The expected knock came, and he straightened. “I’ll get it. Eat.”
Ronan turned and strolled to the door, checking the peephole before pulling it open. Cross, wearing a white V-neck T-shirt and black jeans, went noticeably stiff at the sight of him.
“For fuck’s sake,” the man muttered. “You. Again.”
He shrugged. “Come in.”
One of Cross’s dark brows winged upward. “Where’s my sister?”
“Eating dinner. You’re welcome to join us if you haven’t eaten yet.” Stepping aside, Ronan waved him in. “Your sister-in-law made a casserole that Ireland says you enjoy.”
Cross strode past him. Closing the door, he followed.
“Hey, bro.” Ireland’s voice called out with a forced note of cheer. “Thanks for stopping by.”
Ronan left the foyer in time to see Cross bend to kiss Ireland on her forehead. The startled look on her face told him volumes. Then Cross pulled over Ronan’s stool and sat beside her.
“How are you feeling?” he asked her, his gaze lowering to catalog her visible injuries. Ronan saw a muscle ticcing in the man’s jaw and knew he must be feeling the rage that Ronan did.
“No longer tired, still achy, and a little stoned,” she answered brightly, and it didn’t escape his notice that she recited it by rote.
“I’m sorry it took so long for me to come over.” Cross hooked his feet on the footrail of the stool and rested his hands on his knees. His wedding ring was wrapped in rubies, making it stand out starkly against his dark jeans. “Eva booked us an emergency therapy session, but I went alone so she could be here with you earlier. It’s good that I went, and I think it’s important that you start talking to someone, too.”
Ireland set down her fork. “Well… Does your guy have a recommendation?”
“Our insurance company has therapists who deal specifically with kidnapping survivors. They recommend that you go through what they call a ‘debrief’ with a trauma specialist as soon as possible and that you start more intensive therapy as soon as you feel stable, but within the month at the latest.”
Ronan walked over and stood behind her, setting his hands lightly on her shoulders.
She looked up at him with a blank expression. “But I’m already stable,” she said quietly, turning her attention back to Cross.
Cross glanced up at Ronan, and he gave a subtle shake of his head. Cross exhaled heavily.
“I’ll go with you if you like,cher,” Ronan murmured.
“Natalie or Eva would go with you,” Cross countered.
Ireland hummed noncommittally. “I’ll give it some thought. But listen, Gideon. What I wanted to talk to you about is the detectives’ focus on Ronan. They’re wasting time looking at him, and I’m worried that’s giving the woman…uh, person who was calling a chance to get away.”
Drumming his fingers on the counter, Cross gave her a studious look. “I’m not going to tell the investigators not to look at someone, Ireland. They need to look at everyone, everywhere, until they find those responsible for this. If Boudreaux is worried about what a deep dive will reveal, you should be worried about why.”
“They can look all they want,” Ronan shot back. “But not at the expense of looking elsewhere at the same time. Let’s allow Ireland to eat. I have some things I want to discuss with you.”
Cross’s gaze narrowed, but he stood and gestured toward the living room. “Lead the way.”
“I don’t want to eat alone like some child at the kids’ table,” Ireland protested.
Ronan gave her shoulders a gentle squeeze. “It won’t take long.”
As he walked the short distance to the living room, he felt a warning tingle course down his spine, the sense of something dangerous and hungry stalking his heels. It was why, he supposed, that Cross was so inherently intimidating. It wasn’t just his money that gave Ireland’s brother power; it was his ruthlessness and predatory intellect.
Sitting in one of the armchairs, he watched as Cross glanced at his duffel and satchel on the other armchair before taking a seat on the sofa.
The look Cross gave him was icy, and when he spoke, his voice was pitched low and threateningly even. “It should go without saying that if you hurt my sister in any way, I will end you. I will personally see to it that you’re ruined. What you’ve done with Vidal Records is child’s play compared to what I’ll do to you.”
“Gideon…” Ireland said from the kitchen, sighing heavily. “I’m a big girl, you know. I can fuck him up myself if he needs it.”
Ronan didn’t even try to hide his smile. “And so she can. Regardless, I’ll heed your warning. Can we move on to more pressing things?”
