“You liked him enough to keep in touch?”
Ronan’s eyes narrowed. “I hadn’t seen or talked to Deck since then. At least not until he contacted me a couple of months ago.”
According to Z, Ronan was the one who’d contacted Deck. Which was it? Who was lying? And why?
Opting not to point out that he’d already detected a lie, Brantley asked, “So you’re not friends?”
“Friends?” Ronan shook his head. “No. Acquaintances? Perhaps. He’s been around a bit more these past couple of months. I’ve had a chance to get to know him better.”
“Is that something you usually do with people you hire?”
Ronan frowned. “I’ve come to trust Deck. To a degree.”
Brantley wondered if that was something that came easily. Ronan’s trust. Based on the fact he looked as though he was expecting one of them to draw a weapon on him at any moment, he seriously doubted it.
“More than the armed entourage in the lobby?” Slade questioned.
Ronan’s black eyebrows rose as he glanced at Slade.
“We’re trying to figure out why you hired Deck to keep an eye on your sister when you’ve got personal protection,” Brantley clarified.
He had to give the man credit. Ronan managed to mask his expression. If he were surprised that they were here or that they were digging into his life, he didn’t show it. However, it was obvious to Brantley that Ronan wasn’t one to engage in conversation with people he didn’t know well.
“Look, Mr. Kavanagh, we—”
“Ronan,” he said sternly. “Mr. Kavanagh is my father.”
There was a hint of hostility in his tone that had Brantley’s hackles rising.
“Ronan,” he drawled slowly. “To find Deck, we need to—”
Ronan sat up straight. “Find him? What makes you think he’s missing?”
Brantley looked at Reese and frowned. What the fuck was going on here?
“That’s why we’re here,” Reese explained. “Deck hasn’t checked in for four days, and Sniper 1 Security has deemed him missing. We assumed he was with your sister.”
The man pursed his lips and shook his head, his mask of indifference falling back in place. “Not to my knowledge.”
“Where’s Saoirse?” Brantley asked.
His answer came easily. “My best guess is that she’s at home.”
There was a casualness to his tone that told Brantley he was lying. He was trying to appear bored by the conversation, but the tense shoulders and constant eye movement were a dead giveaway.
“And home would be?”
Ronan’s eerie green gaze slid over them. “I’m confused.”
“That makes six of us,” Atticus mumbled from the end of the table.
“You’re here looking for Decker, and you think he’s with my sister?”
“You hired him to protect Saoirse,” Brantley stated.
Ronan’s expression morphed into something that resembled amusement. “I did no such thing. As you said, I’ve got armed protection. And I don’t mean only those you encountered in the lobby. Why would I need to hire him? And why on earth would I hire him to watch my sister?”
“That’s what we’re tryin’ to find out,” Reese said. “According to our information, you called Deck back in June and hired him to provide your sister with twenty-four-hour protection. He brought that information to his superiors and asked for the assignment specifically. Until four days ago, he’d been checking in regularly, every twelve hours.”
