Almost Innocent (20 page)

Sucking his bottom lip, I bit it playfully and was rewarded with a long, pained groan. Sliding one hand into his hair and balling his silky strands in my fist, I touched my mouth to his then slid my tongue against his.

My other hand skipped down his side and up under his T-shirt. He jerked in surprise as my fingernails scraped down the middle of his stomach, and another moan escaped him before his fingers wrapped around my hand, halting its descent.

“Gabs.” The word was more of a growl than anything.

“Declan.” I lowered my heels to the floor, short in front of him, and talked to the front of his T-shirt instead of looking up at him. “I know it sounds crazy.” I shrugged, needing him to understand and not knowing the right words. “They took so much. From both of us. And I have no idea what tomorrow will bring.” I bit my cheek, thinking about my talk with Conall. “I need to feel safe, even if it’s just for one night.” I glanced up at him. “I love you. I need you. All of you.”

His jaw ticked. He was breathing fast, but I couldn’t tell if it was because he was upset—or because he felt the same way I did. He swallowed roughly. “You sure?”

I nodded slowly. “Yes.”

I yelped in surprise as Dec swooped me into his arms. He strode through the house and up the stairs then kicked my bedroom door closed behind us. He carried me to the bed and laid me down with a gentleness that should have been surprising, before he stood and peeled his shirt over his head.

Good God. If he just stood there and let me look at him for the next thirty years, I’d be content. My mouth watered, my fingers aching with the need to run my fingers every peak and valley, tracing the muscles that went on for miles.

I’d always thought Declan was the most handsome boy I’d ever seen. Now, the man in front of me took my breath away. Wide shoulders, toned arms and pecs, and washboard abs that drew my eyes downward, leading them to a deep V that I’d only ever read about. Holy shit! It looked good on him.

His pants hung low on his waist, just low enough to tease me but not quite low enough for me to see my prize. I bit my lip, the idea of seeing Dec—my Dec—completely naked making me nervous. Instead of focusing on it, I slid my eyes back up his body, taking in each piece of art that decorated him.

His arms were covered with ink. The right forearm held the most unique tribal design I’d ever seen. Above it, a burning ace of spades had half disappeared into a cloud of smoke. The left was covered with a sleeve—made almost completely of skulls. It started at the wrist, where the angel of death perched, and ended on top of his shoulder, where the words, “That Which Does Not Kill Me Makes Me Stronger,” were woven in and around a skull with a sinister smile.

With the exception of two Chinese symbols above his left pubic bone, and another three in a vertical line down his right side, the rest of his skin was surprisingly empty. I’d seen his arms and assumed his body would be completely covered. The practically blank canvas suited him.

He stood, incredibly calm and still, letting me get my fill. When I finally tore my eyes away from perfection in the flesh, I caught him smirking at me.

He lifted a shoulder in a half shrug. “I showed you mine…” His giant grin and wink made me squeeze my thighs together. A move that he didn’t miss. “Your turn.”

I pushed myself up, slid off the bed—ignoring the nerves that almost made my legs not hold me—and stood up straight. Reaching down, I fingered the hem of my oversized ratty old shirt and hesitated.

I had a lot of scars—more than I could count. Some of them I was ashamed of, some I was proud of. I hadn’t been naked in front of a man in twelve years, not since before Grady, and I took a second to let self-doubt mess with my mind.

Then I lifted the shirt, yanked it off, and dropped it onto the floor before I could talk myself out of it. I reached behind my back and quickly unsnapped my bra before I could lose my nerve.

When I reached for my pants, Declan stepped forward, reaching out. “No!”

He startled me, making me drop my hands and jerk my head up to look at him. He was breathing fast, chest rising and falling as if he’d just gone for a run, and I could see his heart racing. My hands fell, and I wiped sweaty palms on my thighs.

“Those
I
take off. Jesus…” He moved slowly, taking another step toward me. “I’ve thought about this moment a million times.” Another step brought him closer, but not near enough to touch me. “I’d lie in bed, picturing you.” He bit his lip as he let his eyes wash over me. “I’ve always known you were the most beautiful being to ever exist.” Blue eyes pierced mine. “I never imagined you’d be this fucking sexy.”

