Page 81 of Sinner’s Game

“I considered suggesting that she rent Ellie’s property. It’s smaller, but workable.”

“That’s a good idea,” he agreed. “Or—”

“Or?”

He shook his head. He’d been about to point out that there was plenty of room in the lighthouse. Two floors that were used primarily for storage. They’d make an excellent space for her. But that wasn’t a road he was going to walk down.

“So how are you feeling?” she asked, not pressing him for details. Probably because she knew exactly what he’d been thinking. Tamra had a knack of knowing what “her boys”—as she often called Devlin and Ronan—were thinking. Most of the time, he appreciated it, especially having grown up without a mother.

Today, it just put him on edge.

Still, he couldn’t lie to her. “Honestly,” he said, “I’m feeling a little like a fool. A melancholy fool.”

She reached over and patted his hand. “I’m here to listen if you want to talk about it.”

He didn’t, but his mouth started moving anyway. “I can’t even remember what she looked like.”

“Michelle?”

He nodded. Tamra was the one person he’d told. Tamra, who was a stand-in for everyone’s mother.

“She stopped being the woman I loved years ago. She became someone I had to avenge. I held on to my guilt for so long that I’ve lost the only other woman in my life I ever loved.”

“She’s not lost, Ronan. You can get her back.”

The words hit him with the force of a train. He’d screwed up with Brandy—screwed up bigtime. But unlike Michelle, he really could get Brandy back.

He could. And, dammit, he would.

He pushed back from the table to stand. “I need to go. Can I drop you somewhere?”

“She’s not home,” Tamra said, obviously understanding the thread of his thoughts. “She’s at the expo center this morning, setting up for tonight’s grand opening. But I bet she’d like to see that gorgeous face of yours there.”

“I’ll need a ticket.”

Tamra smiled. “I think I can manage that.” She pulled out her phone and dialed. “Cara, it’s Tamra. Listen, can you get me a pass for the Expo this morning? Yes, I know it’s closed to the public. The foundation has a client who is hoping to get a behind the scenes peek. Just set it up as someone on BB Bags’ payroll. Yes, thank you. Just leave it in my name. You’re the best.”

She ended the call and flashed Ronan a conspiratorial smile. “Easy as pie.”

Fifteen minutes later, Ronan was dressed and cruising down Sunset Canyon toward Costa Mesa, having already dropped Tamra at the foundation. He was about to merge onto the freeway when his phone rang, the in-dash system identifying the caller as Colonel Seagrave.

“Colonel, what can I do for you?”

“You need to hurry,” Seagrave said, his voice as hard as stone. “Brandy’s still in danger.”

Ronan’s entire body went cold. “Tell me,” he said as he hit the accelerator, his attention now divided between getting safely to the expo center and hearing every detail of what Seagrave had to say.

“We recovered the fake Brandy’s phone. Her name is Tiffany Shein, and she’s been on Interpol’s radar for awhile. As herself, not Brandy. Apparently she and Matheson worked as a team. Some small cons, a few larger heists. They’ve done a few jobs directly—your Mr. White was evidence of that—but mostly they’re guns for hire.”

“And she used Brandy’s face when making a hit.”

“We’ve scoured footage. From what we can tell that was a relatively new alias. But she did come up on footage in a hotel in London. An industrialist—one we know was dirty—was assassinated. Brandy—or her double—was in the elevator not long before the hit. London police never identified her. Apparently Brandy doesn’t have a passport.”

“We’ll need to fill them in at some point. I don’t want this blowing back on her. But this hardly puts her in danger. Especially now that we know the scam.”

“Son,” Seagrave said gravely, “the London hit was authorized by someone else.”

“Who?” Ronan said, his body going cold with dread.