26. Lucie
TWENTY-SIX
lucie
I stare down at the paper in my hand, trembling uncontrollably.
A sudden chill blasts my skin, still slick with sweat from Callahan’s pounding pace for our daily run.
A letter.
I sink down on a bench in the tiny cobblestone and tree-filled park near the Murphy residence.
Arnold jumps up next to me, panting from the run while Callahan stands shirtless, hands on his narrow hips, not far from us.
It’s six a.m. But I’m wide freaking awake now.
I ruffle Arnold’s soft fur.
He’s going to be a big dog, and in the week or so we’ve had him, since he decided he wanted Clawzilla as his own rescue, he’s filled out, become glossier, grown up.
He’s smart, loyal, and fiercely protective of me, and I know he’s on the bench to keep Callahan—whom he loves—off.
Arnold instinctively knows I need space.
“Why?” I ask suddenly.
“Why what?” Callahan doesn’t seem to be paying me any attention, but I know him by now, and he’s utterly attuned to my thoughts and emotions.
A silly girl would take the ownership vibe he gives off when it comes to me as love, but it’s not.
It’s ownership, pure and simple.
The man bought me, paid a handsome sum in terms of opening doors to Dad, and Dad…
he paid Cal even more to take me than he had when it had been my sister.
Whose letter I’m holding.
It’s crumpled, still damp from being stuffed into the back pocket of Cal’s running shorts.
“Wait until now,” I say.
He looks at me then, a half smile that doesn’t reach his eyes on his face.
He comes up, pets Arnold who growls but simultaneously wags his tail, making Callahan laugh and shake his head.
“Okay, boy, you’re in protection mode, but dude, she’s strong. Trust me.” Then he says to me, “I figured after you’d been on a run, you’d be more open to reading it. Besides, I only got it late yesterday. You were asleep.”
“She didn’t want to see me?”
“She probably didn’t dare think to try. Look, I don’t trust that Headley guy, but I don’t trust anyone. I do think he loves her, for what it’s worth. And it seems getting out from under your father’s reign is a process.”
I know that, and at that moment, I wonder what it would take to get away from Callahan.
That time’s going to come.
I want love, too. One day.
I want freedom.
With a small, shaky smile, I smooth open the letter, knowing since the envelope is open that Cal’s read it, but…
I don’t care right then.
I just need to hear from my sister, probably the only person in the world who understands what I’m dealing with.
Viv’s handwriting’s unmistakable, as is her style of writing.
I can hear the words coming from her mouth as I read them.
She’s sorry she left me with the mess, but she knows how strong I am.
She then gushes for two pages straight over Headley.
They’re running off together, but she doesn’t say where—Dad might get this, so she doesn’t want to give details.
I get it. She’s happy, looking forward to her life, and she’ll be in touch as soon as she can.
Properly in touch. And she’s sorry she didn’t turn up at our meeting, but Headley stopped her for her own sake.
Something inside me starts bubbling up.
I clutch the edge of the paper, crinkling it.
It’s all about Viv. Every word, even the parts where she says she’s sorry, it’s all about her.
She’s placating herself with my so-called strength.
I squeeze my eyes shut.
Everything was always about her, anyway.
I should be used to it by now, but dammit.
It stings. She doesn’t care about me or what I’m going through after all.
I fold the letter, then crumple it into a ball, blinking hard because my eyes suddenly get blurry.
“How?” I ask. “How did you get this?”
He mutters something, then looks at Arnold until the dog lifts his head to look at Callahan.
Finally, Arnold scrambles up, claws clicking on the steel of the bench I’m on.
He moves over so Cal can sit, and then Arnold collapses against him for tummy rubs and another lap to put his head on.
Ignoring my question, he says, “You and fucking Dec have ruined this dog. Arnold’s supposed to be growing into a big attack dog, and you’ve given him a rat that pretends it’s a cat and a soft little heart to call his own. Un-fucking-believable.”
I scoff.
“You love this dog, Callahan.”
“Lies.”
But he does.
I see it. He might not love anything else outside his family, but he loves this dog.
No stray should turn so quickly into a well-adjusted dog in a couple of weeks, not even one as smart as Arnold.
I suspect that Callahan spent a long, long time winning the little dog over when he was on the street, befriending him, not pushing him, showing him that he could decide, if he wanted, to have a better life.
And it might have taken injury to cause Arnold to make that leap, but the fact Callahan did all the heavy lifting is eye-opening.
Admirable.
The man I married has layers.
He doesn’t love me, he never will.
I’m his property, his stepping stone to power in New York, but he’s also good to me.
And he’s gentle with Arnold.
Even with Clawzilla, whom he pretends to hate.
