Page 65 of Harbinger

“Enough.”

“Then you probably know that they were in deep and that there’s some complicated rules in place.”

“The cult,” he nods.

“The cult,” I confirm. “I can’t say much, but I can say this. I didn’t know about most of it until recently. Until after you and I met. I didn’t run from the law that night; I just knew something was wrong. I think that’s okay for me, as a woman, to feel and act on.” He shrugs. “But I can tell you that I’m trying to bring them down. I have nothing to do with their company, but I have a plan to burn it to the ground, and I need you to stay out of my way while I do it. If you do, I’ll tell you everything I know.”

Jeremy studies me, his eyes seeming to peer into my soul. I hold my breath as he dips me, finally nodding.

“What do you know about Jeffrey Wright?”

“Not much,” I say almost too fast.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. I’m learning more. I know he was good friends with my parents, but I don’t know if he had anything to do with them dying.”

“Do you know who killed them?”

“So they were definitely killed?”

He casts me an annoyed glare. “Neither of us is stupid, Sydney.”

“I don’t know who killed them. Not any more than you do, at least. You probably have much more information about it than I do.”

“How long do you need for this?” His eyes flicker behind me as his hands move down my waist just a touch.

“A couple days, I don’t know. Maybe a week. Maybe two. I can figure out how to get ahold of you.”

He nods, gripping me harder in his hands, pulling me into him.

Before I know it, I’m yanked from him, my back hitting a hard chest as his familiar scent fills my nose.

“Don’t fucking touch my wife,” Ronan hisses, moving to stand in front of me. I peek around him, watching as Jeremy smirks.

“Maybe I was wrong,” he says, looking at me. “Maybe you two are together.”

He walks away, and I look around, noticing a couple eyes on us, quiet whispers mumbled under the music.

“What was that for?” I ask him, my annoyance rising.

Ronan takes my hand, wrapping his other around my waist. “His hand was far too close to your ass.”

“And?”

He gapes at me, annoyed. “You’re my wife.”

“And you can’t fucking wait for the divorce, Ronan.”

He spins me, pulling on my arm to bring me back to him. “What did he say to you?” he asks instead of responding to me.

“He told me that he knows that we were bullshitting, and he wanted in on what we were doing.”

“And you refused to tell him, right?”

I look away. “I told him that I was taking care of it.”

“Now, why would you do that?”

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