“This place would make a spectacular fire. Books…paper…” he continued.
As he took in the place, I took him in. He was of average height and stocky. His shirts and sweaters were always a little too tight. So were his pants. His light brown hair was cut short, and his eyes were a dull brown.
He grinned at me when our eyes met. I went to slide around him with the mound of books in my arms, but he stepped in front of me.
“Saturday night. Dinner at my parents’ place. Your dad will come. We’ll talk about the wedding.”
I went to sidestep again, and he blocked me…again.
“Can’t,” I said. “I have work.”
He took the top book in my pile and flung it like a frisbee. He continued to do the same with each book until my arms were empty. His face was impassive, like stone. “That’s what I think of your work.”
“What’s going on?” Delaney appeared behind Dermot. She crossed her arms.
He didn’t even turn to look at her when he answered. “A private conversation. None of your business.”
I wasn’t sure what to say, because I didn’t want to make the situation worse.
“It is my business because this ismybusiness. You’re not welcome here. And you owe me for the books you tossed.”
He grinned, and a chill ran down my spine. He turned to face her. “Like I told my sweet Maeve. All these books…paper…they all catch fire so easily. The perfect start to a great big bonfire in winter. So pretty.”
She stuck her chin up, and her arms seemed to press even tighter against her stomach. “Get out.”
Robert came to stand behind her, setting his hand on her shoulder.
A tense few seconds passed. My chest burned from holding my breath. It released in a rush when Dermot lunged forward. I wasn’t sure who he meant to get, but Robert pushed Delaney out the way and took the hit.
The two men started fighting. They knocked into shelves, books flying everywhere, until a children’s shelf went completely over, the two men with it. Leftover guests from the book club were screaming, some scrambling to get out the door.
Kyle wasn’t sure what to do. Especially when Dermot pulled out a knife and stuck it to Robert’s chin. Dermot was breathing heavy, and his eyes were almost black, dilated from rage.
I could barely breathe when blood start to run from Robert’s chin. Dermot was slowly slicing him. Delaney’s eyes rolled before she hit the floor. I went to scream at Dermot to stop, my hand up in the same motion, but the words refused to come. I felt queasy, and my knees went soft suddenly, but I stood despite it all.
“Dinner or his throat slashed, Maeve?”
“Dinner.” My hands balled into fists, my nails biting into my palms. Maybe the pain would keep me on my feet. “Dinner, I said!”
Dermot stopped cutting Robert right before he made it to his throat. He smiled at me. “Not my favorite choice, because that choice means it’s time to stop, but good enough.” He stood, wiping the bloodied knife against his pants before he stuck it in his pocket. “A car will pick you and the old man up. Seven and not a second after. I won’t like it if you’re late.” He winked at me before he left.
Chapter2
Maeve
The memory of Dermot’s knife slicing Robert’s chin open like a ripe peach moved me to get dressed for dinner with the Craigs.
It was such an odd state to be in—to feel drained of all blood and forced to move at the same time.
The reality of tonight was…if I didn’t go through with dinner, the knife was going to be turned on my dad. Because that’s what people like Dermot do. They hurt the ones you love to get to the source of whoever and whatever they want.
Trying to find the right outfit was only adding to my anxiety. My bed was piled with clothes. Everything was probably too casual. Too many T-shirts, oversized sweaters, and jeans. I remembered how Shay was dressed, and my stomach sank. I didn’t have anything that fancy.
A strong urge to call Delaney and ask her opinion came over me, but I decided against it. After what had happened to Robert… I didn’t want to remind her of the situation or get her involved any deeper.
I finally decided on a cream-colored turtleneck, a faux brown suede skirt that landed right above the knees, light brown stockings, and a pair of brown boots that looked almost Victorian. I set my hair in a loose bun. Applied light makeup and called myself done.
My father was pacing in front of the front door and mumbling to himself. The only reason he stopped was because I set a hand on his arm.
