“Ah. Ronan. May I introduce the man who is trying to arrest your sister?”
“Arrest Lucy?” he asked dumbly, his eyes moving over the three of us. Behind him, I spotted several of our teammates, all watching the scene with a hushed readiness. Prepared to jump into action should their captain require assistance.
For once their blind loyalty didn’t aggravate me.
“That’s right. This man is determined to call the Garda even after I explained it had been a joke.”
“It was not a joke,” the clerk raged. A vein stood out in relief on his red forehead. “That girl,” he pointed to Lucy with obvious spite and contempt, and I saw Ronan tense at the movement, “tried to steal from my shop, and this odious man is trying to take the blame for it.”
I shifted my eyes to Ronan’s, finding his wide with dawning comprehension.
“And if he,” the clerk gestured to me, “would unhand the thief, she’d confess everything herself.”
“Don’t unhand her,” Ronan ordered, giving me a stark look. Then addressing the clerk, shouted, “If he said he did it, then he did it. Stop badgering my sister and go call the Garda. Have them come and sort it out. Go.”
The man stiffened in surprise, gaped, then opened his mouth like he was ready to argue. But he didn’t. Instead, he gave a belligerent, prideful sniff and spun on his heel, marching to the shop desk and grabbing the phone behind the counter.
Lucy huffed through her nose, drawing my attention back to her. I relaxed my hold slightly and tried to look down, examine her expression. She stared forward, looking mortified and angry.
I bent to whisper something in her ear, a plea for her to stay quiet, but was interrupted from doing so by Ronan.
“I don’t know what happened,” he’d lowered his voice so only we three were privy to his threatening words, “but whatever you’re trying to do to my sister—”
“Just listen for one fucking second, okay?” I growled, leaning closer. “I’m trying to keep her from getting into trouble. Just let me take the blame and get her out of here.”
Lucy’s garbled protest was lost to my hand while Ronan reeled back, frowning and blinking at me. His attention seemed to settle on my palm over his sister’s mouth, touching her with obvious familiarity.
“And why would you do that?” he demanded on a harsh whisper, after adequately recovering from my words and the blatant truth of what he was seeing. He might have been a bullheaded oaf, but he was a perceptive bullheaded oaf. Something in his gaze told me he was quickly adding things up, painting a picture, and coming to some kind of conclusion.
Lucy squeaked and tensed.
Ignoring her, I stared at him, flexing my jaw, undecided as to what course to take.
The moment of truth.
Would Ronan ever accept me for his sister? Probably not.
Would Lucy ever choose me over her brother? Most assuredly no.
Therefore, what did I have to lose?
Nothing . . .
Everything.
I’d already lost Lucy. She’d already made her decision by leaving my room. But the lovesick fool in me couldn’t bear to see her unhappy. Telling her brother about us, tearing apart her world, wasn’t my decision to make.
I swallowed the sentiment that, likely due to self-preservation, hadn’t quite formed in my mind.
Instead, I answered unsteadily, “To have one over on you. Why else?”
Ronan lifted a disbelieving eyebrow, his eyes moving between mine, searching. Then his gaze dropped to that of his sister’s. To my surprise, something like shrewd understanding knitted his eyebrows. And the longer he studied Lucy the more incredulous his gaze grew, as though he were reaching into her mind and forcefully extracting the truth.
“Well fuck me,” he breathed, blinking once at his sister. Ronan lifted his glare to mine again, his expression one of both anger and shock. “You’re in love with him.”
***
I wasn’t arrested.
Nor was Lucy.
The hotel manager arrived to intercept the Garda and reprimand the clerk.
I didn’t feel sorry for the man. He was old enough to know better. The world revolves around money and power and those who wield both. He’d been a fool to press the issue.
Ronan did most of the talking and the team stuck around to sign autographs for the cops, myself included. Though I couldn’t escape Ronan’s seething glares. In fact, I welcomed them.
With all his ire focused on me, perhaps he’d take things easy on Lucy.
Meanwhile, after I helped her collect the contents of her bag, Lucy had been unceremoniously ushered upstairs by Bryan Leech and William Moore, the Oklahoman. She’d been quiet in her wretchedness, and it was clear she was tearing herself apart, guilt warring with shame.