Almost Innocent (22 page)

I’d never, not once in my thirty-six years, imagined that she would have cheated on him. Especially not with my uncle. If she was going to have an affair, why choose Logan? Was there not one other man who would sleep with her, so she had no choice but to fuck her husband’s brother?

Logan and my dad had been complete opposites, much like Dustin and me. Despite some small disagreements I’d seen them have over the years, they were like a well-oiled machine. A team. What could have made Logan think that screwing his big brother’s wife was the right thing to do? Sleeping with your brother’s wife was one of the ultimate forms of treachery.

Despise and disgust filled me. I thought I’d hated her before, but now—for the first time, I was glad that Logan was gone. I didn’t blame my father for taking him out. Hell, I was surprised he hadn’t killed them both. They’d betrayed his trust.

If Gabby cheated on me with—

Fucking Christ! Realization charged through me at light speed. Guess my apple didn’t fall far from the tree, huh? I was Logan. I’d fallen for my brother’s girl. I’d tried to take something that wasn’t mine.

My mother cleared her throat. “And no. Your father didn’t order the hit.”

My head snapped up, my eyes flying to hers. I’d been so sure. The signs were all there.

“I did.”

I could only stare, positive that I was hearing shit. “No. I was there when you found out, remember? You were torn up. You were devastated.”

She scoffed. “Acting, Declan. It was all acting. I was so happy that son of a bitch was dead that inside, I was screaming with joy. That show you saw? It was to ensure no one ever figured it out.” She swallowed. “Your father did though. I think he knew what I was going to do before I did it.”

“Why? If Dad already knew about the affair…” I shook my head because I couldn’t believe my mother was that good of an actress. “Why kill Logan?”

Moira glanced away, at the beach out the window next to us, then back at me. There was no sadness or shame on her face. She took a deep breath. “When you’re a parent, you’ll understand. You protect your children at all costs. No one matters more than them.”

She lifted her cup and took a sip as if we were having a casual conversation during Sunday brunch. “I did it to keep you safe. I only wish I had done it years before.” She looked out at the water, and for a split second, regret showed on her face. “If I had let your father kill that son of a bitch after Graham died, I might have been able to save Dustin.”

Then her lips puckered. “Dusty may have had Logan’s blood in his veins, but Colin raised him. We thought if we loved him enough, gave him the extra attention he desperately needed, and raised him to be a good man that he would be. Nurture over nature. Somewhere we went wrong. Dustin turned. He started going off the rails, spiraling out of control.”

No. My mouth fell open. Dustin couldn’t be Logan’s son. I would have known. Memories assaulted me. Little things that hadn’t made sense at the time suddenly clicked.

The day my father realized Dustin had beaten me up, and he’d told me that no one was going to hurt his son and get away with it.
His son.
The differences between us—Fi, Dustin, and me. The ones I had always noticed but never read much into.

Anger scorched through me. Fuck them. How could they keep something that important from us?

“Did Dustin know? Did he at least know before he died?”

Moira nodded. “Yes. He’d known for years.”

She looked at me while her words sank in. My brother had known. We’d hated each other, but I was surprised he’d never thrown it in my face.

“Logan told him. I’m not sure when, but sometime after he graduated, once he started working at CI. Your father stepped in once we discovered how much time Dusty was spending with Logan and Mark, but it was too late. The Dustin we loved was gone.” Her shoulders rose in a shrug.

“The day Logan took more interest in you, I knew it was only a matter of time. You asked why I had him killed, but you should really be asking why it took me so long. I’d already lost one child to that monster. Who in the hell do you think taught Dustin to be the way he was? Hateful, violent, and cruel—that was never your father! No, that was Logan. I wasn’t going to lose you too. You were my pride and joy. You were my good boy, my angel.” Her lips moved into a sad smile.

“Dustin had already helped morph you into something I barely recognized. I wasn’t going to let Logan take the rest from you. So I took care of it.” For the first time in a long time, I saw water pool in her eyes. “And lost you anyway.”

I couldn’t argue. She had lost me. I’d lost myself.

