34. Lucie
THIRTY-FOUR
lucie
Three weeks later
The rolling green hills and lush landscape of Ireland are beautiful, and even though I miss New York, I could see a life here.
I mean, maybe.
But one without Callahan?
No. I can’t imagine that.
I run my fingers over Clawzilla who’s stretched over my lap, his front paws on Arnold’s nose.
Arnold shifts next to me in the back garden of the Murphy home.
We’re in a pretty little town in Cork where Isabella ‘Mam’ Murphy just moved into a new house.
It’s safe and protected, which is why we came, according to Declan.
She also wanted to meet her new daughter-in-law.
Not that I’m really that.
Ours was a marriage of convenience, not love.
Callahan isn’t capable of love, not the kind I need and want.
He killed my father.
Callahan killed him .
Right in front of me.
“Arnold,” I whisper.
“What am I supposed to do?”
His soft brown eyes lift to me, but he’s got problems, too.
Like his pet cat’s paws on his nose.
I lovingly scratch his ears.
No matter how many times I try to rouse my fury and hate and disgust at Callahan, deep down I knew it would happen.
And yes, I saw the gun, too.
I heard the hateful words spewed from Dad’s lips.
The man would have shot me to spite Callahan.
I stood there, gaping as he lifted that second gun and pointed it at me.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I wait until the roiling sea of tangled emotions rushes through me, making my stomach turn.
I just stood there.
Like a fool.
Making Callahan pull that trigger to save me.
“Maybe he’d have done it anyway,” I muse.
I like telling my aching heart that.
I like telling myself when I can’t sleep and I’m exhausted from crying that he killed Dad to get all the power and his money.
I trick myself into thinking it helps.
But it doesn’t. Not really.
Because he didn’t.
He did it to save my life.
I’ve heard from Declan that Mom’s in charge now.
She put Mikey in the role of running the family, and she says she offered all of her family power over to Callahan because my father married into the powerful mafia family.
It wasn’t his by blood.
After marrying Mom, he went from being a made man to running the organization as the boss.
All of the clout and influence had come from her.
Callahan refused the offer, said they would keep things as is.
Mikey is now working for him as a partner, and they’re both united and separate, exactly according to the contract terms.
Viv’s called to check in, though I haven’t called her back.
I’m not sure I want to.
I mean, I’m glad she’s safe.
Mom said Viv came home after she and Headley broke up.
I guess with my father dead, he didn’t have much to go on for any case he might have been building against the family, and Viv was useless to him after that.
Makes me feel a little vindicated since she pretty much turned her back on me.
I’m not sorry she got her heart broken.
And Callahan.
Callahan.
My God, I want to hate him so much because he’s a coward and a liar.
Three weeks and he hasn’t so much as made one call to me.
He’s spoken to his mam, to Dec.
He knows where I am.
But he didn’t tear the world apart to find me like he said he would.
He hasn’t come for me, to take me in his arms, to take me home.
A sudden rash of noise assaults my ears.
I sit straight up and Arnold and Clawzilla scramble off the sofa, then race back into the house.
Mam always has treats and Declan spoils them to death.
Isabella appears in the doorway.
“Declan is going to take the animals out for a walk,” his mam says, her American accent still making me smile.
I expected her to be Irish, even though I know she came from a mafia family in New York, one that’s been absorbed by Callahan.
“Can I get you anything, love? Tea? Coffee? Whiskey?”
I shake my head.
“I’m good, thanks.”
A few minutes later, she comes out with a tray of cookies and two mugs.
She looks so much like Callahan, it hurts my heart.
Isabella eases down onto a garden chair and holds out a mug to me.
“You look like you could use it. Whiskey with a splash of this morning’s coffee. And plenty of sugar.”
I smile and take it.
“Thank you.”
“It’s before five p.m., so mug it is. Cal’s da is doing well. We had a meeting with his lawyers at the prison earlier. Maybe the appeal will go through this year.”
There’s something else on her mind, though, I can sense it.
“Has my son called you?”
“Of course not. I’m… I’m just the person he had to marry to get his hands on more power,” I say before taking a sip of the drink.
