by Wild, Cassie
Going back to the blog, I read the author’s speculation that the dealer had been considering giving evidence against the Downing family.
The third blog was the worst.
Heirs to a Bloodstained Fortune. The link opened directly to a page with somewhat blurry pictures of my brothers…and me. It was an older picture, and only my first name was given, but anybody with half a brain could figure it out.
I closed the tabs and tossed the tablet onto the table. It slid off and hit the floor, but I was already hurrying down the hall toward the bathroom. The tea I’d drank sloshed in my belly, threatening to make a repeat visit.
I barely got to the toilet in time, hitting my knees and emptying my stomach in violent, retching spasms.
When it was over, I huddled in the corner by the tub, my burning cheek pressed to the cool tile. Eyes closed, I tried to blank my mind, but I couldn’t.
How could I have been so blind to the truth for so long?
And what was I going to do about it now that I knew?
* * *
“Briar? Is that you? What’s up with your voice?”
I knew I should have texted her. Between vomiting and crying, my voice was trashed. “I’ll tell you later. You feel like coming over? I’m…hell, life sucks. I could use a shoulder.”
“Gimme thirty minutes.” She hesitated, then asked, “Is this an ice cream sort of day?”
My raw stomach cringed at the idea, even though my throat might have appreciated it. “I don’t know. Maybe later. But I’ve always got Ben & Jerry’s on hand, so I’m already prepared.”
“Good deal. See you soon.”
I disconnected the call and made my way into the kitchen, getting an icepack from the freezer before retreating to my chair in the living room. I’d finally taken a good long look at my face, and I could see why the delivery guy had given me a double-take. I looked absolutely scary.
A deep, hard cold had settled inside me ever since reading about my dad and brothers, but I didn’t let that stop me from holding the ice over the swelling in my cheek. I compensated by huddling in the blanket, shivering and miserable.
Anneke was good to her word, making it in under thirty minutes, and she actually had a tray from a local coffee place in her hand. She almost dropped it at the sight of me, though. Her mouth fell open as she fumbled with the drinks, saving them with just a bit of the hot beverages bubbling out through the little slits in the plastic lids. “Oh my god. What happened?”
“I was stupid,” I said in a surly voice.
Concern, and a bit of anger, flashed in her eyes. “That guy you’re dating…”
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “There was a fight between a couple gangs last night. They ended up in my ED, and one loud-mouthed racist jerk took exception to having a black nurse. He kept running his mouth, and another patient got pissed and…” I shrugged. “They got into it, and I was stupid and stepped in between them, thinking I could talk them down. This was the thanks I got.”
“Oh, honey…” Her round face softened with sympathy.
My throat went all tight, and this time it had nothing to do with all the crying or the information I’d learned about my dad and brothers. Anneke came inside and put the coffees down on the Queen Anne table before wrapping her arms around me.
Feeling utterly pitiful, I dropped my head down onto her shoulder and sniffled. I really didn’t want to cry—it wouldn’t help my headache at all—but the tears welled up anyway, and I grabbed her around the waist as a sob tore out of me.
She patted my back and made shushing noises under her throat.
The storm didn’t last for long.
I’d all but cried myself empty during the night, and there just wasn’t much left now. Pulling back, I grabbed a tissue from the pocket of my robe and dabbed at my nose. “Sorry,” I said.
“It’s okay.” She passed my coffee to me, watching me with concerned eyes.
I took a sip and almost whimpered as the soothing heat passed over my abused throat.
“If I’m wrong, let me know, but I get the feeling this is about more than just whatever happened in the ED last night,” Anneke said softly. “I mean, the way you said it, you sounded more pissed off than scared. Am I right?”
I nodded, staring down at the coffee. “Come on,” I said listlessly. “Let’s sit down.”
She took a seat in the recliner while I returned to my reading chair, curling up with my coffee cradled in my hands.
“Does the name Seamus Downing mean anything to you?” I asked softly.
She frowned, head cocked. “I don’t know…maybe. I mean, it’s kind of familiar, but that might just be because I know you’re a Downing. I assume he’s family?”
“He’s my father.” I stared at her as I added, “And I think he’s the head of the Irish mob here in Philadelphia.”
Anneke had been in the middle of lifting her coffee to her lips. She stopped halfway, lowering the cup, watching me with a carefully blank expression on her face.
“And my oldest brother is my dad’s right-hand man. I’ve known that for years, but I always assumed it was in their business stuff. I never really let myself consider what their business was. But, apparently, it’s…it’s all criminal shit. And my other brothers are involved in it too. I know they are.”
Her expression was an almost comical mix of shock and surprise. “Oh…” It was all she could apparently say.
I totally understood.
The next words that came out surprised the hell out of me, because I hadn’t consciously realized I’d been worrying about it. But once I blurted it out, I couldn’t deny it.
“And Cormac…we got into a fight last night.” Her eyes flew to the bruise on my face. Once more, I shook my head. “Not him, Anneke. We argued. He’d been fighting…for money! Money! I yelled at him about it, and he gets all ugly and tells me that I might talk big, but my family’s right down there in the mud because they make their life off violence.”