“Grady is a great kid, Declan. He’s smart, and funny, and kind.” She smiled, her pride clear. “Gabby has done an amazing job with him. I love him, and I can’t imagine not seeing him all the time. But he’s his father’s son. Unless we do something, we’ll lose Grady the way we lost Dusty.” Fear, unfiltered and honest, made her entire body tense.

“You can’t see it, but Mark is the same kind of man his father was. Grady is Mark’s nephew. In Mark’s mind, Grady is his only living relative. As long as Grady is in Maine, and easy to find, Mark will find a way to get to him, the same way Logan got to Dustin.”

I wasn’t going to let that happen.

I
woke up smiling
.

I was warm—so cozy, tucked in my bed with my favorite puff lying over me and my head nestled into the most comfortable pillow that had ever been made. Nothing on me ached, which meant for the first time in a long time, I hadn’t tossed and turned all night. And I wasn’t exhausted.

It was heaven.

I turned on my side, trying to calculate how much time I had before Grady invaded, asking for breakfast. I was half surprised that he had let me sleep this long. The head print on the pillow next to mine startled me at first, then the memories came back.

Declan.

Declan naked. Declan kissing me everywhere. Declan telling me he loved me before he showed me exactly how much he did.

My face flamed red, but I was too happy to be embarrassed.

Last night had been something that dreams were made of—something romance novels were written about. He hadn’t been rough or unkind. No, Declan had given me something I’d never had.

He’d loved me.

He was gentle. He talked to me, not at me, not telling me how disgusting and worthless I was. Instead, he told me I was beautiful and perfect. Then he’d made me feel as though I was both.

That was the kind of night women dreamed about. One I had never imagined. Now, I couldn’t wait to do it again.

The bedroom door was slightly open, allowing the heavenly scent of freshly brewed coffee to waft into the room. I grinned, picturing him down there, in my house, right where he belonged. Suddenly, I couldn’t wait to get out of bed.

After throwing back the covers, I slid out of bed and hurried around the room, trying to find something to wear. Part of me wanted to surprise him and go down wearing nothing but a sheet, but the other part was too cold. Flannel pajamas and knee-high fuzzy socks were sexy, right?

Totally.

As I plodded down the stairs, I heard the sizzle of bacon and the scrape of a spatula. He was making me breakfast! My heart was so full that it could have burst.

When I stepped into the kitchen, the good morning greeting died on my lips. Instead of Declan, an old man stood at my stove. I squeaked, completely startled, my hand flying to my heart.

Conall turned, taking my entire reaction in stride, and offered me a grin. “Good morning, lass!” Before I could recover from my shock, he moved to me and kissed my forehead before taking my arm and guiding me to the table. “Sit.”

“Good morning?” I sat, because I didn’t know what else to do, and stared at the man in front of me. I’d completely forgotten that I had called him. How could I explain that he’d wasted a trip, that everything was going to be okay now? “When did you get here?”

“About five.” He went back to the stove, not offering any more information. The house was glaringly quiet, making it clear we were alone.

“Conall?”

He lifted his head, not taking his eyes off the skillet in front of him.

“Where is Declan?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he slid an omelet onto a plate, cut it in half, and slid one-half onto a second plate before he added strips of bacon to each dish. Then he carried both to the table and headed back for the coffee cups. “He had something to do.”

I felt my face fall as worry crept up my throat. Something to do? Declan had already had something to do—be here, eating breakfast with me.

“You look well rested,” Conall told me with a nod. “It’s nice to see.”

I swallowed, not feeling the slightest bit hungry. Anxiety made my stomach burn. “Conall, thank you for coming.” I meant it. Despite the fact that he’d probably dropped everything and flown straight here, and I felt bad, it was nice to see him. I’d missed him. “But you came all this way for nothing.”

Conall took a long moment to set his fork down and settle his blue eyes on me. “No. I came because you were scared. Something happened. What?”

“He found me.”

“He found you?”

I nodded. “He did. I don’t know how. I’ve been so careful, but he was here.” I took a deep breath. “I called you because I was scared.”

“Now you’re not?”

