39. Ryder
Sharing my past with Devina brought more closure than anything. She has a presence that soothes me, though I could feel her tense at the mention of another woman’s name.
The secrets we keep should tear us apart, but something greater is keeping us together.
I’m slowly letting go.
Not because I want to.
I want to hold on until it hurts.
But the frustration in her words hit me hard enough to knock some sense into me. She deserves whatever she wants. She thinks she wants to check things off a list before her time runs out. But I know she just wants to be able to choose.
Choose something for herself.
Choose anything.
But even on the hard days, she chooses me.
I’ve employed MaryClaire to stay with Devina while I catch up on the work I’ve been neglecting. The payment: Two large pizzas and a scheduled Cold Stone delivery. The two are so very different, but MaryClaire makes Vi laugh and her spirits are visibly higher in her presence. I’m sure they will both be equally high for the rest of the day since MaryClaire obnoxiously announced that she brought all the medicine Vi would need – two joints and her portable record player.
They were giggling like children as I left, but my heart felt lighter at the sound. A sound that doesn’t frequent the walls of my home as it did only weeks ago.
Tonight I’m meeting with Declan to plan out our attack on the one they call IT. I could easily continue hating him. But the truth of the matter is – he didn’t kill Michaela. Even if he did hand her the drugs, she made her own choices. Hell, I don’t even know if he knows my involvement with her. I doubt it. If he did, he’s even crazier than I thought for allowing me to marry his sister.
But tonight isn’t about that. Tonight is about planning.
I arrive at our corporate headquarters fifteen minutes early. He’s already here.
“How’s my sister?” He asks, standing to greet me.
“She’d probably be better if you would check in on her.” I start up my laptop and take a seat behind my oak desk.
He snuffs and stands to pour himself a drink from the cart. I don’t know what his problem is. I can’t stand that he hasn’t even visited her. He has yet to step foot in our home. I can’t for the life of me understand why he hates me so much. The ball is in my court, not his. He stole someone from me.
He pours two drinks and walks around the table to hand me a glass.
His glare fixates on the photo of Michaela I still have on my desk. I must have forgotten it was there. I haven’t been to the office in weeks. “Why do you have a photograph of Hannah Buchanan?”
My eyebrows pinch as I shoot him a curious look. “You must be confused. Her name is Michaela.”
“No. I think I would know my fiancé when I see her,” he sets his glass on my desk – right next to the coaster. Asshole.
I look at him expectantly. He looks at me with the same frowned brows. Does he not know?
“You’re kidding, right?”
He picks up the frame to examine the photo closer. “This is Hannah.” His cheeks redden with frustration. “How did you know her? Do you know where she is?”
The fuck?
“Yeah, I know where she is.” I roll my eyes as I lean back in my chair and prop one ankle up on the opposite knee.
He lets out a weighted sigh. “Well, next time you see her, tell her all is forgiven.”
“I can’t do that, Dec.”
“What the fuck? Why not?”
“Declan, she’s dead.” I say cautiously, not knowing how he’ll react.
The shock on his face was too real. He didn’t know. This wasn’t his work. “How?”
“Overdose. Three years ago.”
He runs a hand down his face. Tears well in his eyes, but he looks to the ceiling to contain them. I know this look. I had it myself. It’s hard not to cry for someone when the hate is equally matched with love or longing.
“You know I hated you for a long time, Declan.” I break our silence.
“You mean your family hated my family.”
I shake my head. “No. I mean I hated you.”
He isn’t sure how to respond. I don’t know how to keep going. But I have to say it. I have to say it all.
“I was told it was you who was fooling around with her. That part I was willing to forgive. But the drugs.” I take a moment to keep myself in check. “The drugs came from your family. We were supposed to get married and she overdosed on your family’s drugs.”
This is all new to him. The grief painted on his face mirrors the one I had on mine. My blackened heart wanted to crush him for what he’d done. But as he sits broken in front of me now, I don’t feel any better. I feel worse.
He looks at me, his eyes searching mine. “I never gave her drugs. That part of the business ended when my father died.”
“Well, how the hell do you think she got them, Declan? She was found with a fucking needle in her arm.”
“Who found her?”
“Does it matter?”
“Yes. It does.” He leans forward propping his elbows on his knees, waiting.
“Her father. Her father called mine. He had been working for both of us. When I arrived my father was there. He cleaned up the mess. The mess your family made.” I accused.
“That can’t be right, Ryder. By that time we were several years removed from anything of that nature. I hated having that near the girls. And after,” he trails off “After the fire, I wouldn’t risk having it near Vi.”
This doesn’t make sense. We sat like two idiots trying to figure out the missing piece to this puzzle. Michaela – Hannah – whoever the fuck she was – played us both, but someone gave her the heroine. It wasn’t me, and now I’m learning it wasn’t Declan.
Part of me is relieved that my wife’s brother isn’t as much of a prick as I originally thought. The other part feels like a God damn fool for wasting so much energy over the years on someone who is just as innocent as I am.
A knock at the door interrupts us. Ronnie enters with a manila folder. Declan and I give each other a knowing look. This conversation isn’t over, but we have other business to take care of.
Photos of the mystery man we have been looking for. Ice blonde hair, bright blue eyes. I’ve seen this face before.
At the charity ball.
At the bar.
It was him.
“We have a location, Boss. What’s the plan? We’ll need all hands on deck. And not like that fucking container mishap. We need to be prepared this time. My guys tell me there are guns, but after seeing what they were selling last time . . .” He trails off not wanting to comment about the women we know are being sold and traded.
“Looks like the next ‘shipment’ is in three days,” Declan says. “I’ll let you run this. Tell me what you need.”
“I can’t run this. I know what is at stake, but I have Vi at home. My head isn’t right.” I say. “Ronnie, bring me whoever you can get your hands on tonight. Bring them to the basement. We’ll see what we can get from them. This time, don’t leave the fucking door open.” I shoot him a pointed look.
His eyes light up like I just told him Santa came, dismissing my last instruction. He’s always too eager to shed blood. “You got it, boss.”
“We’ll reconvene tomorrow morning. Devina and I will expect you at breakfast, Declan.”
He nods understanding the silent truce we just made.