Page 65 of Power Play with My Brother's Irish Friends

36

MIRANDA

Voices. Loud, obnoxious, shouting voices woke me from the deepest sleep of my life. I rolled over and rubbed my eyes. “Charlie?”

No answer.

The voices continued, the hateful tones rising in pitch and piercing my room with jagged edges. Austin. I recognized his shouts, the fury I’d seen displayed once and only once, the memory of it enough to rip out my heart. Austin’s anger soared, only to be met by Patrick. I leaped from the bed and ran to the window, yanking back the curtains. Two dozen news vans dotted the yard, a horde of reporters pressing in around the front steps. Austin stood in nothing but his boxers, his face twisted in a rictus snarl. Duncan held him back. My brother’s thrashing body twisted in every direction, but no matter how he moved, Duncan kept him in place. Why were they standing there? Duncan had control. He needed to move Austin inside. I cracked open the balcony door, ready to shout down at Duncan, when the conversation billowed upward, tearing me to shreds.

“We love her, you prickly asshole.” Patrick ducked beneath Austin’s attempt at a punch, grabbed his shoulders, and shook him. “You can’t stop us.”

“The hell I can’t.” Austin moved again, throwing his entire body weight forward.

Duncan moved with him, refusing to give Austin an inch of room to escape.

I whirled and grabbed a robe, throwing it around my body and belting it at the waist as I ran for the stairs. I flew over the narrow boards, my quickness almost tripping me twice when I overreached. I landed in the foyer with a hand on my heart and the other smoothing my hair. The three men I loved were brawling on the front stoop like a pack of neanderthals, and all while the press looked on, their cameras recording every single second.

I grabbed the knob and yanked. The door resisted, the knob refusing to turn. Well fuck. No wonder Duncan hadn’t dragged Austin’s sorry ass into the house. The door had locked behind him, and they’d all be fools to try and grab the key from the hiding place beside the porch. I palmed the lock and wrenched the door open.

Charlie’s contrite expression met my fury head on without flinching. “Sorry, Miranda. I’ve tried talking to him.”

Patrick dabbed at his bloody lip and winced.

Duncan and Austin continued to twist as a single unit. For once, Duncan seemed to be keeping a lid on his temper, but things were out of control. Time for me to step up and do what I did best.

“Get inside. Now.” My voice barked out with enough power to snap all four men’s attention to me. I backed around, keeping the door in front of me so the cameras had nothing to record and pointed toward the study. “Right fucking now.”

“You took advantage of her. I’ll never forgive you for that.” Austin kicked out and tried to kick Charlie. “Rotten, scum sucking bastards. When I get my hands on you, you’re all dead men. You hear me? You’re all dead to me.”

Great. Just great. I never should have let this go on. I’d been too tired to talk to Austin last night and look what happened. Twelve hours. Lives ruined in twelve fucking hours. Why? Why me?

“Duncan.” I whipped out his name, turning it dagger sharp. “Drag him inside if you have to. I know you’re strong enough.”

“Fucking right I am.” He walked backward, hauling Austin with his arms splayed out like chicken wings.

Austin grabbed for the door frame, trying to stop Duncan from taking him inside. “No. Let them all hear. Let them hear what you’ve done.” He kicked and flailed, his mind completely shut down in anger and grief. Just like the day we buried our parents.

“Austin.” I called his name amid the flurry of curses and the thumping of bodies.

Patrick held the door open and motioned at Charlie. “Make sure all the blinds are closed, then call for a security detail. We have to get all these reporters off the property.” He shot a look at me. “Right? We want them gone?”

“It’s probably best. Even if I get Austin calmed down enough to make a statement, they won’t believe him right now. They’re frothing at the mouth over this story. If he tries to take it back too soon, it’ll start even more vicious rumors.” I’d seen it before. “After that display, they’ll think that we assaulted him, forced him to admit he was wrong.”

“Much more of this bullshit and they’ll be right.” Duncan growled low and ferocious. “Stop trying to bash my nose, you egg-sucking cockblocker.”

Of course, the words drove Austin into a bucking, tearing frenzy.

I crossed the room, closed my eyes for a moment of clarity, then grabbed his face and pressed his forehead to mine. “Austin Reginald Lake, stop that right this instant.” I talked to him the way dad used to, the crisp tones and total demand sending me back to my childhood when Austin and I fought each other like a pair of rabid badgers.

I hate hearing his pain. If I couldn’t reach him with words, I’d have to try other, less friendly tactics. As soon as he stopped bellowing and blinked, I hugged him. It was awkward with Duncan holding Austin’s arms at such odd angles. My brother’s heart ran a million miles an hour, almost humming in his chest where my ear rested. The nightmare of the paparazzi and all the shit I’d have to deal with later evaporated. Austin needed me. That mattered more than any gossip column, more than any rumors they spread about me and the men I loved. “It was my choice.” I spoke the words for all of us. Austin most of all, but because in the heat of the moment, we all needed to hear the truth.

Austin stilled. He remained rigid, his breaths short and panting, but he stopped cursing, stopped yelling, and I knew he’d heard me.

I lifted my head, dropped my arms, and took a step back. “Duncan is going to release you.” I arched a brow. “And you are not going to do one motherfucking thing to any of these men, because if you do, you’ll have me to answer to, and I’m not above tattooing your balls while you sleep.”

Shocked laughter burst out of Patrick. “Dammmn.”

“It was your choice?” Austin relaxed.

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