by Carina Adams
Declan Callaghan was a funny guy. Who would have known that the brooding and serious boy who sat behind me in English was anything but ominous and somber? Miraculously, he could make me laugh when others could barely get me to smile.
The stupid grin he’d created was still plastered on my face when I slipped up the stairs and knocked on Dustin’s open door.
“Where have you been?” Dustin snapped, snuffing out the joint he’d had pressed to his lips as he motioned me inside.
I ignored the nasty tone, smiling at him instead. “Hey, babe.” I headed straight for him, holding out my arms for a hug. “I missed you this afternoon.”
Instead of pulling me toward him as he usually did, he put a hand in the center of my chest and shoved me back. Hard. I stumbled onto the bed, a startled sound on my lips.
Dustin stood over me, hands on his hips. “Where in the fuck have you been?” His repeated question was a snarl on his lips.
I frowned at him, confused. He’d been kicked out of chemistry and sent home, but I’d had to stay and finish my classes. I hated when he smoked weed. Everyone said it calmed you down, but it only seemed to wind Dustin up.
I pushed myself up off the bed, trying to keep my anger in check. “I had school.”
“No shit,” he snarled, stepping toward me. He’d already been too close, and I had to lean back to look him in the eye. His tone made prickles of worry run down my spine. “The fucking bus dropped you off twenty minutes ago. Where in the hell have you been?”
“Dec and I—”
The backhanded slap came out of nowhere, cutting off my words and leaving a searing path across my right cheek. I fought the urge to cover the spot with my palm and instead narrowed my eyes at the man in front of me. He glared back. Fuck him. I quickly shoved him as hard as I could and moved around him.
He grabbed my wrist, yanking my body back so that I faced him. Fury flowed off from him in waves, but it was no match for the bomb about to explode within me. He let go of me, raising his hand as if he was going to smack me again, but I moved faster.
I reached between us, grabbed a section of his inner thigh, and squeezed as hard as I could, the way my dad had taught me. It wasn’t the best way to bring a man down; a poke in the eyes and a knee to the groin or a palm to the nose was better. But I didn’t want to cause Dustin any unnecessary pain, and I didn’t want to hurt him long term. I just wanted him to get the hell away from me.
He made a strangled gargling noise as his eyes popped open in surprise, and he tried to push me away. I tightened my grip, fingernails digging into flesh through his jeans.
“Fuck. You,” I spit out, finally dropping my hand and turning to the door.
I knew he wouldn’t be coming after me, at least not for a few minutes, but I ran down the steps anyway. I needed to put distance between us. Just in case.
I was thankful when I didn’t see Declan anywhere in the house. I didn’t want to explain to him why I was leaving when I’d just gotten there. I couldn’t tell anyone how stupid I’d been. I grabbed my bag and hurried out the front door.
The Callaghans were bad news. I’d known that before I moved into town. My grandparents had lived here all their lives, born and raised under the Callaghan reign. My dad had grown up with Logan and Colin, been friends with the brothers, worked for them, and gone to jail because of them.
I’d been told the next generation wasn’t any better. I’d seen Dustin’s bullying with my own two eyes, how he manipulated every situation to get his own way, how no one ever said no to him without facing the consequences. But I’d been blinded by the pretty face and the nice gestures.
And by Declan. God, I adored Dustin’s little brother.
“Gabby?”
The voice that called to me was full of confusion. I paused, closing my eyes for a second and trying to calm my features so I could play off my leaving as something other than what it was. Then I turned to face the boy who had become my friend.
Dec was standing in the open garage door, wiping some sort of tool on a rag, the motorcycle torn apart behind him. “Where you going?”
I swallowed. “Dustin’s not really up for company and I have a ton of homework”—I adjusted my backpack, trying to sell the lie—“so I’m heading home.”
He frowned, scrutinizing me way too closely. “I thought you were staying for dinner.”
Shit! “Yeah, the big ‘meet the family’ night.”
