Almost Innocent (19 page)

I
inhaled sharply
, trying to force the memories from that night out of my head. The woman next to me moved slightly, laying her fingers on my shoulder. She was probably reliving that night too, which only infuriated me more.

I jerked away, desperate to get away from her. “You’re right. That was the night I realized what a hateful bitch you really are.”

She didn’t even attempt to act offended. Instead, she shook her head sadly. “Declan.”

“You let him leave with her. Knowing how angry he was, knowing what a douche he was. You fucking let them leave.”

Moira’s eyes narrowed, anger taking over. “He was a grown man. What was I supposed to do?”

“A grown man with a sixteen-year-old girlfriend,” I snapped. “He beat the shit out of her.”

Moira’s nostrils flared. “That is not my fault.”

“No?” I stepped closer and leaned down into her face, not missing the way her eyes widened in surprise or the truly terrified look that crossed her features. “You going to take Dustin’s side again, Ma? You going to argue that Gabby knew what she was getting into? Or are you going to say she brought it on herself?”

Her hand connected with my cheek, leaving a trail of stinging flesh. She looked horrified, yet I only laughed.

“That all you got?” I asked.

“You think I wanted her with him?”

I hadn’t seen Moira’s mask drop in years—hell, I couldn’t even remember the last time I saw her react honestly. Not even when Dusty died. It was gone now though. I couldn’t read her face, but there was nothing but unfiltered, raw emotion in it.

“Her? Of all the girls in Watertown, the two of you had to fall in love with Graham Forte’s daughter.” She turned her back to me, and the tumbler that held her drink went flying through the air and smashed somewhere on the other side of the room.

“What does Gabby’s dad have to do with anything?”

Moira laughed bitterly as she whirled around, stabbing me with her hazel eyes. “Did Gabby never tell you?”

Worry tickled the back of my mind, and I knew I wouldn’t like whatever was coming.

“In all that research you did, all the watching from prison, you never discovered the link?”

I didn’t have a chance to ask her how in the hell she knew anything about what I’d done in prison, or even form a reply to her taunts, before she was striding back toward the bar and answering my unasked questions.

“Graham and your father were best friends. The kind that you read stories about. Colin treated him better than he ever treated Logan. They were that close.” She pulled the cap off the whiskey bottle, filled up a glass, and downed almost the entire thing before continuing. “Your father loved Graham.” She braced her hands on the counter. “And Graham loved me.”

“What?” I didn’t like where this was going.

“Don’t look at me like that!” She poured herself another drink but didn’t lift it to her lips. “I said he loved me. The feeling was not mutual.” Her nose wrinkled in disgust, as if the idea of caring about Graham was disgusting. “He was just a clueless kid with no big dreams, no future plans. Not like your father. The day your father told him we were getting married, Graham decided to tell Colin how he felt. The bastard almost cost me everything.” The hatred in her voice shouldn’t have surprised me, yet it did.

“Colin would rather have cut off his leg than betray that man. If Graham had asked him to, your father would have turned his back on me.” She tipped her head back, downing the whiskey. “If I hadn’t been pregnant with Fiona, I think Colin would have left me anyway.”

“You got your rich prince, Mother,” I pointed out, sarcasm filling my tone. “What does any of that have to do with Gabby?”

“He blamed me!” Her abrupt shout startled me. “There wasn’t a day that went by that Colin didn’t blame me.”

I wasn’t following her insane ramblings, and I was getting frustrated from trying to. “Blamed you for what?”

“Graham’s death.”

Gabby’s father had died in prison; I knew that much. She’d tearfully told me one night before I went away—because she couldn’t handle the idea that the same thing would happen to me. I’d thought of that conversation more than once while I’d been locked inside, determined to get out alive.

“Graham didn’t stay in Maine, where your father could protect him. He said seeing us together was too much, and he moved away, knocked up some whore, and got into trouble. Colin did what he could, gave him work, but Graham never stayed straight for long. Then he went to prison, and it all fell to shit.” She licked her bottom lip, avoiding eye contact. “After he was murdered—”

“Wait.” I held up a hand, stopping her. “Murdered? Graham was in prison when he died.”

