23. Declan
23
DECLAN
I saw red. My entire body tensed with the need to kill someone. Not just anyone. The person who'd dared to strike my wife.
“Cara.” I tried to rein in my anger. It burned, bottled within me as I fought to speak as calmly as possible. Peace no longer existed. Only rage.
“Who hurt you?”
She shook her head, casting her gaze down as she sighed. “No one.”
“ No one .” I gripped her upper arms harder. “Don’t lie. Don’t try to tell me that you walked into a fucking wall.”
The second I left her, she was hurt. It was one of my biggest fears, that I’d lose her. Now that I’d found her, I refused to consider her being gone. Life was always dangerous. People were hurt and killed on a daily basis, more so in our lives as we dealt in criminal ways of business and control.
Cara was supposed to rise above that. She was supposed to be untouched by any other man, any possible threat.
And I’d failed.
“I did bump into something.” She cleared her throat, frowning. “Someone.”
“Who?” I demanded in a low growl.
She shrugged, loosening my grip on her. “A waiter. A server? I don’t know what you rich people call them. One of those guys in the tuxedos holding up trays of drinks.”
I gnashed my teeth together, madder yet.
She was lying. It was so obviously a lie. I wasn’t familiar with all her tells, but I felt the deception between us.
Don’t fucking lie to me. Don’t.
I wanted to believe her, but I couldn’t. I longed for a reason to know why she’d try to lie, but this wasn’t the time for this bullshit.
This wasn’t the place for it, either. I’d be teaching her a lesson about lying to me. That shit wouldn’t stand. But I was sick of this stupid party. We’d shown up. People saw us. All that bull crap was over with, and I no longer wanted to stick around here.
I had to see to her cheek. I wanted to make her feel safe again. And more than anything, I had to get to the bottom of this and know who’d dared to touch her, let alone wound her.
“Ian.”
He was there, worried and attentive like always.
“Ask the men. Find out who she was talking to last.”
Cara flinched but still kept her face lowered. She had to know I had eyes and ears everywhere. While I wished I could simply get the truth from her, I knew better than to push it now. She’d learn. She’d know not to lie to me. And if it was a fucking little accident, some server crashing into her, he’d be fired.
Killed, even.
I wouldn’t ever apologize to avenge the slightest wrong on her behalf.
“Let’s go.” I took her hand, glad that she didn’t shy away from my touch or try to cower from me. She gripped my fingers and held on tightly, almost as though she needed the security of my touch.
Dammit. I wish we never came. Staying at home, with her, was always the better option.
We exited the ballroom, but before we reached the car in the lot, a pair of men approached.
“Not now. For fuck’s sake, never . Peter, fuck off.”
The Boyle didn’t listen. He blocked my exit. His buddy, that same imbecile who’d accused my fighters of cheating, stood next to him and further prevented me and Cara from leaving. Any second now, my men would follow. I’d tasked Ian to speak with him, but someone was always behind me, never that far on my tail. That was simply part of being a leader. I was seldom caught alone.
“I won’t fuck off,” Peter argued. “I heard a little interesting story recently. Something about your trying to claim a right to my family’s wealth.”
I scowled, keeping Cara close. “What the fuck would I want with your dirty money? The Sullivans have always had more than you could ever dream of.”
“Riches and bitches, huh?” his friend joked, looking at Cara.
“Shut up,” she sneered.
“Yeah,” Peter said, puffing up his chest like he was some kind of a badass. “I was told you were trying to help yourself to a taste of our name, our influence, marrying someone related to a Boyle.”
“What?” Cara’s confusion leaked out with her one-word question. She looked from me to him, and with that distraction, I wasn’t quick enough to pull my gun out before Peter held up his.
“Shut the fuck up,” I said as I lifted my gun from its holster. “That’s nothing but a goddamn rumor.”
“I thought so at first too,” the second man said.
I cocked my gun and aimed it at him. He was only asking for it, pointing his at me. “Yeah, and where’d you hear that? Who told you that rumor?” I demanded. Dad had told me that Keira started up that falsehood, but speaking with another friend tonight, when I was pulled aside that one and only time when Cara somehow got hurt, I learned that it wasn’t her.
“Shane Murray?” I guessed, filling it in for him.
Peter nodded, not lowering his gun.
“Yeah,” the other man said. “Murray.” He smiled at Cara. “Your daddy.” As he reached out to touch her arm, she batted his hand away.
“Don’t touch me,” she warned, angling closer to me.
I thrust my gun at him.
“Found yourself a feisty one, eh?” he taunted.
“Hold on. Hold on.” Peter swatted at his buddy, shutting him up. “Why’d Shane make up that shit in the first place?”
“Because he owes me a lot of money. He owes Donal Sullivan a lot of money. It seems that he still doesn’t want to pay up.”
The crony laughed. “What, you take his daughter and wanna come for his money too?”
Peter grimaced, elbowing him. “Shut up.”
“Murray owed my father before my wife was even born. His debts go way back, and yes, I’m going to fucking collect on it.”
