Page 40 of Delta Force Defender

“Then I see even less reason for me to take part in this performance.”

“You’re Julia Sheeran,” Isaac said again, as if saying it repeatedly could make herJuliato him.

He already regretted how he’d set this up, because now he wished he’d handled this privately. How many times was he going to learn the same lesson? When it came to this woman he wasn’t Isaac Gentry, owner and cofounder of Alaska Force, a man with all kinds of medals and commendations to his name, trained in the battlefields of too many wars to count and consistently approached by the government to give his country a few more years. He was just a guy.

“Not for a while now,” Caradine said, as if this were a game. “I have the ID to prove it.”

His jaw felt like stone. “You’re the oldest daughter of Mickey Sheeran, internationally renowned scumbag, arrested but never convicted of crimes ranging from gunrunning to murder.”

“He wasn’t the greatest father in the world, either. Shocker.”

“But the funny thing is that you’re both supposed to be dead.” Isaac’s voice matched his jaw. Or maybe he’d simply turned to stone. “Blown up ten years ago, in thathouse in Quincy with the rest of the Sheeran family, presumably by one of Mickey’s enemies. And he had so many, I wouldn’t know how to begin counting them.”

“Before you say something flippant about Mickey Sheeran’s enemies,” Templeton said, his voice unusually grave, “you should know that most of the people in this room have put their lives on the line to clean up messes Mickey Sheeran caused. Indirectly or not.”

“Your father is in prison,” Caradine replied, moving her glare to Templeton. She glanced at Kate by the door. “So is Kate’s. Are we blaming ourselves for our fathers’ actions now? When did that change?”

“Ouch,” Blue muttered, though Everly glared from beside him. At him.

But Isaac’s attention was on Caradine.

“Are you enjoying this attempt at a public shaming, Isaac?” she asked. “I am. If nothing else, it tells me exactly who you are.”

“You know exactly who I am. You always have. I’ve never lied to you or anyone else. I’ve never pretended to be someone I’m not.”

“You do pretend to be a good man, though,” she drawled, malice in every syllable though her voice was light. “Can’t get past that one.”

There was a kind of indrawn breath that shuddered throughout the room, and part of Isaac was almost amused, really. Everyone knew Caradine had a mouth on her. But it was almost entertaining for the rest of these people he called his friends and brothers to see the kind of wallop she packed into every swing she took.

Almostbeing the operative word.

“You weren’t a kid when your father supposedly died,” Isaac said, very calmly, because he wasn’t immune to the low blows Caradine liked to dish out, but he could take them in stride. “You were twenty-two. About to graduate from college. That and the fact you’re standing here in Alaska ten years later, while your old lifeburns down buildings and chases you across Maine, suggests to me that unlike Templeton or Kate, you weren’t exactly innocent.”

Something shifted in her gaze, and he had the strangest idea that she’d gone hollow. “If you’re expecting me to defend myself to you, you should probably let that go. I’m not going to.”

“The explosion killed most of your family,” Isaac continued, pitilessly, no matter if she was hollow or not. He wasn’t the one who’d done this.

“I know,” she said softly, her eyes glittering. “I was there.”

Another kind of sigh went through the room, but Isaac kept his gaze trained on her. The biggest threat he’d ever met, and not because she was related to a notorious arms dealer.

He knew what to do with dictators and monsters. She was a whole other kind of problem.

“The hit on Mickey Sheeran was considered an act of revenge. One of Boston’s crime families took credit, but despite their best efforts, the FBI could never prove they actually did it.” Isaac waited for her to chime in, but she only stared back at him stonily. “The body count was only ever an estimation. Because the damage was so intense and the fire so hot it was impossible to be certain.”

Again, no response. Though he thought he saw something glitter in her eyes.

“Complicating matters was the fact that no one knew exactly who was in the house that night,” he said. “Your father liked to conduct business over Sunday dinner, so officials had to wait and see which dirtbags and relations stopped showing up. Over time, they landed on a particular group of ten. Your parents. All three of your brothers. You; your younger sister, Lindsay; and three lowlifes who worked either for or with your father. But here you are, Julia. All in one piece.”

That name sat in his mouth and tasted sour.

“For all you know, I was resurrected,” she replied, standing there looking cool and unbothered. “My mother was a devout Catholic. Her prayers alone should have delivered me straight into the life of the world to come. That’s how it works, right?”

“You were an adult,” Isaac said, trying to match her unbothered tone. Trying to pretend he could have been talking about any regular case. “Witness statements from your friends at college attest that you left your dorm that night and told at least two people you were going to your father’s house. Were you going for dinner? Or did you always plan to blow up your entire family?”

“Oh, come on,” Everly snapped.

Caradine didn’t glance her way. She kept her gaze on Isaac, and there was no trace of vulnerability on her face now. No glimpse of anything like uncertainty, or hollowness. She lifted a dark brow. “You tell me, Isaac. I thought you knew everything.”

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