Chapter 27

Chapter 27

Monroe

Something’s wrong with Shiloh.

It’s subtle, but I’ve been watching this woman too closely for too long not to notice. It’s there in the tightness of her shoulders as we walk down the main street that compromises Old Town. This part of Raider territory is a large reason why no enemy has successfully taken the faction. Removing the Paines, for example, took a whole hell of a lot of effort and both Mystics and Amazons working with Eli Walsh’s traitorous father. But nothing short of a bomb would dig out Old Town and the people who live there.

This open-air market is three city blocks by seven city blocks and has three families who own most of the businesses in the space. Those families have been here since the inception of Sabine Valley. That’s why the first thing Abel Paine did when he staged his coup was to come here and declare his intentions to the Phan, Rodriguez, and Smith families.

A smart move on his part. No one holds power in the Raider faction without Old Town’s blessing.

I lace my fingers through Broderick’s as we stroll down the street. Shiloh catches a glimpse of that and starts to move away, but I grab her hand, too. “Where are you going?”

“You’re sending a message,” she says softly.

Broderick has slowed. He’s not looking at us, but he shifts a little closer to me as if he doesn’t want to miss a single word of this. I drag my thumb over Shiloh’s knuckles. Now isn’t the time or place to tell her what I realized last night, but I’ve always been a little too impulsive for my own good. “I care about you, Shiloh.” A nice, generic statement that won’t send her rabbiting away. “I have no intention of publicly claiming Broderick without you being involved.” When she still hesitates, I can’t help pressing. “Do you care about me?”

“Yes.” The word is almost lost in the sound of people walking and talking and shopping around us.

“Then what’s wrong with letting everyone know?” I speak just as softly as she is, and for once I can’t inject my voice with any bravado. As much as I don’t want to pressure her, a part of me can’t help wanting her to claim this.

To claim me.

For a moment, I think Shiloh is going to keep arguing, but she sighs and slips her hand into mine.

Maybe it should be awkward to walk down the street with the three of us, but it just feels horrifyingly right. I knew I was in over my head after last night, but this just confirms it. I’m entirely gone for Shiloh and half gone for Broderick, stubborn fool that he is. I…like him. Even when he has me climbing the walls—maybe especially when he has me climbing the walls.

We take our time, pausing to explore a few of the trinket shops before we end up in the center space with the handful of food trucks and restaurants. The intersection has picnic tables situated under carefully constructed awnings that keep out the worst of the weather and offer plenty of relief from the late-summer heat.

Shiloh extracts her hand from mine and gives us a sweet smile. “I’ll go grab some food.” She’s gone before I can offer to go with.

It’s just as well. Broderick and I have something to discuss. I sink onto the bench at the nearest table and pat the spot next to me. “Sit, husband.”

“I’m not—” He cuts himself off and sighs. “You know what? Forget it.” He sits next to me, thigh to thigh, and drapes his arm over the table behind me. “This for show, or you have something to say?”

I watch Shiloh weave through the late lunch crowd to the nearest food truck. “Both.” I take a deep breath. “Last night was a lot of fun.”

Broderick’s arm goes tense behind me. “I had fun, too.”

“I’d like to keep it up.” My words try to stick in my throat, something like self-consciousness making my skin heat. “The three of us, I mean. There’s no reason not to keep enjoying ourselves, and I don’t think it’s a stretch to say we both care a lot about Shiloh.”

“Right. About Shiloh.”

I try to look at him, but the sun is in my eyes, and I can’t read his expression properly. There’s absolutely no reason to look into it. Just because he’s sitting so close, smelling so damn good, and also doesn’t want me dead… None of that means he actually gives a damn about me. After working so hard to get under his skin and torment him for three weeks, I’m lucky he’s not trying to throw me in front of a bus.

He wouldn’t succeed, of course, but it’s the thought that counts.

That uncomfortable feeling beneath my skin gets worse. “Look—”

“Monroe.” He twists his body toward me and catches my chin in a light grip. I still can’t see him with the glare in my eyes, but his voice deepens. “We make one hell of a team. Do you agree?”

“Yes,” I say cautiously.

“We’re in agreement that we both want Shiloh, and we’re both willing to share.”

