Page 51 of Stay Little Fighter

“Sorry.” I smirk.

“No, you’re not,” Ronan says against the shell of my ear. “Just remember you won’t be on bed rest forever, and we’ve been waiting very patiently to get back inside your perfect body.”

I groan, dragging the attention of Kingston and Damon, who were speaking in hushed whispers, their eyes darkening when they find my cheeks pink and lips parted.

“Don’t go asking for trouble, Mama,” Kingston warns.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He chuckles, prowling forward until his fingers grasp my chin and tip my face up. His dark eyes are filled with a mixture of heat and concern. “You know exactly what you’re doing, Chloe,” he murmurs, his lips close enough I can almost taste them. “And unless you want to be edged into oblivion as soon as you’re cleared, I suggest you not tease.”

I bite down on my bottom lip, my cheeks aching as I try to keep the smile from my face.

As much as I don’t hate the idea, it seems wise not to let him know that.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

RONAN

NOW

“You said it was a beach house,” Damon grumbles, dropping our bags beside the grand staircase across from the front door.

“It’s a house on the beach.” Kingston shrugs as he guides Chloe into the foyer, her eyes comically wide as she looks around.

The drive was surprisingly quiet despite how long it was. We’re on high alert, and it didn’t matter how we tried to convince ourselves that we were safe. We couldn’t shake the feeling that we were being followed.

Growing up as a Lombardi, I’m used to having enemies. It comes with the territory, and I rarely gave it much thought.

But this is different in so many ways.

For starters, we have two threats that we can’t place.

No one has seen Salvatore for over a week, and that’s unlike him. He may be paranoid as hell and only leave the compound with an army of men to protect him, but he never misses Thursday poker. He’s been playing at the cigar lounge in Miami since before I was born, and he’s missed approximately three games in thirty years.

And yet he’s missed the last two weeks without so much as a word.

I’d probably think he was dead if it weren’t for the fact no one has come out as the new leader of the Lombardi family.

His absence raises more questions than we have answers, and the not knowing is making me antsy.

The mole Kingston had in the family has also gone dark, which could mean he’s changed sides or that he’s no longer breathing. Either way, we’re not getting any information from him.

Damon mutters under his breath as he stalks farther into the house. He’s been different since I found him and Chloe at the run-down farmhouse.

He’s quieter, more reserved, and for the first time in his life, he’s uncertain of his place.

He always knew what his life would look like. There was never a moment where he had the chance to question what he wanted or who he wanted to be, and suddenly having those choices thrust at him all at once must be overwhelming, even for someone as sure of himself as Damon.

The other change is how he watches Chloe.

I don’t think he took his eyes off her for even a second of the five-hour drive despite riding shotgun.

“There’s no way this is secure,” he calls from the back of the house. “There’s a whole wall of windows back here.”

“It’s secure,” Kingston replies with an irritated huff. “It’s not like security is what I’ve dedicated the last twenty years of my life to or anything.”

Ryker drops the last of our stuff by the door and tugs Chloe into his arms. “Is the annoying Lombardi being annoying again?”