“He was.” She nodded. “Your uncle Logan called in the hit.”

“Wha—” My mouth fell open as I stared at her. Either she had finally gone batshit crazy, or I’d stumbled into Callaghan Family Secrets 101. “What the fuck?” I crossed my arms, staring at her. There was more to this, and I knew I wouldn’t like what I heard. “Why in the hell would he do that?”

She finally looked up, her mask was firmly back in place. “That’s not important.”

“The hell it isn’t!”

“There was a misunderstanding.” She never took her eyes off mine, trying to intimidate me. “All that matters is that your father blamed me.”

“If Dad blamed you, it was your fault.”

“Maybe.” She shrugged. “Maybe not. It doesn’t change the fact that your father became responsible for Gabby that day. And it doesn’t change the fact that I didn’t want that girl anywhere near my children.”

Realization hit me like a ton of bricks. “Is that why you hate her?”

Moira straightened. “I don’t hate Gabriella.”

“You’ve always hated her,” I shot back.

“No.” She shook her head, slamming the tip of her finger on the counter top, emphasizing each point. “No. I hated how your father snuck around, trying to hide her from me. I hated that she was the girl Dustin decided to date. I hated how she used you—”

“Gabby never used me!”

“You still can’t see it—how she played you against your brother constantly?”

“That’s not what happened.” I pointed at her. “If you think it is, Dustin manipulated you.”

“You’re still so blind where she’s concerned.” She huffed. “Even after all this time? After you wasted years in prison for her?”

“I went to prison because that’s what you do when you commit a crime.”

“It’s just you and me here, Declan. Save your breath and your bullshit lies. I don’t want to hear them.”

I’d trained myself to let accusations about Dustin’s death wash over me, to ignore them even when my body and mind wanted to react. However, it had never been my own mother implying that I was being less than honest. My heart pounded, and my mind wandered to Gabby, desperate to protect her from the monster in front of me.

“Don’t look so surprised,” Moira muttered, waving in dismissal.

I ran my tongue over the front of my teeth and took a deep breath before wading into unknown territory. “I’m not sure what you’re trying to say, but I don’t like where this is going.”

“Of course you don’t.” She lifted a shoulder carelessly. “And I’m insulted that you actually believed I didn’t know.”

Of course she did. I felt like an idiot. Moira had a way of knowing everything. “How long?”

She braced her hands on the counter and leaned her head toward me. “Since the day Gabby shot him.”

I forced out a chuckle even though there was nothing remotely amusing about this situation. Layer upon layer, lie upon lie. That was what my family was—people who lied to the world and to each other, all hiding their secrets behind a flawless façade.

I crossed my arms. “Why?”

Moira tipped her head slightly, her forehead wrinkled in confusion. “Why didn’t we tell you I knew? Because we thought you could beat the charges. The less people who knew what really happened, the better.” She sighed. “Dustin was dead the minute he attacked her, he just didn’t know it. If Gabby hadn’t gone through with it, he would have killed her. You would have found him, no matter where he hid, and you would have butchered him. If, by some miracle, you hadn’t, Fi would have pulled the trigger. If she hadn’t, it would have been your father.”

I shook my head. “Dad never would have killed him.”

Moira laughed as if that was the funniest thing she’d ever heard before her mouth puckered. “Do you know how many times I had to beg your father to keep him alive?” She shook her head once, looking over my shoulder and out the window into the pitch black. “Each time I would promise that I would keep a better eye on him, that I would get him help. And every time, I knew it was only a matter of time before I buried him.”

She licked her lips, looking back at me. “No, Dustin had to die. He’d become a monster. The things he did…” She glanced away again, shaking her head and swallowing roughly. “The pain he caused was unforgivable. He almost killed my grandson. If he had, I would have ended him myself.”

It would be so easy to mock her, to tell her how I doubted she’d ever make a move against her perfect son, the golden child. I couldn’t bring myself to do it though. The woman in front of me wasn’t lying. She wasn’t playing an angle or trying to manipulate me. This was a mother mourning the loss of a child she couldn’t save.