“Yes,” I say again. It never even occurred to me to keep Shiloh to myself, not once I realized that she returned Broderick’s attraction. We fit well, but I’ll admit that I have a whole lot of fun when Broderick is involved, too. The power dynamics become so fluid, and our interactions just hit me in all the right spots. I’m not one to put labels on things; I’ve enjoyed monogamous relationships and polyamorous ones. Whatever fits everyone’s needs and ensures we’re having a good time is what I’m into.

Shiloh and I have a good time together.

But we have an even better time with Broderick in the mix.

Broderick strokes my bottom lip with his thumb. “That’s not the only thing we’re in alignment with, though. Is it, Monroe?”

“No. I guess not.” I try for a witty comeback, but his tough shorts out my thoughts. “I enjoy provoking you when we’re fucking, but it’s kind of nice having actual conversations sometimes.”

“Yeah, it is kind of nice, isn’t it?” He strokes my lip again. “I don’t like the thought of you dead.”

I swallow hard. It doesn’t mean anything. No matter how I push and provoke him, at his core, Broderick is a good man. Of course he wouldn’t want me dead. But I can’t leave this tiniest of olive branches unanswered. “I don’t want you dead, either.”

“Thought so.” He slowly drops his hand, but he doesn’t lean back. “Look at that. Two things we’re in agreement on. I think that’s more than enough to ensure some peace between us. Don’t you think so?”

I feel like he’s hypnotized me. I sway toward him before I can stop myself. “Yes.”

“Three things.” He leans down and brushes a light kiss to my lips. “We’re off to one hell of a start, Bride.”

My whole body is zinging by the time Shiloh makes it back to us. She got us all tacos, and it’s just as delicious as the smells promised. Or I assume it is. I’m so distracted, I can’t properly enjoy it.

It’s only reasonable for Broderick and me to officially call a ceasefire. I don’t want him dead, and apparently he doesn’t want that fate for me, either. Even as my rational side tries to convince me that it’s to avoid war, a small part of me can’t help replaying his soft words.

I don’t want you dead.

Maybe this really could be the start of…something.

The next twoweeks pass in a strange, happy blur. My days are filled with reassuring my mother that she doesn’t need to take extreme measures against the Paine brothers, and all the millions of tasks that come with helping run a very successful corporation.

My nights are filled with Shiloh and Broderick.

It’s just so fucking easy. Broderick and Shiloh seem to have gotten over that bump from friendship to fucking, and if part of me was a little worried they’d move on without me, it hasn’t happened.

Every single morning, Broderick gets up before us and brings coffee back to the room before we go our separate ways, Shiloh and I to the office, Broderick to oversee most of the day-to-day stuff in the compound. Every single evening, he picks us up and we spend a little time exploring the Raider faction, revisiting places from his childhood, planting new memories of our own.

We make Shiloh come so hard she cries in the park where he and his brothers used to hang out and get up to mischief. He and Shiloh take turns fingering me at the old movie theater that used to be one of his teenage haunts. The three of us nearly get caught fucking in the truck at his old make-out spot near the train tracks that cut through the south part of the faction.

It’s fun.

The only blip is Shiloh.

Sometimes I catch her with a strange look on her face, something almost like fear. It’s usually in the office or on our way back to Raider territory after work. No matter how many ways I approach the topic, she won’t let me in.

I should let it go. Surely there are people in relationships that don’t know every little thing about each other, that don’t dig and dig and dig until they find out what’s wrong with their partners. It’s probably normal to let little things like this go.

I don’t have it in me, though.

Something’s wrong with her, something she’s obviously actively worried about, and I’m about climbing the wall trying to resist shaking her until the truth pops out.

“Stop staring at me like that,” she says as we walk into the compound.

Today ran long, and she’s been practically vibrating the entire drive back. For once, Broderick had a meeting and couldn’t act the part of chauffeur, and I catch myself wishing he was here to back me up. Sometimes his softer touch gets through to Shiloh where my brash nature doesn’t. I should wait for him to have this conversation, but I’ve never been one for patience.

I follow her up the stairs, biting my tongue, but the second we get into the room, I can’t hold the words back any longer. “What the hell is going on with you?”

“Nothing.”

Hurt lances me, made all the more potent by the sheer shock at her audacity. “You’re not even going to hesitate before you lie to me?”

“It’s nothing,” Shiloh repeats. She yanks her tank top over her head.

I watch her strip in methodical movements that I normally enjoy. “You’re sexy as fuck, love, but not even your perfect tits are going to get you out of this conversation.”

“Mind your own business.” She veers past me and heads for the bathroom.

