Declan puts on his black shirt, buttoning it as he speaks. “Don’t defend him. He started it. He always starts shit, and I’m the fucking bad guy.”
“Guys,” Connor says from the door. “More cops arrived. Five total. They’re trickling in like water through a leaky pipe. If you keep them waiting any longer, I fear the entire battalion will arrive, and then I’ll get an itch and start shooting. Hurry up, would you?” He slams the door.
“Ignore him,” Declan says as he fixes his cuff links. He comes in and out of the panic room a few times and then tucks his gunsinto a shoulder holster, which he shrugs on before covering it with the suit jacket. “See you soon,” he says and opens the door.
“Hey.”
Declan pauses.
“You look nice.”
“Thanks.” He rubs the back of his neck. “Since we’re at looking nice, I saw your little red dress in the closet. You think you can wear that?”
“I could.”
“Maybe with heels?”
“Maybe.”
“No panties.” He closes the door.
Under the covers, I kick my feet like a girl whose boyfriend sent her a kissing emoji.
Ah, to be desired by a man again. I missed it.
Chapter 25
More trouble
Declan
Downstairs, I check in with Mary in the kitchen before doing anything else. Endo sent me one of his two chefs, and while I appreciate the gesture, I’m pretty sure he sent her because he found out Dina joined us at the mansion. Connor told my uncle Cass, and Cass told Endo. Gossip travels at the speed of light in the family.
Mary, for all intents and purposes, is Endo’s spy. Connor and I grew up with Mary. In fact, she made sure we ate only the best food in the world, but she comes from a family with long and thick ties to the Macarleys. Since I’m doing my own thing now, I wish Mary had stayed with Endo. Not that she’s unwelcome. She is most certainly welcome, but I don’t appreciate my uncle sending someone here without asking me first.
We embrace and kiss on the cheek. Twice.
“They done ate all the croissants.” She jerks her head toward the cops outside, who are having breakfast at the family table by the pool where Connor and I fought last night. Someone hosed our blood off the cement. My money’s on Mary.
“Thank you for cleaning up.”
“Don’t mention it. I wish Con hadn’t let them in. I’m allergic to corrupt hypocrites. I don’t know how they call themselves righteous police, and then come eat all the croissants from the table of the man who bought them with blood money.”
She’s talking about my father. “They can’t resist your croissants.”
Mary snorts. “I’m making a fresh batch for you.”
She hands me a cup of coffee, and I walk outside, where, as Connor said, five cops sit around my family table eating croissants and chasing them with pineapple juice. Two cops in blue uniforms, two in dark suits, one off by himself at the edge of the pool.
The tall, dark-haired man wears a sharp, tailored suit. He gives me a curt nod but remains over there while I greet the others. I wonder if he’s a cop. A detective, maybe.
I don’t shake hands or introduce myself, but politely greet them as I sit down. Connor is at the other end of the table, his eyes darting to the man at the pool.
I shake my head. We won’t be inviting him. If he wants to come, he’ll have to stand, or one of the cops can get up so he can sit with us. If he’s content to stare at the pool water, I’ll pretend that’s fine with me. He bothers me over there by himself since I have to extend my vigilant watch past my immediate surroundings at the table, but I can’t let on.
I intertwine my fingers in front of me.
The cop on my right, a man with a full head of gray hair, starts. “Mr. Crossbow, let me begin with an apology. My former colleagues interrogated Dina Ferrar before we knew she was your…”
