Almost Innocent

by Carina Adams

  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. No
t 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.

  “I am not a patient man.” He poked my chest. “You have one day. Tomorrow at noon, I’m taking Gabriella and Grady somewhere no one will find them. Including you. And then, I’m coming back for him.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Declan

  I hadn’t said good-bye to Gabby—I’d gone upstairs, quietly grabbed my shit, and left without waking her. I knew she’d be safe with Conall. I was questioning everything else in my life, every major event, but I did not doubt him.

  I was coming back for her.

  As I drove home, Conall’s words echoed through my mind, drowning out everything else. “I’ve seen the monster you have inside. From your first kill to your last, I know the things you’re capable of.” It was true. He didn’t come out very often, but when the monster did appear, even my father had been scared.

  I was never supposed to be part of the business, and I sure as shit was never meant to end up as an enforcer. When my father taught me how to shoot, it was so I could protect myself. He never imagined I would one day hold that gun against a temple and pull the trigger.

  I once thought that he had underestimated my loyalty to our family or that maybe he thought I was too weak to do what the rest of them could. Once I’d been sent to prison, I realized nothing could have been further from the truth. He’d just assumed that I would never be in a position to have to make that choice.

  He’d been wrong. The day Logan was murdered changed everything.

  My mother was crying silent tears as she gripped my father’s hand. Beside me, Fiona was completely still, unnerving me. I felt as if I would throw up.

  “Tell me it isn’t true, Colin! Tell me!” My mother sobbed, and I knew exactly how she felt.

  Uncle Logan and Aunt Erin couldn’t be gone. Just last night, they’d been sitting at this table. He’d been laughing at some private joke with my dad and complimenting my mom on the food while Erin and Fi talked about wedding plans. There was no way they could be dead.

  I slid my gaze to my father sitting rigidly at the head of the table, gripping my mom’s hand with one of his, the other fisted. He wasn’t crying though, not shedding a tear for his only brother. Shock, I realized. My father was in shock.

  Dustin stood, slamming his hands on the oak table, and made everyone jump. “What the fuck?” He turned to Bron, one of my father’s men and the unlucky bastard who had just delivered the news. “Where in the fuck were you?”

  “Dustin.” Dad’s low warning went unheeded.

  “How did you let this happen?” Dustin seethed.

  Bron narrowed his eyes, not intimidated. “I was doing my job.”

  “The fuck you were!” Dustin screamed, slamming his hands down again. Turning toward our father, he lifted a hand. “You need to order a strike, right now. You need to hit them back.”

  “This is not the time or the place—”

  “The hell it isn’t!” Dusty interrupted. “Your brother and his wife were just murdered. Killed in cold blood! We both know who did it. Logan told you this was coming. You need to send the message that if you fuck with the Callaghan clan, you end up dead.”

  My father yelled back, but I drowned them both out. I didn’t know what was going on or who they were talking about. Dustin helped my dad and uncle at Callaghan Industries, but I was excluded because I had no place there. I had never wanted to be a part of it.

  Today though, I wished I knew more.

  Uncle Logan was gone. I’d just really started to get to know him. We’d been spending more time together since I’d stayed at their house, and he’d become more than just my uncle. He was like my second father.

  Shit. He was Mark’s dad. Mark’s dad was dead. Fuck. Did he know?

  We’d just started our senior year of high school. Our parents weren’t supposed to leave us yet. Logan and Mark had plans—big plans. Jesus. Life would never be the same.

  And Aunt Erin? She’d been everything my own mother hadn’t been. I couldn’t believe I’d never hear her laughter again, or have her pull me into one of her comforting hugs.

  “Bull-fucking-shit!” Dustin bellowed, dragging my attention back to their argument.

  My father’s eyes turned to steel. “I’m not ordering a kill until I have all the facts. I will not start a war over this.”

  “Over ‘this’?” my brother fumed. “This isn’t some douche ripping you off. Someone butchered your brother. That is something you start a war over. If you don’t have all the facts, you get off your ass and bust heads until you get them.”

  “That is not how we do things.” My father glared at Dusty, barely controlling his anger. “It happened in public.” The words caused me physical pain. “If we retaliate now, it will turn the attention on us. The police are going to investigate. When they finish their work, I will decide what we’re going to do.”

  “They’ll be fucking gone by then!” Dusty screeched. “Never thought I’d see the day that Colin Callaghan was too much of a pussy to avenge his blood. If you’re too scared to do something, I will.” Kicking his chair out of the way, he stomped out of the room.

  “What does he mean?” My mother’s voice was frantic. “Colin?” She practically pawed at my father with her free hand. “What is he going to do?”

  Dad simply shook his head. “Nothing, Moira. He just needs to blow off some steam, process what’s happened.” My father looked at Fiona and me, and I saw the worry lines etched around his eyes. “Fiona?” His voice was light but firm, bringing her out of the daze she’d been in. “I need you to call Gabriella. Get her here. Before he gets to her.”

  Fi nodded, pushing out of the chair quickly. We all knew what happened when Dustin got like this, and I was ashamed that Gabby’s well-being hadn’t been my first thought. Maybe my father was worried about nothing—I was almost positive that Dustin hadn’t laid a hand on her in months. Not since my father’s men had beaten him within an inch of his life.

  Before anyone could say anything else, Dustin stormed back into the dining room and slammed my M9 on the table in front of me. Leaning down, he shoved his face into mine. “They killed our family.” His teeth grit as he practically spits the words at me. “They stole Logan’s life. Mark’s father is dead. Are you going to let them get away with it? Or are you gonna let them know that if you fuck with a Callaghan, retribution is quick, and it’s fucking brutal?”

  Fi clutched at me as I stood, as if she was trying to push me back down. Shrugging her off, I picked up the Beretta. The metal was cool in my hand, but familiar.

  Something inside me snapp
ed. Loss, anger, and hatred moved through me, until pain was all that was left. I had to do something. I loved Logan and Erin.

  “Sit back down, Declan!”

  I met my father’s eyes, his disapproval and disappointment easy to see.

  This wasn’t about him though. This was about Uncle Logan and Aunt Erin—two people who had given me a refuge the summer before when I needed to get away. This was about Mark. My best friend was now fatherless.

  If someone shot my father, I’d want to know the prick who’d pulled the trigger was meeting his maker. Immediately. Dusty might have been instigating revenge, but I was a Callaghan. I never really had a choice.

  I ignored the family I loved and followed my brother out of the house. I might have hated him, and I’d never trust Dusty, but I was loyal to Mark to the core. He’d had something taken from him, and I was going to make it right.

  My mother’s sobs and the sound of glass shattering were the last things I heard before the front door slammed behind us.

  I shook my head at the memory. That was the day I had transitioned from stupid high school kid into cold-blooded killer. My brother, his friend Jason, and I had tracked down every possible lead. We manipulated, threatened, and beat name after name out of my father’s business associates. No one knew who was behind the hit.

  We did, months later, discover who had been hired to pull the trigger. A corrupt cop with a coke habit who was looking to make an extra buck. The night we found him was the start of a future I’d never planned.

  Dustin made his mark on the man’s wife, ensuring that she would remember him forever, but I knew she’d never forget me either. Not after she watched me help my brother torture her husband for hours, trying to pull the name from him, doing things I never thought I was capable of doing.

  When his heart finally gave out, I’d been relieved. Infuriated that he’d refused to tell us who’d hired him because I wanted revenge, but so fucking happy that the nightmare was over.