Maybe I should let it go. Shiloh is so damn even-keeled most of the time, I’ve never seen her like this. But that knowledge drives me even more than the terrifying feeling that she’s slipping through my fingers. The feeling that if I don’t do something and do it now, she’ll be gone.

A good leader knows when to push forward and when to retreat, but my instincts are all fucked up when it comes to Shiloh. I don’t know whether I’m coming or going.

I follow her into the bathroom and lean against the counter as she turns on the shower. “Are you not happy with the current arrangements? Are you tired of me? Of Broderick?” The question clogs my throat, but it has to be asked. No matter how much fun I’m having with these two, I don’t want to stay in this situation if everyone isn’t on the same page. At least when it comes to enjoying themselves.

I don’t expect Shiloh to love me.

I sure as fuck didn’t expect to slide right into the possibility of loving Broderick.

She stops short and finally looks at me. I don’t think she’s feigning the shock in her eyes. “Why would I be tired of you? Of either of you?”

Whatever is going on, at least it’s not that.

I can’t breathe a sigh of relief, though, because we haven’t solved anything. “How would I know? You’re not talking to me.”

“Leave it alone.”

A laugh slips free, bitter and heavy. “You know better by now, don’t you?” I should try a softer tactic, shouldn’t back her into a corner, but there’s something frantic beating in my chest, a desperation to fix this so I don’t lose her. “If it’s not about me, and it’s not about Broderick, then what?”

“Back off, Monroe.”

“It’s not Iris,” I muse. I saw her and Shiloh joking just yesterday. Their friendship isn’t experiencing any strife. “It’s not Cohen or Maddox, either.” I refuse to think too hard about either of them. Winry claims she’s content enough, and even though the older sister in me wants to wade in and get some fucking answers, I am trying to respect the fact that Winry is an adult and not in any active danger, so she can handle the situation herself.

“Monroe.” Something creeps into Shiloh’s voice, something almost like begging. “Please leave it alone.”

There’s only one subject this woman avoids on that level. The pieces click together in my head, but the picture still isn’t clear. “This is about your past. About your parents.”

She jerks like I’ve struck her. “Goddamn it. You’re like a fucking terrier with a rat.”

The reaction says it all, but I still don’t understand. “Has Broderick been pushing you about it when I wasn’t around?”

“No.”

Well, I know I haven’t. As much as I haven’t given up my desire to rain fiery fury down on her parents if they’re still alive, I’m trying to show some restraint and not push her. A novel concept for me, but I’m fucking trying.

I narrow my eyes. “Did something happen? Have your parents tried to contact you or something?” I don’t see how, but I’ve only known Shiloh a little over a month. It’s not like she’s shared every bit of herself with me; I never expected her to. If she’s maintained contact with her parents, it’s not like she’d shout it from the rooftop, especially considering how verbal I’ve been about wanting them six feet in the ground.

“My parents are dead.”

I blink. “Recently?”

“No.” Shiloh steps into the shower and ducks her head beneath the spray. She washes systematically while I consider everything she has and hasn’t said.

It doesn’t make sense.

I’m missing something, something important.

I bite my tongue and strive for something resembling patience as Shiloh finishes her shower and turns off the water. She steps out and grabs a towel, very pointedly not looking at me.

“Shiloh.”

“Monroe, I swear to the gods—”

“I love you.” I don’t exactly mean to say it, but the words pop into existence between us all the same.

“What?” She stares at me like I’ve sprouted a second head. Not exactly the reaction I was hoping for.

“I love you,” I repeat, stronger this time. “I want you to be happy and healthy and safe, and right now something is wrong, and it’s worrying me because you won’t tell me what it is. Even if I can’t fix it…” I drag in a breath. Fuck, but being vulnerable is hard. “Even if I can’t fix it, I don’t want you to be going through shit alone. I’m here. Broderick is here.” The next part is harder. “If you’re not comfortable talking to me, then at least talk to him.”

“Monroe,” Shiloh breathes. She pads to me and cups my face with one hand. “Say it again.”

No misunderstanding the command. I lick my lips. “I love you.”

“Do you mean it?”

“Of course I mean it. I’m a bitch, but I don’t throw around words like that without meaning them.”

Her smile is almost sad. “I love you, too.”

“Why are you saying it like you’re apologizing to me?”

She pulls me into a hug that steals my breath. Her next words finish the job. “Would you like to see the house where I grew up?”