I didn’t know how to answer that. I was still terrified, but I believed Declan when he said that he would protect me at all costs. “I think I’m always going to be scared. I’ve spent the last decade looking over my shoulder, waiting for him to find me. I think I’d just started to get comfortable, these last six months. It was more of a shock than anything.”

Conall nodded. “Why won’t you tell me what happened? Let me give you the peace of mind of knowing he’ll never hurt you again.”

I shook my head. “I can’t.”

“Can’t? Or won’t?”

“Both.” I lifted my fork, picking at my egg. “It’s my problem. I’ll handle it.”

“It’s not just your problem though, is it? Fiona was targeted yesterday. You say he was here. What’s going to stop him from coming back? It’s only a matter of time before Grady is next. What are you going to do then, Litt’l One? How are you going to handle it then?”

The idea of Mark hurting Grady made me feel physically ill. I dropped the fork, shaking my head. “Declan will never let that happen.”

“Declan might not always be around to stop it.”

The words weren’t a threat but a reminder. Declan had made enemies, powerful and terrifying enemies, when he’d admitted to killing his brother. Men who should have been after me, because I was the one who had pulled the trigger, were after Dec because of his lie.

“You can protect him.”

“I have been.” He ran a hand over his cheeks and down his beard. “There is only so much I can do.”

I knew that of course, but I still hoped for a miracle.

Dustin, even though he had moved up at CI and was running his own divisions, hadn’t been satisfied. He’d wanted more. More money, more power, more everything.

He started small, selling drugs on the side. Using the connections he’d gotten through CI, he gathered a small clientele. A few dozen people he did business with regularly, mostly his own employees, who bought directly from him.

It took a few months, but once he realized how easy it was to have both businesses, he decided to grow. He encouraged each person who bought from him to take a little more, to try to sell on their own. Within the first year, his suppliers couldn’t keep up with the demand—he needed too much product.

People became curious. The Callaghans were known for many things, including staying away from the drug market. No matter how Dusty tried to sell it, he was seen as a liability. Every time he tried to branch out and expand the business or merge with other distributors, he was told that if he got his father’s blessing, or if Colin came to negotiate, they’d have a deal. No one wanted to cross Colin.

Then the perfect opportunity fell in Dustin’s lap.

The Callaghans had been the backbone of organized crime in New England for years. They owned Maine and New Hampshire. Not a single thing was smuggled in or out of Canada in either state without them knowing about it. Most of the time, a Callaghan Industries truck brought it in.

Which meant no drugs. Guns, contraband, people—you name it, and the Callaghans dealt in it. Except for drugs. Because the borders were patrolled heavily by people lining their pockets with Colin’s money, there was no way in hell a freak shipment, or two, made it through undetected.

That caused a problem for the Ganzarolli family. Their best suppliers were in New Brunswick and Quebec, yet it cost them thousands to get the product into buyers’ hands because they had to ship it so far out of the way. Dustin was the answer they’d been looking for.

Before he could blink, Dustin was in over his head.

Somehow, he convinced his men to join him. First, it was the long-haul drivers. They’d make a quick stop before getting to the Callaghan Industries pickup, then carry his product over the border without so much as a glance from border patrol. Then it was the delivery drivers, men he already trusted to drive the cargo to the buyer and bring cash back, so why not have them make one extra stop and get a little more money? Then it was his direct employees, who went from pushing weed and coke to peddling heroin.

Worse were the lives he took when someone couldn’t pay, or he felt he was being betrayed. Which was all the time, because he had this pathetic idea that he had to personally try the drugs he sold. For quality purposes.

Asshole.

Over the last few years of his life, Dustin became paranoid and extremely violent, more so than he ever had been before. And right there, for every step of the journey, was dear old cousin Mark. Egging Dusty on, pouring poison in his ear, twisting the truth in a way that Dustin didn’t know heads from tails. It was awful to see.

Suddenly, Dusty wasn’t in charge of his part of Callaghan Industries or his side business anymore. Mark was. Dustin may have been the figurehead, but Mark was running the show.

If Colin had discovered what Dustin was doing, he would have had Dustin taken out. He would have had them both killed. That was without Colin knowing what was happening to me.

