He strolled toward them, his expression pinched, his light green eyes practically glowing. His black hair was artfully tousled, styled to look as though he had just gotten out of bed, she was sure. She figured the scruff on his jaw and the well-manicured mustache and goatee took far more effort to maintain than appeared.
There was a reason he’d been slated as one of the sexiest men alive by more than one media outlet.
Recalling what she’d read, she knew Ronan was six feet tall, but he seemed larger than that. Even next to Brantley and Reese, who had four or five inches on him. He wore a white dress shirt and black slacks, his muscular frame discreetly masked by the conservative wardrobe. He wasn’t as big as Brantley, but he was big enough.
Not that Becs was checking him out from a perspective of interest. More like intrigue because he was a celebrity. She hadn’t met a celebrity before.
Ronan held out his hand to Brantley. “Ronan Kavanagh.”
Brantley shook his hand and then introduced him to the rest of them. Becs didn’t shake his hand, but she nodded when he said, “It’s nice to meet you all.”
She did her best not to swoon at the sexy Irish lilt.
“Follow me,” Ronan stated before turning and going back the way he’d come.
Thankfully, she was at the back of the group, so she didn’t get a chance to look at his ass. The last thing she wanted was to drool on her first field assignment.
Chapter Eleven
Ronan Kavanagh looked exactly like his photographs.
His class and sophistication weren’t faked. The way he carried himself spoke of entitlement and wealth. As for whether he’d grown up in the lap of luxury or he was a street rat who’d clawed his way to the top, Brantley didn’t know. The family history was steeped in secrets and mystery. Or so JJ had told him via text after another attempt to trace their origins.
The one thing he did know was that the family was as much a titan as the company they’d created.
Granted, Brantley had expected to see a laid-back version of the man on a Sunday afternoon, but he wasn’t entirely surprised. Something told him that nothing about the Kavanaghs was typical. Or laid-back. Considering they had armed escorts for their visitors, this family appeared to have something worth defending. Could’ve been people, possessions, or even secrets. Perhaps all of the above. Whatever it was, they weren’t messing around.
“Have a seat,” Ronan stated, gesturing toward a dozen empty seats around a large conference table. “Can I get you anything?”
“No.” Brantley wasn’t here to have tea on a Sunday afternoon.
Ronan’s gaze shifted to the rest of the team, one eyebrow cocked to extend the offer to them as well.
Everyone declined as Brantley pulled out one of the chairs and eased into it while he scoped the space around him.
Aside from the door they’d come through, it appeared there was a hidden exit at the back of the space. It blended relatively well with the glossy wood walls, but Brantley had been trained to seek out things like that. There were also two additional hidden compartments in the walls, both roughly waist high and long enough to hold anything from office equipment to a sizable cache of weapons. Brantley suspected it was the latter, considering the family was rumored to have mob ties. He figured they were loaded for bear and ready to take anyone on when the situation arose.
“Your secretary told me you’re here looking for Decker Bromwell,” Ronan said, glancing between all five of them as he pulled out a chair and sat.
“She’s not his secretary,” Atticus said at the same time Slade said, “Don’t let JJ hear you say that.”
Brantley cut his gaze to them and silenced them with a look. Slade mouthedI’m sorrybefore squaring his shoulders.
“Yes,” Reese confirmed. “We are.”
“Are you friends of his?”
“Areyou?” Atticus retorted.
Brantley glared at him and got an impish smile in response.
Maybe he should’ve left them all at the hotel.
“Co-workers,” Reese admitted.
“How well do you know him?” Brantley asked, wanting to maintain control of this conversation.
Ronan’s eyebrow lifted, his all-seeing gaze shifting over each of their faces. “About as well as I know anyone. I met Deck a few years ago while he was on assignment for a family friend. We made our introductions over a glass of whiskey at the bar.”