It burns and bites my throat but tastes strangely delicious.
Anyone else, I think, would wince at my words, but she doesn’t.
She just hooks a salt-and-pepper curl behind her ear.
“If he didn’t want you, he’d be done with you. Callahan’s a particular man. He never sticks with one woman, and if it was just a means to an end, he’d have taken out the prick who called himself your father the moment he knew the man was trying to double-cross him. I know my son. If the man breathed a single second longer than he should have, then it’s because of you.”
She puts her hand over mine.
“Is that too harsh?” she asks.
“I’ve spoken to your mother, and she’s relieved he’s gone. She… well, you need to talk to her.”
I let out a deep sigh, feeling completely alone in this moment.
“If my mom wants to talk to me, then she has to talk to me. Really talk. I’m not… I don’t have the space to be the big grown-up here. She needs to make the first move and fix things. Maybe Dad—Vincent?—”
“Call him what you need, love,” she says.
“Maybe he was right, I’m a stupid child.”
“You’re young, but you’re not stupid. At all. And I can see how you feel about my son. Give him room, be patient.”
I take another sip of the coffee and sugar-laced whiskey.
“For how long, Isabella? He killed my father and then never came for me. He…” A sob breaks free and she squeezes my hand.
“God always has a plan.”
“Maybe,” I whisper.
“But I don’t believe in God.”
Not anymore.
Not since Callahan destroyed my world and left me all alone.
“Ah, come on. You can run faster than that,” Declan says a few days later as Arnold tears down the dirt road next to us.
He’s not his brother.
I can easily keep up with Dec.
Callahan is way more punishing.
Was.
He left me, and now I need to make plans for the future I wanted so badly.
The one I didn’t even have to fight for.
“So can you.”
“I have a cat.” He gestures to the pack he’s wearing and he turns his back to me.
Clawzilla just stares, then flops down, apparently enjoying the bounce of his little world.
“You’re an idiot,” I mutter, slowing to a stop as we approach the cottage.
“Should I check out London?”
“Why?”
I look at Declan as he and Arnold stop running.
It’s a cool morning, but I’m hot and sweaty and need a shower.
“Because I can’t stay here. Your brother has what he wants and I need to move on.”
He nods.
“Cal had a reason to kill de Rosa. I didn’t bring you here because he pulled the trigger; I brought you here so you could see the truth.”
“What truth?”
“How you really feel about him.”
For a moment I don’t say anything, and Arnold’s cold nose butts my hand.
“My feelings aren’t in question. Callahan’s are. Or actually aren’t. It’s been over three weeks and I’m the one person he hasn’t spoken to. I think he’s made it clear how he feels about me.”
He sighs.
“Cal doesn’t do shit without a reason. Wait, no, that’s not exactly true. There’s you. That first time he met you, rescued you,” he says, “that made no sense. Normally, Cal would have dragged you into the party limo—not that we always travel by party limo, by the way. We definitely should because they’re cool as shit, but we don’t. Anyhow, normally, he’d have taken you, questioned you, maybe threatened you. But he didn’t. He let you go.”
Then Declan starts laughing.
“Oh, shit,” he says.
“I’m wrong. He did have a reason.”
“Like what?” I snap.
“He liked you.”
I want to believe him, I do, but how?
I need to hold the resentment, build up something like hate for Callahan because all of that will never hurt like loving him does.
“No, that’s not true.”
“It is.”
“Where is he, then?” I ask.
But of course, Declan doesn’t have an answer.
“Give him time.”
“Seriously? He’s had three weeks and it’s pretty clear what his intentions are. He’s too busy ruling New York to bother with me.”
With that, I stalk ahead and open the front door of the house, the soles of my sneakers slapping against the hardwood floor.
Screw it all, I’ll leave tonight.
I’ll go where nobody can ever find me again.
Maybe then I will finally be able to move on with my damn life.
Alone.
I head for the stairs when a shiver whispers over my perspiration-pebbled skin.
My hand freezes on the wooden banister, my heart clenching.
I turn around slowly, finding a pair of steely indigo eyes staring back at me. “Hello, Lucie Joy.”