I swallow past the lump in my throat.
“Callahan?”
“Headley was following me. Guess it was easy enough to work out who you married. Maybe his government training paid off, I don’t fucking know. But he gave me this last night.”
I stiffen.
“You couldn’t have given it to me last night?”
“I was a little busy,” he says.
“Dealing with getting shot at and trying to figure out who planted that bomb. Shit was crazy last night, Lucie.”
I don’t say a thing.
He slams his hand on the bench.
“I’m also trying not to murder your boyfriend from the other night.”
“Who?”
“George,” he snarls.
“Just how hungry is your father for power? Is he going to be a problem?”
I shrink back.
Not at the snarl, but at what he’s saying.
And I try and sort it.
“Dad, trouble? That doesn’t make sense. I’m really not worth all of this unrest, not a valued member of any organization,” I say.
And I’m not.
But someone shot at him and…
I stand and pick up Arnold’s leash.
“Come, Arnold. ”
The dog jumps down and I stalk out of the park, a wildness filling me at the idea of walking away.
Callahan jogs past me and turns, walking backward.
“You can’t run or hide from me, Lucie Joy. Remember that.”
There’s no way I can forget.
I can, however, ignore him.
Which I do. I don’t speak to him when we get home.
Torin and Seamus take one look, sensing a lovers’ quarrel, and just head off to do whatever they were doing before we showed up.
Declan walks in wearing the kitten as a shoulder accessory and glances from me to Callahan and back again.
He opens his mouth.
“I wouldn’t,” Callahan says.
He shuts his mouth, and I stomp into the living room and throw myself on the sofa.
“Kitten bomb.” Declan drops the kitten on me.
“You all right?”
“Yes. No. Yes. I don’t really know. I’m just…” I let out a frustrated sigh.
“Did someone shoot at Callahan?”
“Oh, yeah. It was grand. He was like an action—” Declan snaps his mouth shut fast. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. If you will excuse me.”
And then he takes off.
I pet the dog and cat for a while, and soon I’m in a world of purring and doggy love, Arnold curled up next to me and begging with his eyes for a tummy rub.
Which I absolutely give him.
I can’t resist, and it calms me to the point where I finally feel like getting up.
I walk up the stairs and head into the bathroom to shower.
Callahan is… I don’t know where he is, and I tell myself I don’t care.
But I do.
Dammit.
He makes my insides flutter and quiver.
He makes the cage he’s built for me feel like the center of his world, and while I know that’s dangerous and not freedom, it’s better than my life at home.
The hot spray crashes over me and I sink down to the tiled shower floor and hug my knees close.
He’s complex. He makes me feel good.
And as much as I hate to admit it, things inside me seem to burst into life and glow when I see him.
When he touches me, everything is new and brighter and…
“You’re not falling for him, Lucie, you’re not. He’s just a hot man, that’s all.”
And if I repeat that mantra enough, maybe I’ll start to believe it.
I push myself off the floor, finish my shower, and dress.
I grab my phone from the charger and frown.
Three missed calls from Dad?
Unease trickles down my spine like shards of crushed ice.
I head downstairs to find Callahan, but I don’t see him.
I stop short at the entrance to the main study.
The door is closed, but I can hear the brothers talking.
Straining my ears, I hear them talk about an enemy named…
Paddy? And Russians…
a faction of a small bratva wanting weapons, a specific type…
Then I realize what I’m doing and jump away from the door.
Didn’t Dad have a meeting with a Russian a while back?
Or an Eastern European?
I don’t know for sure, other than the time I heard him speak to someone with an accent about some arms deal.
I swallow hard and walk into the living room right as the study door opens, then sharply closes.
Callahan suddenly appears dressed all in black and my knees wobble at the sight of him.
Fuck my life .
“I’ll be back later tonight.”
“What are you?—?”
But he’s gone before my question hits the air and the front door slams.
“Asshole,” I mutter.
Declan wanders in a few minutes later.
“I’m going to play this awesome new alien zombie game if you want to join.”
“No, thanks.”
“Suit yourself,” he says, shrugging.
And he disappears, too.
With a sigh, I call Dad.
“Oh good, Lucia, you finally called back. Meet me for lunch at Capato on West Fifty-Ninth. I’ll send Mikey to pick you up.”
Before I can say a word, he hangs up.
I look down the hall, my shoulders slumped, the sound of zombie screams and gunshots piercing the air.
I quickly slide on a pair of shoes and scoop up my handbag before quietly letting myself out of the house to wait for Mikey.
Dad must have had him waiting nearby because he pulls up as soon as I near the curb.
I get in and we head uptown.
I keep looking out the back window to see if there’s another car following, but it’s too difficult to tell.