There was still so much I didn’t understand. “If you knew Dusty was a ticking time bomb, why blame Mark? Why not let Dustin’s problems die with him?”

“Is that what you think we did?” Her entire face scrunched up, her head shaking as she surveyed me. “Your father always said that you were blind where Mark was concerned.”

“Mark is family. My mother taught me you never turn your back on blood.”

“Dustin was your blood. He was your brother.” The pain was clear in her voice. “After everything they’ve done, as a team, how can you possibly defend Mark? How could you forgive one for his actions, but not the other?”

The answer was simple. “Gabby.”

My mother’s mouth fell open, and she looked at me as though I’d lost my mind. Her eyes grew wide, and she lifted a hand to her heart. “You don’t know.” She narrowed her eyes. “How is that possible?”

I tipped my head toward the ceiling, begging for divine intervention. I couldn’t handle her riddles anymore; I just didn’t have the patience. “How is what possible, Mother? What is so important that no one felt the need to tell me before now?”

Before she could answer, the door opened. “Ms. Callaghan?” Tank didn’t wait for a reply, striding across the room and holding a phone out to her.

Moira didn’t question him but took the phone. “This is Moira.” Her entire demeanor changed in a matter of seconds. She jerked in surprise. “Conall?” Her eyes slid to me before she turned around and walked away.

Conall? Why would my uncle Conall be calling her? He had no use for Moira, and she couldn’t stand him.

I took a few steps toward her, trying to eavesdrop, even though she was keeping her voice down.

“When?” She glanced over her shoulder. Something was wrong. “No.” She turned back around. “I took care of it earlier. They’re there now.” More silence. “It couldn’t have been him. He’s with me.”

I didn’t know if she was talking about me or Tank, but I didn’t have a good feeling about it. Minutes dragged by and she didn’t make a sound. I had all I could do to keep myself from walking over to her and ripping the phone from her hands.

I had decided to do just that when she ended the call with, “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

“What was that about?” I demanded before she’d even turned all the way around.

Instead of acknowledging me, she stared at her bodyguard. I didn’t like the look that passed between them.

I was missing something. “Where are the goons, Ma? The ones you always have by your side.”

Her eyes darted to Tank and back to me. “They’re with Fiona.”

I straightened, standing up taller. Grady was with Fiona.

“There was an incident earlier today, and she called me, worried. I sent them to stay with her.”

Incident? I’d talked to Fi a few hours ago. Everything had been fine. She’d tell me if it wasn’t. Wouldn’t she? What reason could she have to keep something like that from me?

Fi had been the one to insist I come here to talk to our mother. She’d told me to leave—fuck!

Gabby. I’d left Gabby alone. But she was safe. No one knew where she was—my enemies wouldn’t come after her.

Moira shifted uncomfortably under my gaze.

“What kind of incident?” I asked.

“It’s being handled. Fiona and Grady are with my team. They’re safe now.”

It was the words she didn’t say that turned my blood to ice. “Gabby?”

Moira tensed. “I don’t know anything, Dec. Just relax.”

Wrong fucking thing to say. She knew what was going on; she just wasn’t telling me. I was so fucking sick of this family’s half-truths and veiled honesty. Something wasn’t right—I could feel it.

Moira hollered after me as I handed my glass to Tank and hurried to the door, but I didn’t hear a word. I wouldn’t have listened if I had. I was too focused on Gabby. All that mattered was getting to her.

A
lmost an hour had passed
, and Fi still hadn’t called me back. When I called her, I was sent directly to voicemail. I’d spent the majority of the hour rationalizing, convincing myself they’d gone to a late movie instead of a matinee and they couldn’t hear the phone, or that Fi had left it at home by mistake. With each passing minute, my fear grew.

I couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right. I felt as though the last two days had been filled with intended coincidences—like someone was one step ahead of me and pulling the strings.

Had I run into Declan by accident? Maybe. Maybe Not.

