away completely.”

Fuck.

“I just…”

“Don’t say this is about grief.”

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