With the world in flux, Charles’s trial for white collar crime had been put on hold. He’d continued to reach out, and I hadn’t returned his calls.
After the divorce was final, Mom had left for Ireland and was now stuck there. She wasn’t speaking to me because I hadn’t invited her to my second wedding with Lizzy, though only close family and friends knew that. I’d wanted a drama-free day for my princess, my blonde, my Lizzy, my wife… my everything. The woman who calmed my dreams.
When I needed to talk, she was there to listen with no judgment. Little by little, I’d confessed what had happened to me at that place. There was nothing I wouldn’t do for the woman, including taking a step back from my vendetta. I had a family to protect, and that was more important.
Matt swore he’d keep up the fight until Ruin and the rest of the six were caught. According to him, the FBI had gotten two at the raid after I left, but the guys weren’t talking. And like Charles, their cases were on hold while the world was trying to figure out what illness was forcing everyone into isolation.
I opened the door to find a dark-haired man in his twenties in a dark plaid shirt, worn jeans, and shit-kickers standing on the stoop.
Perplexed, given that the mayor had asked us to hang tight in our homes, I asked, “Can I help you?”
“You’re Connor King, right?” He held out a hand.
I didn’t take it, but something about him was familiar. “And you are?”
“Liam. Your brother.”
I saw it coming when he stepped forward and took a swing. My reflexes were good. He missed because I’d learned how to fight, and well, many years ago. I had him pinned to the wall in seconds.
“What the fuck?” I demanded.
“That’s for Carrie,” he gritted as my hand held his head where it was.
“Carrie—”
It hit me. Carrie, my former sub. The one with a sweetheart back home named Liam I’d told her to go back to. I didn’t believe in coincidences. Had she sought me out? But that wasn’t my immediate question.
“You’re my brother?”
Liam growled as he nodded.
“Do you have another brother?” I asked as another thought slammed into me.
Looking as if he wanted to spit the word, Liam said, “Kalen. Kalen King.”
Of course. “What about Grant King?” I shook him a little when he didn’t immediately respond. “Are you sure you don’t have a brother named Grant King?”
That’s who he reminded me of. The pilot. The one who’d flown Lizzy and me to Turks and Caicos, Ireland, and back to New York.
If Grant King was his brother too, then our father was more of an asshole than I thought.
What the hell was going on?
Kalen came barreling down the hall with my waddling and heavily pregnant wife following. “What’s going on?” he asked.