He took one more step, putting him within reach. “I’d touch myself, imagining what it would be like to touch you.” He ran an index finger down the center of my chest before he stepped even closer and cupped my breast, lifting it. Leaning down, his mouth next to my ear, he let out a low moan. “It was never this good in my dreams.”

He dropped to his knees, letting his hand skim over my skin, creating a line of goose bumps as he went. Fingers closed over the top of both my leggings and panties, and slowly, so damn slowly, he peeled them down my legs. When they pooled at my feet, both hands traced back up the outside of my body, closing on either side of my waist.

He kissed my stomach quickly then stood and stepped backward. If he had been anyone other than Declan, I would have felt the need to shy away, to cover up or turn out the light. But I didn’t need to hide from this man.

His eyes surveyed me, not missing a thing. From the stretch marks to the cellulite to the scars, he saw every imperfection. He didn’t seem to notice them. Instead, he focused on the nipples that had hardened under his gaze and the neatly trimmed area between my thighs. “I want to touch you.”

I tipped my head, watching him struggle with himself. “Then touch me.”

He met my eyes. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t.” There was nothing I was more certain about.

As if that was the only encouragement he needed, his hands flew to his belt. My breath caught as his pants fell away. Unease mixed with need raced through me.

Ignoring it, I moved toward him. “I want to touch you.”

He chuckled as I sent his words back to him, but he shook his head, holding out a hand to stop me. “Good Christ, I want you to. But…” He laughed nervously. “You can’t.”

I took another step, not understanding.

He groaned. “I haven’t been with anyone”—he caught my wrists gently, circling them with his hands and lifting them so I couldn’t reach him—“not since before I went away. If you touch me right now, it’ll be over before it begins.”

It took a second for his words to sink in.

He pulled me into him, lifting my hands onto his shoulders. “Kiss me, woman.”

I chuckled at his playful tone, my nerves finally catching up, but I did as he asked.

Kiss after kiss, touch after touch, he consumed me.

I didn’t realize he was moving us, leading us toward the bed, until I was lying on my back and staring up at him. Braced on his forearms, every muscle in his body was tense as I ran my fingers over his, loving how the muscles rippled under my fingers. His mouth on my neck turned my body into mush as he slid his legs between mine, nudging them wider.

“I want to go slow,” he whispered, his voice husky. “I want to kiss every inch of you.” He tugged the bottom of my ear between his teeth. “I want to make it last all night.”

The tip of his tongue trailed down to where my neck met my shoulder, and he sucked as he thrust against me.

I wanted him to do all of it. Just not right now.

I dug my fingernails into his back, dragging them down to his ass. “I want you to fuck me, Dec.” I grabbed him, trying to pull him closer to me.

“Not yet,” he promised, his head moving to my chest.

Teeth closed over the tip of a nipple. I gasped, jerking his ass down, desperate to get him where I needed him to be.

“I’ve waited twenty years for this,” he breathed against my skin. “I can wait a few more minutes.”

“We’ve had twenty years of foreplay.” I moaned as his mouth sucked on the other nipple. “I can’t wait!”

He pushed himself up onto his hands as his lower body moved into place. Then he stopped suddenly, making me groan in frustration. So close. So goddamn close.

“I don’t have a condom,” he muttered, leaning his head back on his shoulder, staring at my ceiling. “I didn’t even fucking think about it.”

I frowned, sliding my hands around the front of him, and wrapped my fingers around the only part of him I hadn’t been able to touch yet. My name fell from his lips, a cross between a curse and a prayer.

“I don’t care.” I adjusted slightly, opening my legs wider. “There hasn’t been anyone.” His breath caught, and I chanced a peek up at him. His eyes were on fire. “No one since before.”

Rearing back on his knees, his hands flew to the insides of my thighs, feeling the slickness that coated them. He snatched my hands, threading his fingers between mine, and pushed them onto the pillow next to my head. In one fluid movement, he was in me, gripping my hands tightly as we groaned.

He cursed in my ear, a low sound that set my skin on fire. I forced myself to relax, easing up. He moved slowly at first, then faster and faster, until we were both breathless and crying out. He didn’t let go of my hands, not once, as he drove me higher and higher until I crashed over the edge, mumbling his name. His mouth found mine as he chased his release.

