His Guilt: A Mafia Romance (Downing Family Book 6)

by Cassie Wild

  I fixed both him and Dad with a hard look.

  “You heard her. Daria has a right to talk to her husband without an audience.”

  Isabel was fighting a smile, standing over by the door, and when she saw me looking at her, her grin widened. She moved forward, hooking her arm through my father’s. “Come on, Pop. You and I can go get some coffee. I need it. I bet you do too.”

  Dad was useless against Isabel’s charming smile, and I was left to deal with just Declan.

  He pinned me with a hard look, evaluating me. After a few seconds, he gave me a curt nod, then strode past me out into the hall.

  I moved to the bed and stared down at Brooks. “You realize you’ve got more than just us in your life now, right? Your wife needs you…she needs you to stay safe…healthy. Not busted up like you went a few rounds with Rocky and lost.”

  “Yeah.” He grimaced and blew out a breath. “I know.”

  I skimmed my fingers down the side of his head. “I told you that I was going to have to make a decision sooner or later. I’m still trying to figure things out, but I suspect you need to do some hard thinking, too, Brooks.”

  “I know that too.” His eyes were hard and flat as he met my gaze.

  I nodded, then shifted my attention to Daria. She looked at me with gratitude. “I’ll keep them corralled in the waiting room as long as I can.”

  “Thank you.”

  I turned toward the door, then stopped, turning back as another thought occurred to me. “Did you get your credit cards and stuff taken care of?”

  She blinked, looking puzzled. Then she laughed and glanced at me. “Yes. Isabel helped me take care of all of that. Apparently, she’s lost her purse a time or two. She knew exactly what to do.”

  “Good.” I turned to go.

  “Briar?”

  I looked back at her.

  She gave me a grateful smile. “I mean it…thank you.”

  There was a family waiting room just two doors down from Brooks’s room, and I settled in there. Cormac took the seat across from mine, watching me with appraising eyes. “You look like you’re ready to eat somebody’s liver with some fava beans and a nice chianti.”

  That startled me into a laugh. “I don’t think that’s appropriate. Hannibal Lecter is a cold-assed bastard. I’m pretty damned hot and pissed right now.”

  “Well, I think you’re always hot.” He gave me a slow, sexy smile.

  It tugged at things low in my belly.

  But then he glanced away, a heavy sigh escaping him. “You’ve had a rough day, haven’t you, Briar?”

  “Yeah. That’s a mild way of putting it.” I thought of the talks I’d tried to have with my family, with each of my brothers, with my father. I’d been rebuffed by each of them.

  I couldn’t say that any of it was a surprise, but I was so tired of having them dismiss me when it came to things like this.

  But then again, I’d never tried to get them to take me seriously when it came to the family business, had I?

  “You’re angry.”

  At the low, quiet sound of Cormac’s voice, I gave him a disbelieving look. “Angry? My brother gets jumped. He’s got multiple broken ribs, one of which runs a real risk of puncturing his lung, and if that happens, he could go critical at any second. He won’t say shit about what happened, but I know my brother. It would take more than just the typical mugger to put him in this kind of shape. He won’t tell me shit. He hasn’t called the cops, and he won’t. My dad won’t tell me what’s going on, neither will Declan or Sean. Yeah. I think it’s safe to say I’m pissed.”

  “You should punch him.”

  I blinked, certain I’d misunderstood. “What?”

  “You heard me.” Cormac looked off, his eyes roaming around the room in a distracted manner. “He’ll heal up, Briar. He’s a tough bastard. Once he does, punch him square in the nose. For worrying you, for not talking to you. You already know there are things they don’t tell you. You can either ignore it or make them come clean. It’s up to you. But if you want them to come clean, then you better be ready to push for them to do it. I don’t know how you can make them do that. But…you’re worried and you’re hurting. Maybe you’d feel better if you punched him.” He shrugged.

  I was about to tell him he was crazy, but the thought had already taken root in my mind, and I realized I sort of enjoyed the simplicity of it. “I’m not a violent person.”

