Page 39 of Sweet Revenge
Nessa took a deep breath and plastered on a smile. “Of course. I appreciate you coming by and listening to my hysterics. I’m probably overreacting about the whole thing.”
Evie and Declan shared a look behind Nessa’s back while she led them to the door. She was definitely not overreacting. If anything, she was underreacting. Fear could make you brush red flags aside and minimize them. Hadn’t she done the same thing with her tire?
She wanted to believe it was an accident because the truth was chilling. Someone might be after her. Someone determined enough to ruin her that he would kill two innocent people to get what he wanted.
They said their goodbyes and waited in Declan’s SUV for Owen to arrive. When he pulled up in a plain gray sedan, he waved to Declan and parked but didn’t get out. She watched her sister’s house fade in the side mirror as they drove in silence back to Glenmore House.
“She’ll be okay.”
“Will she?” Evie turned in her seat to look at Declan as he pulled into the garage and put the car in park. “Or will he get her too?”
“Who? Peter?”
Evie dragged her tongue over her bottom lip. Was she ready to tell Declan about William’s warning? Part of her wanted to do this on her own. Peter was her mess to clean up, but deep down she knew she needed Declan’s help and his resources. Syndicate resources.
“I got a call from William the other day. He thinks Peter might be more dangerous than we realized.”
Declan blew out a breath. “How much more?”
“Kill two innocent people and stalk a third dangerous,” she replied, voice quiet.
She could hear his fingers drumming on the steering wheel. Something he used to do when he was thinking.
“Do you want my help, Evie?”
The question surprised her, and she turned to look at him. This man had been commanding her every move since she’d stepped foot in this city, and now he was asking her if she even wanted his help? Somehow, the fact that he’d asked before she could annoyed her.
“I need it.”
He nodded slowly. “Then I think it’s time to lay everything out on the table. About Peter, about Morocco, about whatever the hell that might have to do with your parents.”
“Okay,” she said after a long moment. “Okay, I can do that.”
“I’ll call a family meeting. I’m only going to tell them anyway,” he added when she protested. “This cuts out the middleman and eliminates the chance of anything getting lost in translation.”
She didn’t relish the idea of exposing the parts of herself she’d kept hidden for so long to his entire family. Most of them didn’t even like her. Except she knew he was right. If she needed syndicate resources to figure this out and get back to her life, she would need their help. All of them.
“Fine.”
ChapterTwenty
There was a time when attending a Callahan family dinner wouldn’t have made her so nervous. It had been fun getting together with the whole family then. Declan’s father, Patrick, had always intimidated her, but the four brothers were close and loud and always laughing.
It had been even better when Finn and Brogan had started to date and she wasn’t the only girl in the room. That was a lifetime ago, though, and she had no idea what to expect from any of them now.
Evie stared at herself in the mirror, tugging down the hem of her shirt. It didn’t matter what she wore. She wasn’t trying to impress anyone. She glanced at the time on her phone as she debated switching back to the green top she’d discarded on the pile on the bed. She was officially late.
Annoyed with herself, she deliberately turned from the mirror. Purple was a good color; she liked purple. She was not going to change her damn shirt again. Closing the bedroom door behind her to hide the mess, she descended the stairs to the sound of voices.
They preferred to gather in the family room that sat off the hall to the kitchen rather than the more formal living room in the front of the house. She wouldn’t say it was cozier—none of the cavernous rooms in Glenmore House could really be considered cozy—but it was homey and comfortable with overstuffed furniture and a well-stocked minibar.
Pausing in the doorway, she leaned against the smooth, polished wood and watched. Declan was still dressed in a suit, but he’d discarded his jacket and rolled his sleeves up to his elbow. It was the most dressed down she’d ever seen him. A stark contrast to the boy who’d lived in jeans and too-tight t-shirts as a teenager.
He stood across the room, deep in conversation with his uncle Sean and cousin James, a glass of brandy in his hand. A small smile curved her lips. No, it was whiskey, definitely whiskey. His laugh carried across the room, and she sighed. It had been so long since she’d heard him laugh like that, and it still captivated her.
Brogan and Aidan sat on one of the sofas, locked in a heated debate about something, hands waving and fingers pointing. Every so often, they’d stop to take a swig of beer and then they were back at it. Not much had changed there.
They were, all of them, exactly as she remembered them, even though she’d tried so hard to forget.