Either way, the past two days had been filled with a series of events that had scared me and left me feeling as though I had no control. I detested that feeling. Abusers wanted you to feel helpless because it gave them the upper hand.

Mark had no control here unless I gave it to him. So why was I handing it over without a fight? I stood, pissed off at myself, and headed for the door. I’d just plucked the keys from the bowl next to the door when I heard the low rumble of an engine.

Stepping carefully up to the window, my breath caught as headlights barreled toward my house then lit the wall over my head as the truck swerved into my drive. Backing up, I reached for the can of wasp spray, still clutching my cell, and knew I was on my own. No one could get to me in time.

Before I had a chance to make a plan, the door handle wiggled as whoever was on the other side tried to get in. Then the door rattled on its hinges as a giant fist beat on it.

“Gabby!” Declan’s voice was frantic but didn’t hold even the slightest hint of a threat. Did he know what was going on with Fi and Grady?

I dropped the spray can, flipped the bolt, and yanked open the door. Dec surged in, and his arms wrapped around me tightly as he lifted me off the floor and pulled me against him. He set me down just as quickly, pushing me against the wall as his hands moved up to cup my cheeks. He stared down at me.

“Are you okay?” Before he gave me a chance to answer, he dropped his hands and started to probe and poke at me. “Jesus, Gabs, tell me you’re okay!”

I batted his hands away, trying to step back. “Declan,” I yelled, bringing him out of whatever trance he was in. “What is going on?”

“Jesus!” He swore, pulling my head toward his, and leaned his forehead against mine. “I was so fucking scared. I didn’t know what I’d find…” He pushed his lips against mine.

It surprised me. For a moment, just a few seconds, I let him devour me. The way his teeth nipped at my bottom lip before his tongue rubbed the pain away was a welcome distraction. My hands found their way into his hair, pulling him close. For those glorious few seconds, I forgot the world.

Keeping me pinned against the wall, he stared into my eyes. “You’re really okay?”

I frowned, completely confused. If I’d woken up in another dimension, I’d probably have a better grasp on reality than I did at that moment. “I don’t know. I woke up and you were gone, then strange things happened, and now I can’t reach Fi. Why can’t I reach Fi?”

He shook his head, his brow wrinkling in puzzlement. “I don’t know. I spoke to her earlier.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and, after pressing a few buttons, held it to his ear. Seconds later, he stabbed at it, looking at me. “It went straight to voicemail.”

He dialed another number and lifted the phone again. I heard a woman answer, but Dec didn’t waste time with pleasantries. “I can’t reach Fi.”

I couldn’t make out what she said, but whatever it was made him visibly relax.

He nodded. “I’m with Gabby now. Can you text me the number?” I studied him closely as he spoke, thanking the woman, then hung up.

He took two steps back, kicked my front door shut, then held out a hand. I put mine in his and let him lead me back into my living room and over to my couch.

“Fi and Grady are fine,” he assured me as he sank into the cushions next to me. His phone beeped, and he shot me a smile. “Perfect timing.” Tapping a few things on his screen, he handed the phone to me. “Here, talk to your kid.”

It was still ringing as I held it to my ear, but Fi answered it seconds later.

“I don’t want you to panic,” she said in a rush, making me panic.

“Fi!” I almost screamed, relieved to hear her voice. “What is going on?”

“Gabby?” It took a second, but she recovered quickly. “I’m not even sure. Grady and I went to the movies, and when we got out, I had a flat tire. I called Mom, because I didn’t want to bother you, and I thought if we had to wait for AAA, she might as well join Grady and me for dinner. But she was in a meeting, so she sent Stephan.”

I felt better instantly. Stephan was Moira’s personal bodyguard and had been with her since we moved down here. He was smaller than most men in his profession, but ten times more intimidating. Unless you were Grady. Then you just saw a man who would let you ramble on for hours without getting upset. Stephan was more than hired help—he was family. And the only grandfather figure Grady had.

