I look into her eyes, at the desperation swirling in them.
Killian and Jenson will have it covered. I can spend half an hour with her until she falls asleep.
She lets out a deep sigh as I remove my gun, placing it onto the bedside table, then climb on top of the covers beside her. My head hasn’t even touched the pillow before she curls herself and Monty into my side, resting her head near my shoulder.
Her warm breath fans over my chest, lightly teasing my nipple. I gently place one arm around her with my hand against her back. She sinks into me like it’s the first time she’s been able to relax since the incident.
“Thank you,” she breathes.
Monty rests his head on my rib cage, staring at me. His long pink tongue extends, and he licks me over and over as Sinclair strokes his head with a soft laugh.
“I think he’s saying thank you too.”
The rough grate of his tongue leaves wet patches on my ribs that turn cold in the air before he licks them again.
I tighten my arm around them both.
“You’re welcome, Monty,” I rasp, then I dip my nose into Sinclair’s hair for a second, breathing her in. “You both are.”
Soft cries shake her body in her sleep. I stroke her hair from her face, shushing her. Monty’s moved lower down the bed and is now sleeping across the bottom.
Sinclair’s been restless since she fell asleep, toeing a line between dreams and memories as she whimpers out Monty’s name. But the one that tore into me the most was when she cried out her brother’s name. She had rubbed at her neck as she’d cried it, like she was searching for comfort.And there was nothing I could fucking do.
I always liked her brother. Everyone did. Losing him was like losing a friend. Something I know the pain of all too well.
My phone lights up with another text as I lean against the headboard, where I’ve positioned myself since Sinclair fell asleep. I’ve been talking to Killian and Jenson. And I called Sterling too. He told me to stay with Sinclair tonight. But even if he hadn’t instructed me to, there’s no way I would have left her like this.
Killian: No links to Neil with the attempt on Monty. The guy is either smarter than we give him credit for, or he’s not involved.
I curse under my breath. The last meeting we all had about Neil, we came up with the same answers.
None.
We patched Mal in, who’s back in Botswana, checking on business. But between him, Sterling, Sullivan, Killian, Jenson, and I, we have nothing.
Sterling’s family are relying on us to give them answers. And we’ve got shit. For more than two years, all we’ve had is shit. Sterling might have ordered Killian and Jenson to stop going back to Cape Town to try to find out what happened that day, but I can’t let it go. Yachts don’t burst into flames like that. Fires don’t spread that fast. Not unless something, or someone, feeds them.
The Beauforts are one of the wealthiest families in the world. There are plenty of people who could see them as a target. But before the fire, there was nothing. No threats, no demands for money. Nothing. And after was the same. No one took credit for the deaths. No sick bastard came forward to gloat about their ability to get close to the family undetected.
Sterling needs to move on and live his life. He’s got Halliday and the baby. I get how a baby can change you. How you need to put their needs before your own.
But I won’t give up looking, even if Sterling has told us to.
I owe it to him.
And if there’s even a chance that it’s connected to Neil, and the things that have been happening to Sinclair are too, then he’s going to wish he never came back to New York.
Sinclair cries softly, her face screwed up as her dreams haunt her.
I clench my jaw and text Killian.
Me: Keep looking. Whoever went after Monty is going to pay.
15
SINCLAIR
Denver looks so calmwhen he sleeps. A direct contrast to the tension that’s usually streaking across his brow in precise lines.
