Matteo agrees, which comes as a little bit of a shock. He’d been so adamant that he was just being nice and doing things for me this year that I thought I’d have to fight him. “I’ll send you the diamond back with Diarmuid, if you trust him with that.”
Oh, did I mention I have millions of dollars’ worth of cut diamonds, all of the favors I’m owed, hidden in the safe under my floorboards?
Yeah.
My life is too complicated.
* * *
Isit in my doorway, pretend to read a book and eat a protein bar for an hour. I’ve changed into my old man’s sweater, a pair of shorts, and thigh-high socks. I like to cover the scars on my leg, and it’s already too warm for pants. I’m getting impatient waiting for Avery to appear. Every minute that goes by is a minute closer to Harley being ambushed by his uncle, and it’s all my fault. Not that I can tell him it’s my fault. I can’t tell him I’m getting information on the Beaumonts without starting another war. My stomach turns. I have to tell them something.
When Avery finally arrives and breaks my spiraling thoughts, she’s being escorted back to her room by Ash. It’s a pain in the ass, because I was hoping it was still Harley’s turn to babysit her. Now I’d have to actually come up with some excuse for them to get Harley up here.
“Too poor for a chair, Mounty?” drawls Ash, Avery’s ballet bag slung over his shoulder. I’ve told him about my stash, so I know he’s baiting me. It’s the next step in our push-pull game.
“I was waiting for you guys to get back.” I haul myself up off the floor and prop my hands on my hips.
Avery doesn’t acknowledge me; she just grabs her bag and saunters into her room. Ash smirks at me, but I can see something has changed in his eyes. There’s a soft edge in them that wasn’t there before. It’s like every one of our interactions so far has chipped away a little at him, and he’s opening up. I shiver and rub my arms uselessly. I’m not cold. Someone should tell my pebbled nipples that fact, too.
“I can’t give you any answers, Mounty. But I can say thanks for helping out and shutting up about it.” He leans back into the door frame, and my eyes run down the long line of his legs. Focus, Lips, fuck.
“Look, it’s not about Joey. I need to speak to Harley urgently. Can you text him to come here? Or meet me somewhere else on campus?”
A frown appears on his brow, and he straightens. Whatever expression I have on my face is concerning him. He slides his hand into his pocket, but then Avery pokes her head out of the door again.
“Stay the fuck away from my cousin.” It’s the first time I’ve ever heard her swear. Cousin. I forgot about that; the Beaumonts have a mobster for a cousin. This is a fucking mess. I’m in too deep and I need to get out.
Deep breath.
There’s no way out. Only through it.
I dart across the hallway and grab Avery’s arm. She freezes and so does Ash, the tense lines of him pressed against my chest where he’s trapped between us. I make sure my grip is gentle, so she can’t screech at me and he can’t attack me over touching his beloved sister. I don’t need to be rough, though; I have their attention.
“Does the name Dairmuid O’Cronin mean anything to you?” I whisper, and then I watch as they both turn to stone. “He’s on his way here to speak to his dear nephew.”
Ash breaks first, cursing long and hard under his breath in creative and colorful ways. I nod curtly and let Avery go.
“Fucking call him. Now.”
Chapter 25
Avery’s room is utterly ridiculous, and I am jealous as all hell about it.
It is fitted out perfectly not only for her, but for the three guys in case they all wanted to have a big freaking sleepover there every night. There’s roll-out beds under her giant Cal King and a day bed built into the window. Everything is in tasteful shades of cream and gray, pillows and throw rugs on every surface. How have I never noticed them coming and going from her room? I glance around while we wait.
The kitchen is fully stocked, I have no idea why she bothers with the overcrowded dining hall, and her closet is the size of my entire room. I only ever see her wearing her uniform. Why the hell does she need this much space? And there, in the corner, is a private bathroom. That’s the thing I’m most jealous of. To be able to lock the bedroom door and shower in your own bathroom. Avery is living the dream four fucking steps from the closet I sleep in. I take some deep, deep breaths, and I tell myself I’ll have this someday. Better even, because I’ll have earned it myself and I’ll appreciate it.
Avery paces in the kitchen area, running her hands along the surfaces like she’s looking for dust, but it doesn’t exist, and Ash sits stiffly on the couch. I perch on the edge on one of the armchairs and roll my eyes at Avery’s dirty look.
“Is there somewhere I can sit, then? Or are you afraid I’ll sully your fucking furniture?” I snap at her, and she rolls her eyes.
“That’s Harley’s seat. Blaise usually just camps on the floor like a three-year-old so maybe sit in his chair, the other armchair. I don’t want Harley getting ideas.” I open my mouth to retort ‘what ideas’ when Ash snaps at us both.
“She can sit wherever the fuck she wants, just tell us what’s going on? How the fuck do you know Dairmuid?”
Avery starts wiping down the kitchen counters. Huh, I did not expect her to know how to clean. I shake the thought out of my head and reply to Ash, “I’m not repeating myself; it’ll only piss us all off. How far away are they? We’re on a time crunch here.”
“We’re here.” Harley opens the door, and he and Blaise stroll in. There’s no tenseness to him at all, just curiosity. I sigh. Avery didn't tell him what this was all about, then.
