Dirty Delivery (Bound & Delivered #1)

Chapter Nine

Rylan

Declan’s voice is already ringing in my ears before I’ve even closed the front door of his sleek, glass-walled penthouse.

“You’re late,” he snaps. He leans against the massive kitchen island with a glass of something expensive in his hand and that same self-satisfied smirk he’s worn since birth. “Did you get lost driving that shitty delivery van of yours?”

“Nice to see you too, Declan,” I shoot back, shrugging out of my jacket and tossing it over a chair. “Miss me that much, huh?”

He raises an eyebrow. “What I miss is you keeping a low profile. Instead, you’re off playing house in that gaudy mausoleum of yours while everything goes to shit.”

“Playing house? Seriously?” I scoff, crossing the room. “You’re one to talk. Living it up in this glass palace while I’m stuck dealing with—”

“Oh, please.” He cuts me off, setting his drink down with a sharp clink . “Don’t act like you’re some martyr. You’ve been dodging responsibility since the day you grew a backbone and decided you were too good for the family business.”

“Maybe because the family business sucks,” I snap, and my temper flares. “Sorry if I’m not thrilled about smuggling, extortion, and—oh yeah, murder.”

Declan narrows his eyes, stepping closer. “Speaking of murder, care to explain why the Castillos think we’re responsible for Vinny’s disappearance?”

My stomach churns, but I keep my expression neutral. “No idea,” I lie, leaning against the counter. “Maybe they should look in the mirror. Vinny’s not exactly Mr. Popular.”

Declan doesn’t buy it. He never does. “Cut the crap, Rylan. I know you’re hiding something. What did you do?”

I hesitate for a split second too long, and his eyes narrow, like he’s trying to read my mind with his damn eyes. Fuck.

“Rylan,” he says slowly, his voice dropping an octave. “What. Did. You. Do?”

“Fine!” I throw up my hands, pacing away from him. “Vinny’s dead, okay? It was an accident.”

Declan’s expression swings from annoyed to murderous in record time. “You killed him?”

“I didn’t plan for him to die!” I snap, spinning to face him. “He was attacking someone. I pulled him off, and he . . . hit his head. On a statue.”

“A statue?” Declan repeats, blinking. “Jesus Christ, Rylan. What were you doing? Hosting an art auction?”

“Not the time for jokes, Declan.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he snaps. Sarcasm drips from every word. “I’ll try to be more serious while we’re all being hunted by the Castillos, who are now out for blood because my idiot brother couldn’t keep his hands to himself.”

“He was attacking a woman,” I growl. “What was I supposed to do? Let him finish?”

Declan pinches the bridge of his nose and mutters something that sounds a lot like a prayer. “And who, exactly, was this damsel in distress? Because knowing you, I doubt she’s uninvolved in this mess.”

I hesitate again, and his head whips up. “Oh, for the love of . . . You’ve got her at the house, don’t you?”

“I couldn’t just leave her,” I admit, crossing my arms defensively. “She’s got nothing to do with this. She’s innocent.”

Declan’s laughter is sharp and humorless. “Innocent? You’ve got an innocent girl holed up in that haunted mansion of yours while the Castillos are gearing up for war? Brilliant plan, Rylan. Absolutely foolproof.”

“I didn’t have a choice,” I yell. “If she went back to her house, they would have found her. What was I supposed to do? Leave her there and hope for the best?”

“No, you were supposed to call me,” Declan bites out. “Because now, thanks to your genius, we’ve got a body to hide, a war to prevent, and . . .” He pauses, eyes narrowing. “Wait. What did you do with the body?”

“I already handled that,” I say flatly, bracing myself.

Declan stares at me like I just admitted to robbing a bank with a water pistol. “What do you mean, you handled it?”

“I called Sam.” I cross my arms. “He’s already taken care of it.”

Declan explodes. “You called Sam? Are you insane? That guy couldn’t keep a secret if his life depended on it. You might as well have hired a marching band to announce it to the entire city!”

“Sam knows to keep it off the books I paid him personally.”

Declan throws his hands up pacing the room in frustration. His movements are sharp, almost theatrical, as he lets out a bitter laugh. “Oh, great. That’ll keep him quiet for, what, two days? Until he drinks too much and starts bragging to his buddies about the ‘favor’ he did for Rylan Doyle? Fantastic. Just fantastic.”

My fists clench at my sides, heat rising to my face. “Do you have a better idea?” I step closer, my voice low and biting. “Because I was a little busy saving someone’s life while you were probably sipping scotch and admiring your reflection.”

He stops pacing, spinning on his heel to face me. His jaw tightens and eyes flash with anger. “Better idea? Yeah, I do. You call me before you make boneheaded decisions that could get us all killed!”

I take another step forward, refusing to back down. “Well, it’s too late for that. Sam’s already handled it. The body’s gone, and nobody’s going to find it.” My voice drops even lower, a quiet growl that fills the tense space between us.

Declan stares at me for a long moment, his jaw ticking. “If this comes back to bite us, I swear to God, Rylan—”

“It won’t,” I say firmly, even though doubt gnaws at the edges of my confidence.

Declan shakes his head, his expression a mix of disbelief and exasperation. “You’d better hope not. Because if the Castillos find out what really happened, we’re all dead. You, me, and your precious girl.”

His words hit harder than I’d like, and I’m forced to take a deep breath to keep my temper in check. “I’ll fix this,” I say finally, my voice low. “You just need to trust me.”

Declan stares at me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, he shakes his head. “Trust you? That ship sailed a long time ago, brother. Just don’t make it worse.”

He grabs his drink and walks away, leaving me alone with the weight of my mistakes and a sinking feeling that this is only the beginning of the storm.