Once it touches down, the side door slides open before the rotors have even slowed.
Bronx jumps out, and in that beat of time, the world narrows to just him.
He’s head to toe in black, tailored to perfection, his shirt unbuttoned at the collar that moves in the wind, revealing a glimpse of tanned skin and the ink curling across his chest. Dark sunglasses shield his eyes, but there’s nothing casual about the way he moves.
Every step toward me is determined; his long strides eating up the concrete between us.
One of the security men says something to him, but Bronx doesn’t slow. He lowers the sunglasses just enough for his hazel eyes to meet mine. There’s a flash of something darkin them. Something lethal.
My pulse kicks harder with every step he takes because I have his full attention.
By the time he reaches me, the wind from the rotors is whipping my dress against my legs and pushing my hair across my face.
His hands come up to my cheeks, and he brushes the loose strands back. “You okay, princess?”
The deep rasp of his voice cuts through the roar of the helicopter.
“Yeah, you know me,” I say. “Unshakeable.”
He thumbs my cheekbone and presses a quick kiss to my forehead.
“Good,” he murmurs. “I’ve got you now.”
Then his hand slides to the back of my neck, drawing me against his chest in a possessive embrace.
“Let’s go home.”
When he pulls away, I glance over at Livvie. Her hand is splayed over her chest, and she draws her lips between her teeth, trying—and failing—to hide a grin.
Bronx takes my hand and tugs me to his side, and there isn’t a single shred of resistance within me.
I hold my other hand out to Livvie, and she takes it.
“I think we’re gonna be sisters-in-law for a very long time, Tierney.”
The city drops away beneath us when I’m fixing my headset in place. Livvie sits beside the pilot, her phone in her hand, typing out a flurry of messages.
Bronx turns toward me and rests his hand over mine. “What did they say to you?”
“They knew my name. Called me Tierney Blake. Said itwas time we talked about Connor.” I swallow. “They said he’s been hard to find… until now.”
Bronx’s jaw tightens as he laces his fingers with mine, the tendons in his hand tightening.
“Apparently he owes people back home,” I continue. “That crossing the ocean didn’t erase the debt. They know where he lives… and that I live in the same building.”
The warmth leaves his expression.
“They also said family loyalty only goes so far,” I add. “And that you can’t keep a dead man alive for long.”
Bronx watches me for a moment, completely still.
“Well, they made a big fucking mistake,” he says. “Coming to my city.”
Then he reaches into the pocket of his trousers and pulls out his phone. His thumbs move across the screen, typing quickly while the helicopter hums around us.
He sends it, locks the phone, and slides it back into his pocket.
“My men are hunting them.” His thumb sweeps across my skin. “No one threatens my wife and walks away.”
