Who Do You Love (Rock Royalty Book 7) by Christie Ridgway Page A

message to his cousin. A very succinct message—no squealing.
    Eamon had first played it cool. Explained to the band of merry men that he wasn’t an Unruly. He didn’t act as a message boy to them or for them, either.
    They’d moved on to threatening Irish if Eamon didn’t persuade his cousin to keep his mouth shut. He’d had to laugh at that and then wished them good luck at getting close to his dad. The old man hadn’t been around this long to get caught with his pants down.
    They’d growled and grumbled, and for a moment Eamon wondered if they’d try hurting him instead, but he supposed his status as Irish’s son stood for something, if not for getting him into the club.
    One of the Sons had stepped forward, his beady eyes boring into Eamon’s. “You gotta girl? Somebody you care about?”
    Though his blood had chilled, he’d managed to laugh again and toast the dude with his cardboard cup. “Just the barista at my favorite coffee place.”
    Twenty minutes later, fifteen minutes after Eamon had driven away, leaving the frustrated Savage Sons in his dust, a Molotov cocktail had been thrown through the front window of Bean & Bagels. Eamon’s favorite barista had been washing down tables at the time and suffered burns and a long cut that required dozens of stitches.
    It sent a cold knife blade even now down his spine. Hearing about it the next morning, he’d considered his options on the way to pay for the damages, the hospital bill, and a month of daily flower deliveries for the barista.
    Due to an abundance of caution and a tragic incident in his past, he’d been careful when it came to Cami. Other women he’d publicly dated, but not her. Some sixth sense, maybe, had urged him to keep her—what they had together—out of sight. After the Molotov cocktail incident, he’d congratulated himself for that caution.
    Then he’d dumped her.
    Never would his fairy be a target of any kind of harm thanks to him.
    If he couldn’t forget the hurt look on her face when he’d told her it was over…well, small price to pay.
    Small fucking price.
    Spence poked him another time with his elbow. “I can hear the gears, partner.”
    “I’m letting her go,” he said.
    “Cami? I thought that decision was a done deal. Weeks ago.”
    “Yeah.” Eamon pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’ve been having a couple of the guys on her tail.”
    “What?” Spence gaped at him. “That sounds stupid. Maybe they’ll attract attention to her.”
    “Bart’s point man.”
    His partner relaxed. “Okay. He knows what he’s doing.”
    “I should tell them to stop, though.”
    “It can’t hurt until you feel more easy…” Spence’s voice trailed off. “Oh.”
    Smart guy, his partner, his best friend. The passage of time wasn’t going to make him more easy . Still being connected to Cami, even from this distance, wasn’t getting her out from under his skin. When they were together, the sense of rightness, the sense of belonging , had been like a spell that took him under.
    Her fairy spell.
    He still wasn’t free of it.
    The sound of heels on asphalt claimed his attention. Suze sashayed toward him, hips moving, big hair and big boobs bouncing. The necklace he’d bought her at last weekend’s event as thanks for helping smooth that awkward encounter with Cami lay nestled in her abundant cleavage.
    Beside him, Spence sighed. “I suppose Irish would gut me if I made a play for his girlfriend.”
    Eamon grinned. “I suppose.”
    Though Suze had more than a decade on him and Spence, she oozed sex appeal.
    Now she put a motherly hand against Eamon’s cheek. His own mom would lose her mind at the gesture, but he ignored anything she had to share about Irish and Suze. Her relationship with the former was understandably fucked up. If he thought about why the latter person infuriated her, then he’d have to conclude his mother still carried a torch for his dad.
    So messed up.
    Another Rooney romance doomed