“I love you,” he whispered against my lips as he found it. “I love you.”

I
couldn’t sleep
.

I was physically exhausted, but I wouldn’t let myself relax enough to find the rest my body craved. I’d spent years sleep deprived, training myself to survive on half the sleep other inmates needed, because you never knew what kind of monsters were lurking in the dark. I could sleep when I was dead.

After I’d done what I needed to do.

I lay there for hours, watching her sleep. She was at peace, a faint smile on her lips. I wanted to remember her like this: beautiful, naked, and mine.

Part of me wanted to wake her, just to spend hours worshiping her body, so I could show her how much I loved her. Fuck, I did love her. There wasn’t a thing I wouldn’t do for her, not one thing I wouldn’t give her. Including the peace of knowing the man who had hurt her was dead.

Mark didn’t know it yet, but he was a dead man walking.

It didn’t matter what he’d done. I imagined every possible scenario, from stupid to brutal, preparing myself for the worst, but I hoped my cousin wasn’t fuck-all stupid.

Either way, he was going to die. The manner of his death, how long it would take and the brutality of it, would depend on what he had done. I would make the fucker pay, the same way I had once planned to make Dustin pay. No one fucked with what was mine and lived. If I’d known twelve years ago, the bastard would be worm food now.

Another part of me, the dark, demented part, longed to wake Gabby and drag the truth from her. I needed to know because my mind always went to the worst-case scenario, and I’d spent hours replaying moments, searching through memories, trying to see what I’d missed. Had the truth been right in front of me and I’d refused to see it because I was blinded by my loyalty to my cousin? If that was the case, I was just as bad as Dustin and Mark.

I could deny it all I wanted, make excuses, but the truth was blatantly obvious.

I had known. Dreams, especially nightmares, were the body’s way of working through your memories, helping you cope. I’d had the same goddamned dream about the night Dustin died for years, but I’d never examined it for what it was—a fucking compass pointing right at the guilty party.

I’d fucking failed her again. That shit sat like a brick in my gut, weighing heavy on my soul. She could bet her sweet ass I wouldn’t let her down again.

I didn’t want to leave her, but if I didn’t, if I lay there with only my thoughts, I would eventually let the rage take over, and I’d act on pure emotion. When you acted on feeling alone, things escalated quickly and shit got ugly. I couldn’t risk that.

No, I needed to be smart about this—use the brain my father had given me—and not rely on the Callaghan blood running through my veins. I’d waste the son of a bitch, but he wouldn’t know it was coming. First, I needed facts. I didn’t want to know what had happened, but I needed to know.

Trying not to wake her, I slid out of bed and yanked on my jeans. I stood next to the bed, staring at her, longer than I meant to. My need to be near her clashed with my need to avenge her. Vengeance finally won.

I had a plan and knew the end game. First, I needed answers. I was tempted to call Fi, or Moira, and demand they tell me whatever secrets they’d been holding. That felt like a violation of Gabby’s trust though, and she’d been through enough.

Only one person could give me what I needed.

I grabbed my cell and sneaked out of the room. I moved through the house, smiling at a snoring Zahira lying on the couch, and into the kitchen before I hit his name on my phone.

He answered almost immediately. “I wondered when you’d call.” The groggy way he dragged his words told me I’d woken him.

My hand tightened around the phone, clutching it hard. The amount of hatred I felt for him, after just hearing his voice, surprised me. I forced myself to chuckle. “It’s been one fuck of a weekend.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” I forced my voice to remain calm, to act as though this was any other call. “Any word from Mass?”

“Do you never fucking sleep?” Mark asked, laughing. “Jesus, man, it’s three in the morning.”

I didn’t reply. Me calling him in the middle of the night to talk business wasn’t new. I did most of my thinking while the rest of the world slept.

“Nothing yet.”

“It’s coming soon then. One way or another, we’ll hear something. Go back to bed. In the morning, make the calls. See what you can find out. Then come over. We need to figure shit out.”

“You home?”

