Page 16 of Bound Lies

My jaw tightens.

"Right, because you’ve already made the decision. God forbid anyone else get a say."

Ronan’s eyes flash, the only indicator that I’ve touched a nerve. His body language is otherwise cool and collected, just like our father taught him to be.

"I’m trusting you to keep her safe."

"So, you don’t trust me to lead, but you trust me to play fucking babysitter?"

"That’s not what this is."

I throw my hands in the air. “Bullshit, that’s exactly what this is!”

This has always been the story of my life.

Ronan gets to make the calls and handles the business. Ronan gets to carry Dad’s legacy while the rest of us fall in line. ~

I’ve killed for them and done every dirty job without complaint, and still, I’m always going to be nothing but the second choice.

I look at Riley again, noting the way her eyes scan her surroundings as if she’s memorizing every little thing about it.

For months, my brothers and I were caught in a game of cat and mouse with a mole that ended up working for her father, and now Ronan brings his daughter right into the middle of our territory all because she batted her eyelashes at him and cried wolf?

"It’s pretty convenient, don’t you think?" I move around the table and lean down so that my face is only a few inches from Riley’s. I brace my hand against the edge of the table, gripping it so tightly that my knuckles turn white. "That you decide to show up after we take out your father, and now you’re suddenly team Sullivan? Yeah, I’m not buying it, princess."

Her nostrils flare. "You think I’m here because I want to be?”

She pushes back her chair and gets to her feet. “You think I’m playing some kind of game?"

The top of her curls barely reaches my shoulder, but my height and build seem to do little to intimidate Riley Walsh.

"I think it’s suspicious as hell that you’re asking for our help.”

She takes a step toward me, and I catch a waft of some sweet fragrance. She seems like the kind of girl who would choose a shampoo based on whether it had fruit on the bottle or not.

"You think I don’t hate everything about this? That it doesn’t make me sick to even ask you people for help?”

“Here’s a solution for you. Don’t.”

“I would do that, but I can’t!” Her cheeks flush as she throws her hands in the air. “I can’t just sit back and be handed off like some fucking breeding mare to a man twice my age just because my uncle wants to win a war."

My eyes narrow. "You really expect me to believe this is all about your sense of agency?"

"Believe what you want, Sullivan, but I didn’t come here for you; I came for Ronan. He’s the only one who doesn’t look at me like I’m some liability."

The insult is intentional, and I open my mouth to respond, but Ronan steps between us, bracing a hand on my chest to force me to back up a step.

"Enough. You can sort your shit out later, but right now, this arrangement stands.”

“Ronan—”

“Riley stays here until we figure out our next move, so I suggest you try not to scare her off with your charming personality."

Riley scoffs. “Don’t worry, I’m not scared of your little watchdog.”

My eyes meet hers, and there’s nothing but challenge in them.

Not that I would ever admit it, but I’m a little impressed by her confidence. It’s rare that someone stands up to me, and even rarer that someone is a woman.