“I am more concerned about the threats outside of Camellia,” Dermot hedged as Stratton grunted, seeming to understand what he meant.
“She shouldn’t be involved with that shit to begin with.” Stratton’s voice was laced with something a bit more dangerous. “King knows that.”
“Unavoidable at this point,” Dermot pointed out, looking frustrated.
“What threats?” I asked bluntly. I may have also been testing this theory about asking questions and getting direct answers.
“The national media has picked the story up, which means not only will there be news trucks here at the gates of Wildberry within the day, but the international media will be notified as well. We may get it taken down, but an heiress to a multi-billion dollar estate being bullied on social media for her appearance and being with multiple men is going to cause a stir no matter what we do. Especially when those men happen to be the sons of families that have a lot of fucking enemies.”
Huh? Enemies?
“That is a concise way to put it.” I swallowed and pushed, “Why do we have enemies? I mean, who, exactly, has enemies?”
Dermot seemed caught off guard by my question, causing Stratton to laugh, which only made me more confused. The man’s voice behind me was filled with authentic amusement. “Yes, Dermot, why would the Ross family have enemies? Why would any of us?”
I really was missing the point here. I could tell.
“King really hasn’t told you?” Dermot frowned. “I get why, but fuck is that dangerous.”
“Tell me what?” I put my hands on my hips as Stratton tucked me under his chin, amusement still radiating off him as if he found this hilarious.
“We should wait until King is here,” Dermot muttered and shook his head. “Ridiculous. Absolutely fucking ridiculous. No matter—we will handle it, baby girl, but you should still know how to keep yourself safe. I can’t imagine one of us won’t ever be with you, but it would still be a good idea.”
I couldn’t even be fully frustrated with his lack of answers regarding the Ross family and enemies comment, because two things stood out to me.
One. Dermot and Stratton cared about me enough that they wanted me to be able to keep myself safe. I loved how protective my men were, but the idea that they wanted to go beyond that made me feel valued in a way I never had before. It gave me more confidence in myself, something I needed right now.
Second. The way he was talking made me think he included himself in all of this, which made me ridiculously happy. I hoped I wasn’t reading into that too much, but that was how I was thinking he meant it.
“Do you both know how to shoot?” I asked, letting the ‘enemies’ aspect drop for now. I realized that the concept of my boys being able to use firearms wasn’t unfamiliar, which meant that they’d probably talked about it before and I was just having issues pinpointing when that conversation had happened.
“Yeah,” Stratton answered as Dermot examined my expression, his own a bit hesitant as if he was worried how I would react to the answer he hadn’t given. The man wasn’t normally hesitant or cautious, from what I gathered, but when it came to this and the enemies conversation, he seemed both, and I didn’t understand why.
“Yes, you could say that,” Dermot offered.
“Absolutely not!” Yates called out, walking off of the back porch and towards us.
I rolled my eyes. I had no idea how he had even heard our conversation, but it didn’t surprise me when he said, “She doesn’t need to know how to do any of that shit, especially shooting. Absolutely fucking not. That is way too dangerous.”
His reasoning was ridiculous, and I almost smiled because at least this version of Yates was a bit more familiar. I broke away from the other two, popping my hip and crossing my arms at his insanity.
“How do you even know what we are talking about, you looney?”
“He’s a creep, that’s why.” Stratton chuckled softly as Dermot flashed a smile at him, the two of them seeming to be laughing at an inside joke. One I very much wished to be part of, for the record.
“I know everything, bunny,” Yates pointed out vaguely before reaching us and tugging me forward so I melted into his hard chest. “She doesn’t need to learn how to fight or shoot. That’s not her goddamn job. It’s ours.”
“Yates,” I sighed, letting my head fall back and watching the man with slight amusement, realizing he was annoyed as all get-out with the other two.
“Fucking ridiculous,” he growled and then looked back down at me. “How was the call with your mom?”
The change in his tone was almost instant, and I saw from the corner of my eye Stratton throw his arms up in defeat, muttering curses. I understood his frustration, but I also understood how to deal with Yates better than most people.
“Good,” I answered before adding firmly, “But more importantly, I have decided that Dermot and Stratton are correct. I need to learn how to defend myself.”
Yates’s gaze darkened. “No. Not your job.”
He seemed almost—no, definitely—offended by the notion of me learning how to defend myself. Clearly, he very much considered it ‘not my job,’ which made me wonder whose job it was, in his mind.