Page 80 of Stay Little Fighter

“Seems like it.”

“If we could figure out when they’re meeting next, we might be able to take them out at the same time on neutral territory.”

He nods. “My thoughts exactly. Not having to split up would probably make Chloe feel more secure about this whole thing as well. I know she’s anxious about one of us getting hurt.”

I frown. I’ve done my best not to mention the impending murder of her father-in-law and Damon’s ex-fiancée around her because I haven’t wanted her stressed while she’s recovering, but maybe I was just lying to myself.

Of course she’s worried. Her heart is so big and she feels so deeply, it only makes sense that she would be afraid of us not coming home to her.

“Corbin is working on tracking Mikayla’s movements since we saw her leave the farmhouse to figure out when they might meet again.”

“We could use the brothers as bait,” I suggest.

He glares at me. “Didn’t we just discuss how stressed our girl already is? Do you really think putting them in the firing line is going to help matters?”

“I’m not saying put them in actual danger. I’m saying there are two things that Mikayla and Salvatore both want. Damon and Chloe. There’s no way in hell we’re using her as bait, but he can take care of himself, and we’ll make sure we’re close by in case anything goes wrong.”

Kingston pinches the bridge of his nose the way he always does when he’s irritated by the options presented to him. He knows I have a point. He knows this is our best play, but he’s right, Chloe will freak the fuck out if we tell her this is our plan.

“We’ll discuss it at the family meeting,” he finally says.

“We’re actually doing that?”

That earns me another glare, but he doesn’t bother responding, instead turning on his heel and heading toward the kitchen.

Now I just have to figure out how the hell I’m going to talk them into my plan.

Maybe another round with the bag will help me think it through.

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

CHLOE

NOW

Istretch out my sore muscles as I pad down the steps to the kitchen, where my guys are making breakfast. Or at least that’s what I assume they’re doing based off the mouthwatering smell of bacon wafting through the house and all the banging and crashing coming from this part of the house.

Stepping around the corner, I stop dead in my tracks at the sight before me.

Ronan is covered in flour, his black shirt far closer to white than it was when he put it on. Beside him, Damon scowls down at a recipe with a block of butter clenched in each hand.

Whatever’s happening by the stove seems to be going better because Ryker has one hand buried in his pocket while the other holds a pair of tongs, occasionally moving the contents of the pans around so they don’t stick.

Kingston stands by the toaster, his back to the disaster happening in the middle of the kitchen, and I can’t swallow the giggle that forces its way out at the complete chaos I’ve walked into.

They all look up at once, their eyes heating when they see I’m wearing nothing but an oversized shirt I think belongs to Ryker and touches just above my knees.

Wait until they realize I’m not wearing anything underneath because I couldn’t bring myself to put panties on my oversensitive pussy.

“Good morning, Siren,” Ryker calls from the stove. “Breakfast will be ready in a minute. Apart from whatever these two are trying to make.”

“Croissants,” Ronan grumbles, and I’m as amused as I am warmed by the fact they’re trying to make one of my favorite foods in the world.

I step forward until I’m on the opposite side of the island to the mess the brothers have made. “That’s very sweet of you guys. Thank you for thinking of me.”

“We’re going to figure this out,” Damon assures me.

“I tried to tell them how advanced a recipe it was,” Kingston says as he butters a piece of toast. “But the stubborn Lombardi blood runs strong in these two.”