I despise how relieved I was to see him last night in that parking lot.I don’t want to think I need him.I don’t even want to think I want him.Not after what he did.
But there’s an idea running through my head that we fit together like two puzzle pieces, even after all this time, him moving to cover me when I turn and me filling in the blank space around his body when he pulls me to him.It feels like we should have been doing this our entire lives—like wehavebeen—and like I wasted years of this potential by leaving.
I let myself catch on that thought momentarily, and then shake it off.None of that matters.I made the choice I made, and Lucien made his own choices, and there’s nothing we can do about that now.We might be allies for the moment, but we live very different lives and once I save Aislyn, I’ll head back to New York and my real friends.
I just have to take the next steps in my plan so I can do that.
Next steps that Lucien definitely won’t like.
“Sister,” a voice suddenly says in my ear.
I close my eyes, half in resignation and half in relief.I haven’t seen Beau since the last time I left New Orleans, and although he could have tried to find me after I moved to New York, I’m equally to blame.Because I didn’t try to find him.
For a long time, I also saw him as part of my father’s plot to plant me in the Boudreaux operation and use me to undermine Gemini and Lucien, and after a lifetime of looking at him as a hero, that had been a big blow.
I still don’t know for sure that hewasn’tpart of that plot, though, so when I turn to him, I’m hesitant.
He looks so much the same, though, that I have a moment of utter whiplash.Same broad cheekbones and wide eyes, as dark as chocolate and twice as warm.Dark hair to match, and a mouth that wants to laugh more than it wants to frown.He’s tall–as tall as Lucien, at least–and broader than he used to be.Five years older than me, Beau was the one I ran to when life got too scary, or when my father hurt me, and though I might have hated him for not protecting me from Dad, I never did.Beau had been a child as well, and incapable of doing anything to stop my father’s temper.
Hell, I’d seen my dad go after Beau, too, and that had been worse than anything he ever did to me.I remembered the moment well.He had Beau tied up against the wall and was using a belt on him, leaving welts and cuts along my brother’s back, and though Beau had been standing tight-lipped, not making a sound, my heart had shattered into a million pieces seeing it.
And then I put it back together, encased it with stone, and attacked my father, screaming at him to stop.
That had only gotten me in trouble, and I’d ended up forced to watch as my father punished my brother for me having said anything.A part of my soul had never recovered from that.But the armor around my heart only grew stronger.I learned to keep my feelings buried when they would be damaged, and to see things clearly when I needed to get shit done.And my relationship with Beau grew deeper than ever.
Then I ran for New York and left him behind.
So right now, seeing him for the first time in years, is like water to a woman dying of thirst.
I fly into his arms, screaming with laughter, and he catches me and holds me close, his heart hammering against my own and finding the same rhythm, the way it always has.
When he pushes me back to look at me, his grin is big enough to split his face.“You didn’t even tell me you were in town.”
“I haven’t exactly had time,” I said, laughing.“I just got here!”
He tips his head at that, though, and the smile melts away.“You haven’t been here in years.I thought you were done with this place.What are you doing here?And why’s your hair...”
He gestures vaguely to my hair, by which I guess he means to ask why it’s red now instead of blond.
I answer the easiest question first.
“I decided I like it better red.”
His eyes grow narrow.“And the rest?”
I pause for a moment, mind flying over the facts.How much can I tell him?Do I trust him?CanI trust him?
No, I realize.I want to, but I can’t.Not until I know whose side he’s on.Because if he’s allied with my father, in the name of taking over the Landry family one day, it’ll mean he knows about what Dad is doing.
“One of my friends in New York was kidnapped,” I say, going for a partial truth, which will be easier to keep track of if he decides to question me.“And her trail led me here.I’m trying to find her, before...”
“Before....?”he asks.
God dammit, he’s become better at hiding his feelings than he used to be.When we were kids, Beau couldn’t keep a single secret from me.After so long, though, I don’t know how to read him.
“Before anything happens to her,” I say quietly, wondering.And then, on a gamble: “I’m afraid she might have been taken by human traffickers.”
I watch him closely, intent on catching any change that might be due to guilt or knowledge.Anything that says he knows what I’m talking about.But his face remains neutral, with very slight shock.