I’d forgotten all about it. Dustin and I had been officially going out for a little over a month. Meaning we’d gone on two dates to the movies, one to dinner, spent hours on the phone, and even more here after school, hanging out and getting to know each other. We’d made out a few times, but nothing hot and heavy yet. I wasn’t even sure we were exclusive. But Dustin had insisted that it was time for me to meet his family.
“I don’t think tonight’s a good night,” I said.
Dec stepped closer, and I looked down, unable to meet his eyes. “Want me to take you home?”
I laughed, glancing back up. “On what? You got a magic carpet hanging around out back?”
He chuckled and tipped his chin toward the driveway. I peeked over my shoulder, seeing only Dustin’s Wrangler. I looked back at my friend, eyebrows raised.
Dec winked. “I don’t want you walking all the way home. If my brother’s gonna be a prick, he can suck it when I use his wheels to take his girl home.”
I shook my head. “You can’t drive that! You don’t have a license.”
Dec only smirked.
“He’d kill you. You know that, right? That’s his baby.”
Dec just shrugged. “I’m sure he’d try. You’re more important than his fucking car. You’ll be home safe, that’s all that matters.”
I wanted to argue, but he was right. I lived on the other side of town—a twenty-minute drive. It would take me hours to walk, and it was already getting dark.
I turned back to the Jeep, weighing my options, and was just about to agree to the absurd idea when headlights moved across my body as an SUV turned into the drive. I backed up, surprised. I’d been here many times, but the adults were always absent.
Dec’s hand landed on my back. “Relax, it’s just my dad. He’ll drive you home.”
As the ugly box-shaped car rolled to a stop in front of us, I realized it was a Mercedes. The door opened, and as an older man stepped out, my breath caught.
I hadn’t learned much about the Callaghans in the last few months. Even with all of our combined history, I felt clueless. But I knew they were rich. The kind of rich where their grandchildren’s grandchildren would be set for life.
No one knew exactly where their money came from. If I believed my mom, which I didn’t, the Callaghans were Maine mobsters, doing everything from running illegal gambling, to loan sharking, to being the biggest drug dealers the northeast had ever seen. Yet they never had any problems with the police. And the people in town protected them.
My dad had been their hired muscle. I’d never really gotten a clear definition of what that meant or what exactly he’d done. He’d never explained, always telling me that one day we’d talk about it. That day never came. When I was ten, there was a riot at the prison where he was doing his time, and he didn’t make it. He’d only had a hundred sixty-two days left to go.
Not long after his death, two men in black suits knocked on our apartment door. My mom was passed out, unable to climb out of the bottle even to say good-bye to the man she claimed to love. One of the men got very angry, breaking down the bedroom door and hauling my mother out of her bed.
The other stepped in front of me then crouched, blocking out the rest of the world, and looked me in the eyes. “You have nothing to be scared of, I promise. I need you to be brave and go pack a bag, little one. I’m going to take you to your grandma’s.” He reached out slowly, as if he was almost afraid to touch me, and ran a fingertip down the bridge of my nose. The way my daddy always had to calm me. It brought tears to my eyes.
Life with Gram wasn’t great, but it was better than I had expected. Better than things would have been with the woman who gave birth to me. We lived in a tiny three-room apartment, but the man who dropped me off came and checked on me often. He never told me his name, but he was nice to me, even though my grandmother seemed afraid of him. He always called me “Little One,” never Gabby, and he always cupped my cheek and ran a finger down my nose the way my father had.
When Gram got sick, the man with the kind blue eyes came to the hospital to get me. Only he wasn’t alone. This time, he was flanked by six men in fancy suits. As they filed into the waiting room, everyone else stood and left abruptly, as if obeying a silent order. With a single nod from the kind man, his guards left too.
Settling into the uncomfortable chair next to me, he gripped my hand. “I’m going to need you to be brave, Little One.”
