“Delilah, there’s a delivery for you.” Looking up at my employee hanging in the office door, confusion knits my brows. “Good?”
“Yeah, thanks,” I say as he gestures a wave of his arm. A huge bundle of flowers steps into the doorway, and I scoff and roll my eyes. “Oh, Keenan. Don’t start this shit.” I groan, knowing very well I don’t want to do the awkward back and forth of this all.
“I’m more hoping to finish it.” I jump with a gasp of shock, and Keenan himself pokes his head above the flowers. His expression is grave. It’s the same expression he made at my father’s house. My throat closes, and I turn away as he steps into my office to set the flowers on the floor. Shutting the door silently, he clears his throat. “We need to talk, and I’ll apologize after . . . if that’s something you still want once you hear what I have to say.”
My mouth dries at the gravelly tone in his voice, and I wrap my arms around myself protectively. Protectively, how odd. Do I really feel the need for that while Keenan’s around me? Or is he the one that’s providing the protection . . . against something I don’t even know? As much as I hate to admit it, I don’t think I have all the answers.
“I don’t . . . Keenan. I don’t want you coming to my job. Twelve minutes. Twelve minutes, and I’d be on my way home, but you,” I scowl darkly at him as my pushed down feelings come rushing to the surface, “you don’t get to do whatever you want.”
“Your father had a teenage girl locked in his cellar,” Keenan whispers unsteadily, and goosebumps blanket my body as my gaze flies to his. He clasps his hands, his shoulders curling forward. “I can prove it, but you don’t want to see it. When I went to his place the other day, it was only to look around. I wanted proof that Knitted Hearts was the least disgusting thing he’s involved in. Delilah . . . your father had a girl chained, starving, naked . . . in his cellar. Keeva’s got her, but she’s not doing well. That’s not even the brunt of it. My cousins found information on him, that this teenage girl isn’t the first, but she will be the last. I’m sorry to tell you this, truly, but if you’re going to be upset at me, then it’s best you know the truth.”
Keenan is merciless, his eyes never wavering. His voice ringing with truth. My heart stutters, and I collapse to my knees. He jerks, as if he wants to catch me but stops himself as I shiver on the floor. “Knitted Hearts isn’t nearly the worst thing he’s involved in. Putting you, his own daughter, at risk doesn’t even begin to scrape the top layer of grime that he’s encrusted in. There’s pictures, videos, of him with . . .” Keenan pauses for a second and clears his throat. But I look closely, and while his face is reddening with anger, his tears begin to well. He clears his throat once more before speaking. “With girls. Young girls. Girls that look like you, and girls that don’t. He’s sold secrets, manipulated money markets around the world, has been in contact with weapons and drug dealers. He helped fund genocidal dictators in the Middle East and Africa who’d give him lucrative contracts.”
“Cormac Quigley isn’t the same man as your father, and once you started realizing that, he dropped the curtain completely.” Kneeling in front of me, Keenan doesn’t smile sympathetically. Doesn’t hold my shoulder. Doesn’t cup my chin to draw my gaze away. I can’t see, can’t hear anything but his voice as he inhales. “The moment you decided not to ignore the theft at Knitted Hearts, you became his enemy, but you’re his daughter. He can’t just decide to kill you. He’s done so before. He hired assassins for a plethora of reasons. Political assassinations, and domestic. Rivals. Snoopers. His ignoring you these last few weeks . . . I think he was working himself up to hire someone to kill you. If he just ignored you hard enough, he wouldn’t have to feel guilty for ordering it because he’d have any number of ways to convince himself this was entirely your fault, in his delusional mind, of course.”
I wheeze a gasp, covering my trembling lips with the back of my hand as I slide to the well-worn carpet. Shivering uncontrollably, my heart threatens to explode in my chest. Keenan’s confession churns my stomach, and I rush to my ensuite bathroom just in the knick of time for my lunch contents to come rushing out of me. The world begins to melt beyond my hazy eyes, and I blink furiously.
“I’m sorry, Delilah.” The world snaps into focus suddenly at Keenan’s murmur. So gently, he strokes back my hair while I’m kneeling over the toilet. His touch electrifies me, and I jolt with a gasp. Clutching my chest, I curl up tightly and cover my head with my free arm. I stand up and Keenan’s body heat backs away from me. I go to the sink, bend down to grab the mouth wash I have here, and gargle. The last thing I want to do is taste vomit on my tongue for the rest of the day.
“I wish I could find a gentler way to tell you, but he came home while I was still there. I saw that girl, Delilah, and I couldn’t let it go. Convincing him to send the money back to Knitted Hearts, to get you out of trouble . . . to him, it was a diversionary tactic. He gave me something because he wanted something else. And I am so sorry, but it had nothing to do with any fatherly affection.”
“S-show me,” I mutter lowly, and Keenan’s breath hitches as I shoot up stiffly. My back aches, and my throat throbs as I grasp at his button-down shirt. Shaking him weakly, I open my mouth. “Show me. Show me.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Delilah. I won’t show you the girl.” Shaking his head, Keenan grips my shaking hands in one palm and cups the back of my head. Sitting back, he pulls me into his lap haphazardly to envelop me in warmth. “I’ll show you some of it. It’s okay. I know. I know you need to see the proof to believe it.”
