Chapter 24
24
Declan
P atrick’s eyes meet mine, and a slow, broad smile spreads across his face. It’s the kind of smile that’s meant to disarm, to put his potential victims at ease, but I know better. That smile is a weapon, just like everything else about him.
“Declan!” He calls out, his voice carrying across the room like we’re old friends meeting for coffee instead of estranged brothers on opposite sides of a chasm of bad blood. “Get over here, little brother!”
The room goes quiet as I limp toward him, my ankle reminding me with every step that I’m not at my best. Eyes follow me, the men at the tables murmuring among themselves, but I ignore them. Patrick’s the only one I care about right now.
When I reach the table, he stands, arms outstretched like he’s about to pull me into a hug. I stop just short of him, my hands clenched at my sides. His grin falters for half a second before he covers it with an easy laugh.
“Still the cautious one, eh?” he says, dropping his arms and gesturing to the seat across from him. “Come on, sit. Let’s talk.”
I hesitate, my gaze flicking to the men around us. They’re watching, pretending not to, but I can feel their eyes on me. Patrick notices, too, and waves a hand dismissively.
“Don’t mind them,” he says. “They’re just here for the food. Aren’t you, boys?”
A few of them chuckle, the sound low and unsettling. I don’t bother responding. Instead, I sit, my leg protesting as I lower myself into the chair. Patrick sits back down, picking up a breadstick and tearing off a piece like we’re catching up over Sunday dinner.
“So,” I start, my voice flat. “You’re out. That’s new.”
Patrick’s smile widens, but there’s something sharp behind it now and it makes my skin crawl.
“Ah, straight to business.” He chuckles. “I always liked that about you, Declan. No time for pleasantries.”
I don’t say anything, just stare at him, waiting. He sighs, setting the breadstick down and leaning back in his chair.
“Let’s just say,” he begins, his tone casual, “that sometimes, good people need help. And when good people need help, they need help from… not-so-good people.”
My jaw tightens as I consider his words.
“You’re saying you cut a deal,” I deadpan, trying to imagine what he could’ve possibly offered to commute his sentence by so much.
Patrick’s smile doesn’t falter. “I’m saying I’m here, and that’s what matters,” he answers jovially, picking up a menu and pretending to look it over.
“That’s not an answer,” I point out. I glance over my own menu just to have something to do. With all of his men here, I’m feeling incredibly tense. This was going to be hard enough with just the two of us, but now I feel like we’re onstage entertainment for his cronies. This isn’t a conversation, it’s an ambush, and the only thing I can do is bide my time.
“It’s the only one you’re getting,” he replies, his tone hardening slightly. He leans forward, his elbows resting on the table, and his eyes lock onto mine. “But don’t worry, little brother. Whatever strings were pulled to get me out, they don’t involve you. I made sure of that. Your name is clear, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
I don’t trust him, not completely, but I file it away for now.
“It’s not what I’m worried about,” I seethe. “I’ve been gone for the last five years, my ass is covered.”
“You’re right.” He grins, leaning back in the booth. “You pulled quite the disappearing act on me. Frankly, I had to try pretty hard not to take it personally.”
“It was a little personal,” I soot back. “I couldn’t stand to be in that cesspool for one more minute.”
“So harsh,” he quips, holding his heart like he’s been wounded.
“Did you have anything to do with Cassidy?” The words come out sharper than I intend, but I don’t care. I need to know.
Patrick’s jovial mask cracks. He stares at me, his expression a mix of surprise and anger.
“You can’t be serious,” he says harshly. “You really think I’d do that?” His voice is low and dangerous, and I can tell he’s actually offended.
“I didn’t know what to think after it happened. I still don’t,” I admit. “But I do know what you’re capable of, Patrick. I’ve seen it more than anyone else here.” I gesture to the small army he’s assembled in the diner.
