“An unfortunate circumstance for me,” I deflect the implied question and fight a sneer. Shit. “I won’t bother to press you with the details of the deal she originally proposed. It’s shit, anyway. I came to have a talk about everything swirling around—what’s real and what’s not. Petra told me she’s done some deals with Desmond Mackenzie in the past.”
Slowly, Eamon rounds his desk and sits down, and the silence thickens. My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth as I glance between him and his sister. Damnit! I feel like if they could just stand next to each other, something would come to me.
“It’s true that there was a time when it was beneficial, but I think it’s hypocritical of Petra to expect Desmond’s help after she maimed his son for the death of her son, which he wasn’t even directly involved in,” Eamon shoots me a pointed look, and I nod in understanding. “Although he was aware of the situation’s evolution. I suppose, in a way, it’s not unexpected to consider Liam, a third-party operator. Keenan’s a good example of his ability to manipulate.”
“I don’t know the specifics, but you and the Mackenzies are cousins or something, right?” I ask, and Eamon nods. “The bounty on her . . . on Petra . . . how much does it have to do with your sister? Liam, I understand. But 12 million seems a bit high.”
“It’s an incentive to avoid anyone trying to help her,” Eamon reveals, and I fight a frown. “To answer your question . . . it doesn’t. The bounty’s not about Delaney or any of the other victims.”
I stiffen, goosebumps blanketing my entire body. My gaze goes unfocused, and my heart stutters dangerously as a cold sweat breaks out under my clothes.
“E-excuse me?” I ask in horror, and Eamon grimaces as he swivels his chair back and forth absentmindedly.
“Unfortunately, ruining a woman’s life isn’t seen as more serious than Liam’s kidnapping. Plenty of people are outraged, and I know other women in the families Petra dealt with have come forward about her son’s mistreatment of them, but I doubt it’ll come to anything,” Eamon says almost casually a slight flicker of anger in his eyes. But I hear what he says through a tunnel.
Delaney?
“At least he got what was coming to him.” My gaze swings to Keeva at her grumble. It’s so loud to me. Sympathy drenches her expression. “I’m just glad she was quick about getting help. I heard she’s doing really well. I guess I’m on her shite list, myself. After they went back to London, she started ignoring my texts and calls, too. Bran just keeps telling me she’s doing fine and doesn’t give any details.”
“How would he know? He’s been on honeymoon since last week,” Eamon remarks, drawing my gaze. He waves a hand dismissively. “Regardless, it’s over now. I’m sure once Liam catches Petra Frey and puts her head on a spike or something, everyone can breathe a sigh of relief and move on. She’ll come around eventually. This whole thing has been messy for everyone, but Delaney can’t blame us forever.”
“I’m sorry, but I feel like this isn’t a conversation I should be hearing,” I speak up, struggling to keep my voice level. To not show the panic that courses through me—the dread that grips my heart in a vice. I stand up, nodding curtly at Eamon. “Whatever your family drama, I got the answer I came here for. I’ll see myself out.”
Ignoring the whirling confusion following me, I escape the office and walk quickly toward the elevator. I can’t breathe. Eamon Gallagher is Delaney’s brother? But she never mentioned having any other siblings than the one I knew about her brother and his wife, her sister-in-law.
Now that my addled mind delves into it, I’d never heard Delaney say her brother’s name. I know her last name is on her employment records, but I’ve never looked at it too much. Punching the elevator button with my thumb, I clench my clammy hands into tight fists by my sides. She’d been ignoring them for months? Because she blames them? For what?
But . . . I do recall hearing a rumor quite some time ago about my brother’s death being a setup by Liam’s henchman. Was that rumor referring to the Gallaghers? Did they set a trap for Hans and use Delaney as bait?
My stomach churns dangerously as I step into the elevator hastily and jam the ground floor button repeatedly. Wasn’t there word going around that Bran Gallagher got out of the mafia business because he couldn’t handle the internal strife? Is this the same brother who Delaney seems to hold so dear?
Leaning against the wall of the elevator, I clutch at my chest and gasp for air. Delaney . . . is one of my brother’s victims? I fumble with my phone, my hands shaking wildly. The elevator jostles to a stop, and I freeze as realization slams into me.
If I call Delaney now, ask her about this . . . she’ll run. She’ll hang up on me and take the earliest flight to fucking Siberia or something. Stepping off the elevator and into the lobby, I navigate instead to the number for the private charter I’d booked and open the link in the text box. Anxiety rushes through my veins, and urgency jacks up my heart rate.
The car I’d arrived in is still parked by a meter, and I walk over to climb into the back seat.
“The air strip. Fast,” I demand, staring down at my phone screen. Indecision wars in my chest. Can I really make it the 12-hour flight to London carrying this weight around? Clenching my jaw hard, my teeth ache painfully.
What if that’s why Delaney went to Switzerland? Did she somehow figure out I’d changed my name? That I shared the blood of the despicable creature that raped her? Ice lodges in my chest as the question runs ruts into my brain.
Everything makes sense now. The caution. The fear. The repulsion. Why hadn’t I seen it before? Recognized it? My lip curls in self-disgust. Was Delaney burning up inside, and I just was ignoring it? The blood drains from my face to roar in my ears, and I manage a shallow, fiery breath that clashes with the ice in my chest.
Fuck. Fuck . . . I cup my forehead in a clammy, cold palm and duck my head. If my brother wasn’t already fucking dead, I’d rip him to shreds for what he’s done to Delaney. He is, though. He’s dead and gone, and my girl is still hurting. It’s a pain I can’t fucking fix, and soon she’s going to figure out that I’m related to the bastard that did this to her. It’ll be a fucking miracle if I don’t lose her for good.
CHAPTER10
DELANEY
Swiping the keycard to my office, I shoulder my way in and balance several bags over my arms. Flicking on the lights, I drop my purse on the floor carelessly before walking to my desk. Dumping the bags next to my computer monitor, I sigh hotly in satisfaction.
I know Baron hadn’t suggested it but getting some new knick-knacks for my office was a good idea. Smiling to myself, I start picking through the bags and pulling things out. Yesterday, Luna and I had gone shopping by ourselves once she’d returned from the grocery store. It was liberating, in a way. I hadn’t believed in the therapies of the act until yesterday.
“That’s cute,” I pull out a small, pale yellow picture frame with a little sunflower in the corner. “I just need a picture it can hold.”
“Oh, good,” I tense, whirling around as Tom leans against the door frame casually with a smile. “You’re back! Did you just get in? I saw your office door open, and I’m glad I caught you early. I wanted to talk about Jessica.”
“The assistant? How’d she do?” I question curiously. I’d nearly forgotten about this trial by fire. “Is she setting up the ballroom for the charity luncheon already?”