The question was one he’d asked me many times before. How many times had he known the answer already? There was no way he didn’t know I wasn’t. Fi’s tire being slashed after I’d spent the night at her house, and the little package he’d left on Gabby’s porch—in his goddamn car no less—right after I’d left her house was a little too coincidental for me.

The fucker had followed me. Or traced my cell. He’d found me the same way he found everyone else he’d looked for. I’d never expected him to betray me, so I hadn’t had my guard up.

“No.” A lie would only make him suspicious, but I’d be damned if I’d supply him with any more information. “Let me know what you find out, and I’ll see you at the house later.”

He grunted as I hung up.

I had a plan. I had an end game. Mark was going to die. But not until he’d told me every last thing he’d done. And not until I’d punished him for it all.

It might have been the middle of the night, but I poured a cup of coffee and warmed it in the microwave before sitting at the table and staring out into the night. I wouldn’t leave until Gabby was awake and Moira’s men had come to get her. I needed to know she was safe.

I sat there, lost in my thoughts, as the minutes ticked by and dawn started to break. When my phone rang, I expected to see Mark’s name on my screen. I tensed when it wasn’t.

The uncles didn’t call unless there was an emergency that couldn’t be handled any other way. Somehow, they always knew something was wrong, usually before I did. And their calls always preceded a shitstorm.

This was a call I knew was coming. As soon as Ron stole that payment, I knew it was only a matter of time before they wanted answers. But right now, I was in no mood to deal with the uncles or their shit. Gabby took precedence.

“Conall,” I answered as coolly as I could.

“Open the damn door.”

I sat up straighter, glancing at the kitchen door, sure I’d misheard him. Then Zahira’s low warning growl came from the other end of the house.

“I’d let myself in, but…”

I pushed out of the chair, dropping my cell on the table, and grabbed the wooden baseball bat hanging on the kitchen wall. Creeping down the hall, I was half surprised to see him standing on the other side of the front door.

“What are you doing here?” I demanded through the glass, my voice low.

“If I wanted to kill ya, ya’d have been dead before you knew I was here.”

I grit my teeth, set the bat down, and flipped the lock. I pulled the door open before standing aside to let him in. The man in front of me looked harmless. Late seventies—hell, maybe even early eighties—bald with a bright white beard, he resembled your average American grandfather. He crossed his arms and stared at me.

Everyone was afraid of Conall Callaghan. If they weren’t, they were a fucking fool. I was the biggest idiot of them all.

An old school Irish-Catholic businessman who’d financed half of corporate America, he was owed favors by the world’s most dangerous. His alter ego, the man who people accredited with his crimes, belonged to every major crime watch and most-wanted list. Yet this man was friends with senators, diplomats, and world leaders and considered a humanitarian.

There wasn’t a thing he couldn’t make happen, as long as there was something in it for him. Money didn’t matter to a man like Conall. Information bought his loyalty. If he didn’t know something, he knew how to find it. Because of that, he was always a step ahead.

I didn’t let his intense expression bother me. I was too worried about the woman sleeping upstairs to give two shits about anything else. Crossing my arms and mimicking his stance, I glared at him. “Why are you here?”

Conall’s old face was blank, showing no emotion. “I’m here to get Gabriella and the boy.”

“The hell you are,” I spat back, dropping my arms and fisting my hands. “You’re not taking them anywhere.”

Lips quirked. “You’re going to stop me?”

“She hasn’t done anything wrong,” I snapped. “So yeah, I am.”

Conall chortled. “So much like your father. No, boy, I’m not here to hurt them. I’m here to extract them.”

I scowled at him. Extract them? My eyes narrowed. My father had used that term—he’d said if something ever happened to him, or if we were in danger, the family would be
extracted
.

Conall was here to take Gabby and Grady and fucking vanish them.

I couldn’t do anything more than stare at him while my mind whirled.
Fuck him
. He wasn’t taking my family anywhere.

Blood may be thicker than water, but Conall had always been clear that family was nothing but a disappointment. Knowing what had happened with my brother, I didn’t blame him. Conall hadn’t made up his mind about me yet, but he’d given me the chance to prove myself simply because I reminded him of my dad.