  “Neither is my mum.” He crooked a grin at me. “But you can bet your sweet ass that there has been a time or two when she smacked my dad across the head for something he said or did. And it worked. It got his attention.”

  The door opened, and Declan came in. He looked at me, and I could see him contemplating me as I sat there.

  He rocked back on his heels, head cocked to the side. “You do realize I’ve got a right to talk to my brother.”

  “His wife has more of a right,” I said with faux sweetness. I glanced at Dad, then looked back at my older brother. “And don’t take this wrong…no, scratch that. I don’t care how you take it. But he wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for whatever dodgy shit this family is involved in. And I know he is trying to leave it behind. So excuse me if I’m not concerned about whether your feelings are hurt right now.”

  I settled back in my chair, arms crossed over my chest.

  I heard a heavy sigh escape my father.

  Declan cursed, low and hard, then said my name.

  I ignored them both. I was angry. So angry. And hurt. Scared.

  After a few minutes, Declan settled down in a chair two rows over from me, and I didn’t even once look at him.

  After twenty minutes, he moved over a row, a few seats down from Cormac. I pretended a fascination with my nails and subliminally sent Cormac messages. It finally worked, and he glanced up just as I was looking at him.

  He caught my not-so-subtle gaze and took my hand. Leaning over, I went to say something just as Declan said my name. I gave my older brother a cool look. “Did you need something?”

  Declan opened his mouth, then he closed it with a sigh and looked away.

  Filled with petty satisfaction, I looked back at Cormac. “I’m thirsty. Want to hunt down the cafeteria and get a soft drink?”

  Twenty-Two

  Cormac

  I let Daria and Isabel off in front of the hospital, then dealt with parking my car, an ordeal that took a good twenty minutes.

  By the time I strode toward the building, darkness had settled, the thick pile of clouds obscuring what few stars were visible in the light-saturated nighttime sky.

  It was cold, and I shoved my hands into my pockets, head bent against the wind as I brooded over the past few hours.

  I hadn’t talked to Briar since she’d called and asked if I’d go get her sisters-in-law. She’d kept in contact with Daria and Isabel, texting them both and calling Daria once. Daria kept me updated, although I suspected it was more out of a need to fill the quiet and maybe an attempt to reassure herself.

  More than once, I’d reached over to awkwardly pat her hand and offer some empty bit of comfort. “He’ll be fine,” I would tell her, hoping I wasn’t lying.

  Briar’s messages were pragmatic, but none of them painted a negative picture, so I felt safe enough to offer that simple assurance.

  Isabel had been oddly quiet throughout the drive. Through the rearview mirror, I’d caught her staring at me several times, her dark eyes all but boring into the back of my skull with a keen intensity that left me more than a little unsettled.

  Now that they were rushing up to find Brooks and Briar and the rest of the family, I breathed a little easier. I hadn’t minded picking them up—I’d been glad to do something to help Briar, even if it was something as simple as picking up the two Downing wives.

  I wanted to offer to do more, but I had no idea just what I could do.

  Liar, a small voice in the back of my mind muttered. There is one thing you can do.

  I silenced the voice, shov
ing it into a small box before locking it into a closet and throwing away the key.

  That chiding voice could penetrate doors and walls and boxes. It still haunted me as I sat across from Briar, sharing a plate of pretty decent fries and drinking some very shitty coffee.

  She doctored hers with so much milk and sugar, it could have passed for a dessert. I wished I’d done the same, but I didn’t want to leave her sitting alone while I went back to the opposite side of the cafeteria to do it.

  “How are you doing?” I asked softly.

  She glanced up from the fries. With a one-sided shrug, she said, “How do you think?”

  “Lousy.”

  “Yeah.” She blew out a breath and took a sip of her coffee.

  “The doctor seemed to think he’d be okay,” I said, wanting to reassure her, but there was only so much I could think to say.

