Ryan Reign (New York Ruthless #4)(34)

“Now that your brothers are here, I’m going to head back to my hotel and get some kip,” Paul says with a fake yawn.

“What? You haven’t seen them for twenty-five years. You don’t want to even say hello? Not even to Mikey?” I balk at the thought of him and Mikey meeting again, but I swallow it down and look him in the eye.

“I’m not as young as I used to be, kid. I need some sleep. I’ll see them later.”

“Sleep? Come on, Paul. This is my world we’re talking about here, and we don’t have a hope of finding her without you.” I try flattery instead and the roll of his eyes tells me it is working more efficiently than tugging on his heartstrings – because of course, he doesn’t have one.

“Just a few more hours? Help me fill my brothers in on what we’ve done so far and then you can get some sleep. We can all get some and start again tonight,” I lie.

“Fine,” he says with a sigh.

“Two hours and then I’m gone.”

“That’s all I’m asking for.”



I have just handed Paul a mug of coffee when the door to my hotel suite opens and Mikey and Conor rush inside. They both run to me and despite the fact they must be both as pissed as hell that I lost our girl, they wrap their huge arms around me.

“You got any leads at all?” Conor asks as he takes a step back and looks at me full of anxiety and concern.

“No,” I look over at Paul and my brothers turn to him, too.

“Hello, boys,” he says with a half smile as he makes his way over to us.

“Paul?” Conor holds out his hand to shake it. He remembers our uncle but Mikey won’t. He was still a baby when Paul moved away.

Paul shakes Conor’s outstretched hand. “It’s good to see you, kid,” he says but his eyes are on Mikey who frowns at this man he doesn’t know, but whose history is so very tied to his own. “And to see you again, Michael. It’s a shame your brother couldn’t make it.”

Mikey frowns at him and I silently urge him not to give the game away.

“He wasn’t up to the journey,” he answers without pause and I could hug him. “This family reunion is all well and good but where the fuck is our girl?” He turns back to me.

“We haven’t found her yet.” I rub my hand over my jaw. “I’m fucking exhausted, boys. I can’t even think straight.” I sigh and shake my head.

“Then tell us what you do know,” Conor snaps.

“Look, Shane,” Paul downs his coffee and places the mug on the table. “You should probably get some sleep and we can pick this up again later. I’ll leave you to fill your brothers in, but I really need to get back to my hotel.”

I nod at him. “Yeah. Thanks for your help, Paul.” The words stick in my throat.

“I’ll call you later and see if there’s anything else I can do. Okay?” he offers.

“Yeah,” I nod and then he says his goodbyes to Conor and Mikey before walking out of the room.

My brothers and I watch him leave and as soon as the door is closed I take a deep breath. “Where is Liam?”

“In the car outside. What’s going on?” Conor asks.

“I’ll tell you as soon as I’ve spoken to him,” I say as I take my cell out of my pocket and dial Liam’s number.

“Hey, bro?” he answers.

“Hey, kid. You see that grey Range Rover across the street?”

“Yeah?”

“In about two minutes our Uncle Paul is going to get into it. You can’t miss him. He’s six four and has a beard. I need you to follow him.”

“Okay. Is this about Jessie?”

“Yes. Don’t let him see you. Follow him and call us when he stops. Okay?”

“Okay. Fuck! He’s on his way outside.”

“Call me as soon as you have anything, Liam. We’ll be right behind you as soon as you give us the nod. Okay?”

“Yeah,” he says and then ends the call.

“Why is Liam following Paul?” Mikey asks me but Conor stares at me with a look of horror on his face that makes me think he has already figured out the reason why.

I can’t even believe these words are about to come from my mouth because it is too fucking crazy to be true, but it also makes perfect sense. “Because Paul is the Wolf.”





Chapter 25





Mikey





“What the fuck?” I ask as I stare at my oldest brother with my mouth hanging open, because I’m pretty sure I must have misheard him.

“It’s him,” Shane says, shaking his head as though he doesn’t even believe what he’s saying himself.

“No way. He can’t be,” I insist. I mean I don’t remember him from when I was a kid, but Conor and Shane always speak fondly of him. He left Ireland shortly after our mom died, but before that, he was our uncle. He taught Shane and Conor how to shoot. He was an expert marksman in the army.

“Fuck! How do you know?” Conor asks, seemingly more ready to believe this than I am.

“He has a scratch on his neck that wasn’t there when I saw him yesterday afternoon.”

“A scratch?” I interrupt him.