“When he got here, I’d already called for a tow, but he wanted to see if he could change it himself and save us some time. Someone had slashed it, Gabby. And when the tow truck showed up, it wasn’t from the company that was supposed to be coming. When the driver saw Stephan, he took off. Stephan insisted on driving us to the safe house because he said he had a bad feeling.

“No big deal, ya know? The man is paranoid. I knew he’d check out the house and come get us and we’d be home before you knew it. If all of that hadn’t been enough to make me worry though, the house had been broken into.

“When Stephan got there, the girls were running wild in the yard. He almost didn’t catch them both.” Emotion made her voice heavy. Her dogs were her children. “So Mom has us holed up here, the guys all with us, and they took my phone because they said it could be traced.

“Jesus! It’s not like we’re spies or some shit, but after today, you’d think we were.” Fi sighed. “Grady is fine. I swear to you, he doesn’t have a clue what’s going on. He thinks it’s fun.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. “I’ve been calling you nonstop, Fi, worried sick! Why in the hell didn’t you call me to let me know what was going on?”

“I did. I’ve been calling you for hours! You haven’t picked up.”

What?
I walked over to where I’d dropped my phone and lifted it off the floor. There wasn’t a single missed call.

Grady got on the line next and told me all about the movie they’d gone to see and how he excited he was that Stephan was spending the night. I listened to his happy chatter, unable to keep the smile off my face. He was with Fi and a group of men who would all kill to protect him, completely safe. I almost felt foolish for worrying so much earlier.

Almost.

After we said good night, Grady put Fi back on and I handed Dec’s phone back to him before I headed to the kitchen to brew coffee. The two of us needed to talk. Really talk. I felt better when he was here, but so much had been left unsaid. And I didn’t know if I could trust him anymore. I had a feeling we’d need something stronger than Dunkin’s dark roast before the night was over.

The pot was half full when Dec leaned against the counter, watching me closely. “I’m worried about you.”

I tipped my head, my heart aching. “I’m fine. Really.”

He gave me a look that clearly conveyed he didn’t believe me. “What happened earlier?”

I opened my mouth then snapped it shut, not sure which event he was talking about.

As if he understood my confusion, he added, “I know what happened to Fi and Grady. My mother is under the impression that something went down here.” He crossed the room to me in just a few steps. “Let me in. Let me help you.”

I scraped my bottom lip with my teeth and shrugged. “I don’t know.”

Declan let out a frustrated growl, running his hands through his hair as if he didn’t believe me.

“I really don’t, Dec. I woke up and thought you were here. Zahira started to bark, and there was a strange car parked out front, so I thought it was someone who worked for you.” I paused for a second, realizing that once again, Zahira hadn’t done as much as woofed in Declan’s direction since he got here.

“It wasn’t,” he assured me, taking advantage of my break. “Do you know what kind of car it was? Did you catch the plate?”

I shook my head. “No. It was getting dark, and I’d just woken up.” And I’d been scared. “It was black. Big for a car, but definitely a car.”

“Good, that’s good.” He nodded encouragingly. “What else did you see?” When I didn’t say anything else, his eyes slanted. “Who was here?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know.”

He stared at me, and while he wasn’t accusing me of lying, he could tell I wasn’t being completely honest. “I feel like there’s this elephant in the room. Everybody can see it, everybody knows about it, but me.” His eyes bore into mine. “What am I missing, huh? It’s right here, I know it is.”

I sighed, knowing that I couldn’t avoid the rest of the story forever. I had to tell him. “I waited until the car was gone before I went outside, but”—I moved past him, into the hall, and grabbed the envelope from table—“this was on the porch.”

I sat at the kitchen table, placing the package in front of me. He immediately dropped into the chair next to me and pulled out the pictures. Slowly, he went through each one, occasionally glancing at me out of the corner of his eye, his breath getting more ragged with each photo. Until he got to the block-lettered warning on the last page.

He inhaled sharply, crumpling the paper in his fist. When he finally met my eyes, he looked at me as if he was afraid I was going to have another flashback. He was worried.

I took a deep breath. “I’m sorry.”