Colin had been close to figuring it out, I knew that much. While Dustin had a group of men loyal to him, the old timers were still loyal to his father, and things had started to fall apart. Ezra’s death had been the last straw, the nail in the coffin. It was only a matter of time before the whole thing would have come crashing down around him.

Which made Dustin even more violent toward me. I’d only been a few months pregnant when he murdered his brother-in-law, but I had thought that the baby might save me from his outbursts. It hadn’t.

Absentmindedly, I ran my hand down my throat, feeling the scar he’d left that night. I wasn’t sure what it was from, just that it had been there when I woken up. Even if I had escaped and I’d never had to choose between killing him and saving myself, Dustin would have died. His days had been numbered. Someone would have murdered him before the year was over.

“What’s the next step then? How do we make sure he stays safe?”

Conall adjusted, sitting back. “You go upstairs, pack as much of yours and Grady’s things as you can, and tomorrow, we leave.”

“With Declan?”

“Declan is not my concern.”

I shook my head. “No. I’m not leaving without him.”

He bobbed his head once. “Yes, Litt’l One. You are. You’re going to take your son and keep doing what you’ve been doing. Declan has a choice to make. No one can make it for him. But I can, and will, keep you and Grady safe. Fiona too, if she’ll come. You’re my only priority.”

“What choice?” I gripped Conall’s hand. “What choice does Declan have to make?”

“He has to decide if he’s the man he wants to be, or the man he has been pretending to be.”

I didn’t understand. His words terrified me. “He’s coming back, right?” Even I could hear the unmistakable panic in my voice.

“Gabriella…” His comforting tone was the same one Colin had used when my grandmother had died, and it made me shoot to my feet.

“No!” I pointed at him. “No. Where did he go?”

Conall stood and walked toward me slowly, as if approaching a crazed wild animal. “To right a wrong.”

The blood fell from my face. “He’s going after Mark.”

Conall nodded. “He’s doing something we should have done years ago.”

Mark would tell him everything. Flashes from the past hit me, worse than a panic attack.

Dustin and Mark forcing me to do things I’d never wanted to do, using me in ways that now made me nauseated if I forced myself to remember. Dustin telling Mark that he was tired of me, that it was my fault his life had gone to shit.

“You see this?” Dustin pointed down, but I didn’t have to look to know what he was talking about. “This is your fault.” He backhanded me again. “You’re so fucking worthless you can’t even get my dick up.”

I narrowed my eyes at him from where I’d fallen on the floor, wanting nothing more than to tell him to take another pill. Instead, I got back up on my knees and crawled toward him, ready to try again. If I didn’t, the beating would be twice as bad tonight.

Before I could reach him, he kicked, connecting with my shoulder and making me cry out and inch back. The low laugh from the corner, telling me we weren’t alone, made bile rise in my throat.

I could handle Dustin alone. I could play the part of his whore, just to survive. I couldn’t handle the two of them together.

“Something funny?” Dustin leered. “She’s fucking pathetic. Can’t do one fucking thing right.”

“Want me to take her off your hands?”

My head started to shake, but I couldn’t tell if it was my gut reaction showing through or if it was from fear.
No! No!
I screamed inside my mind.
Anything but that.

“You want that useless slag?” Dustin slurred. “Then take her. Get her out of my sight!”

Arms reached around my stomach, lifting me off the ground, and no matter how much I kicked, Mark didn’t let go. Not until he’d moved down the hall and into his room.

He gave me his sinister smile, the one that gave me night terrors, as he closed the door. “You’re mine now, Gabby.” The way he said my name made my skin crawl. “Go ahead and scream. You know how much I like it when you do.”

I backed up, my body shaking—this time from fear. That had started almost a week of constant pain. Terrible things had happened to that girl in that room. Things I could never admit had happened to me because my brain wouldn’t cope. I watched it, movie-like, happen to someone else.

Mark would tell Declan everything. Once he knew the truth, he’d stop loving me. He’d despise me. He’d have no choice. I still hated that girl.

I didn’t make it to the bathroom before I threw up.