Conall had had a family once—a wife he loved and four children he adored. He’d been young and stupid, a kid who thought he had the world by the tail, and he hadn’t protected them well enough. Their murders had made international headlines, creating the bitter and violent man he was now.

After Dustin died and the extent of his betrayal was uncovered, the uncles had been enraged. Dad worried they were going to come after Gabby and end her life because it was tied to Dustin’s. He’d talked about sending her away, but after everything she’d been through, and with the baby coming, he knew she needed us.

Conall, as ruthless as he was, had a fucking bleeding heart. The young pregnant girl, brutalized by her boyfriend but had fought to save her baby, struck a chord in him. He’d vowed to help my father protect her.

“Why?” I hissed. “Why now?”

His eyes turned dangerously dark. “I should be asking you that. Twelve years, Declan. For twelve years she’s been safe.” His brogue was thick as he lectured me. “She runs into you, then two days later, she’s calling for help.”

The words were a verbal slap. Gabby called
him
?

“I don’t believe in coincidences,” he continued. “So you tell me. Why now?” He lowered his arms slowly, stepping toward me. “Gabriella is like a daughter to me.” His face turned hard.

I wanted to argue, insist that he couldn’t know Gabby that well. I would have known that. Someone would have told me. But at this point, I was completely lost. There were more things I didn’t know than facts I actually had.

Zahira was sleeping on the couch again—I could hear her deep, steady breaths. The dog that Grady had told me didn’t like anyone. She’d let me know we had company, then she’d gone straight back to bed and hadn’t paid attention to him. Which meant Conall wasn’t a stranger.

“We had an agreement,” he continued, oblivious to my epiphany. “You would take over, and we would relocate your family, separating them from you. You would be free of the responsibility, and they would be free of you.”

I shook my head. “I made that deal with Moira, not you.”

“Your mother was working on our behalf,” he pointed out, as if I was an idiot. “You and I had our own agreement. Or have you forgotten? I let Niall have access to her, so you could have peace of mind that she and the boy were all right, and you would stay away from her.”

“
I
would stay away from
her
,” I emphasized. “That’s what I promised you. She showed up on my doorstep.”

“You didn’t turn her away.” His eyes swept down my bare chest accusingly. “Instead, you drove her home and spent the weekend.”

I crossed my arms again, feeling as though I needed a barrier between us. “That has nothing to do with this.”

“Doesn’t it?” He tipped his head slightly to the left, observing me. “For over a decade, I hid her in plain sight. No one bothered her. No one got to Fiona. You show up, and they’re targeted?” He scoffed as if it was obvious that I was the link between those events.

“I can protect her.”

“No, you can’t.”

I balked.
Bullshit
. Unease crept up my back. I eyed his torso, wondering if he was carrying under his jacket.

“You’ve always looked at facts and sought the logical explanation,” he said. “Yet you trust blindly and take things at face value. If something adds up, you don’t dig beneath the surface. Even when clues are staring you right in the face. Four and four might equal eight, but so do five and three. Not everything is as it seems. You can’t protect her if you can’t see the big picture.”

I stared at him, knowing what he said was true. I’d never had to look deeper because I had never planned to be in a position where I had to. “I see it now.”

“No, you don’t.” He shook his head. “You’ve only ever seen what you want to see—the small tip of a very large iceberg. When the water parts, you’re not going to like what you find.”

“I already know what I’m going to find. The root of the problem is the same as the tip—a man who betrayed his family. He’s never going to hurt the people I love again.” I stepped forward. “If you care about Gabby as much as you say you do, why in the fuck is he still breathing? You’ve killed for less.”

“As have you.” A spark of something I couldn’t read—resentment, disbelief, maybe even a challenge—lit his eyes. “I’ve seen you, Declan—the monster you have inside. From your first kill to your last, I know the things you’re capable of.” He growled, “Mark was only the errand boy.

“I could have ended both of you. With a snap of my fingers,
you
never would have seen daylight again. The death of her tormentor would bring her closure, but the murder of the wrong man would only cause her more pain. Gabriella won’t speak of it. For twelve years, I’ve waited for her to break down and tell me, or for someone to come after her.”

Blood roared in my ears at his accusation—he’d thought I had hurt her.