He looked uncomfortable for a brief second. “Why in the fuck are you sorry? I’m the one who should be apologizing.” He crossed his arms, leaning his back against the chair. “I wasn’t here to protect you.”

I wanted to roll my eyes at his chauvinistic comment, but he was being so sincere, I couldn’t. Plus, I wanted someone to protect me. I wanted to be taken care of.

His face turned serious, almost foreboding. “The car you saw earlier—could it have been a Chrysler 300?” He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and, a few seconds later, showed me a picture. “Did it look like this?”

I stared at the car on the screen. “It could have been. It was the same shape.”

He sat up straight, bracing his forearms on the table and adjusting his long legs. He took a deep breath, turning his brilliant blues on me. “It’s Mark. That’s the piece I’m missing.” It wasn’t a question but a statement of fact.

“Declan.” My voice was little more than a whisper, even though I wasn’t trying to be quiet.

“Earlier, you weren’t remembering Dustin.” He pointed at the other side of the kitchen, nodding. “You broke down when I told you Mark worked for me.” He dropped his hand onto the table, sliding it over to cover one of mine. “Why are you afraid of Mark? What did he do, Gabs?”

I pulled my hand away from his and tucked both of mine in my lap. I didn’t want to do this now. In fact, I had changed my mind. I didn’t want to tell him at all. I shook my head, avoiding his eyes. “I’m not.”

“Gabby.” His tone held a hint of scolding. His finger and thumb captured my chin, and he forced me to look at him. “Talk to me. Tell me what happened.”

I jerked backward, breaking our contact. I felt tears sting my eyes, and I shook my head trying force them away. I wasn’t afraid of Mark. I wasn’t. “I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. It’s okay. I’m right here, listening.”

I shook my head harder. “No, you don’t understand.” I wrung my hands in my lap. “I can’t! You think that”—I threw out my hand, waving it in the direction of the stove—“was bad? It wasn’t! That was nothing! I really can’t talk about it.” I dropped my hand and whispered, “I won’t survive.”

His eyes grew wide, and he shook his head. “No.”

He didn’t believe me. Tears fell before I could attempt to stop them. Declan didn’t believe me.

“Yes,” was all I could manage before the sobs took me. Years of worry came rushing forward. It didn’t matter if anyone else thought I was lying. I needed Declan to believe me.

He pulled me into him. One hand held my head to the crook of his neck as the other moved over my back, attempting to comfort me. “I have no idea what he did to you, Little G, but I swear to fucking Christ, I’m going to kill him for it.” His mouth moved close to my ear, his arms tightening even more, as if he was trying to keep me close forever. “I will make him pay. You will never have to be afraid of him again.”

His words destroyed me.

It took a long while for my tears to stop flowing, even longer for my breathing to return to a normal pace, yet Declan stood there, holding me and offering promises that I could only hope he’d keep. In that moment, while I was in his arms, the rest of the world faded away. It was just him and me. He would keep me safe.

When I finally pushed him away, wiping my face with my hands, I instantly felt the loss. I immediately moved back into him, burying my face in his chest and wrapping my arms around his torso. I only needed to feel him close. He let me, as if he was content to just stand there and hold me.

After a few minutes, his hand cupped my cheek and tipped my head back. “I love you, Gabriella. Don’t you ever forget that.”

Unshed tears burned the back of my eyes. I’d needed to hear him say that.

“Hey, hey,” he whispered, running a thumb along my upper cheek, wiping away a stray tear. “It kills me when you cry.”

His lips were light and soft when he dipped his head this time, and I knew he was trying to kiss me better. I clutched the back of his neck, needing to hold him closer. Needing more.

“Please?” I begged against his lips when he tried to pull away. “Please, make it go away.” His body stiffened and attempted to move again, but my fingers dug into his flesh to keep him close. “I need this. Spend the night with me, make me forget. Make it go away.”

I didn’t wait for him to refuse me, and instead, I pushed up onto my tiptoes, taking control of the kiss. I needed this. Declan needed this. I wasn’t going to take no for an answer.