  “He will be.” She huffed out a breath. “You said it yourself. He’s tough. I just…”

  Abruptly, tears filled her eyes. She grabbed a napkin and dabbed at the corners. I slid my chair closer, using my body as a shield in case anybody glanced our way. “Briar…” Laying my hand on the back of her neck, I wracked my brain for something I could say that might help, although logically, I knew there was nothing.

  She dashed away a tear that had fallen.

  “This is because of what they do,” she said, her voice blunt. “Their…business. Brooks isn’t even involved anymore. He told me so, and he wouldn’t lie to me. Not about this. He said he got out because of Daria. But he still got sucked back in, still got hurt.”

  A flicker of fear passed over her eyes.

  My chest ached, breath frozen inside. I knew exactly what had caused that flicker of fear.

  It was gone in a second, and she dragged in a deep, hard breath.

  When she reached out a hand, I took it without a thought. Her fingers clenched tight around mine. “They could have killed him. Whoever did this, they could have killed him. What happens if, whoever did this, decides to try something else? What if they did want to kill him, and for some reason, they were interrupted? Or what if they decide to come after Sean? Declan? My father? What if they decide to kill one of them?”

  I tugged my hand free, then wrapped my arm around her shoulders, tugging her in closer.

  I had no idea what to tell her, no idea what to say. Empty comfort was pointless here because she would recognize it for what it was. Empty. Meaningless.

  I pressed my lips to her brow instead.

  She sagged against me, the strength draining out of her.

  My heart cracked.

  Under the pain and misery I felt over her suffering, anger burned. It was a mix of self-directed anger and a red-hot fury that had a laser-like focus on two particular men.

  Marcos and Jerrel.

  I had to leave.

  I felt like an ass doing it. I was abandoning Briar—at least, it felt that way.

  She was hurting and scared. She finally did sit with her father, letting him hold her hand. I saw the uneasy glances Seamus and Declan shared from time to time, and the speculation on her father’s face deepened when Briar simply turned her phone off instead of answering Sean’s calls and texts.

  When her younger brother started calling Declan, she wouldn’t speak to him.

  But I had to see to a few things.

  If Briar’s well-being wasn’t part of my concern, nothing would have separated me from her side, but each time I thought about the attack at the liquor store, the attack on her brother, worry slammed into me.

  That call from Marcos.

  He’d been bragging about the ‘job,’ and I’d thought it was over.

  Clearly, I was wrong.

  Seamus got a call, and I waited until he got up before I lifted Briar’s hand up to my lips. “Briar,” I said softly.

  She gave me a tired, strained smile.

  “I have to leave for a little while,” I said.

  Her lids flickered. That was the only response she gave.

  “I’m sorry.” Brushing her hair back, I said, “I have to cover at the shop for a little while. It’s just a few hours but I…”

  “It’s okay.” She drew in a deep breath, her shoulders straightening. “It’s okay. I’m fine.”

  She wasn’t, but I knew she’d maintain. Pressing a quick kiss to her lips, I rubbed my thumb over her cheek. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  Jerrel wasn’t at the shop.

  I didn’t waste any time going inside to try and hunt him down. He had only a few places where he tended to go, so I just headed for the next spot. He wasn’t there either.

  His home was the next most likely place, but between his place and the bar where I’d just stopped was the home of a woman he spent a great deal of time with…and it wasn’t Melia.

  A dog started barking the second I opened the creaking fence, and a moment after those first deep, guttural sounds, the woman’s face appeared in the window. She scowled at me, then turned her head to shout over her shoulder. I caught only a few words, thanks to the dog’s barking, but I heard enough to figure out the context. She was telling Jerrel he had somebody to see him.

  Jerrel replied, and she shouted back. The dog had quieted, and this time I heard her belligerent, irritated comment. “You tell him, you big dumb fool! He ain’t here to see me.”

  She gave me a hard once-over, then disappeared from view.

  Jerrel’s profile appeared a moment later.