I didn’t want to be brave anymore. I just wanted to go home, with Gram, and pretend this was a nightmare. I couldn’t though, because I knew Gram wasn’t going to make it.
“I’m not little anymore,” I snapped, needing to lash out.
He only smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “You’re not. You’re almost grown up. But your dad always called you his Little One, so that’s what you will always be to me.”
I didn’t argue. He stayed with me while I said good-bye to my gram, and he held me while she took her last breath. Then he picked me up, as if I weighed nothing at all, and carried me to the car. He drove me back to Gram’s, just him and one of the six goons who followed him everywhere, and he helped me pack my things. Then we drove straight to Watertown, right to the Fortes’.
I didn’t really know my dad’s parents. He’d talked about them often, but I’d only met them once or twice. They didn’t like my mom, understandably so. But the man with the kind eyes had promised they’d be good to me and that he’d check in.
Before he left, he cupped my cheek, ran the tip of his finger down my nose, and said, “I’ll see you soon, Little One.”
That had been almost five months ago, at the end of June, and I hadn’t seen him since. Until now.
His smile faltered, for just a second, when he saw me standing with his son. As if sensing something was wrong, Dec stepped closer to me. I heard the front door slam, and I knew within moments, Dustin would be out here too. Declan’s hand never left my back. Instead, he fisted a section of my shirt as if to hold on to me.
Mr. Callaghan headed straight for us. “Declan, who is your friend?” he asked, as if I were a stranger he’d never set eyes on.
My mouth fell open slightly, and I stared at him.
“This is Gabby, Dad,” Dustin answered before Dec or I could say anything.
Mr. Callaghan masked his surprise well.
“And Gabby isn’t feeling well,” Declan inserted. “Can you give her a ride home?”
Dustin stepped toward me. “I’ll take her.”
I felt my body stiffen at his words. Dec must have felt it; he was too close not to.
“No.” Mr. Callaghan’s voice was stern when he turned to his oldest son. “I’ll take her. After that shit you pulled today, you think you have car privileges?”
Dustin laughed bitterly. “It’s my car.”
Wrong thing to say. Mr. Callaghan turned on his son, his face hardening into a murderous glare, and I leaned back into Declan, afraid.
“We will talk about this later,” Mr. Callaghan ground out. His eyes moved to me. “Get in the car, Little One. Declan, you too.”
I almost couldn’t move, but Dec pushed me forward then opened the passenger door for me. “Little One?” he mumbled as he climbed into the back. “I like it. Little Gabby. Nah, Little G.” He chuckled. “That’s what I’m gonna call you. It’s perfect!”
I tried to force myself to relax, but my mind was in overdrive. Not only had my boyfriend struck me, but his father turned out to be the man who had been taking care of me for years. And he’d had Declan ride with us so I couldn’t ask him about it. I hadn’t felt so lost or confused in a long time.
As if reading my thoughts, Dec leaned forward, putting his hand on my shoulder. “We’re friends, right, Gabby?”
The question surprised me, and I turned to stare at him, nodding.
“I’m here,” he said. “Just so you know. Whenever you need me. I’m here.”
I opened my eyes, staring at my ceiling. That had been such a screwed up day, but it was just the preface of what a tangled mess my life would eventually become. Yet somehow I was still clinging to the promise a fifteen-year-old boy had made me twenty-one years earlier.
Chapter Eight
Declan
I turned into my driveway so fast I almost sideswiped the gate, then I gunned the engine, slamming on the brakes at the last minute, so I didn’t collide with my brother’s Jeep. Leaving my car door open, I raced into the house and up the stairs, then I threw my weight against the door to Dustin’s room.
Just as the gunshot echoed throughout the house, shaking the walls as if an earthquake had hit.
His room was destroyed, furniture broken and scattered around, holes in the walls, the floor covered in debris. The scent of blood hit me like a freight train. The taste of copper invaded my mouth, almost as if it was me who had been wounded, and I stumbled backward as my eyes moved over the room, desperate to find her. The closet door was flung open, hanging from only the bottom hinge.