Her mouth opened, then closed. After a moment, she just shook her head. “That was shitty, Briar.”
I barely heard her. “He loves getting in fights. I mean, shit that’s borderline criminal and probably even over the line. But I’m attracted to him anyway. And I find out all this shit about my family. What if…” Appalled at what I was thinking, at what I was saying, I stopped. But the words were already out there, mostly, so I decided that I might as well finish. “My family. My brothers and my dad…they’re criminals. I spent my life shoving my head in the sand, but I can’t pretend anymore. I always knew something wasn’t right. Always. I just…ignored it. And you know how sometimes girls grow up and seek out men who display behaviors similar to what they saw in the men around them? What if I’m only attracted to Cormac because of that?”
“Honey…you’ve told me a million times that your dad spoiled you rotten, and your brothers treated you like a princess.”
I scowled and looked away. It was true enough. They had.
She leaned forward, her coffee clutched in her hands. “Is there anything about the way Cormac acts that reminds you of your family?”
I snorted. “No. Not really.” Cormac’s rough-and-ready demeanor was a far cry from the smooth, almost debonair behavior my brothers presented to the world. They were different with me, but they definitely weren’t the rough sort.
“Okay, then.” She rolled her lips inward and looked away, her expression intent and thoughtful as she lapsed into silence.
I had no idea what she was thinking now, and as her silence stretched out into eternity, I started to wonder if maybe I should have just kept my mouth shut. I’d already had my heart smashed by Cormac. I didn’t need it from my best friend too.
But Anneke spoke, her words stilted and slow. “You know…sometimes, we love people who aren’t always…the best kind of people.” She rolled her eyes at me. “Like my dad. I mean, I don’t want to talk about him right now, but he did some shitty stuff. But he was good to me. He was a good da
d, and I still love him. It can be hard living with that, knowing he wasn’t a good man and loving him anyway.”
“Yes.” I felt the sting of tears threatening once more. Swallowing around the knot in my throat, I asked, “So how do you reconcile it? How do you do it?”
“I can’t help you figure that out, Briar.” She shook her head. “We all have to figure it out for ourselves. But if you ever need to talk…I’m here.”
Eighteen
Cormac
Gritty-eyed and in a foul mood, I sat behind the counter. The clock hanging over the desk seemed impossibly loud and slow. I’d swear, the second hand on that piece of wood and metal was having some weird time disparity thing, because there was no way the seconds were dragging by that slowly. It just wasn’t possible. But when I checked the time on my phone, sure enough, it matched up with what the clock on the wall said.
I finally escaped the clock’s insanely slow second hand when I left for lunch, but I made the dumb-ass mistake of going to the Vietnamese place where I’d taken Briar on what might count as our one and only date, and once the food was put in front of me, I found I had no appetite. Still, I poked at the food and forced myself to eat some of what I’d ordered, killing a fair amount of my lunch break.
I spent the rest of it walking up and down the streets with the bitterly cold wind cutting right through my jacket and making myself long for the warmer weather back in Miami.
I never should have taken this damn job, and each day I was here, I kicked myself a little bit harder for doing so.
The sentiment only increased when I stepped inside the shop and found Jerrel slumped in the seat I normally occupied. He and Melia were talking. She half-leaned against him, and when she saw me, her eyes widened slightly, then she got even more friendly with him, if that was possible.
Jerrel was aware of me too. I could tell by the subtle tension in his body, but he kept his attention on Melia until they were done talking. Finally, she pushed away from him, trailing a finger down his cheek and giving him a coy smile.
As she sauntered away from him, Jerrel straightened in his seat and turned to face me.
“Where the hell have you been?” he demanded.
I made a deliberate show of looking at the clock. “Taking a lunch.” I shifted my attention back to him and cocked a brow. “I am allowed to eat, right?”
His lip curled as he shoved up off the stool, then jerked his head, indicating that I should follow.
If he tried to make one more move at me…
He didn’t head out to the back lot, though. He led me into the small, cramped office space rarely used by the tattoo shop’s owner, and as he sat down, he gestured to the seat across from him. “Marcos wants some results. Like…yesterday,” he said. “No way was he expecting this to drag on as long as it has. You need to give him something and soon.”
“Yeah, well. There’s been a bit of a roadblock,” I said, shrugging with a casualness I didn’t feel.
“What kind of roadblock?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.
“We had a falling out. Briar isn’t talking to me right now.” And I deserved it. There was no denying that.
“This ain’t no fucking’ high school romance,” Jerrel said, scorn in his voice. “You’re supposed to be looking for information. You better do your job, or I’ll be forced to tell Marcos you can’t do it, and I’ll be taking over.”
“You’ll what?”
His eyes gleamed. “You heard me, MacTavish. See, me and that lady doc struck it off pretty well when I was at the hospital. I don’t think she was all that impressed by the way you’re constantly getting into fights, either. Won’t take much for me to slide into her good graces, especially if she’s nursing wounds after dealing with a punk like you.”