The roads are jammed with cars, buses, and cabs.
When we arrive at the restaurant, Mikey rushes around the car to open my door.
We don’t exchange any words, but his smile is genuine, and for some reason, it makes me want to hug him.
It also makes me wonder if he helped Viv get away.
On second thought, probably not.
Crossing my father is a little like crossing Callahan.
It’s a freaking dangerous thing to do.
Dad’s waiting in the back.
He sees me walk inside, stands, and hugs me as I greet him.
It shocks me a little .
Dad must want something because he’s never affectionate with me and certainly not in public.
So I sit. And wait.
“I ordered a salad for you.”
I press my lips together, but the words of annoyance bubble out anyway.
“I don’t want a salad. I want the filet mignon and truffle shoestring fries.”
“No one wants a fat girl, and if this doesn’t work out, I’ll be marrying you off a second time. So watch your figure.”
I glare at my father but resist the urge to address his comments that burn my blood.
And most definitely not in the good way.
“You wanted something?”
“We’ll eat first.”
“Dad… Cal doesn’t know I’m here.”
“Good.”
Now I frown.
“Good? You made a deal with him. I don’t think you should cross him. And… I have to ask.” I take a breath.
“Do you know someone named Paddy? Are you doing deals with the Russians now? Even I know that’s a bad move.”
His features darken as if a storm cloud eclipses his head.
“That isn’t any of your business. But,” he says, leaning closer, his eyes narrowing, “what do you know about this?”
He’s being pretty cagey.
And cagey means I hit on something.
But the thing is, I don’t know what.
Because nobody freaking tells me shit.
“I don’t know anything. I’ve just heard names in conversation, people I’ve met. It’s hard to keep track.”
This is a blatant lie, but one Dad swallows whole, because in his view, women are pretty much only useful for sex, cleaning, and socializing.
I know that because I’ve heard him say it, and I’ve seen how he’s treated Mom all these years.
He’d never think I would be privy to anything important.
Or that anyone would trust me to even invite me to that conversation .
But today, suddenly things take on a different feel, a different flavor, and I’m not sure why.
Maybe it’s because he called me, or maybe because I’m experiencing life outside of his cage.
I might be in another one, but at least this one has room for me to breathe.
Barely.
I paste on a bright smile and shrug.
“You trained me to mind my own business. But this is my first time out of our home, Daddy,” I say.
“So it’s a little scary.” Then I realize what I said.
“Callahan is good to me, but I mean… not being at home, being alone, without him.”
“So he trusts you?”
Our food arrives.
My stomach growls when I see the server place Dad’s filet in front of him.
I grimace at the brightly colored garden salad and spear a piece of cucumber as he orders himself a drink.
“I’m his wife,” I finally answer.
“Don’t be so na?ve.”
I nod slowly.
“I haven’t given him a reason not to trust me. I’m being the good daughter and the good wife.”
“Good. Although,” he says, cutting a piece of steak, “I wonder how much I can trust him, how much I really need him after all. He’s not using that many contacts from his Italian side, but… then again, it’s a name that only opens doors. So what if he uses mine? What?—?”
“Dad,” I say, setting my fork down.
“Callahan’s a dangerous man.”
“And I’m not?”
I force myself to smile again.
“You are. But you’re also smart. I don’t think you’d take a deal you hadn’t really considered.”
“There are things he’s keeping from me. Things I need. Doors and pathways I want opened to really make moves in the European market. But if he trusts you, then we can work this out.”
My heart starts to thump.
“Work what out?”
“Oh, making sure the deal I made is kept honest.”
“I-I think he’s a man of his word. He hasn’t hurt me, hasn’t?—”
“Maybe he needs to mete out some discipline,” Dad says with his fork poised in the air.
“You’re suddenly very mouthy, Lucia.”
I flinch and drop my hands into my lap.
He doesn’t miss my move.
“Lucia, forgive me. I have a lot on my mind. I’m asking for your loyalty to your family.”
“Of course I’m loyal.”
“Your sister would have been easier, but she’s gone.” He viciously cuts off another piece of steak.
“So it all lies on your shoulders.”
“What does?” I ask as a buzzing sensation works through my veins, icing my insides.
“The loyalty to your family. The choice of your family above all others. Because I might need you to do me a favor.”
“What sort of favor?” I wish I was anywhere but here.
“Dad?”
“It will be between your family and the Murphys, and if I ask, you’ll make the right choice.”
“Yes.” I croak out the word, my heart clenching as if it’s being lassoed by thick metal chains.
“Good.”
And I wonder if ultimately, he’s asking me to choose between cages.
When all I want to do is fly.