On the floor, just inside the closet, was a man, weeping. He clutched something in his arms as he rocked back and forth, sharp wails of pain seeping from his body.
No! No. I raced to them, fell to the floor at her feet, climbed up her legs, and shoved the trembling mass away from her. Her eyes were still open, yet there was no life left in them. One of her hands hung limply at her side while the other was curled over her rounded belly, almost protectively. Fuck, no!
I sank onto my knees next to her, pulling her up to me and burying my face in her neck. Not my Gabby. She couldn’t be gone! Without her, I had no reason to breathe.
Despair filled every part of me as I clung to the woman I loved, desperate to rewind the clock and get her back. Just for a few more minutes. Just to tell her how much she mattered to me.
“She’s gone. She’ll never be yours,” the sinister voice I’d grown to hate goaded. “She always thought she was never good enough for you.” He barked out a psychotic laugh. “You. Bitch was never good enough for me.”
Without moving away from her, because I couldn’t physically let go yet, I yanked my Desert Eagle from its holster and aimed at my brother. “You were never fucking good enough for her.” I pulled the trigger without a single regret. “She’ll never be yours.”
The look on Dustin’s face was one of betrayal and surprise. I didn’t know why he felt either. My loyalty to him died the day he’d discovered I was in love with his girlfriend and decided to punish her for my mistakes. He’d been there when I stole the life from perfectly healthy and decent men, so it shouldn’t be a shock that I’d relieved his black soul from his diseased, evil existence. He flopped over to the side dramatically as I returned my attention to the woman who was my everything.
“I’m so fucking sorry, baby,” I whispered, holding her tight one last time.
A phone rang across the room, but I couldn’t move away from the woman in my arms. I cradled her head against my chest, begging God and all of the saints to grant me a miracle. I’d give my life for hers. I willed my strength into her body.
It didn’t work.
The phone rang again, this time with a commotion behind me. I snapped my head to the right, a predatory growl on my lips, daring whoever had come into the room to try to rip her from my arms. The sight of my cousi
n, standing just inside the door, caused rage to boil out of me.
I wouldn’t leave her for anything. Except revenge. Pressing my lips to her still warm forehead, I laid her back gently and faced the man I’d trusted above all others.
I stalked toward him, gun drawn. “Where the fuck were you?”
Mark narrowed his eyes at me but was smart enough to step back.
“I told you to watch her. I told you to protect her.”
My best friend raised his chin defiantly, as if the love of my life wasn’t lying behind me and growing cold. “I don’t take orders from you, kid. She wasn’t yours.”
The pain that hurtled through my body was unlike any I’d ever felt, burning a path from my mind to my stomach as realization dawned. He’d known. The fucker had known and hadn’t lifted a fucking finger to stop it.
Loss—not just from Gabby, but knowing the man I’d loved as a brother was now gone—mixed with the bitter taste of betrayal and swirled in my stomach. I could finally see the man Mark had become. I hated him. He may not have pulled the trigger, but he was just as responsible for Gabby’s death as Dustin.
I lifted my arm without aiming and unloaded the magazine into him.
I sat up, gasping for air and clutching at the blanket that covered me. It was just a dream, I told myself. Just a dream. I moved quickly, throwing my legs over the side of the bed, leaning my elbows on my knees, and clutching my head.
Just a dream.
I’d had it often over the years. At first, it was every damn night, and I’d wake up just to make sure that Gabby really was breathing next to me. After I went away, the dream came less frequently—usually after I’d gotten a report from Niall or a letter from Gabs. Each time, it destroyed me. The woman got under my skin and fucked with my mind.
It was always the same. It always left me with the same unease and a dangerous and undeserved anger toward Mark.
I knew I was seeing the alternate reality. The world that would have existed if things hadn’t worked out the way they had. It didn’t hurt any less.