  A few seconds after that, he jerked the door open and came outside wearing nothing but a low-slung pair of joggers, despite the cold night air.

  “What the fuck you want?” he asked, although there was a glint of icy amusement in his eyes.

  “Who’s responsible?”

  He raked his nails down the light growth of stubble on his chin. “I got no idea what you’re talking about, man.”

  He did, though. I could see it. The laughter in his eyes was bright, challenging me.

  “Why?”

  A smile kicked up the corners of his lips, and he took another step closer to me. Crossing his arms over his chest, he remained quiet a moment, then finally, he gave a slow shake of his head. “You’re no dummy,” he said in a quiet voice, dropping the heavy street lingo he usually spoke with. “You know damn well why. Marcos ordered it. I did my job.” He leaned in a little closer and added, “If you’d done yours, you’d still be working for the Castellanos. You’d still be on the inside. But you didn’t. All because of some rich, fancy pussy.”

  “Careful there, Jerrel,” I said. “Last I heard, Marcos hadn’t fired me, but…let’s say he has.” I looked him up and down, then with a mean smile, I continued, “If I’m not working for Marcos, there’s nothing to keep me from beating the shit out of you…nothing to keep me from ending your sorry-ass life.”

  Finally, the humor faded from his eyes. “I already said that you weren’t no dummy. You wouldn’t fuck with Marcos like that.”

  “You overestimate your importance to him, Jerrel,” I said, shaking my head. “See, in the end, the only person that really matters to Marcos is Marcos. Even loyalty isn’t all that important to him. Loyalty matters to Basilio and Duardo, yeah. But you’re not dealing with them.”

  Something glinted in his eyes. “It’s all the Castellanos family.”

  “No,” I said, shaking my head. “It’s not. Pay attention, Jerrel. Basilio’s precious daughter is married to a Downing. That man is the head of the family…and he’s old-school. Family matters. Loyalty manners. Alliances matter. What the fuck do you think that entire wedding was about?”

  He had no response to that.

  Turning on my heel, I started back down the sidewalk.

  “You’d be smart to stay the fuck out of this,” he called to my back.

  “I thought you already pointed out that I’m no dummy.” I flipped him off and kept on walking.

  Personally, I wasn’t all that convinced of my own intelligence. I’d somehow gotten neck-deep into
this mess, and Briar, a woman who had me all tangled up inside, was also caught up in it.

  Things were getting ugly.

  And I had no idea what to do about it.

  Twenty-Three

  Briar

  I was exhausted.

  Sean had finally arrived at the hospital shortly before five. He’d caught a late-night flight to Washington D.C., then after getting in touch with somebody he knew, he was able to borrow a car and drive the rest of the way to Philadelphia.

  In typical Downing man fashion, he locked eyes with me only seconds after Declan updated him on Brooks’s condition.

  I was so tired, my eyelids felt weighted down, and I was definitely too tired to spar with him over why I hadn’t wanted to talk to him.

  Declan must have seen something in my eyes because he cut between us and spoke to Sean in a low, quiet voice. Whatever he told our younger brother had Sean clenching his jaw, then turning away with a short, curt nod.

  Declan spared me a quick glance.

  I couldn’t handle holding his gaze for more than a second, so I just tuned him out and focused on Cormac.

  “I’m too tired to drive. Do you feel comfortable leaving your car here? We can just take mine.”

  “If you leave me the keys, Cormac, I’ll arrange for it to be taken to wherever you want,” my father said quietly from the side.

  I could see a polite refusal forming in Cormac’s eyes.

  I didn’t know what drove me to do it.

  Shoving my hand out, I wiggled my fingers. “That will be fine, Dad. Cormac’s living with me now, so you can just have it dropped off at my house.”

  Cormac cocked a brow, then, without a word, dropped his keys into my hand.

  From the corner of my eye, I saw the various reactions on Sean’s, Isabel’s and my father’s faces.

  Sean looked shocked. My father was grinning. Isabel’s expression was cool and remote.