The girl I knew ten years ago who would have shrunk under Luna’s attention disappeared, and a new woman emerged in her place. But she wasn’t entirely new. I still saw the depth in her eyes, the determination, but I was now also looking at grace and poise, and tells from years of conditioning—straight shoulders, still hands, unwavering eye contact, and most obvious, her lack of any accent.
It all stood out, but not as much as the discoloration on her collarbone, upper arm and both shins. Her hair was a mess, her dress was disheveled, and I didn’t give a fuck if this was consensual or not, I was going to kill Vance the first chance I got. Right after I beat the fucking shit out of him for destroying the most beautiful part of my Songbird.
Because the one thing that I didn’t see in her, the one thing that made her uniquely mine all those years ago, what I would’ve killed for and still would, was her natural submissiveness.
It was gone.
And in its place was anger.
Her left eye twitched, and her chest rose with a steadying breath, and I knew Luna was about to have his ass verbally handed to him.
“Mr. Luna.” The woman who was no longer my Songbird clasped her hands. Then like the performer she now was, despite looking like she went three rounds and lost, she put on an air of confidence. “I can assure you that if I can manage to sing to sold-out stadiums, I can certainly tell the difference between domestic violence and consent. I can also assure you that not only surviving but thriving for ten years in the music industry has left me with a thicker skin than you could possibly imagine. And while I regret my less-than-perfect appearance, I do not have to justify, explain, or defend myself. Mr. Trefor, Vance and myself have asked you here to help with the bomber, and that is all I need from you. Do we have an understanding?”
Luna stared at her for a beat. “All right, we have an understanding. But know this, if Conlon so much as touches you in front of me, I’m breaking both of his arms.”
“I’m sure that won’t be necessary.” Her voice was the deep smoothness that had made her a star, but her tone was all attitude.
“Necessary or not, I stand by my word.” Luna glanced at me. “Anything else?”
I didn’t hesitate. “Have you been in contact with him all this time?”
She blinked. Then the veiled anger thinning her lips released as her eyebrows drew together. “What?”
I’d thrown her. Good. “Have you been spending time with Vance since you signed your first contract?”
Her frown deepened. “No, of course not. I didn’t even know he worked for Adam when I called Alpha Elite Security. I only reconnected with Vance three months ago.”
I nodded once. “Then you don’t know everything he’s capable of.” But I did. I’d kept tabs on him both while he was in the Marines and after he got out and joined Trefor.
Her attitude came back in an instant. “I’m sure—”
The door to the suite opened.
His phone to his ear, Trefor motioned for us to come back inside. “Sitrep.” He turned away from the door and gave his attention to the call. “Copy that. I want all passenger lists from Heathrow to Miami checked, and keep me apprised of any status updates at any of our watch points… Ten-four.” He hung up.
In a new shirt and with a piece of tape across the bridge of his nose, Vance smiled as we all walked back into the suite, but his gaze zeroed in on Sanaa. “Have they offered you sanctuary from me yet, love?”
“Yes, and they’re also offering to break both of your arms if you touch me in front of them.”
Vance chuckled as he held his hands up. “Fair enough. As it were, I’m partial to two working limbs.” One eye already swollen, he winked his good eye at her, then his gaze cut to me and he dropped the bullshit smile. “I think we’re even.”
I was going to enjoy beating him within an inch of his life.
“Conlon, Luna.” Trefor glanced between me, Luna and Sanaa. “We’ve got movement. The information we leaked has gone viral as of a half hour ago. It’s all over social media that she’s here in Miami for the week. Hotel security has alerted me that paparazzi are already camped downstairs