I started to see red. My hands instinctively clenched into fists, but I relaxed them, refusing to let him see how he’d struck a nerve. “You won’t be able to get anything quicker than I can. Remember I’ve been at this for a month easy. She takes a while to warm up to a guy.” I shrugged, surprised that I was able to be so casual about it. “You go barging in with that asshole attitude of yours, all you’ll do is send her into hiding.”
“Then maybe you better step it up.” He shrugged. “It’s no concern to me. But the boss is tired of waiting. So get to it.”
Nineteen
Briar
I checked my makeup once more in the car’s mirror, giving myself a critical once-over in the sun’s bright light. Thanks to a couple of online tutorials and a good thirty minutes in front of the bathroom mirror, the bruise on my face wasn’t visible.
All day yesterday, I’d spent a decent amount of time with an ice pack on my face to bring the swelling down. It had helped, but I still looked like I’d gone a round with a pro boxer—and lost.
I was still prepared that my family—particularly Brooks—might comment about the makeup since I so rarely wore much of anything beyond lipstick and maybe some mascara. I’d yet to decide if I’d say anything about what had happened in the ED.
I also hadn’t decided what to say about what I’d learned.
Part of me just wanted to pretend I’d never learned anything.
But I knew that wouldn’t be possible. I’d never be able to forget what I’d seen, even though I’d only skimmed a few articles and even what I’d seen had been nothing more than speculation at best. There was a hard kernel of truth at the core, and I knew it.
As I made the drive to my father’s house where we were meeting for brunch, I brooded about the entire sorry mess. Ugly as it all was, it was serving one very practical purpose—I didn’t have time to think about Cormac. That was a blessing because I didn’t want to think about him. He’d flung my family at me like the very mention of them was a weapon to be used against me. The bad thing was that he hadn’t been wrong at all. It had been a very effective weapon too.
I was still reeling from the blow, reeling and dazed and thrown off balance in a way that was wholly unfamiliar.
The information I’d been forced to face left me unsettled to the core, and by the time I got to my father’s house, I still hadn’t come to any decision.
Dread curdled in my gut as I sat there, staring up at the house. Maybe I should have called over and told them I wasn’t feeling well. It wouldn’t even have been a lie. If I had a few more days to get level, maybe I would have figured out—
The front door opened.
Brooks stood there, framed in it.
I continued to sit there, almost frozen. That spell broke when he started down the steps toward me, a puzzled smile on his face, and I fumbled with the door and tried to compose myself. I didn’t manage it in time. He had drawn level with the car by the time I’d opened the door.
He caught sight of my face, and his features immediately tightened. “What’s wrong? Did you and that jackass have another fight?”
There it was. The perfect way to get around this.
But instead of latching onto it, I found myself laughing, a bizarre, high-pitched laugh that sounded a little too close to hysterical. I couldn’t control it, though. I fell back against my car, a hand pressed to my lips to muffle the sound.
Brooks waited me out.
The laughter finally faded, and in its place, I found a hot ball of fury.
As Brooks took a step toward me, I shoved off the car and met him half way. Reaching up, I jabbed him in the chest with my index finger. “I used to wonder why none of you ever wanted to talk about the family business with me. Then I stopped wondering, figuring you had your reasons. But there were whispers…so many whispers. Things I had to ignore. I told myself people were lying, or that they were jealous…or stupid. But deep inside, I knew that wasn’t it. I knew something was wrong. And...it turns out I was right.”
Brooks’s eyes were blank, but a muscle ticked in his jaw as he stared at me.
I turned away from him, turbulent emotions crashing through me.
I’d hoped he’d tell me I was wrong.
/> Brooks hadn’t ever lied to me, and I didn’t think he’d start now. I’d hoped against hope that he’d tell me I was wrong, that I’d misunderstood…something.
But he was silent.
“You know, this is all a bit problematic for me, being a doctor, knowing that my brothers and my father are involved in drug dealing and weapons trafficking.” I turned back to look at him. “I mean, it’s not like I don’t fight to save people from overdoses and gunshot wounds, you know?”
Brooks had gone white, and his eyes were no longer blank. He stared at me with a grim, unhappy gaze as he reached for me.
I smacked his hands away.
“Don’t touch me right now,” I warned him. Suddenly wishing I hadn’t bothered covering the bruise on my face, I glared at him. “You know how many people end up in the emergency department because of useless, senseless violence, Brooks? How many of them are innocent bystanders? How many of them are kids? And you all are out there facilitating it by selling illegal weapons! Dealing drugs? What else?”
He opened, then closed his mouth, lowering his head to stare at the ground.
“Don’t you have anything to say?”
“I don’t really see the point,” he said softly. He did lift his head, though, meeting my eyes. “Nothing you’ve said is wrong.”
That threw me off, but only for a second.
“If you don’t disagree with me, then apparently you’re not bothered by the idea of innocent people, including kids, dying for no reason and people like you and Dad and Sean and Declan profiting from it.” I threw up my hands and turned away to pace back and forth by the car. “Shit, does Daria know about this? Isabel?” When he didn’t answer, I turned back to him. “Well?”
“Daria knows. That’s part of the reason I’m pulling out.”
“I…” The words I’d been prepared to hurl at him died on my tongue, and I stared at him, confused. “What do you mean you’re pulling out?”