I can’t even cry, so shocked into silence. I can only shake. Shake and struggle to breathe, struggle to keep my heart in my throat. Struggle to keep what’s left of my meager lunch inside my stomach. Even Keenan’s heat and strength fall away as a numbness tingles up my spine.
“I’m sorry. I know.” Repeating the four words over again, Keenan strokes my cheeks and neck as I gasp for air. This is horrific. My father is someone I don’t know, and more importantly, he’s someone I don’t ever want to know.
CHAPTERFORTY
KEENAN
“Ifind it hard to believe you.” Liam crosses his arms over his chest and leans back against the wall. “Delilah meeting the girl? Whose idea was that?”
“She didn’t give me much of a choice when she heard you telling me to meet you in Dublin,” I reply, not taking my eyes off Delilah struggling to come up with the courage to move forward. She hangs near a bench, only twelve, maybe fifteen meters from another bench. A bench occupied by a frail, little body that looks so pathetic next to a healthy, shapely nurse. “She wants to hear it from the victim . . . see her face. I showed her the less serious evidence we’d gathered from Cormac’s home, but it’s all numbers. You know how it is, Liam. Things change when there’s a body. I couldn’t show her those photographs. They’re burned into my memory, and I won’t do the same with her.”
“I know, but . . .” Liam isn’t the least bit pleased with this, but he must see the expression crossing my face. I imagine his wife must be very strong-willed as well, so he changes the subject. “How have things been at home?”
“She’s been quiet. She took time off work. Said she’d collapsed from stress and is ill. Haisley and someone underneath her have stepped up in the meantime. Don’t think I told you, but she signed a contract for Haisley’s company to handle the finances for Knitted Hearts for the next five years. I’m sure after that they’ll renew it, but after all this, it must be a breath of fresh air to hand it over to someone she trusts.” I rub my lips thoughtfully as I watch Delilah shuffle forward. Her shoulders knot in her ears, and I cock my head quizzically. The girl Cormac had in his cellar hasn’t noticed her. “It takes a lot for her to get out of bed in the morning. Sometimes, she’ll get up at night and wander around before eventually falling asleep on the sofa. I talked to her about that shite, and she agreed to talk to Keeva and Delaney.”
“Knitted Hearts will recover. In a few years, the books will be right, and if you can just get over this last hurdle.” Liam pauses, and I grunt lowly. I already know that. Across the small garden, Delilah finally catches the attention of the girl. Her face pales, but she takes another step forward as the nurse gets up and walks away. “I’m not saying it’ll be easy. But for Delilah, the theft itself . . . she can get over it, with some time. While I’m optimistic about her, I’m more interested in you, Keenan. This is your first taste of people like this.”
“Bigger than Asim?” I ask. Liam nods, graveness thickening the newly formed wrinkles around his mouth. I guess the stress of being in the mob does that to you. He grimaces as I inhale a deep breath and hold it. “You still haven’t found a lead on him?”
“Let’s stay on track, Keenan.” Across the field, Delilah sits on the bench next to the girl, and I scoff lightly. Turning to Liam, I wait. “Right now, what I want to know . . . is . . . are you confident in your ability to deal with this? Cormac isn’t the worst you’ll see out there. Some guys violate children, not teenagers. Little, tiny children, and then they dispose of their little tiny, dead bodies. They use them like playthings. They’re despicable examples of our kind. And sometimes, Keenan, these guys don’t get what they deserve. Can you handle that?”
“I don’t think that’ll be a problem. It was a shock, and that disgusting piece of shite,” I snarl lowly, pausing to shake my head. “He hated me. He hated my guts, and you want to know why? It’s because I was poor. Because I was scum, because I was below him. And yet, he was doing things no right-minded human being would ever do. I think that’s the worst part for me . . . that such a bastard had the audacity to be disgusted in me. And as far as what you said, if I cross paths with anyone who does something like Cormac, they won’t be drawing breath for long. I have limits, cousin, and this is one of them.”
“Are you okay with that? In this business, people have a different set of morals. What you consider noble and fine, other people will react disdainfully,” Liam asks, thoughtfulness harshening his tone. “Does it make you angry?”
“Yes,” I answer immediately. “No one should ever do what he did. It’s . . . so morally wrong, amongst other things.”
“That’s exactly the answer I wanted to hear. The reason I asked you here, Keenan, is because I have an issue that needs to be resolved. I wanted to know you could handle this. Asim aside.” Pausing to turn to me, Liam purses his lips thinly. “I’m proud of your progress making this transition. Dealing with Cormac Quigley, you did well. Better than me on my first run through the flour mill. You’re a lot older than I was back then—”
“Fuck off,” I grumble, and Liam chuckles humorlessly.
“Point is, I want to bring you into the fold completely, which means more responsibilities and weight on your shoulders. While there are benefits as well, I think it’s best to start with the negative. Beyond Asim. I understand if you’d like to take a few days, a week or two, but there have been some unsettling developments.” Liam is so fucking vague, and my eyelid twitches in irritation. “Seattle, Washington, America.”
