Page 102 of Ronan

Dean

“Looks good, Baby Girl,”Lyric croons.

“Um, I don’t know yet.”

I run my hand over my new haircut. I had to do it. I had to cut off my locs.

That fucking Bujar did have a contingency plan for his death. Lyric received a call from a cop on the horsemen’s payroll and some guys from another crew we deal with. Both intercepted a file on me that had pictures.

Luckily, I had makeup on in them that covered my freckles. Uncle Freddie made the suggestion years ago as he thought they stood out too much and made my face memorable. I felt, for now, the locs needed to go for the same reason.

We may have cut these couple of attempts off before they caused damage, but we don’t know who else may have received a package. That’s why I had to come home.

I wanted to deal with this personally. By the time my plane landed in New York, LaSalle was already calling to see what he could do. Within an hour he had a list of those I needed to see.

I made those visits before coming home to have a barber come to give me a fresh start. I can only hope my husband likes it.

I feel bad for taking off the way I did. It wasn’t until my flight took off that I thought about the fact that I can share things like this with him. I’m going to have to get used to this new dynamic.

“Maybe you shouldn’t have dyed it so dark. I’m used to your carrottop. Other than that, it’s fire,” Lyric says.

“Personally, I liked your hair before the locs, but to be honest, the women in your family have a face for any type of hairstyle,” Byron says.

“Well, good thing you’re not who I aim to please,” I scoff.

“About that, when are we going on that date? It would make your mother happy to see us together,” he says.

“Yeah, not happening and I promise you she’s over it and will be fine.”

“Damn,” Lyric coughs into his hand.

Byron glares at him for a long beat. I ignore them both and go to pay the barber so he can leave, and Lyric and I can talk. We still have business to handle.

It’s not quite time for me to come out of hiding, but I do need to make some things clear to everyone. Once these two are out of my hair, I plan to reread that letter. To be honest, I don’t know why Byron is here.

I wasn’t expecting him. Lyric said he would meet me here, but Byron arrived within seconds of Lyric. After paying the barber and handing him a tip, I turn my focus back on Byron and Lyric.

They’re still having a staring match. Lyric looks like an annoyed older brother while Byron looks murderous. I tilt my head to the side and study the two.

My mind begins to work. Why on earth does Byron hate Lyric so much? I remember when we were younger, Byron wanted an older brother so badly.

The Byron I remember was loving and gave everyone a chance. While his brother Myron would dismiss people, Byron would embrace them and care for them. That’s what made us friends.

“Lyric, I changed my mind. I think we should meet in the morning. Come by for breakfast and we’ll talk then. I’m tired,” I say as I keep my eyes on Byron.

“You got it. I’ll swing by first thing. Call me if you need anything before then.”

“I will. Byron, you stay. I want to talk to you about something,” I say as Lyric gets ready to leave.

Byron gets a shit-eating grin on his face. There’s something else in his demeanor. I don’t believe he’s picked up on the shift in the room, but from the way Lyric moves, he gets it. Before he walks out the door, he looks to me and nods his head.

I know right away he understands to wait for Byron to leave so he can follow him. Something is up. I’m going to get to the bottom of it.

“What’s up? We can talk freely now. How was your trip with your mom?” Byron asks.

I lift a brow and home in on him. He’s hiding something. However, it’s weird because I’m noting things that don’t make any sense.

“It was nice. I’m mad I had to cut it short for some bullshit,” I say.

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