He shakes his head, his jaw clenching. “Declan, I’m not above eliminating my enemies, but never family,” he says earnestly, his eyes getting glassy with unshed tears. “Never. No matter how much we might disagree, you’re my brother. Cassidy was my sister-in-law. On our father’s grave, I swear I had nothing to do with the attempt on your life that caused her death.”
I stare at him, searching his face for any sign of a lie. Patrick’s a lot of things, but he’s never been one to break an oath sworn on our father’s grave. Still, I need more.
“Mom’s too?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
For a moment, the air between us is heavy, suffocating. Patrick’s eyes soften, and he nods slowly. “I swear on our mother’s soul,” he says, his voice steady.
A weight lifts off my shoulders. If there’s one thing Patrick takes seriously, it’s the memory of our mother. She was the glue that held our family together, the only person who could keep Patrick in check. Swearing on her soul is as good as gospel.
“Okay,” I say, leaning back in my chair. “I believe you.”
Patrick lets out a breath, his shoulders relaxing. “Good,” he says, his voice relieved. “Because I never wanted any of this craziness for you, Declan. You know that, right?”
I raise an eyebrow. “Could’ve fooled me,” I grumble, thinking about all the bullshit he and my father put me through in my life.
I didn’t want any of this for myself. I did everything I could to get away from the business, but he just kept sucking me back in. I don’t know why he’s saying any of this now, but it doesn’t sit right for some reason. I shift uncomfortably, waiting for him to speak again. He’s clearly the one in charge of this meeting. He’s got to make the moves.
“I’m serious,” he insists after a moment, leaning forward again and fixing me with a serious look. “Dad and I worked hard to keep you out of it. We wanted you to have a real shot at something better. And you did. You were the best of us. You still are.”
His words hit me like a freight train, and I don’t know how to respond. Compliments from Patrick have always been rare and hearing him say I’m the best of us feels wrong. I don’t know how, but it seems like he’s trying to manipulate me. What is his aim in all of this? What can he possibly want from me? But there’s something genuine in his tone, something I’ve never heard from him.
“And I want you to know,” he continues, his voice softer now, “that even if you don’t want to be part of the family business, I’m here for you. Always.”
I nod slowly, not trusting myself to speak. I want to believe him. I really do. But years of betrayal have made me cautious, and I know better than to let my guard down completely.
“And you came all the way out here, brought half of your men, just to tell me that?” I ask pointedly, pointing out his goons who are still pretending not to listen.
“I brought them here,” he starts, taking another big bite of his breadstick, “to remind you what you have at your disposal, should you need it. These guys would go to war for you if you asked them to. You’re under my protection. Always.”
I nod and consider this. With everything Jade is going through right now, this might be an offer I take him up on. I’ve already lost one woman I love, I’m not going to lose another.
Speak of the devil. My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I pull it out, seeing Jade’s name light up my screen. I’d expected her to be texting me about the meeting, but the notification isn’t for a text. She’s emailed me something.
“Something wrong?” Patrick asks, his eyes narrowing as he watches me.
I don’t answer right away, too focused on opening the email and its rather large attachment.
The email is long, detailed, and as I read, my blood runs cold. It’s everything Jade’s been running from, laid out in black and white. Names, places, threats. It’s enough to get a DA to convict everyone involved. If she’s sending this to me, something’s wrong. This feels like a backup plan, a last resort.
I look up at Patrick, my jaw tightening. “You said you’ll always back me up.”
“I meant it,” he says, his tone firm. “Why?”
“There’s a woman,” I say slowly, my blood running cold in my veins. “I care about her a lot and I think she might be in trouble. Serious trouble. Will you help me?”
I slide the phone across the table toward him, meeting his gaze. He looks down and I wait impatiently for him to read the message. He whistles low and slides the phone back to me.
“Well, you’ve definitely got a thing for a damsel in distress,” he says, though there’s no levity in his tone.
“Patrick,” I start, my panic rising.
“Declan,” he mimics. “I was serious. I’ve got your back.”
He stands up with authority, gaining the attention of his men. “Lets go.” He commands.