Peter seemed unconvinced. “Then why would he make up shit about your wife being related to a Boyle?”
“I’m not,” Cara insisted, still clueless to what was going on.
“Through your whore of a mother,” the other man said. “Rumor was that your whoring mama was related to a Boyle.”
“Don’t call her a whore!”
I held Cara back, annoyed that she’d try to charge at them when they held up guns.
“So, let me guess,” Peter drawled, enjoying this way too much. “He started shit about your trying to trespass into the Boyle family in the hopes that what, I’d kill you and he wouldn’t have to pay up?”
That’s exactly what I think happened.
“I mean…” Peter smirked. “I’d never turn down a chance to remove a piece of shit like you from the face of the earth.”
“Fuck you,” I warned. “Let us pass before my men get ahold of you.”
“Now why the fuck should I do that?” Peter set his gun down on a ledge built into the brick wall. “When it would be so much more fun to see if the infamous Declan Sullivan is worth half the fighter that he claims to be?”
I ground my molars together, knowing exactly what he was doing.
Challenging me.
Trying to have a little entertainment, pissing me off.
Goading me into a fight just to prove a stupid point.
I’d fought him before, and it seemed he was overdue a reminder of how badly I'd beaten him last time.
“Stand back.” I handed Cara my gun, not trusting this second Boyle not to grab it.
Where the fuck is Ian? I didn’t need backup. Not for myself. I could take this ugly asshole down, both of them. But I had to make sure Cara was safe. I didn’t want to tell her to run to the ballroom. She was safest with me. No one would defend her as much as I would.
My hands were tied, and it seemed like she wasn’t an amateur at holding the gun, anyway. She lifted my handgun with both hands, shaking, but with a proper grip.
“You’re going to regret this,” I warned him as I braced myself to fight. Flicking my fingers, I gestured for him to take his best shot and come at me.
“No, I won’t.” He smirked, walking in a slight circle, calculating his approach. “You’re gonna regret showing your wife what a weak-ass pussy you are?—”
I slammed my fist into his face. Just like that, it was on.
He wasn’t as bad as I thought he would be, but that was okay. I hadn’t lowered my guard and I wouldn’t. His form was shit, but he packed power in the hits he could manage to land on me.
Time blurred. The suspense and adrenaline rush of violence filled me, and I didn’t know whether we fought for seconds or minutes.
My knuckles bled. He was missing a tooth. Both of our bodies would bear the evidence of a hard battle. We punched and kicked, jabbed and dropped each other to the pavement. All throughout the scrimmage, I tried my best to keep himself between him and Cara, to maintain her position at my back so I could not only teach this Boyle asshole a lesson about taunting me into a fight, but also so I could protect her from that other man who’d stepped back to let his buddy handle this unnecessary challenge.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if you did try to marry into our family,” Peter taunted. He grinned, his teeth so bloody that he looked maniacal. “Because you’re nothing but scum. Never will be anything more than a waste of space.”
I growled, sick of his stupidity. I didn’t give a shit about his family. I didn’t want to be aligned with my enemy. They could all rot in hell, but Peter’s teasing rubbed me too far the wrong way.
“I wouldn’t stoop to making up a fucking rumor about my wife’s family.” I glanced at her, not liking how close that other man came toward her. She held the gun up, but her worried focus was on me.
Peter grunted, landing a hard hook on my chin while I was distracted. “Like hell you wouldn’t.”
“Are you suggesting that I’m a liar?” I was sick of lies. Of people lying to me. Of wondering who else would try to deceive me.
I lunged quicker than he could have counted on. Wrapping my arms around him, I knocked him to the ground and locked his head against me. My biceps shook. My elbow strained. And with Peter stuck in a chokehold, I grabbed my fist to deepen the noose of my arm over his neck.
To the death, motherfucker.
Just as he struggled, trying and failing with that panicked frenzy of knowing his life was almost over, a gunshot went off. Then another. Cara screamed. And another gun was fired.
A searing slice of fire bit into my arm, and it was all that other man needed to dissuade me from killing Peter. I groaned, wincing at the graze, and struggled to keep Peter in the chokehold.
“Cara!” I stared at her, worried she’d been hit. She had to have fired at least once.
Peter escaped my grip, and I hurried toward Cara to get my gun back.
By the time I reached her, Peter reclaimed his gun.
“Fuck you, De?—”
I spun, taking the bullet he’d aimed at her. It streaked against my arm, cutting my flesh where I’d already been hit.
Shoving Cara had saved her. I pushed her out of the way just in time, and as I completed my pivot, I fired at both men. Fast.
They fell, dead, bullets into their brains from the clean shot between their eyes.
I heaved out a deep breath as the sound of hurried footsteps sounded closer.
“Declan?” Ian called out.
Cara whimpered, reaching out for me.
I exhaled a long breath again, looking down at her terrified and stunned on the pavement.
Then with another blink, I felt dizzy, exhausted from bleeding so quickly.
“Are you okay?”
She scrambled to stand. “Am I okay?” Her arms rose. With a shaky first step, she reached out to me, and I leaned against her embrace.